I love irony. I love paradox. I love absurdity. False Magic Kingdom (and its sequel, Bad Alchemy, which I am now reading) is an exercise in all three. The author's note in the beginning of the book, that "This is my first attempt at non-genre fiction, I may have failed, I don't know, but this is a story I needed to tell."
I find it ironic that JK describes this book as a non-genre story that he had to tell. From my perspective and in my opinion JK and a few others have created a genre known as "non-genre." I love it. I love the paradox and I love how this story pushes the limits of descriptive language. Since we humans tend to like to organize and group similar things together and then name them, as in various genres of literature, non-fiction, mystery, sci-fi, romance, etc.
I just love this American/English language. It can be potently descriptive depending upon who is writing, and it can be baffling, failing to produce proper descriptors for various phenomena. I believe most of us know the expression, "I'm beyond words." We have a word for that: indescribable.
Just as a quick aside, reading JK's author's note, I was taken back to my Junior year in High School. It was a literature class and it as a delight to the young budding existential-phenomenologist who is typing this review. One of my best friends and one of the smartest people I have ever met, was carrying on a discussion with an increasingly frustrated Brother Diss (yep, that was his name, don't wear it out). The discussion over the phrase, "I have nothing." My friend Bob held that this was absurd, in that one cannot HAVE nothing. If one could have nothing, then nothing is something. I jumped in where I could; I swear this conversation was so enthralling and challenging that I never wanted it to end. This was going beyond literature and into some pretty deep philosophical territory and it was challenging, from my viewpoint, the limits of our language. Since I know you will want to know, for his failure to see that you can have nothing, Bob ended up spending the last third of the class hugging a huge vertical pipe in the back of the room and a week's detention. Power play, not fair.
Now, to the present, this fascinating book, with its jumping from 1st, 2nd and 3rd person perspectives in short blasts of visitations to moments in people's lives. It is a brilliant, ingenious approach to story-telling (and that makes it a genre in my, ah, book.) Deliberately not having a genre is to create a genre and as a now well-trained existential-phenomenological clinical psychologist, I find the machine gun like switching from one perspectival view to another, jumping from event to event to be a nearly triumphant phenomenology of human existence.
The style may drive some readers to question their sanity, but I found the style, the humor, the pathos, the gravity and its opposite, comedy, to be absurdly captivating. While not directly evident in any given passage, I do find myself reminded of Philip K. Dick, H.P. Lovecraft, and Jonathan Lethem. I have no idea to what extent JK has exposed himself to these authors, but he is kin from where I sit.
There is no sense going into the various scenes we visit and revisit since it is really the "non-genre" style that is on display here. I admit it, he's cracked into my top ten or so "must read" authors. What I love is that there is, at present, much more for me to read. Lucky me. Lucky you if you enjoy excursions into the absurd and the mundane co-incidentally, love having your brain twisted in a way that kind of tickles and are capable of serious suspension of disbelief, then the work of Jordan Krall is for you. If its not your thing, untwist your panties, you are definitely not having enough fun in life.