Slipstream, Satire, Sci-Fi and Wonder: A Lit Mag That Blurs Literary Boundaries

A Capella Zoo (Issue 7, Fall 2011) calls itself a magazine of magical realism and slipstream.  (The term slipstream refers to fiction that blurs the boundaries between sci-fi and literary fiction.)  If you’re inclined to read or write fiction in a magical, fantastic, fable-ish, or slipstream vein, this issue offers a great tutorial.

What if?

Many of these stories work out answers to the strange what-if questions you probably pestered your parents with when you were a kid.  Such as: What if you lived in the clouds, but then your mom died, and your dad moved your family down to hard-edged Earth (“Moving Down,” JP Kemmick)?   Or what if you could teleport your body just by imagining a place, and what if it did you no good at all?  (“Proximity,” Josh Denslow)?  What if you lived a kind of two-dimensional life in a spaceship, observing nearby moons (“Waving on the Moon,” Tania Hershman)?

See where genre fiction can take you.

Several of the stories in this issue take on horror, some to beautiful effect.  Adam McOmber’s “What Follows Us” is set in 19th-century London and describes the end of a secret gay love affair.  This story makes great metaphorical use of a ghost story about a drowned boy, as well as a phantasmagoria show that the narrator and his former lover are about to go see.  And in Meryl Ferguson’s short-short horror-ish “Nandie In the Wall,” young Jeffrey’s sister Nandie has died.  Jeffrey leaves food for Nandie, who lives in the wall now, skeletal, dried-out, and in parts, until the police come and take Nandie, and their father, away.  The story packs a lot of strange power into a short space.

Kate Riedel’s story “Urban Legends” seems a subtle sci-fi story.  Charlie, the divorced, lonely narrator, pokes around Toronto’s subway stations and tunnels, unable to admit that he’s searching for his lost son. This episodic story circles around to a surprising ending, reminiscent of Audrey Niffenegger’s The Time Traveler’s Wife.

Humor can surprise and charm.

Bill Jones’ brief story “The Vampires in the Basement” turns a vampire visit into a comedy.  Instead of wreaking havoc, the visiting vampires sit on the couch next to the kids, mesmerized by Saturday-morning cartoons.  And Alexander Weinstein’s “Painting God at Epcot” imagines the conversations of Michelangelo and the other animatronic beings in Disney’s history-of-civilization ride – a funny, witty, and sad comment on free will and modern life.

Try the story-within-a-story form.

Curt Seubert’s “Message from Nature” opens with a letter from the Postal Service, which in turn contains another letter, which in turn tells the forgotten story of the once-legendary but tragic jazz bassist Buck B. Randy.  Likewise, Erich William Bergmeier’s “The Strong Salt Taste of Living Things” is a horror story that uses a mysterious letter to rework succubus-incubus folktales. 

Too much is still too much.

Sometimes things get out of hand, which can get in the way of the story.  J. David Bell’s satire “A Very Small Child Called Eugene,” imagines a future alternative America called You Whited States, in which whites (Anglosaxons) rule over the blacks (mudmonkeys).  Because it reads like a crazy-racist fantasy-rant, and because it doesn’t turn the status quo on its head, I kept wondering what, if any, the writer’s satirical point was.  And in Anthony J. Rapino’s “Fixing a Hole,” slacker narrator Joe starts seeing odd holes in the walls, the floor, the street, and finally other people.  It’s a great premise, but it veers into horror-gore, becoming almost silly, without giving Joe a real chance to change, or take meaningful action. 

Magical, sci-fi, slipstream, or whatever, a great story can make you cry.

Julia Rosenthal’s “Trouble in Mind” stood out.  In a near-future Hong Kong, Tony is the last human to speak and write in words.  Everyone else, including his wife and daughter, communicates through a complex new language of numbers.  His daughter has concocted a device that translates for him, but his wife wants him to try a last-ditch, dangerous surgical procedure.  A heart-breaking story of the end of a marriage.

This issue: Not perfect, but full of wonder.

This issue contains still more stories not reviewed here, as well as poetry. Although some of the stories felt they could have gone through another round of revision, and the issue as a whole could use a little more proofreading, A Capella Zoo is a lovely change of pace.  This journal holds a lot more wonder and strangeness between its covers than most literary magazines.  So this issue’s not perfect; it’s still full of wonder, which is also a great rule to write by.