THE UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE: STORIES
rob mclennan. Chaudiere Books, $15 paperback (100p) ISBN 978-0-9783428-8-3
For those of you not acquainted with quantum mechanics, the
Oxford dictionary defines the uncertainty principle as “the principle that the momentum and position of a particle
cannot both be precisely determined at the same time.” In other words, the
more exactly the position is calculated, the less determinable the momentum,
and vice versa.
Hmmn? Interesting conundrum and a
fitting title for poet and micropublisher rob mclennan’s latest collection of
“tiny” prose. While one struggles to
categorize the pieces—not exactly flash, not exactly prose poem—there is an
equally sneaking sense of a deeper emotional life tucked amongst musings on
Michael Hutchinson and the coveted Stanley cup.
In an interview with author and
fellow Canadian Jessica Kluthe, mclennan states that the work was shaped by an
encounter with American writer Sarah Manguso’s collection, Hard to Admit and Harder to Escape,
which similarly employs a half-page, single-paragraph form for its stories, but
that in his manuscript, he “deliberately kept no sense of order”.
This disjointedness gives the book the feeling of a
late-night dive into digital culture, and, in fact, several of the pieces were
taken from his Twitter experiments with the Jon-Stewart-inspired hashtag
#IDontHaveFactsToBackThisUp.
One of the more thought provoking of these—“Pee-Wee Herman
was first created using secret Soviet stealth tech; it’s why we’ve barely seen
him since. #IDontHaveFactsToBackThisUp”—is a perfect example of his cheeky,
Canadian humor.
Speaking of which, listen to what he has to say about an
80’s cult favorite:
For years I’d a theory about the film The Lost
Boys (1987), that vehicle
for Corey heart-
throbs Haim and Feldman. Forget the kick-ass
soundtrack, forget the coloured lights, forget
Canadian actor Kiefer
Sutherland in leather,
fangs and spiked hair, soaring over the beach.
It was the
grandfather, played rugged,
warm
and soft-hearted by
Barnard Hughes, who
crashed through at
the end, pushing
two
stakes that would kill the head vampire, turn-
ing the tables
and saving the
narrative. Did
anyone catch it? The bottles of thick dark liq-
uid, his “root
beer” that no
one allowed, his
unexplained absence through most of the film,
his collection of taxidermy? Even the fact that
his daughter thought him dead at the offset,
when their lost car arrived, the old man lying,
sprawled out, on day-lit porch. How else could
you explain any of this, but for the fact he was
a vampire too?
The two Coreys
were just so
much smokescreen. Even
the grandfather’s
last line, “all the damned vampires.” It wasn’t
that the town had vampires at all, but citing
foul excess. Was he one of the saved, or was he
including himself?
This passage is typical of the wise-ass style he uses in
addressing such topics as Ms. Pac-Man and Vanilla Ice, but this (sometimes
brilliant) borderline spoof is not all that this collection has to offer. Remember that deeper emotional vein I was
speaking of?
Well every so often, mclennan injects something personal,
like this little doozie:
By the time I entered my teens, our
mother’s
hospital stays
had lengthened, from
weeks
into months. So much, in fact,
there was a part
of me resentful for the periods she
returned. I
had begun to appreciate the
solitude an empty
house allowed
against how restrictive
it felt
once she came home. We walked on
eggshells,
the
expression goes, suggesting
a delicate
situation, on
the edge of
danger or ruin.
Instead, we bled. We walked around
the house
on broken glass.
And you see the talent under the mask.
I sincerely look forward to digging into more of his work.
In the meantime, I will be pouring over the glittery pretties to be found on his blog. I suggest that you visit
as well. Perhaps we will both stumble upon the beginnings of his next book. (June
2014)
Purchase The
Uncertainty Principle: Stories HERE.
Reviewer bio: C.A. LaRue is a writer/artist working out of
New Orleans. She studied creative writing at Hollins University and holds a
B.S. from the University of New Orleans. She is a registered member of the
Tlingit Nation of Alaska with recent work in Deep South Magazine, The Review
Review and Ardor Literary Magazine. Find her at http://bonesparkblog.wordpress.com
or on twitter @bonesparkblog.
