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"Shelf Monkey" is by turns hilarious and disturbing
I just got finished reading a great book I want to tell you about. It's called "Shelf Monkey," and it's by a Canadian first-time author, Corey Redekop.
Thomas Friesen is a neurotic mess. A washed-out lawyer, Friesen takes a job at a big box bookstore called "READ." That no one knows how to even pronounce the name of the store (reed? Red?) is the least of the mysteries surrounding this soulless monolith, a vacuum-sucking place where works of modern literature flounder, neglected by its customers in favor of the mediocre recommendations from TV talk show host Munroe Purvis.
To say that the staff at READ is literate would be an understatement. They are rabid bibliophiles, literati of the highest order who "fight the good fight" every day by futilely recommending quality literature to an oblivious public who only wants what Purvis says that they should want.
It all starts with an innocent game, a way of letting off steam. The shelf monkeys, as they call themselves, gather each night to argue the merits, or lack thereof, of popular titles that they shoplift from the shelves of READ and other big box bookstores. They call these books "montags," in honor of the fireman from Bradbury's "Fahrenheit 451," and the books that the shelf monkeys find lacking are burned. The rest are spared.
Over time, the meetings gain a dangerous, cult-like atmosphere and Friesen soon finds himself as part of a part of a plot to put an end to Purvis's book club, once and for all.
Although things rapidly spin out of control for the shelf monkeys, at least with Purvis it is easy to see why they hate him so much. While it would be easy for a reader to assume that Purvis is a stand-in for Oprah Winfrey, the truth is that Purvis exists in the same world that she does. Redekop's characters give grudging respect to Winfrey because she actually chooses quality books for her audience. Purvis? Not so much. Not content to simply recommend books to his fans, he starts a vanity press and starts to churn out vapid literary treacle by the palate. No, Purvis is more than just a talk show host. He's an embodiment of self-satisfaction and xenophobia, a purveyor of simple-mindedness and smugness. His books reinforce the worst tendencies of their readers.
Ironically, in their elitism the shelf monkeys soon find themselves being just as intolerant, arrogant and judgmental as Purvis and his fans. Friesen is the only one that is reflective to question this, yet he is too indecisive and miserable to really do anything about it.
"Shelf Monkey" is by turns hilarious and disturbing. It may generate a few uncomfortable squirms as well as giggles from readers who might have a few snobbish literary tendencies of their own. Still, it's a fun sort of squirmishness, and the nihilistic cheer that permeates throughout this book is going to make it a big hit among fans of Chuck Palahniuk.
Redekop cheerfully acknowledges the influence of Palahniuk through veiled references to "Fight Club," throughout the narrative, but he is a far too talented author to be considered derivative, using a number of metafictive techniques to make the action of the book come to hilarious life. Letters from Friesen to his therapist dovetail transcripts from Purvis' tv programs, and the meat of the story - a flashback - is told in the form of emails from a fugitive Friesen to real-life author Eric McCormack.
I really enjoyed "Shelf Monkey" and I think that this will be the start of a very promising career for Redekop, especially if the real-life shelf monkeys of our world embrace this book like I think that they will.
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