Farrago’s Wainscot #15, July 2015
“Three Small Slices of Pumpkin Pie” by Wendy N. Wagner
Reviewed by Harlen Bayha
Wendy N. Wagner cuts up “Three Small Slices of Pumpkin Pie,” but you may want to ask some questions about the ingredients before you nosh ‘em down. In the world of ordinary girl Janet, who plays both hero and villain in her own story, everything’s just like the world today, except every female has a pumpkin dangling from her bellybutton by a vine long enough so the pumpkin can rest on the ground. The constant need for additional carrying cases or backpacks aside, the real issue with the pumpkin is that they have become a statement of sexual dominance and submission. If an overly-sensitive person in our world would be said to wear their heart metaphorically on their sleeve, in Janet’s world, a woman literally wears her sexuality like a purse over her shoulder.
Don’t think too hard about the allegory’s particulars, like how the pumpkins can be opened, entered, or have seeds extracted, yet still remain alive and connected to their owners. Don’t contemplate how you can participate in physical sports while attached to a vine with a medium-sized gourd sitting on the ground next to you. That way lies madness. Instead, consider what it means “to do the pumpkin” as a woman. As a man.
Janet decides to steer clear of this awkward world of sexual ambiguity for most of the story, but like a car trying to brake on an icy mountain road, she eventually crashes into the pumpkin she’s been trying to avoid, and at the worst possible time.
Harold ties to convince his granddaughter Isabelle not to leave him in Josh Rountree’s “All My Pretty Chickens.” Isabelle went through a hard time losing her parents when she was young, right around the same time spectral fowl started clucking around the planet Earth. Neither science nor religion seems to have any decent idea as to why this happened, but Isabelle really doesn’t care either way. She just knows whenever she sees one of them she remembers her parents’ deaths, so in a fit of desperation laced with cowardice (at least in Harold’s view) she decides to go live on Mars, a chicken-free zone.
Harold knows it’s unlikely she’ll ever return to Earth in his remaining lifetime, and he’s trying to be as supportive as he can while driving his only living offspring to the spaceport for a trip to the colonies. Softly sad and brooding, this story provides an ironic twist on how people deal when the dead return to life.
Hal Duncan’s “And a Pinch of Salt” combines a haughty, hyper-literary style, aggressive sexuality, and a vitriolic annoyance with Christian theology. Less a story than a study of setting and Biblical history, Duncan builds his reconstruction around a family feud between Che Zeus, the gay hippy, and his daddy Jehovah, the bitter old despot. The experimental style flirts at the edges of literary taste by running sentences into confusing jumbles at times, and prompting frequent trips to dictionary.reference.com for all but the most erudite of readers.
Today, Che celebrates his pop’s demise by carrying on as he always had, out and proud, despite his father’s violent distaste for his lifestyle. The story’s aggressive themes feel like an effort to entertain anti-religious folks and, maybe as a bonus, to enrage those who haven’t yet followed their favorite theological arguments to their bizarre, but internally consistent, conclusions. This story tends to preach to a certain choir: those well versed in Christian mythology and comfortable with making fun of it, crossed with those who enjoy a certain density of prose.
“Wunderkammern Castle” by Krista Hoeppner Leahy brings on more experimentation, this time with symbolism, a dream-like atmosphere, and characters who come and go seemingly at random. Tying them all together is Penny, who haunts the halls of Wunderkammern Castle. She has traded her freedom for the ability to help others gain theirs. She can grant her visitors a boon, one wish of their choice, designed to break their chains and let them find freedom. Her honorable intentions yield only bizarre results, mainly due to the ridiculously inappropriate requests of her petitioners. There seems to be some sort of rule prohibiting her from counseling her petitioners in their requests, and everyone who comes to her is unable to see their own shortcomings, which drives Penny crazy.
Fortunately, being in the wishing business, she calls in a favor so she can get a wish of her own. Unfortunately, she also finds herself stumped as to how to deal with her situation, until she decodes a series of bloody, starry, and rosy symbols which guide her to the appropriate actions. The end result feels a bit illogical and confusing, the sort of ending that makes sense in a dream, until you wake up. Still, the ending fits the tone and style of the piece, so readers craving a dreamy, subtle story can find something here to love.
Harlen Bayha stands with any group who lacks civil rights, because he’s super-paranoid that someday someone will take his own away. He plans to write fiction whether or not that paranoia ever becomes reality.