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The Bestiary
by Ann VanderMeer (editor) and Ivica Stevanovic (illustrator)
Centipede Press
2016, 277 pages, 5.5 x 7 inches
Since all the antipodes have been discovered and exploited, there is very little natural mystery left in the word. As Jeff VanderMeer points out in the introduction to the delightful new book The Bestiary, we are left with Bigfoot and Nessie. A little further out into the fringe of the cultural imagination is the dogman and reptilian illuminati operatives, but these also inspire less a sense of wonder than pushing conspiracy theory buttons. But natural history as a genre to conceive of things like the stomach-faced blemmyes and the fiery salamander is all but lost. I find table-top RPG bestiaries often satisfy that itch, but they are still too confined to their own internal world-building.
What is needed is a bestiary that comes from the literary imagination, and to this end, the weird-fiction editor extraordinaire Ann VanderMeer has compiled a catalogue of the fantastic, 26 entries (from A to Z) by writers across the speculative fiction spectrum, and lovingly illustrated by Ivica Stevanovic. Centipede Press has a reputation for finely crafted editions, and while small in size, The Bestiary reflects their attention to detail with rich paper stock and ribbon marker.
I don’t want to give away too many of the surprises, but it’s worth noting a few of the standout entries. There is the “Daydreamer by Proxy” by the novelist Dexter Palmer, a spine-grafting parasite offered by a corporation to its employees to help them deal with the too much daydreaming in the middle of the afternoon. The Iranian writer Reza Negarestani offers what appears to be an excerpt from a bestiary from another dimension, with the “Nolus Barathruma (Homo sapiens sapiens)” an otherworldly entity that induces visions in its host. “Bartleby’s Typewriter” by Corey Redekop describes a turtle-like creature that can mimic inanimate objects, whose classification causes etymologists to declare “the whole profession a mockery.” – Peter Bebergal
Mean Girls Club
by Ryan Heshka
Nobrow Press
2016, 24 pages, 6.8 x 9.1 x 0.1 inches
If your understanding of what a Mean Girls Club consists of is defined by the 2004 Lindsay Lohan film, then Ryan Heshka’s new release from Nobrow Press (as part of their wonderful 17 x 23 series) is going to blow your mind. In Mean Girls Club, Pinky, Sweets, Blackie, McQualude, Wendy, and Wanda aren’t the popular girls in an Illinois high school, rather they are a gang of sociopaths who revel in murder, mayhem, pill popping, and depraved dereliction. Heshka’s 1950s bombshells start their day with ceremonial insect venom transfusions, snake worship, a pill buffet, and a fish slap fight, then go on to wreck havoc in a hospital, movie theater, boutiques, and the streets, only to finish off by jacking a lingerie truck, kidnapping patients and nurses along the way.
In a nod to the pulps and pin-ups of the past and rendered in fluorescent pinks and inky blacks, Heskha upends the conventional idea of the B-movie Vixen by adding a layer of such over-the-top brutality and vehemence that it transcends the possible, bringing the trope into the post-ironic age where we have lost the ability to discern what we are meant to take seriously.
Is Mean Girls Club to be read as satirical social commentary? Is it just flat out bonkers? Or is it a combination of both? When viewed through various critical lenses, Mean Girls Club demands that the reader ask certain questions: issues of gender and power, fringe vs center, entertainment vs social order. But this sort of critical response probably misses the point of Heskha’s intent.
Heskha doesn’t seem to care how we approach his work; this book swings to its own pop-culture rhythm, flat and full of energy and horror – perhaps the perfect narrative for precarious times. The viciousness in this book stands starkly in contrast to the stylized elegance of Heskha’s lines and layouts. Its publisher, Nobrow Press, says it has “A vintage throwback appeal with modern sensibilities … with appeal to an alternative subculture eager for art that continues to subvert the conventions of the old guard of comics.” It’s all this and more. But one thing for sure, in Mean Girls Club we have an artist making the art he wants to make. And although it may be a bit uncomfortable for some of us to read, it may just be the art we deserve. – Daniel Elkin
Books That Belong On Paper first appeared on the web as Wink Books and was edited by Carla Sinclair. Sign up here to get the issues a week early in your inbox.
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