The Critics’ Corner
Michael J A Tyzuk writes about...
David R. Eland’s “Xenophiles”
So, it’s Sunday night and I’m paging through the latest issue of Bewildering Stories and wondering what I’m going to pick apart this week. Of course, the first story that catches my eye is Danielle Parker’s “Rock Bottom and Up,” but it occurs to me that it would be to my advantage to spread the misery, I mean joy, among more than one author, so it would probably be best if I chose something else.
This week I think we’ll do something different, if for no other reason that because I can. I’m going to critique a piece of flash fiction: “Xenophiles,” by David R. Eland.
I truly believe that flash fiction is an art form. I know this because I am simply incapable of writing it. If I can’t do it then it must be art. If I can do it and it is art then I can pride myself on being a gifted amateur. But I can’t do flash fiction. I’ve tried; the results weren’t pretty and have been mercifully euthanized.
“Xenophiles” took me less than ten minutes to read, but in that short time frame I experienced an intriguing variety of emotions. First I was amused by the notion that the SETI crew and the conspiracy theorists could be looking in the wrong direction in their search for proof of the existence of aliens.
Amusement quickly became glee at the notion that the Aliens in question have been spending the last several years sucking up all of our internet bandwidth by downloading porn. They’ve been ogling our men and women for years. I had this flashback to an old “Kids In the Hall” sketch where two aliens are discussing the fact that they’ve been kidnapping men and anal probing them for decades and they only thing they’ve learned so far is that two out of ten really don’t mind.
My glee stepped up at least two notches at the idea that the perky young thing you’re talking to in the chat room is really some kind of pervert space alien. It made perfect sense to me; if there are terrestrial perverts then it’s only logical that there would be extraterrestrial perverts.
Then I got to the end, to the son’s warning to his father to run like hell if any of the sheep go missing. That’s the point where I actually started to laugh, not so much at the idea of aliens shagging sheep, but because about ten years ago I figured out why Scotsmen wear kilts and I don’t think they’d like the idea of aliens intruding in their sacred territory. (Don’t ask if you really don’t want to know!)
I like stories that make me belly laugh. In the case of “Xenophiles” I had to make a conscious effort not to laugh too hard lest I run the risk of waking up my landlords and their two children. Sometimes life just isn’t fair.
It’s obvious that David has a sense of humor. It’s also obvious that David enjoys telling stories. Those two qualities come through very clearly in the writing. It doesn’t take much to envision the combination of concern, disgust, and wry amusement Eugene must be feeling as he writes home to his father. David is a skilled writer who does a wonderful job of conveying character.
Maybe it’s because I was too busy trying not to laugh too hard, but I really couldn’t find anything to gripe about in this story. I don’t know whether to be impressed or frightened. On the one hand the story is really that good. On the other hand I could just be losing my touch. On the gripping hand, who cares? “Xenophiles” is just plain fun, and that’s something that a lot of writers seem to forget about these days.
A lot of writers seem to have this notion in their heads that their goal in life is to create this vast, sweeping literary epic. They want to write the epitome of contemporary literature, but they forget that a lot of people don’t want to read a literary masterpiece, they just want to read something that’s fun.
David hasn’t forgotten, and I think that can only be a good thing. David’s name now appears on my must-read list. Highly recommended.
Copyright © 2005 by Michael J A Tyzuk
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