A few years ago, a fella named Dave Eggars published a memoir, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, which was heartbreaking only in parts, somewhat less than staggering, and more like the work of someone who thought himself a genius than a genius himself. It was, however, devastatingly funny in moderation. Its humor ranged from slapstick silliness to nose-picking self-deprecation to haughty finger-pointing disguised as self deprecation. Out of WASPy neurosis, early nineties slackerism, and class-clown-clever cheek tonguing, Eggars crafted a form as idiosyncratic as it was easily copied. Thus was born McSweeney's, a veritable "Me" factory for aspiring Eggarses everywhere.

If I were a conspiracy theorist—which I most certainly am not, HRRMPH—I would insinuate that McSweeney's is Eggars' first work of fiction: an entire literary journal of pseudonyms and pseudo-fictions, with Eggars pulling the levers behind the curtain. The stories published seem to spring from the same sly root as HWOSG. Highly experimental, sticking the needle more in the wouldn't-it-be-funny-if vein than the much-equated Kafka or Barthelome vein, clever (sometimes), and short. Literary commercials. McFiction.

There is a needle in this haystack, though, and it's clutched between the teeth of Ben Greenman. His new book of short stories, keeping with the self-inflating tradition of HWOSG and given the suburban schoolyard moniker of Superbad, displays the good and bad of the McFiction direction. The book reads like a sitcom, about 2/3s actual content. The rest is composed of those literary commercials, enjoyable but digested and passed as quickly as read. Most notable among them are "Blurbs," a piece made up entirely of faux paperback-cover sight bites about the piece itself ("'Initial bemusement will turn to wonder —this is sophisticated stuff indeed.' -Kirkus Reviews"), "A Big Fight Scene Between Two Men with the Same Name," and fragments to a cycle of musicals focusing on pop culture icons and current events, culminating in "Fragments from The Death of the Musical! The Musical".

What sets Greenman apart from the McRobots is his ability to create characters that shine through all his experimental gimmickry. Other McFiction writers place more emphasis on humor and narrative structure than plot and character development. Characters and plotlines are rarely sacrificed to humor or laboratory tinkering in Superbad; Greenman's humor hinges more on the authenticity of his absurd characters and plots. This is what qualifies Greenman's comparisons to Kafka: Kafka was a very, very funny guy, but Gregor Samsa didn't wake up as a gigantic bug because it made the writer chuckle. When Greenman centers an entire story, "Reeling," on a family of squirrels, it succeeds as more than Beatrix Potterism and reveals the significance of life through the most insignificant of deaths.

Greenman's structural tinkering in "Notes To a Paper You Wouldn't Understand" and "What 100 People, Real or Fake, Believe About Dolores", instead of leaving vague wrinkles in your brain, assembles characters with a complexity that is as entertaining as it is indelible. The former is a detective story in the guise of notes from a paper on the relationship between a mystery writer and his mentor. The idea itself is interesting, but where a lesser writer would fall in love with the form and leave the actual substance in the periphery and somewhat clinical, Greenman avoids this by giving the characters enough dignity to stand on their own. These footnotes don't come off like leaves that have fallen from a nonexistent tree; it's as if there's actually a paper out there with footnotes that lead to nowhere, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was hiding somewhere deep inside Greenman's hard drive.

"What 100 People, Real and Fake, Believe About Dolores" is equally poignant. Composed of quotes from friends, acquaintances, cultural figures, and famous fictional characters like Tom Sawyer, it tells the story of a failed relationship as if it is the topic of a dinner conversation. But when the gossip and nonsense is weeded out, the couple stands naked in the spotlight; shortcomings familiar and irreproachable, emotions concrete, and fate uncertain.

Greenman rounds out the collection with stories that never cease to surprise, fascinate, and tickle. He inhabits the minds of Mick Jagger and Marlon Brando. He sends up and honors Russian short fiction in a single swipe, right down to using Russian names and locales. His stories take on a variety of shapes, but he rarely misses what makes them worthwhile: the human connection. The only thing holding him back is his inability to take himself seriously, the most distinguishable and indestructible characteristic of McFiction. He begins the entire collection with an introduction by a snooty writing professor, who occasionally shows up through out the book introducing pieces with MFA-endorsed speculations about their worth and sly jabs at his supposed former student. This is a weak attempt at some kind of criticism deflector shield. "See, I don't take myself seriously, so why should you?" Well, Greenman should drop this adolescent B.S., and you should take him seriously, regardless of the sneer on his face.

Copyright © 2002 Derek Jenkins. All Rights Reserved.