Between Bernard, who views his participation as destiny, and Clyde, whose participation is to claim the spoils of Bernard’s destiny, Garrett Cook’s Archelon Ranch is one of the few (if there are any other) books that really did need the two foreshadowing columns on its back in order to accompany its protagonists. That’s not to say that either character likes being in this book, nor that they don’t question their positions therein. That also doesn’t say why I love this book, but I’m getting to that.
With the first of the separate roads, Bernard’s Deep Objectivity condition causes his form to shift around with such a range that he could be a fedora or a T-Rex with only a moment of acknowledgement to make it happen. He rarely resists these forms, just like how he does not resist his apparent position as the main character. His passive existence gains direction when he learns of a perfect plane of existence named after the book’s title hidden beyond the Mall surrounding the jungle-city of hyper-sexualized and hyper-violent Suburbanites, the police force of triceratops, and the various animals and people living tense lives here and there between. Clyde is among the latter, who says that most of his life was about dealing raptor gas to kids, heroin and bananas to orangutans, and underage liquifilm porn to Mall patrons. In between, he lives with his father and goes to the church of Narrativism, where “Plot Preserve” is said in the same way as “Praise Jesus” or “Cthulhu Fhtagn.” Having been a disposable side character for most of his life and needed to grant himself a name in Garrett Cook’s absence, he has grown to despise his creator and study all of Cook’s flaws. However, his former adherence has given him enough insight to see that Bernard has been made the main character of Archelon Ranch. And, fed up with his lot in life, vows to make it to Archelon Ranch before Bernard can claim it. Along the way he argues the idea of Authorial Intent with the Reverend, an ally at the end of a gun, and searches the best tools which he knows Cook -- a writer of violent fiction, in case you haven’t read any of his stuff -- would leave around. The summary of this journey is shown in the first few lines of the tenth chapter, which I believe should be a quotation used in any sort of discussion about this book. Furthermore, the entirety of said tenth chapter delves into a surreal nightmare that I will likely be re-reading again and again.
Outside of that chapter being awesome, I’d probably say that it shows my only real complaint with Archelon Ranch -- Re-reading again and again. Entire paragraphs, pages, or chapters may need to be looked back over in order to get the most of Archelon Ranch, but really any other complaint I could possibly have would likely be justified by the fact that the book is a heavy exercise in metafiction. Things are going topsy-turvy and it just looks like shit is coming out of nowhere without reason? That happens enough to sound like a major theme in how fiction is inherently absurd. The reader might think the book is pretentious trash like all other metafiction? Clyde’s foreshadowing column has already called Cook on it. Hell, even the re-reading complaint falls short when the book itself is only one hundred and eleven pages.
With one hundred and eleven pages, however, it definitely does not overstay its welcome. While getting acquainted with Cook’s work may be necessary, the content herein looks fit to satisfy anyone who has had any thoughts on how characters feel about being made the tools of the author.