Sybil’s Garage, #5, February 2008

Issue #5 of Sybil’s Garage, edited by Matthew Kressel, is an eclectic mix of multimedia works, fiction, poetry, and nonfiction, from bist-girls to phantasmagoric supermarkets. With carefully rendered black and whites, the artwork highlights themes and characters, gracing each text with well-appointed visuals. To further the artistic experience, each work suggests a “To the Sound of” accompaniment, a fabulous multidisciplinary link with a minor drawback: not all suggested song titles are easily accessible. Still, this issue, a salon of gorgeous language and music, has something for everyone and is well worth exploring for an afternoon, curled up in your favorite chair.

Opening issue #5 is “The Ballad of Delphinium Blue” by Samantha Henderson, accompanied by “The Bonfire Carol” (The Devil’s Interval). Delphinium Blue is a beautiful bist-girl and the subject of this lyrical tale. Bist-girls pleasure their audiences using art of various forms, and Delphinium specializes as a singer of rare talent. Her story, as told by the narrator, maestra, is one of betrayal and perseverance and one easily shared by the reader, even though it is set on another world. Xantippe, Delphinium’s home, contrasts with the origins of the antagonist—Handsome Johnny—described as “the Old World…the Fair-Fields-of-Kentucky.” This “Old World” cameo helps to anchor the reader and provides good ol’ boy charm characterization for Handsome Johnny.

Henderson’s melodic cadence and evocative imagery take a somewhat experimental structure, lacking quotation marks, as if the dialogue were a memory playing in maestra’s mind. Delphinium’s plight echoes with resonating emotions and images reflective of love’s lost ballad, a ballad of blues. The narrator’s pensive retelling of Delphinium’s heartbreak is touching, though vague at times, particularly in the climactic description and its related verse which acts as one of many sectional introductions. This multi-structured media format works well, providing periodic verse to garnish the reader’s experience.

In “Tattoos of the Sky, Tattoos of the Days” by Alex Dally MacFarlane, accompanied by “The Stars” (Patrick Wolf), Gemma, the narrator, repeatedly visits a tattoo parlor, adding to her menagerie of tattooed birds. The reader experiences Gemma’s interactions with the ink-work birds and her budding interest in the tattoo artist, Leah, who serves as an emotional tension point and seeming conquest.

“Tattoos” is a woman’s search for understanding and connection, not only within her own skin but also with others around her. In her search, she finds violence, beauty, and intimacy within multiple venues, often described in terms of opposites: light versus dark. MacFarlane uses an effective magic realism vehicle, a blackbird tattoo that rises from Gemma’s skin and speaks, interacting with other birds and even Gemma herself. When Leah finally unveils her own tattoo, which contrasts with Gemma’s, it is in the contrast that the two seek a connection.

This journey toward self-awareness, identity, and expression, though captive with imagery, loses pace at times. Still, the imagery pulse points are well done; they structure each scene and act as introductions, giving the reader a quick link to sensory and atmosphere—a nice touch that offers a snappy and fresh contrast to the otherwise surrealist prose.

“The Girl Next Door” by Vylar Kaftan (to the sound of “I’m on Fire” by Bruce Springsteen) opens with the narrator/protagonist watching his buck-toothed, hand model neighbor, Maranda, as she makes a naked dash to his front porch, where she pounds upon his door. Maranda turns out to be the protagonist’s intended savior and love interest, though his love for her is of a strange and certifiable nature.

This reader was hooked from the start. Kaftan captures, spins, and slaps the reader down in this quick-paced tale, leaving him or her on edge and gasping for more. The characters start out as mysteries, their natures gradually unfolding and thereby sustaining interest as to the how and what of their motivations and interactions. The reader is invited to make assumptions that work well with and against the story elements, as these assumptions are not often accurate, all seemingly part of Kaftan’s overall plotting—masterfully done in many ways. However, the subplot, which serves to explain character motivation, does not fully pull together at the end, leaving the dénouement weak after a fiery climax. The narrator seems to make a magical discovery about himself and the world which does not appear to be organic to plot or character. Still, the draw of this piece is in the development and rising action. While the weaker conclusion does detract from the work, it is obvious that Kaftan has a talent for characterization and for capturing a reader’s interest.

In “Waiting for Spring” by Caspian Gray, accompanied by “Lost Girls” (Tilly and the Wall), Audrey attempts to comfort her best friend, Nicholas. When Nicholas’s sister dies, Audrey sneaks into his home to find him grieving, which simply will not do, as she misses seeing him at school. Nicholas shows Audrey a tooth that belonged to his sister, a tooth he believes his sister will have to come back to reclaim.

In this heartfelt tale of childhood innocence and egocentric perspectives, Audrey’s efforts to end her friend’s suffering and reconnect with him is a delightful concept, though at times underdeveloped in characterization and plot. The tooth and its link to Nicholas’s sister does resolve nicely; however, the conclusion fails to pull together the developing expectation of the children’s relationship—Audrey’s primary motivation. Where the children’s characterization provides a suitable atmosphere, the narration occasionally misses the mark, distancing the reader from the characters when the story really needs to be up close and personal.

“Last and First” by Daniel A. Rabuzzi, accompanied by “Twelve Moons” (Jan Garbarek Group), is set on an alien planet where a group of orphaned scientists land after time traveling via a “fold,” reminiscent of an Einstein-Rosen Bridge. Noff, a sentient life form and “the last,” senses one of the travelers and offers to aid the new colony with “masum” or knowledge. Hope abounds as the science team argues and grasps their way toward rebuilding a sustainable existence.

