Welcome back to Don’t Fall for Weird Books! The way these entries work is that there’s an introduction, then the discussion of the chosen book, followed by further recommendations and what you can expect next month.
Just a follow-up about last month’s entry on A Certain Hunger by Chelsea G. Summers. I was chatting with my boss about it (she totally subscribes, and also totally already owns a copy of Bataille’s Death and Sensuality: A Study of Eroticism and the Taboo), and I realized that I didn’t work in enough discussion of Dorothy in terms of taboo or hedonism. She’s so incredibly hedonistic and is absolutely enamored with various taboos, enough to be engaging in several of the biggest. Perhaps her desire to kill and eat her lovers has more to do with her inclination to push taboos than whatever nonsense I spouted off in that entry. If you haven’t read it yet, you can do so here.
I’ve got a difficult book for you this month. I’d be interested to know how many of you attempted to read it? I read this book months ago and can safely say that if I tried to read it this summer, with all the turmoil, I would have DNF’d.
It’s not just the national turmoil. We adopted a new cat, named Boxcar, and she doesn’t understand how to live in a house with other creatures yet. She’s added quite a bit of chaos, but she’s very cute. Scully remains the Queen of the residence, however.
August is also the one-year anniversary of the absolute worst day of my life (which ushered in the worst month and a half of my life), when our house was nearly burnt down due to a pretty big and scary fire in the house attached to ours. We have some lingering problems because of this, but I’m happy to report that the anniversary passed without event.
Anyway, don’t read this month’s book if you’ve recently suffered a trauma, I guess. And if you frequented certain punk circles as a youth, this one might dredge up some shit for you *looks at self in mirror*. Like I mentioned in my post last month, this month’s pick has many trigger warnings, which I name below.
Maybe to lighten the mood after reading this post, we can all share something happy in the comments. My happy thing, other than Boxcar, is that we’re finally getting a new fence in our backyard, which will completely transform the space and allow me to finally start my garden. I can’t wait to spend a beautiful September in my beautiful, newly fenced backyard!
There are spoilers ahead, so make sure you read the book first if you care about such things.
The Orange Eats Creeps by Grace Krilanovich
So, what enticed me to pick up this book, you may wonder? That’s easy. This summary:
It's the '90s Pacific Northwest refracted through a dark mirror, where meth and madness hash it out in the woods…A band of hobo vampire junkies roam the blighted landscape…A girl with drug-induced ESP and an eerie connection to Patty Reed (a young member of the Donner Party who credited her survival to her relationship with a hidden wooden doll), searches for her disappeared foster sister along ‘The Highway That Eats People,’ stalked by a conflation of Twin Peaks' ‘Bob’ and the Green River Killer, known as Dactyl.”
Now, doesn’t that sound incredible? Unfortunately, this summary presents far more plot than is in the entire text.
What’s the book about?
This short book is like The Lost Boys meets Trainspotting if written by a French person (sorry, the French), and then put into a blender, drunk by a crust punk front-man, and vomited back up on stage. I say this because there are multiple scenes of basically that throughout The Orange Eats Creeps, along with gobs of gobbing, sexual assault and exploitation, brutal depictions of addiction and homelessness, childhood abuse, and, honestly, excellent writing. The inventive use of language is fun and irreverent, but it unfortunately clashes with the otherwise pretentious vibes and brutal subject matter, and it does not win in that battle.
We do follow a girl who claims to have been turned into a vampire as she travels with a band of fellow vampire transients around the Pacific North West, searching for her foster sister, who also turned into a vampire (was turned?) and ran away from their foster home. We do not know if they are actual vampires. We actually know very little about anything happening. Scenes are often repeated with slight variations, which I find a fun play on the unreliability of human recall and memory. Characters are described in a disjointed manner, so it becomes difficult to connect them together or follow their stories. The cover of the book is very metal, however, and I appreciated that.
My thoughts.
