In the ten stories that make up Caffeine you find yourself standing on the precipice, peering down into the abyss. Bob Wake's Wisconsin is dark, mythical, nearly surreal, and it seems Wake is searching around in the dark for some meaning through the drudges of friendships, romance, work, and art. "Restless in the bed of his father's childhood," is the book's opening clause; it sets the stage for what's to come. Wake grapples with generational trauma, tradition, but most of all the art of mythmaking — the stories (often lies) we tell about ourselves, our families, and our communities.
Clearly a product of the times, Caffeine pulsates with postmodern angst and sardonic wit in the milieau substance abuse and disillusion. There's dread about Ronald Reagan's 1984 re-election and debate over the academics of dream analysis. Wisconsin townies chafe at the arrival of city-dwelling tourists while the lines and lives of urban and rural endlessly crisscross each other in a unique Midwestern, postindustrial way. "Neal fell off the wagon the night of Reagan's landslide... At midnight an ad hoc committee was formed to mourn the demise of the Left," (p 85) Wake writes in Exit Poll, hinting at intersections of politics and addiction.
Caffeine's stories are entirely standalone, though there is a larger structure at play. Characters like Neal Bishop and Sarah Randall iterate and reiterate throughout, connecting the stories in entertaining and surprising ways. There's Casper Sunspot, for example, who is mentioned in passing as a fictional character in a local writer's mystery stories (Saukfield) and then shows up later as a very real (or is he?) coroner to investigate a mysterious death, possibly via dog-mauling (Hodson's Hellhound). Nancy Pearl includes Caffeine in her 2002 book Now Read this II: A Guide to Mainstream Fiction, 1990-2001, Volume 2 as an example of a new type of fiction that she calls "near novels." Each chapter stands on its own, yet the connective tissue between them strengthens the impact of the full project.
3.5 stars, because it wasn't quite what I'd hoped for (although in a way it was better, but not quite what I wanted to read). There were parts I really loved - especially, especally the ending, but overall it felt like she could have done a better job at pulling it all together (that's the thing- because I know she can do it I am disappointed when it's less than perfect).
After the sudden death of his parents, Shiki has been working hard taking care of his three younger brothers. He's also been spending time with Kamiya, a man more than ten years older than he is. They aren't doing anything sexual, but since Shiki resembles Kamiya's dead former lover Akira, Kamiya pays Shiki for his company. Shiki, however, has been surely but slowly falling in love with Kamiya.
But despite what you may think, the big conflict isn't that Kamiya can't forget the love of his life, and the conflict isn't resolved by Shiki taking care of Kamiya. I rather liked that fact a lot, but I wish she had milked the drama a bit more..or rather, differently. It's difficult to describe because on the one hand I wanted it to hurt more, and on the other I did think it was a bit much.
It's probably that unbalance that left me a bit unsatisfied I guess. Still, there were parts I really enjoyed (the ending, seriously - that short story made up for a lot) and Shiki and his brothers were a great family. Only four unread Nagira Yuu novels left (for now, her new one is out this month ~).
I liked this better the second time around, and the added short story definitely helped. I'm still not the biggest fan of Kamiya here, but it funny to see just how ダメ a 攻めhe is. I also really like that this story doesn't at all develop the way you think it'd go in the beginning.
I still don't like Minase Masara's illustrations. Her character's eyes are scarily empty.