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Clocks
CLOCKS is literary Vaudeville, a stage where slapstick philosophy performs a high-wire act — wrestles with time and mortality. This major collection of comic tales is laced with insight and absurdist angst. Rolfe’s fiction gives new meaning to the word nonsense.
“Jason Rolfe’s precise, inventive stories are a treat. He makes them seem easy, which they’re not; he makes them seem funny, which they are. What’s more, they have a tasty Canadian tang to them. Here’s to CLOCKS!” —Doug Skinner
“Jason Rolfe’s precise, inventive stories are a treat. He makes them seem easy, which they’re not; he makes them seem funny, which they are. What’s more, they have a tasty Canadian tang to them. Here’s to CLOCKS!” —Doug Skinner
306 pages, Paperback
First published January 5, 2018
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
February 1, 2019
Jason E. Rolfe, author of ‘Synthetic Saints’, ‘An Inconvenient Corpse’, and ‘An Archive of Human Nonsense’, is back with ‘Clocks’, another collection of absurdist tales along the lines of ‘Corpse’. A few stories from that collection, in fact, reappear in ‘Clocks’, many of which have to do with, wait for it … clocks, and time. (“Wait for it” pun intended.) Rolfe is better at puns than I am. And he’s a master of satire, sarcasm, slapstick, of absurdist humor in all its forms. There’s even a little joke in the table of contents: the aptly titled “Non Existent Story” on page oo.
My favorites in this collection are the various errata and corrigendum and writer’s block pieces, and “Old Wooden Bench”, “18 Steps”, “A Heap and a Half”, “Reading Daniil Ivanovich”, “When Pushkin Comes to Shove”. And “The Late Monsieur Perec”, which is an oulipian ode, as it were, to Oulipo writer, George Perec. That is, in the dialogue, the character Perec omits certain letters. This leads to an Abbott and Costello-like exchange between Perec and the narrator:
"I'm looking for U," came his reply.
"For me?"
"No, U."
"Me?"
"U."
"Moi?"
"Th lettr U."
"Why?"
"Not Y, U!"
"No, why!"
"U!"
As an old Magellan buff, I also enjoyed revisiting “Magellan’s Revenge.” Of particular note are the Kafkaesque “Not Dead but Dreaming” and the howlingly funny “Make Every Day Count”. Oh and on a personal note, I was amused to find “myself” in a minor role in the opening piece, “An Intervention.” Other writer friends too will find themselves as characters in these pages and in some of Rolfe’s earlier works as well. Curious, dear reader, to know if you are among them? Well, you’ll just have to buy Rolfe’s books to find out.
My favorites in this collection are the various errata and corrigendum and writer’s block pieces, and “Old Wooden Bench”, “18 Steps”, “A Heap and a Half”, “Reading Daniil Ivanovich”, “When Pushkin Comes to Shove”. And “The Late Monsieur Perec”, which is an oulipian ode, as it were, to Oulipo writer, George Perec. That is, in the dialogue, the character Perec omits certain letters. This leads to an Abbott and Costello-like exchange between Perec and the narrator:
"I'm looking for U," came his reply.
"For me?"
"No, U."
"Me?"
"U."
"Moi?"
"Th lettr U."
"Why?"
"Not Y, U!"
"No, why!"
"U!"
As an old Magellan buff, I also enjoyed revisiting “Magellan’s Revenge.” Of particular note are the Kafkaesque “Not Dead but Dreaming” and the howlingly funny “Make Every Day Count”. Oh and on a personal note, I was amused to find “myself” in a minor role in the opening piece, “An Intervention.” Other writer friends too will find themselves as characters in these pages and in some of Rolfe’s earlier works as well. Curious, dear reader, to know if you are among them? Well, you’ll just have to buy Rolfe’s books to find out.
July 23, 2018
From 2014, Jason E. Rolfe's AN INCONVENIENT CORPSE was the funniest book I had read in years. Now, it has a rival.
Sometimes, a good book that I recommend thoroughly can be hard to review; this one, for example. In the same way that a joke or a poem cannot be summarized, the stories in CLOCKS can only be experienced. As tempted as I might be to post entire stories in this review, I can only quote from sections.
Jason E. Rolfe has a passion for absurdist fiction, an encyclopedic knowledge of its writers. Without such a compass, I can only compare his work to John Sladek's, to R. A. Lafferty's, to the fables of Ambrose Bierce or Robert Louis Stevenson. If Stevenson's "The Sinking Ship" makes you laugh, then CLOCKS will do the same.
Among the many joys of the book are the tributes paid to Rolfe's favourite people, from Buster Keaton and Samuel Beckett to Daniil Kharms and Kurt Russell in THE THING. They show up and perform along with condescending couches, blue whales, Flat Earthers and Hollow Earthers (who cannot get along), Russian writers lost in America, Canadian writers lost in Canada, Mexican pinatas and kidney stones that seriously get in the way of things.
