Fiction Review: The Red-Headed Pilgrim by Kevin Maloney

The Red-Headed Pilgrim by Kevin Maloney. Columbus, OH, FORTHCOMING with Two Dollar Radio. 242 pages. $18.95, paperback. 

Many may fantasize about writing the Great American Novel, never working a nine-to-five job, and having constant unprotected sex without producing a child, but Kevin, the protagonist in The Red-Headed Pilgrim, fails in all of these respects. As a nervous, existentialist virgin who allows the possibility of sex to motivate all of his decisions, little of Kevin’s journey is new; he is a heterosexual white man hoping to achieve enlightenment by never working more than eighteen hours a week and entertaining every half-baked, drug-induced plan he cooks up. His privilege, ideologies, and frequent use of shrooms protect him from a meaningless reality that is always encroaching. 

In spite of his protagonist’s played out traits, Maloney finds a way to make his story and his perspective new. He posits fresh and disturbing concepts, like the idea that our “bones…are the seeds of our future skeletons.” Essential to his wit and insightfulness is the retrospective self-awareness he employs. Maloney satirizes the idolized nomadic lifestyle of the aspiring artist by filling Kevin with high-minded ideals and then sending him back and forth across the nation to follow women who typically reject him. Maloney often had me cackling. In describing his crying newborn daughter Zoe, Kevin says “She didn’t speak English. Probably she didn’t want to be born and I screwed everything up by having sex with her mom.” This idea encapsulates young Kevin; he projects his nihilism onto everyone and inadvertently develops empathy. 

Despite his efforts to avoid the mundane and the meaningless, Kevin often finds himself “cleaning liquid shit out of Zoe’s forearm crevices.” Once Zoe comes into his life, no amount of “praying without ceasing” can offer him greater meaning than she can. In The Red-Headed Pilgrim, Maloney envisions a hilarious reality in which we must give up on our dreams to care for those we love and begrudgingly find meaning along the way.

—Daniel Marcantuono, MAR

The Red-Headed Pilgrim by Kevin Maloney will be released January 24, 2023. Preorder now at twodollarradio (dot) com. 

Poetry Review: A Cluster of Noisy Planets

A Cluster of Noisy Planets by Charles Rafferty. Rochester, NY, BOA Editions, Ltd. 2001, 80 pages. $17.00, paperback.

A Cluster of Noisy Planets by Charles Rafferty is an account of the melancholic passing of time, expressed through lovely observations of our world. Reading these prose poems aloud, one can sense the soft drumming of Rafferty’s carefully constructed sentences. He is a true syntactical master at work: the rhythm—generated with simple commas and full stops—magnifies the tender, slow beauty of this close attention. Not only do these words, spoken aloud, create intimacy, they create quiet. One poem from the collection that comes to mind is named, “The Satin Lining of the Casket Reminds Me of a Jewelry Box,” in which the speaker addresses the odd objects that are often buried with the dead; yet, as peculiar as the subject of this poem may sound, the last two sentences are magnificent in their scope and beautification of the mundane: “We pack them in like we’re burying pharaohs, like there’s a pyramid of grief above them. And there is—only smaller, and made of dirt, in a land that won’t stop raining” (Rafferty 17). This short quote, two of the many wonderful sentences from this collection, recalls another aspect of this poetry collection worth mentioning: the role of objects and monuments. Rafferty fixates on the various artifacts which have withstood time, such as the Great Pyramids of Giza, The Roman Colosseum, and the Moon. Above all, these prose poems show the ongoing, continual movements of the human imagination, exemplified by an excellent poet who writes these love letters from his corner of the world.

—Lucas Clark, MAR

Book Review: I Know What’s Best for You: Stories on Reproductive Freedom

I Know What’s Best for You: Stories on Reproductive Freedom, edited by Shelly Oria. San Francisco, California: McSweeney’s, 2022. 480 pages. $21.99, paperback.

In the months since SCOTUS’s overturning of Roe v. Wade it’s been incredibly difficult to feel like the voices of women and gender minorities are being listened to. While it’s easy to feel completely powerless, I’ve managed to take comfort in the ways I’ve seen individuals, communities, and creators work to take care of and empower those most affected. I Know What’s Best for You: Stories on Reproductive Freedom, edited by Shelley Oria, has been one of those sources of power and comfort. This book does exactly what needs to be done right now; it gives marginalized people a place to talk about their decisions, bodies, and lives as if they are important (because they are). The anthology consists of the work of 28 creators and includes works of fiction, poetry, photography, creative nonfiction, plays, and even a comic. The collection was done in collaboration with and works to financially support the The Brigid Alliance, a long-standing organization that helps people access abortion care and travel funds in underserved areas.

One of the many great strengths of this book is that it refuses to limit the narrative of reproductive justice to one kind of story. So often conversations around this topic work to solely center able-bodied cis straight white women who need an abortion because of specific circumstances. Not only is this narrative reductive, it’s offensive and extremely harmful to those who are most vulnerable. This anthology gives the microphone to BIPOC, queer, and disabled artists who work to show an honest and complicated range of experiences. I’m grateful to Mcsweeney’s for giving this book a platform and grateful to all of these creators for their stories in such a violent time. There is something important to be gained from each and every one of the pieces in this anthology. I hope you all go get this book and/or request it at your local library.

—Gen Greer, MAR