Dangerous Laughter

Fancy this Phantasmagoria

By Mark Polanzak

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It is both an orgasmic opportunity and a begetter of befuddlement that the readerly rabble have not engaged any Steven Millhauser stories—a freakish fortune because to discover this world of wonder is a ballistic befalling. Or maybe a provenance of perplexity, because his stuff is so drastically deluxe that it should have already been flung from your window, spraying shards of glass everywhere, cutting your tender toes and making you bleed for not having found it yourself by now.

When recommending a book, there is always a moment of trepidation. So here are some real life quotes: "That book made me feel like I was floating on a fucking cloud for two days," and, "I think that story's my new favorite story, but I couldn't tell you what the hell was going on in it." I mean to say—go out right now and get Dangerous Laughter, Millhauser's first short story collection in over 10 years.

Although Millhauser's works have been translated into over 14 languages, have won a Pulitzer Prize, have been reproduced in numerous anthologies and made into a movie (The Illusionist), the pinnacle of his prose is still under perpetual perfecting. This collection may his damnedest to date.

Dangerous Laughter is in four facets: Opening Cartoon, Disappearing Acts, Impossible Architectures and Heretical Histories. Each enclave represents distinct obsessions of Millhauser, the recurring themes or styles of his fictions. Dangerous finally announces the categories in which he has been writing. Cat 'n Mouse, the opening cartoon that begins this book, is the story of a Tom and Jerry cartoon, although neither Tom nor Jerry are directly referenced. Literally, the language of this story replicates the hilarious hues of the animated anthem. The story lends depth to a shared childhood memory—namely, what was the meaning at the marrow of Tom and Jerry? In "Heretical Histories," A Change in Fashion tells the story of an elusive epoch in women's dresses. The story has no main character, as most of these stories eschew the idea of main character ... as well as purposefully abandoning a traditional interior vs. exterior struggle. These are not traditional narratives AT ALL. Reading a cartoon or hearing a fake or heretical history becomes even more engaging than the presently pervasive traditional story that is in every other fucking place you look. Millhauser's works are experimental without appearing as such. They are, in spells, post-characterist pieces, a genre I will now coin and hope to see much more of.

The best way to decide whether or not to enter into a story is simply to start one. Here are two cataclysmically cool commencements: from The Other Town: "The Other town, the one that exactly resembles our town, lies just beyond the north woods," or, from The Disappearance of Elaine Coleman: "The news of the disappearance disturbed and excited us." Each time you start a new Millhauser story, you realize, Ah, so this is what I am supposed to be consumed by ... this fucking fear ... this piercing passion ... this dullness in a dreamland ... this weirdness in our waking world ...