Another fun collection that further explores the boundaries of found footage literature, often combining traditional narrative structures with found footage elements being explored by the characters. I really enjoyed the first volume of stories and was excited to pick this one up. It wasn’t quite as strong, in my opinion, as the first, but was still a fun read. Most of the stories were entertaining but didn’t really stick with me in any way, often feeling like they were fighting against the format instead of embracing it and enjoying it. There were some stand out stories for me, though; those by Peter Rosch, Laura Keating, Steve Loiaconi, Jason Fischer, Amanda M. Blake, and Chris Panatier all felt like they dove into the disarming naturalism of found footage and created stories that were creative and compelling.
The first epistolary novel was written in the middle of the 18th century, the clear artistic precursor to found footage as a film genre—with 1980’s “Cannibal Holocaust” being a pioneer but obviously 1999’s “The Blair Witch Project” being the film that really blew up the public intoxication with the subgenre. So, there is a weird circularity to have a story collection rooting itself in found footage as the aesthetic, ignoring that literature did it first. I think I was feeling that more in this collection than in the last. There were few “conventional” epistolary stories, (i.e. letters/correspondence or diary entries) with the closest being text message chains and internet forum comments, and those were some of the more interesting stories in the collection. There are some stories that are told as transcriptions of found video footage, and one of those is even on my list of strongest stories, but to be honest those feel like they would really rather be a short film and don’t explore the uncommon opportunities afforded by the written word. I guess I am trying to say I was a little disappointed not necessarily in the stories themselves but in that many of them felt safe, like stories that could have been written as traditional narratives and there wouldn’t have been anything lost, maybe even something gained. I was hoping for a little more exploration of how this particular subgenre, really pioneered almost 300 years ago, could intersect with the 21st century in darker, weirder, more unhinged kinds of ways.
Which is all to say a fun collection, with nothing mind-blowing but also nothing bad, and a few stand-outs along the way. It doesn’t quite exploit the full potential of the subgenre, but it definitely offers some peeks into the various liminal spaces it might lead.