Michael DeForge has cited “mass culture, surveillance, and performance” as three of his main thematic jumping-off points, and when you think about it, those themes cover a whole lot of ground. Prepare, then, to place yourself in the hands of one of the most original, compelling and hilarious writers in the world. 

All the Cameras in My Room is a short story collection (DeForge’s second), and as such it might well constitute a useful entry point to DeForge’s work for those who’ve found epics such as The Birds of Maine a tad forbidding. The story form, by its very definition, imposes a certain narrative concision, affording the opportunity to take the work in bite-sized chunks. Those same newcomers shouldn’t be surprised, though, if they end up binging anyway.

Space won’t permit a story-by-story rundown here, so a random selection will have to do. “Holiday Special” invokes Charles M. Schulz and Dr. Seuss, not that you would ever mistake it for A Charlie Brown Christmas or The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. DeForge respects the essence of these influences while taking them to places where their creators – and his readers, and who knows, possibly DeForge himself – could never have imagined they would go. “Larry Seedyseed,” as you might guess, is a new Johnny Appleseed, except that rather than planting trees across the USA, Larry becomes a folk hero by virtue of… well, there’s really no other way to say it: he ejaculates everywhere. “Boy Band” takes the idea of contemporary pop superstars’ slavish followings and runs with it; perhaps never has fan culture been so effectively skewered. The tour de force, “The Organizer,” is a fifty-page story about the infiltration of a leftist group. As has often been the case when DeForge brings his political concerns to the fore, the result ends up uncannily in tune with current world events. 

As for DeForge’s visual style, any attempt at description feels doomed to inadequacy. It simply must be experienced. While a deep vein of comic gold is mined by DeForge’s deft deployment of riotously surreal images cheek-by-jowl with (comparatively) straightforward prose, a different laughter also abounds: the rare kind elicited by sheer shake-your-head amazement at what you’re seeing.mRb