Book Review: Stunt by Claudia Dey
Sep. 14th, 2011 07:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
juushikaTitle: Stunt
Author: Claudia Dey
Published: Toronto: Coach House Books, 2008
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 244
Total Page Count: 108,548
Text Number: 314
Read Because: recommended by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
junkmail, purchased new from Powell's
Review: When her father abandons the family leaving just a note behind, nine-year-old Eugenia begins a journey—through sudden adulthood, in search of her father, towards their tightrope-walking ancestor. Magical realism on a Toronoto landscape, Stunt is a tale of the half-believable strangeness of personal experience on the fringes of suburban life. Dey's voice is abrupt and image-laden, a near opposite of lyrical prose; instead it mirrors transcribed spoken poetry, and while that style can initially be difficult, it develops a strong and easily-internalized rhythm: at first the book seems strange, but after a hundred pages it's the outside world which seems strange, and simple, and arrhythmic. Stunt approaches its subject matter as though in a dream, but defines it with nuance and intricate, private detail; the combination is something like portraiture, sketched here, painstakingly detailed there, creating a complete image which is convincing not despite, but because, of its stylization. It's not a flawless achievement, and obscurely dense paragraphs, underexplored elements, and offputting aspects linger. But in many ways Stunt reminds me of Haven Kimmel's Iodine, another obscure and strange novel about one woman's bizarre life: it surprises me not at all that Stunt is all but unknown, and I doubt that a United States release would change that; both stranger and more normal than it seems, it will find a small audience and sometimes hold even them at a distance. But Stunt is also remarkable. In an age overflowing with suburban angst, this is something different: a liminal view of almost-normal life, strange and inexplicable, and at its best defiantly real. Eugenia walks tightropes, and so does her book: it's an uneasy journey, a dangerous one, but the view (hers, and ours) is beautiful. I'm glad I was pointed towards this book, and recommend it in turn.
Review posted here on Amazon.com.
Dearjunkmail: Thank you. I'm glad I was finally able to get my hands on this, and it was quite the read. For various reasons I don't always get to write positive views of recommended books, and I don't always need to (taste is subjective after all, and mine can be particularly personal), but I loved the chance to do so. I'm glad I own this book, and I'm interested to see how and if my impression changes on reread—I imagine it feels a little less chaotic, but perhaps just as strange. If you're interested, I'd recommend in return Holly Phillip's The Burning Girl for a different use of synesthesia (which I consider one of the underused elements of this book—it's richly sensory , but more stream of consciousness than cross-wired association—but I'd love to debate the point with you!) and as above Haven Kimmel's Iodine which is a similar book in nature but entirely different in content.
Author: Claudia Dey
Published: Toronto: Coach House Books, 2008
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 244
Total Page Count: 108,548
Text Number: 314
Read Because: recommended by
junkmail, purchased new from Powell'sReview: When her father abandons the family leaving just a note behind, nine-year-old Eugenia begins a journey—through sudden adulthood, in search of her father, towards their tightrope-walking ancestor. Magical realism on a Toronoto landscape, Stunt is a tale of the half-believable strangeness of personal experience on the fringes of suburban life. Dey's voice is abrupt and image-laden, a near opposite of lyrical prose; instead it mirrors transcribed spoken poetry, and while that style can initially be difficult, it develops a strong and easily-internalized rhythm: at first the book seems strange, but after a hundred pages it's the outside world which seems strange, and simple, and arrhythmic. Stunt approaches its subject matter as though in a dream, but defines it with nuance and intricate, private detail; the combination is something like portraiture, sketched here, painstakingly detailed there, creating a complete image which is convincing not despite, but because, of its stylization. It's not a flawless achievement, and obscurely dense paragraphs, underexplored elements, and offputting aspects linger. But in many ways Stunt reminds me of Haven Kimmel's Iodine, another obscure and strange novel about one woman's bizarre life: it surprises me not at all that Stunt is all but unknown, and I doubt that a United States release would change that; both stranger and more normal than it seems, it will find a small audience and sometimes hold even them at a distance. But Stunt is also remarkable. In an age overflowing with suburban angst, this is something different: a liminal view of almost-normal life, strange and inexplicable, and at its best defiantly real. Eugenia walks tightropes, and so does her book: it's an uneasy journey, a dangerous one, but the view (hers, and ours) is beautiful. I'm glad I was pointed towards this book, and recommend it in turn.
Review posted here on Amazon.com.
{POSTCARD FROM OUTER SPACE}
eugenius,
the newborn stars, you can tell they are newborn
because they glow scarlet halos
with hydrogen announcing themselves
2500 light-years from the earth.
but what I really need to tell you is this:
fixed points are a fiction.
fixed points are a fiction.
fixed points are a fiction.
s.
—Stunt, Claudia Dey, 197
Dear
junkmail: Thank you. I'm glad I was finally able to get my hands on this, and it was quite the read. For various reasons I don't always get to write positive views of recommended books, and I don't always need to (taste is subjective after all, and mine can be particularly personal), but I loved the chance to do so. I'm glad I own this book, and I'm interested to see how and if my impression changes on reread—I imagine it feels a little less chaotic, but perhaps just as strange. If you're interested, I'd recommend in return Holly Phillip's The Burning Girl for a different use of synesthesia (which I consider one of the underused elements of this book—it's richly sensory , but more stream of consciousness than cross-wired association—but I'd love to debate the point with you!) and as above Haven Kimmel's Iodine which is a similar book in nature but entirely different in content.
