I
HEART M.T
Fake
I.D. Mariko Tamaki (Women’s Press)
SKIM:
The Diary of Skim Takota(Keep Out!) Mariko & Jillian
Tamaki (Kiss Machine)
Confession
about a confession: a year and one week ago, I stood on
a stage in Williamsburg, Brooklyn and told Mariko Tamaki
that I thought she was one of the coolest people I’d
ever met, and that I’d been more nervous about her
being on the Girls Who Bite Back tour than about
anything else because, as far I as was concerned during
my neophyte phase in T.O., she was a literary superstar,
everywhere at once. Not that I stalked her, exactly, it’s
just that after buying the fabulous cover me, with
its easily identifiable bright pink spine, at the Women’s
Bookstore, I wanted to hear her do her thing. And then four
years later, I got to see her doing her thing live and up
close. And I still, even more, thought she was on my top
ten cool list. Also, she thought it was really cute that
I made that confession in public (well, in front of a handful
of dazed hipsters). So yeah. This review is not the usual
Globe and Mail disdainful poo-pooing of counter-culture,
but I don’t want to act like "Tamaki… Who’s
she?" Because I do know her. And I am a fan. So this
is a fan review, by someone who takes books very seriously.
Mariko
Tamaki’s new collection of short stories Fake I.D.
is like a packet of Love Hearts, before they were sugary-sweet,
when they still had that bite. Each story is a different
candy colour with a different bittersweet message, small
and perfectly-formed. As I read it over breakfast, occasionally
snorting and spluttering into my cereal (this is not
a book to read on the subway if you’re embarrassed
by laughing out loud), I’d say to myself "Just
one story, then I’ll get onto that pesky thesis,"
and, as each story would end, I’d find myself beginning
the next one. Just like eating candy. At the end of the
book, there was a certain rushiness in my veins and puckeriness
to my mouth that comes from eating a whole packet of sweets
in one sitting. Yummy indeed — but not quite filling.
As the world’s biggest fan of cover me, I want
Ms. Mariko to hurry up and write another novel so that I
can linger with her characters awhile. Candy is dandy, but
some of the pieces suffer from over-compression, ending
before they are fully played out, while others hit all the
right beats as comedic performance pieces, but have final
paragraphs that get all serious and thematic that seem tacked
on. Which isn’t to say that Tamaki is just a stand-up
with a publisher; there are pieces in here — particularly
"The Tea Party Chronicles" (about fantasy gaming),
"To H. With Love," and "Diary of a Broom
Girl," whose malicious cackling wit I loved in Girls
Who Bite Back — that brim with edgy sensitivity,
beautiful similes, and elegant, honest epiphanies.
And
SKIM, Tamaki’s first venture into comics (illustrated
by her cousin Jillian, whose work also appearing in a recent
issue of Bitch. Or Bust. Or possibly Venus.
You get the idea — she’s a riot grrrl wonderartist)
is for sure all that. It has none of the curiously unfinished
feel of Fake ID, despite being all wee and comicy.
The art is lyrical and expressive, great at capturing the
material details of adolescent life without prettifying
them. Skim is like Eloise for Goth grrls, a wannablessedbe
who stands out in a school full of white kids obsessed with
pop music and teen break-ups. Her sharp observations are
balanced by a self-awareness that’s not quite maturity,
but more a sense of difference and potential, which Tamaki
also captures so well in "Swallow" and "Who
Do You Think You Are?" in Fake I.D.. Skim is
gonna be someone — she’s just busy working out
who, and the reader gets invited in to her private journal
to enjoy the ride. I defy anyone who was ever a queer kid
not to cry at the lovely last full-page panel.
If
you like the sound of these two bright moments in Toronto’s
grey lit.scene, then check out Mariko’s incredibly
pink website www.marikotamaki.com
for details of the upcoming June 10th launch.
I can’t make it, but go and have a Goth for me.
If
you have comments about this article please email us @ comments@shebytches.com.
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