Lance Blomgren’s Walkups is a collection of stories that all take place inside Montreal’s houses, condominiums, and apartments. As the reader advances through the slim novella, a feeling of impending doom sets in; throughout the book, there are freeze frames of uneasy moments lived by the occupants.
Among the many addresses, a recurring one: Apt. d’Amours. Inside these apartments lives a man, Walkups’ regular narrator. He’s a new tenant who starts out as a mildly nervous character whose lucidity matches his feelings of alienation. The scene with the phone technician, an indifferent repairman, sets the tone for a panicky individual whose causes for panic and angst are not identifiable, but are palpable. From then on, even his sexual interactions with his object of affection, Jane, are complex and make the reader uneasy.
But the reader doesn’t take it all in one shot. The narrator’s odd moments are intercut with moments of everyday life in various apartments. From a hipster party to a woman cleaning up her baby, the moments are varied, and very different from one another — except for the fact they are written in an almost epic, dangerous style. The whole book reads like a huge fresco that is about to collapse if you take a look at the big picture instead of the tiny individual pieces that comprise it. Only the recurring narrator eventually expresses the complete paranoia his building inspires in him.