Matthew Kressel, editor, Sybil's Garage no. 5 (Senses Five Press, 2008)
In this fifth issue of Sybil's Garage, the bi-annual fiction and poetry anthology published by Senses Five Press, magic, consumerism, dead rock stars, and the just plain weird come together in an uneven but mostly well-written hodgepodge of fantasy fiction.
Each story and poem is accompanied by a song suggestion, a tune from The Devil's Interval or Modest Mouse or Pat Benatar that supposedly encapsulates the mood or theme of the fictional piece. As I did not have all of these songs handy, one could suggest my experience of this anthology is somewhat limited, but there you go. Each story is also peppered with illustrations that resemble nineteenth-century clip-art -- since none of the stories take place in nineteenth-century Britain, these images, which only very superficially reflect the events of the narratives, come across as twee and distracting.
The stories, while a mixed bunch, are generally entertaining. Samantha Henderson's "The Ballad of Delphinium Blue" reads as a monologue from an aged, testy bar patron who overhears a musician playing the titular song and proceeds to correct the misconceptions about the song's troubled subject. The patron's and thus the story's voice is lively and evocative, establishing the story's futuristic, alien setting without going into ponderous detail that might have overpowered Delphinium's tale itself, which is essentially timeless.
In the brief "Tattoos of the Sky, Tattoos of the Days" by Alex Dally MacFarlane, a homeless woman who communicates with the symbolic bird tattoos scattered all over her body establishes a deeper connection with Leah, the tattoo artist caught up in a fracturing marriage who is responsible for the woman's unique body art. Poetic and subtle, if a little short.
Following that is Elizabeth Barrette's lovely poem, "With Every Fine and Subtle Sense Perceive," about the wonders of the senses that cannot be scientifically grasped or measured.
"The Girl Next Door," written by Vylar Kaftan, is a disturbing but well-crafted story about an elderly recluse who becomes obsessed with a beautiful new neighbour and finds himself tempted by abilities he disowned in his youth as his desire for the young woman strains reasonable boundaries. Eventually it all leads up to an unsurprising climax with a very surprising conclusion.
After that is Adrienne J. Odasso's poem, "River Girl," concerning a girl's paranormal, ghostly experience with a river into which she drops a stone. Vivid but muddled.
"Waiting for Spring" by Caspian Gray isn't exactly a fantasy, but is still dependent on a belief in magic as a little girl whose best friend stops coming to school because his sister has died comes up with a creative idea to bring her back. While the narrative is slender, it is well-executed.
Gray's piece of fluff is followed up by a nonfiction article by Mercurio D. Rivera called "The Best-Dressed Man on the Court," an immensely readable story of his youth in New York spent in the grips of an obsession with paddleball (a type of lower-class cousin to racquetball). Poignant and relatable, Rivera conveys how, while the sport helped him to make friends, his narrow-minded dependence on the game kept him from knowing his own friends as well as he could have.
What comes next is "Last Supper," a puzzling and slight poem by Miranda Gaw that evokes some nice imagery but a confusing idea.
"Last and First" by Daniel A Rabuzzi chronicles a dying alien, the last of her race, as she observes the crash-landing of a ship full of human colonists on her planet. As they bicker amongst themselves, oblivious to her presence, over whether to colonize the planet or to return from whence they came to repair their ship and mourn their losses, the alien uses what powers she has left to help them come to an ultimate decision. While "Last and First" doesn't have anything egregiously wrong with it, it still feels standard and over-familiar.
Another poem follows this, "Glass" by Aaron Leis, a measured piece about a lover who mourns the opportunities he lost to reconnect with an old flame who could have been the love of his life.
After this comes "All His Worldly Goods," by Barbara Kranstoff, a crass, cynical and directionless story about a woman who arranges a marriage with a loser to keep herself supplied with pharmaceuticals. The motivations and setting are poorly defined, the narrative bleak and unoriginal.
However, the wonderful, puzzling "Salesman" by Gary Moshimer helps to cleanse the palate. In my favourite story of the collection, a middle-aged woman shares some last words with her befuddled, dying father, who has left relatively little behind him other than a string of neglected children and numerous ex-wives. Their conversation takes a bizarre turn as the father starts inventing memories he never had -- and yet somehow they are affecting the real world. With a little ingenuity, his daughter uses some of her own truth-bending skills to harness this unexpected gift, with delightful results.
Following this is "Orpheus," an unexceptional poem by Amal El-Mohtar that explores the Greek myth of the gods-blessed musician.
We then take a break from fiction with Devin Poore's interview with Lauren McLaughlin, the author of such YA novels as Cycler, and her literary explorations of gender, youth, and the boundaries of science fiction.
"Look Away" by Eliyahoo Talgam is a lucid if obvious poem that also explores the reasons behind believing in (and thinking about, and writing) fantasy as opposed to staying land-locked in reality.
Then comes "Lost in the Supermarket," by Veronica Schanoes, easily the worst story of the anthology -- an inconsistent, tedious, pretentious and molasses-paced story about a girl trapped in a supermarket (either real or imagined -- the author is never clear on which) who is confronted by various hallucinations, including Joe Strummer of the Clash, as she tries to fight her way out. Inexplicable, boring, and just plain unpleasant to read, Schanoes churns out a pretty phrase but with a jumbled narrative that cannot give it substance.
"Macduff's Lament" is a humorous poem by David M. Rheingold that describes an alcoholic's existential discussion with an "AI named George" on the nature of death and existence. A short but surprisingly profound piece.
Following that is the gorgeously written but incredibly sad fairy-tale, "Roses," by Hazel Marcus Ong. Two sisters, one red, one white (after a pair of roses their mother held as she died giving birth to them) grow up as close confidants until adulthood and the sexual awareness that comes with it create an irreparable breach between them. The graphic language may surprise you, but the story stays true to form.
The inexplicably-titled "Wombat Fishbone" by Jason Erik Lundberg is a bizarre story about a strange phenomenon that has begun striking towns with no warning. While its approach terrifies one town's inhabitants, one of the men who is swept up by the movement discovers its unforeseen positive effects. Using some frankly hilarious imagery, Lundberg explores the randomness of magical occurrences and how a life without magic can be just as deadening as it is safe.
The final entry is a disappointing and rote poem called "No Word for Goodbye" by Pam McNew, about a woman who leaves a romantic relationship and her abandoned partner who regrets taking her for granted. I couldn't exactly find any magic or even any mystery about it, so it's really anyone's guess why it was included in this collection.
While a few of the stories in Sybil's Garage No. 5 stood out, the majority of them fell into the category of "nice reads" that amuse for a while but are quickly forgotten. There were few stories that truly fired the imagination or evoked a sincere response from me, so all in all I would have to say that this particular issue of Sybil's Garage is pleasant at best, mediocre at worst.
