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Review
of “Reapings of
a Menstrual Cycle” by Jared P.Q.R. Milo by
Steven Wolf
Jared P.Q.R. Milo’s “Reapings of a
Menstrual Cycle” is the kind of inspirational, revolutionary work that
seems to
crystalize out of air. Some may say it is too early to call it the
defining
book of our time—but what else can you call a book this humorous, this
touching, this unforgettable. Ostentatious, but still subdued. It will
be
hailed as the most important piece of literature in this dry,
commercial 21st
Century. I bow to agree. Toni Morrison may have “Beloved,” and James
Joyce may
have “Ulysses,” but Jared P.Q.R. Milo has “A Menstrual Cycle.”
It begins with a young girl’s account of
her first bout with menses, but quickly evolves into an existential sex
dream
where famous historical and mythological figures discuss what they
consider to
be the greatest artistic expression of our day. I’m talking, of course,
about
9/11. It then switches to a slave narrative, where a young boy
struggles with
his transgenderism, his abusive, alcoholic and anti-Semitic mother, and
his
love of horticulture. The next hundred pages are just screenshots from
a
Wal-Mart shopping catalogue, a biting commentary on consumerism,
capitalism,
and utilitarian Ergonomics.
The narrative then picks back up with
a novel within a novel within a novel within a poem, where Alice Munro
and
David Foster Wallace struggle with their addiction to methamphetamines
and
poppers, in a surprisingly post-modern way. All this explodes into four
hundred
pages of Jared P.Q.R. Milo explaining where he would put all the awards
the
book might receive. I suggest he clears the meth pipes from his desk,
because I
hear a National Book Award takes up a lot of room. The book then
concludes with
a gentle, two page CV, where P.Q.R. Milo documents his work experience,
the
awards and scholarships he has received, and his thoughts on the
Illuminati.
Special note should be paid to the
cover art, which is a simple black and white picture, which he claims
was taken
by Anne Lebowitz, of Jared P.Q.R. Milo threatening to kill himself if
those
“cocksucking Illuminati fucks don’t give him the fucking Pulitzer.” It
also
looks as if someone slapped an “Oprah’s Book Club” sticker on the
front, made
of post-it notes and masking tape.
I can’t even begin to explicate the
enormous complexities of this book, which is so rich, so vibrant, so
filled
with diagrams of anal prolapse that it will take years to digest. And
no, there
isn’t a gun to my head. Why would you think that? Why would you think
I’m writing
this because Jared P.Q.R. Milo broke into my house and threatened to
split me
open like a squealing pig? That’s silly. Stop thinking that. Stop
thinking that
right now.
“Reapings of a Menstrual Cycle” is
just an important book. It is a sign of the times, a warning to those
who feel
the written word is dead. Jared P.Q.R. Milo’s “Reapings of a Menstrual
Cycle”
will be here forever. Not just because Milo carved the book onto
concrete slabs, but
because it is just that important.
But how amusing would it be if all
that stuff about him threatening to kill me was true? How funny would
it be if
he had a gun to my head and was threatening to hang my children like
gutted
fish from the rafters of my brownstone? You should call the police if
you think
that. And how funny would it be if there was a hidden message in the
first few
paragraphs about which warehouse in Queens he’s planning to take me to?
That
would be so funny! Five stars! Five fucking stars! Please don’t kill
me, I gave
it five stars! Steven
Wolf is a California native, currently living in New York. His work has
previously been featured in Pseudopod, Jamais Vu, Sugared Water, and
Big Pulp.
There’s a decent chance he’s online right now. See for yourself at facebook.com/wolfymcwolfwolf.
Or, on Twitter at @wolfymcwolfwolf. He
could probably use the company. |