The language, at times, tended toward dry description—helpful for naming the various scientific fields, but lacking in creative fluency. Still, the characterization of Noff was nicely done, offering a rather human and easily accessible point of contact. The work as a whole presents an objective look into the future, highlighting the known and unknown of the present, and reminding us that failure, hope, exploration, and the will to start again are all cornerstones of survival.

In “All His Worldly Goods” by Barbara Krasnoff, accompanied by “Money” (Kander and Ebb), a “two-month wifey” responds to a want ad for a temporary spouse. She negotiates a lease on her services to a man who is, for lack of a better phrase, in need.

Krasnoff’s gritty, unpretentious language depicts two souls looking to connect, each for their own reasons. They are well aware of the nature of their “this isn’t love at first sight” sales pitch relationship—makeup and antiviral patches to hide the “sores” and all. Krasnoff contrasts this near future setting with an “old world” cameo of Dickensian London and Oliver Twist’s “Please sir, may I have some more.” This mixture of quaint and sfnal morality works, and the futuristic and unflinching look into vids, Reverend Presidents, dating, and marriage speaks to present day society, its relationships, and the various brands of morality that circulate within it.

In “Salesman” by Gary Moshimer, accompanied by “Sleeping on the Edge of the World” (David Helpling), a daughter and her estranged father reconnect in the aftermath of their lives gone wrong. Rose and her dying father reunite in a magical remake of their lives—how it might have been if only they could go back and do it over right. As Rose holds a picture and sits by her father’s bed, listening to his wishful ramblings of what life was like—descriptions that clash with the reality of Rose’s memory—the picture in her hand changes to match the details of her father’s account. Rose begins to imagine what her life might have been like if her father’s magical ability could be applied to her own relationships. She begins to whisper suggestions to him and sees the effects of his perceptions about her past loves change the pictures.

“Salesman” is a touching story about perception, loss, and family; the imagery effectively communicates the longing of father and daughter, reaching a climax through a storm of metaphorical and literal consequences. Though sections slow in pace, the overall effect works.

“Lost in the Supermarket” by Veronica Schanoes, accompanied by “Cool’n'Out” (Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros), is a phantasmagorical quest through the supermarket as the protagonist loses her identity among the cans of kidney beans and tubs of peanut butter. Following the Queen of Hearts, she loses her family, friends, her clothes, her body-blood, skin, organs, and the ability to choose. This inability, mirrored by her overwhelming confusion over the commercial products around her, echoes her lack of self-awareness. When she attempts to strike out on her own in order to reclaim her identity and find her friends and mother, the Queen of Hearts distracts her, taunts her, and offers to sustain her with the repulsive remains of a would-be friend—barbecued, no less. When none other than Joe Strummer saunters through the aisle, he spins words of wisdom, hands the protagonist her quintessential grail—fishnet stockings and all (not the cotton variety but the “kind that cuts”)—and encourages her to get the hell up and “kick it over.”

This Alice in Wonderland-esque quest has a shadowy grace that forces grit down the proverbial gullet like caffeine on crack. The reader emerges, addicted. With a keen sense of characterization and placement, Schanoes allows her readers to experience the wavering morality as portrayed in still-frame scenes. But this look at commercialism and self-awareness, Goth style, is anything but still. Put on your running shoes and get ready to sprint. Highly recommended.

In “Roses” by Hazel Marcus Ong, accompanied by “Under the Ivy” (Kate Bush), Madeleine, the “red rose,” vies with her sister, the “white rose.” Madeleine learns early on that she is not as beautiful as her sister and seeks the attention of men, including her father, by freely offering her body to them in the woods. Madeleine falls in love with a shape-shifting bear/boy and believes him to be her one true love, but he betrays her to court her sister.

The red and white rose analogies were nicely done, and there’s some nice imagery here, but this story falls short at times with word choice—the repetition of “member” to refer to male genitalia detracted from the otherwise nice cadence and felt lacking in maturity—and plot development. The reader is presented with and expected to accept the incest aspect rather abruptly, an element which furthermore does not appear to be integral to the plot, making it feel gratuitous. Also, the shape-shifting part lacked detail, affecting the believability of Madeleine’s relationship with the bear/boy. The handling of shape-shifting and incest in one work, two big item concepts, really need to be handled masterfully or not at all. “Roses” did not strongly engage me despite the fablelike telling, of which I’m usually a fan. The premise was lacking in development, and the conclusion felt weak.

“Wombat Fishbone” by Jason Erik Lundberg, accompanied by “A Heap of Trouble” (Steve Sullivan), is a satirical look at primordial drives and snubbing convention as a troupe of men advertise their league on fliers and placards throughout town. Reminiscent of Fight Club (but without the violence), this work looks at what could happen if the boys are let out to play.

Lundberg narrates his humorous tale well in second person, a usually difficult point of view. Leaving the pronouns sparse, “you” acts as an effective vehicle to pull the reader in, appropriate as it seeks to gain patrons to its cause:

“Manly men, come join your kin
And listen to our song!”

“Wombat Fishbone” is a delightful story with a strong and encouraging message, reminding even female readers that being a man has nothing to do with having washboard abs. It made this reader want to join the parade of chanting, marching crusaders; although, as a woman, I don’t think my participation would be received in quite the same way.