There are moments of melancholy, observations of life's regrets, hopes eroded, but looming over the entire book is the humour that made AN INCONVENIENT CORPSE a constant pleasure.
The corpse is gone; the clocks are here. Grab this one, and uncover one of Canada's best kept secrets: the bleakly joyous, laughing world of Jason E. Rolfe.
I passed a younger version of myself on the way to work this morning. I was eleven years old.
"Wow," I said.
"I wish I was more self-confident back then," I replied.
"I wish I turned out differently."
"I had such low self-esteem."
"And I had such high hopes."
I went to work feeling absolutely miserable, but I went to school feeling even worse.
Sometimes, a good book that I recommend thoroughly can be hard to review; this one, for example. In the same way that a joke or a poem cannot be summarized, the stories in CLOCKS can only be experienced. As tempted as I might be to post entire stories in this review, I can only quote from sections.
I wouldn’t say I was a nihilist; it’s just that I thought the world was meaningless and our lives were utterly pointless.
Jason E. Rolfe has a passion for absurdist fiction, an encyclopedic knowledge of its writers. Without such a compass, I can only compare his work to John Sladek's, to R. A. Lafferty's, to the fables of Ambrose Bierce or Robert Louis Stevenson. If Stevenson's "The Sinking Ship" makes you laugh, then CLOCKS will do the same.
"Who the hell are you?" Jules Verne demanded.
We all turned toward the Frenchman, who’d somehow appeared in the tunnel beside us.
"Zhang Heng," Zhang Heng said.
"Edmund Halley," Edmund Halley said.
"Jason Rolfe," I said.
"Two of you are famous enough to be familiar to me," Jules Verne said. "But you sir," he said to Edmund Halley. "I’ve never heard of you before in all my life."
Among the many joys of the book are the tributes paid to Rolfe's favourite people, from Buster Keaton and Samuel Beckett to Daniil Kharms and Kurt Russell in THE THING. They show up and perform along with condescending couches, blue whales, Flat Earthers and Hollow Earthers (who cannot get along), Russian writers lost in America, Canadian writers lost in Canada, Mexican pinatas and kidney stones that seriously get in the way of things.
I lost my mind this morning. I’m frustrated because I always leave it in the old wooden bowl by the door. The second I step in the house I drop my wallet, my car keys, my watch and my mind in that bowl. I always do, because if I don’t I’m bound to lose them. It’s become such a habit that on those rare occasions when I do forget, I assume that’s where they are, which makes it even harder to remember where I’ve actually left them. Once, for example, I found my car keys in the freezer, my watch in the clothes hamper, my wallet in the lint trap on our dryer and my mind beneath the cushions of our comfy basement couch. It should go without saying that I haven’t searched any of those places today. Having lost my mind I’m not exactly thinking straight.
There are moments of melancholy, observations of life's regrets, hopes eroded, but looming over the entire book is the humour that made AN INCONVENIENT CORPSE a constant pleasure.
The corpse is gone; the clocks are here. Grab this one, and uncover one of Canada's best kept secrets: the bleakly joyous, laughing world of Jason E. Rolfe.
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January 27, 2021nullimmortalis May 19, 2018 at 3:49 pm Edit
“And I had such high hopes.”
I have in the last few days conducted one reading skirmish so far. It starts with all the book’s forthcoming characters, some Real from perceived life outside this book and other characters Rolfe-fictional and yet more characters Real-Fictional from creative art created by Real others, all intervening regarding the meta-writerly Rolfe ego that has created them all retrocausally from the Author’s Note right at the end. Pink Buddha, Iranian Friend, some with foreign names. Others like Death, Kurt Russell from THE THING, Conan, by Crom! And many more. Even a character called Self-Doubt who must be me. And there I surely must leave this 300 page Book of Real-Absurdism. A new genre in embryo. When it finally takes off in the public consciousness, I shall come back and examine its important roots here in mature age. The book’s roots in mature age. Mine passed long ago.
“And I had such high hopes.”
I have in the last few days conducted one reading skirmish so far. It starts with all the book’s forthcoming characters, some Real from perceived life outside this book and other characters Rolfe-fictional and yet more characters Real-Fictional from creative art created by Real others, all intervening regarding the meta-writerly Rolfe ego that has created them all retrocausally from the Author’s Note right at the end. Pink Buddha, Iranian Friend, some with foreign names. Others like Death, Kurt Russell from THE THING, Conan, by Crom! And many more. Even a character called Self-Doubt who must be me. And there I surely must leave this 300 page Book of Real-Absurdism. A new genre in embryo. When it finally takes off in the public consciousness, I shall come back and examine its important roots here in mature age. The book’s roots in mature age. Mine passed long ago.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews