Zarina Zabrisky's We, Monsters

We, Monsters (© 2013 Numina Press), the debut novel of emerging writer Zarina Zabrisky is the literary equivalent of a Jackson Pollack painting: a multi-layered, amazing, and seductive mess. Before I begin, let me say that Zabrisky has done something I have yet to do -  write a novel. However, as a fellow storyteller and a reader who likes to follow the evolutionary arc of a writer’s work, I appreciate what Zabrisky has achieved.

We, Monsters is the story of Rose, a Russian emigre who lives the American dream: successful husband, beautiful children, and house in the ‘burbs. Rose nurses aspirations to be a writer, which her husband doesn’t understand and the rest of the people in her life patently ignore. She has a rich fantasy life born out of her Russian literary heritage, her need to escape the banalities of her current existence, and the traumas of her childhood. She applies for a position as a dominatrix in a dungeon to research material for her book. Predictably, the further Rose delves into the world of BDSM, the more difficult it becomes for her to keep the parts of her life - as well as her past and present - from clashing together.

Running through each chapter of We, Monsters is a series of footnotes that explain Rose’s psychological pathology. The reader may find this intrusive. Indeed, it takes a measure of concentration not to get distracted from Zabrisky’s prose. In the heart of the story, Rose meets “Motherfucker Mike,” the most creepy (and litmus test) of the dungeon clients. MM is indirectly introduced via Rose’s study of a book called Deviants, an in-depth treatise on BDSM behavior. Rose’s first encounter with MM turns We, Monsters on its head. From this point the story instantly becomes coherent and cohesive even as Rose’s internal and external worlds fall apart.

What I like best about We, Monsters are not just the disjointed narratives that finally meld together, but the characters Zabrisky creates out of thin air. Each person in We, Monsters -  Rose’s husband Luke; her children, Nick, Olga and Roxanne; her fellow mistresses Mommy, Zoe, Greta, and Susanna; even the Latina gas station attendant and the quirky clients come to life through the lens of Rose’s fractured consciousness. With a few well-chosen words and a humorous tone, Zabrisky paints a full-blown, thoroughly believable portrait:

The session was held in the Dungeon. The spy turned out to be a fragile, red-faced man in his seventies. He had the radiant blue eyes of an iconic saint and an infectious laugh. He offered us a bribe of Moet champagne and two glasses.

“It’s a bribe,” he chuckled.

I hesitated, but Susanna gulped hers down, so I followed her example and soon felt all bubbly and light-headed. As we tumbled between the ob-gyn table and the golden shower tray, Susanna transformed.

Her angelic face twisted, she scowled; her pupils widened, making her olive-green eyes almost black. Her upper lip twitched and raised and for the first time I noticed her sharp, uneven teeth, like those of a small rodent, a squirrel maybe. Her gentleness was gone; she’d turned into a wicked bloodsucking witch, and once again reminded me of Potemkin, Potemkin the Huntress, a dying mouse hanging between her bloodstained teeth.

“We are mean! Nasty! Baaad!”

Her voice was bubbling, like the champagne we were drinking. I felt adrenaline rushing through my veins and my heart pulsing.

“I will torrrturrre you in a KGB way! You will forrrget your own name!”

I caught a glimpse of my burning face in the mirror next to Susanna’s; all we’d need in order to fly was two brooms. Susanna cursed and spit and grunted. We were shouting, hitting, kicking, fighting, hurting, and it felt breathtakingly sweet. We drank more champagne, and pushed the old man around on the floor. He was laughing like a baby and shoving dollars into our thongs… - (from the chapter “A Spy Fantasy/We, Monsters)

As with IRON, Zabrisky is unapologetic, as well as forthright. With We, Monsters, Zabrisky takes a great risk in alienating the reader with diametrically opposed points of view, but her gamble pays off handsomely with a novel that won’t soon be forgotten, and in some cases, may leave the reader questioning his/her own reality. I wish more writers would take this risk, as it would, in my opinion, bring literature back to where it needs to be, in the realm of Art.

(Note: We, Monsters will be released in December 2013. Check Zabrisky’s website for where/when to purchase, and author dates)

(We, Monsters, ©  2013 Zarina Zabrisky, ISBN 978-0-9842600-4-1, A Vox Nova Book, published by Numina Press, 300 pages, price TBA)

© 2013 marie lecrivain

Zarina Zabrisky's "IRON"

     Having read other reviews of Zarina Zabrisky's IRON (copyright 2012 Epic Rites Press), a quartet of short stories, I was struck by the widespread admiration her literary peers expressed for her work. Words like, “unforgettable,” “dangerous,” and “brutal,” were most often quoted. This is not surprising: according to Zabrisky's biography, her formative years were spent in post-Soviet Russia. But, one thing is clear, and, I have to agree: Zabrisky has hit the ground running with a strong literary debut that furthers the great tradition of Russian literature into the 21^st century.

     Iron is comprised of four stories; two mini-novellas, one short story, and one piece of flash fiction that drop the reader into a Russia, that, like its citizens, attempts to find a balance between its Communist past and its hedonist, capitalistic present. “Weeping Poppies,” begins with three young junkies in transit, simultaneously stealing poppies to facilitate their heroin addiction while evading any presence of authority. “The Cross of David,” opens with two women having lunch in an upscale restaurant as one attempts to convince another to assist in an internet retail scheme. “The Hungry Duck,” starts with an ultimatum given to the story's protagonist, in regards to the drunken, violent actions of her sibling. Lastly, the title piece,“Iron,” launches the reader into the mind of an almost bride-to-be as she, and her younger sister are unknowingly kidnapped by a group of young Georgian youths.

     The four protagonists in Zabrisky's stories have several things in common; they are intelligent, vulnerable, and brutally honest with themselves. The growth of Zabrinsky's women is internal, as well as exquisitely painful; they hold nothing back, which does not render them likable, but, imminently believable, as in the story, “The Cross of David,” where,the narrator, after being verbally nagged by her friend Peggy to assist in the sale of cross pendants, starts to reveal the truth of her refusal:

     I once wore a cross. For five years I wore a cheap brass cross. I could still remember the blue silk thread cutting into the back of my neck. I remembered the acidic smell of the brass. The Russian Orthodox cross—a sticklike figurine spread-eagled on the petal-like bars. A dead mosquito in a daisy. I believed it would save me, somehow. I believed in the suffering and its saving powers.

     I won't take this any further, suffice it to say that the endings to all four of Zabrisky's stories in IRON are unexpected. As for Zabrisky's narrative style; it's not pretty, elegant, or even classically feminine, and those are its best qualities. These are stories about REAL people, REAL women that one can instantaneously identify with... and, they'll get right up into your cerebellum and STAY THERE! This is what makes IRON such a stellar book! Buy a copy of IRON, read it, think about it, and read it again.

     IRON, Zarina Zabrisky, copyright 2012 Epic Rites Press, ISBN 978-1-926860-13-8, 84 pages, $13.50

Article content © 2013 Marie Lecrivain