Today is the day of the wednes, Story366!
On the road! Writing this, rather late in the game, from a hotel in Springfield, Illinois. I just downed a whole lot of Indian food—some of the best I’ve had in a while—and listened to the Cubs beat the Royals for their sixth win in a row. It’s a good night, by most any standard.
Driving through the cornfields that border I-55 almost brought me to tears, I have to admit. The last time I traveled was for my mother-in-law’s funeral back in January, not the most festive occasion, filled with gray skies, both literal and figurative. Today was a gorgeous day, and seeing those familiar fields, the sun lighting the gold tassels of the corn that fleck the green, the neat rows you could set a watch to, and most of all, the flatness—it really brought me back. I like the Ozarks and the beauty that encompasses it, sure. But there’s something about the plains, the lack of topography, and the ability to see as far as my eyes can see, straight ahead and in any direction, that just makes me feel content. COVID-19 has made me a little anxious, as it has us all, but driving across the Mississippi and into Illinois this afternoon, then laying my eyes upon the open fields? I, for the first time this year, feel like I’m at ease.
For today’s post, I tackled Kristine Ong Muslim‘s Age of Blight, out in 2016 from Unnamed Press. Muslim wears a lot of hats, publishing work in several genres, work I’ve always enjoyed when I’ve come across it. I’m thrilled to have gotten ahold of Age of Blight and read it for today, as it was a real pleasure. Let’s discuss.
This book comes with a foreward, one that tells us we are going to run into things that we’ve perhaps run into before, such as Bardenstan, a suburb in this world, and Outerbridge, the only place left in America where plants grow in soil. Did I mention this happens about a hundred years into the future, after a huge incident, which takes place in Bardenstan? Well, the foreward lets us know and now I’m telling you. There’s an island, too, beyond. So, FYI, it’s not 2020, and somehow, worse.
The book is also cut up into different sections, names with some pretty apt titles, such as “Animals,” which includes three stories about animals; “Children,” which features stories about kids; and “Instead of Human,” which is about things that are kinda-sort human, but not. So, the titles in this books make a lot of sense, make up an easy-to-follow filing system (unlike the vaguery of Zachary Doss’s dividers from a few of days ago).
Onto the stories. I read all three of those pieces in “Animals,” the first of which is “Leviathan.” This one’s about the discovery of that titular creature, how a certain scholar stumbled upon it, then fame and fortune. “The Wire Mother” is about a woman working in a research lab with a deranged scientist, a man so focused on torturing monkeys—and in the worst ways he can conceive—it’s hard to remember what he’d ever set out to discover. “The Ghost of Laika Encounters a Satellite” is aptly titled, as that’s what happens, that poor Russian space dog existing out there, beyond, and making observations.
I read something from the other sections of the book, at least one story, and really liked everything I came across. “The Playground” from “Children” is about the absurd concept of a playground after the world ends. “Day of the Builders,” from the last section, “The Age of Blight,” is about a group of outsiders, the Builders, who come to the devastated world with eyes on rebuilding, a project that might not be appreciated. The whole book seems to tell a story about this post-apocalyptic world, a world that Muslim fashions in a way I’ve never seen anyone do it before. This is fresh and funny and speculative, a true testament to creativity and insight.
My favorite stories are from the “Instead of Human” section. I could have written about “Zombie Sister,” which again, is aptly named, but instead chose “Pet,” which is just creepy-weird-good. “Zombie Sister” depicts what happens in this landscape when a nuclear family sees one of its daughters die, then come back, the whole thing told from the POV of her sister, who’s pretty over it from the get-go. There’s a sly distinction to this zombie story, which we’ve had our share of of late, as it’s hard to be shocked by a zombie when the world is so fucked up already—and when the zombie has mostly retains her humanity (i.e., annoying sister traits).
“Pet,” though, is something new. Like every family has a zombie in the previous story, everyone is issued a pet in “Pet,” a sort-of half-human, half-dog thing. The pet used to walk upright, but doesn’t anymore, and in general, is a pretty awful pet, howling and baying and causing all kinds of damage.
Our narrator/protagonist in this story, at the outset, talks about the pet returning, informs us that he hears scratching at the doggie door, which he’s nailed shut. He catches us up, lets us know that the pet was too much, too unruly, and too unpleasant to keep. He employed an age-old tactic, driving the pet out to the woods, letting it out of the car, then speeding away. The forest will take care of its unpleasantness, he assumed, case closed.
But yeah, the pet comes back, scratches at the door. And not only does it scratch at the door, but it evolves. Suddenly, this mongrel beast is walking upright again. Not only that, but there’s an exchange, as the narrator suddenly finds himself eating raw meat, from the floor, on all fours. It’s a strange, compelling, and bizarre switch, kind of terrifying, but also kind of magical. Kudos to Muslim for creating this view of humanity, in a landscape where the word is far from defined.
Kristine Ong Muslim’s Age of Blight is a big-concept book and delivers on its concept. I soooooo wish I’d read this book before I taught my dystopian lit class this past intersession, as I easily would have put this on the syllabus, had my students explore this weird and wonderful world that Muslim posits. It’s as unpredicable as it is clever, as heartfelt as it is chaotic, and just plain fun to read. Yay, books!
Story366 