The repetition of The Orange Eats Creeps reminds me of Écriture féminine, a genre/style of writing (or writing theory) coined by French feminist Hélène Cixous. This writing style is meant to embody the feminine with a more free flowing or repetitive approach, and entwines language and craft with ones self-awareness and the physical female body (the female orgasm, in particular). I know very little about this writing style/theory, but it intrigued me when I first stumbled upon it a few years ago after first reading Ottessa Moshfegh.
I won’t pretend to understand Grace Krilanovich’s inspirations or even goals with this book. Her skill is very apparent to me, but unfortunately I’m not well read enough in this direction to be able to sound very smart about her work. But I will say, I felt a connection to my vague understanding of Écriture féminine.
I’m sorry to report that I’m a reader very attached to strong plots, and I prefer to read books that have them rather than mainlining style and style alone. The Orange Eats Creeps is a fever dream, and it’s most likely that only art punks will be able to harness it’s power. For others, this books could pose a danger. As an aside, I do worry that reading this book will usher in the Mad Max style future faster than anticipated, and while it’s already nearly here, we don’t need to learn how to hop trains just yet.
I have a theory about the ending of this book. I think it could be read as a version of Pan’s Labyrinth or Sucker Punch. Perhaps even Jacob’s Ladder. In my theory, the foster sisters never make it out of their foster home. They are killed by their foster father, an act enabled by their foster mother. Maybe not. Maybe the ambiguity and the dreamlike state are supposed to be all there is. Perhaps it’s not a metaphor or symbolic at all.
While The Orange Eats Creeps was rather exhausting to read in its entirety, I do believe that the vibe must be witnessed. If you’re interested in this book but don’t often read this kind of literature (either the meandering non-plot or the brutality), I’ll echo a suggestion of a friend and say to try reading the first 20 pages and the last 10. You’ll get the idea of the style from those 30 pages, along with all the major plot points. But of course, this is not a book written for plot, so even my suggesting this is obviously sacrilegious.
All together, I can’t say that I particularly liked The Orange Eats Creeps. I buddy read this with a friend who said she read it as quickly as possible, simply because she didn’t want it living in her head for very long. There’s a lot of vomiting. Despite not enjoying my time spent with this book, I’m tempted to call it a work of experimental art. What did you think? Let me know in the comments.
Additional Recommendations
You are going to need to take care of yourself while reading this book. Eat fresh fruit parfaits. Go for long walks or pick up a new form of exercise. Get in the sun. Learn a new healthy recipe for the end of summer, like this delicious summer minestrone with turkey meatballs.
Watch something inspirational and lovely, like the film Pride (2014) about the true story of an LGBTQ group and striking coal miners in 1980s England who fought together for rights and justice! You could reread an old favorite, like The Last Unicorn. This calls for comfort and care, is what I’m saying.
If you want to do the opposite and dive deeper into this garbage juice, I recommend Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis (yes, another Ellis rec), which will make you want to die. Or perhaps watch literally anything directed by Harmony Korine, but especially Kids (1995). RIP to you, reader.
OR…you could spend some time thrifting while revisiting some classic noise punk bands in your headphones, like The Jesus Lizard or maybe even something like my bloody valentine. That seems safe and enjoyable.
Quick highlight on a Pittsburgh area author Gwendolyn Kiste, whose weird, feminist, historical fiction novel Reluctant Immortals came out this month! Get this…it’s Lucy Westnera (of Dracula) and Bertha Mason (of Jane Eyre), now immortal beings hanging out together and living in Haight-Ashbury in 1967, when the shit-bag men they thought they’d finally rid themselves of (Dracula and Mr. Rochester) suddenly appear. Sounds bonkers! Order a copy today!
Next Month
We will be taking a brief break from doom and gloom and gore in September with a silly, fun fantasy entry! If you enjoy such classics as The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales or Monty Python and the Holy Grail, you’ll probably enjoy Kill the Farm Boy by Delilah S. Dawson and Kevin Hearne. It’s a fun, queer, feminist adventure with plenty of puns and potty humor!