What do you get when you mix alliteration with existential crisis and a dog named Barkley? In this case, one cool story.
The pacing is furious, the details craftily vague. Andrew Foster Altschul writes just enough of this character so that anyone who’s ever worked for a day, owned a dog or had an emotion can identify.
"Our man" is in the pits and our narrator wastes no time tellin’ it straight. All this story needs is The Chemical Brothers to write its soundtrack and Guy Ritchie to direct the action. What could have been overwrought alliteration ends up adding an OCD element that matches the protagonist’s predicament perfectly. The predicament is your standard case of cubicle madness. The fiancée, who figures only dimly, is no bright spot. The 30-something blues have descended to make “same ol’, same ol’” a torturous reality.
This is how the day begins: Badly. Bleary and bloated and many other b-words. There’s vomit on the blanket and he’s not sure whose. Maybe the dog, Barkley? A bottle on the nightstand, a butt in the tray with a dead two-inch ash. The boiler is broken again, the shower bitterly cold. The driveway? Blocked—call a tow truck.
The only upshot is Barkley. It’s the dog who teaches our protagonist to roll with it. If the story can be said to have a moral—and thankfully it cannot—it’s that dogs do this thing called life with more ease and aplomb than a man can ever hope to.
Barkley brings the ball once more, drops it at your side, panting hotly in your face…. Barkley knows best: Sometimes there’s no knowing. Things turn for the worst, no one to blame, no preparing…. And how about the ball? Well, nothing can stop it.
In what amounts to dramatic apostrophe in print (Now I shall address thee, good audience), Foster Altschul calls attention to the story-ness of his story:
(But wait. Let’s think. Let’s break it down. A briefcase? Who carries a briefcase in this day and age? Which day, which age? And who was he calling? ... Booze and cigarettes—that old story?...)
And later: "There are obstacles, tensions, complications galore."
In this case, the meta-narrative doesn’t detract from the story but suggests something beyond itself—maybe it’s the higher consciousness and unfulfilled potential of our man; more likely, it’s the author saying, Look, I know I’m not the first person who’s spun a tale, but I’m going to do it anyway.
And he does it in a voice all his own.
-LB
No comments:
Post a Comment