Kockroach
Tyler Knox
The tale I am about to relate is most undoubtedly true. The memory of it still manages to send chills down my spine, despite the fact that the following events happened over twenty years ago. The moment remains seared into my memory as though with a hot iron, driving into me a deep, irrational fear that is with me to this day.
It had been a day like any other. I sat, still blessedly innocent and unaware, playing in my bedroom. A light breeze moved the curtains and sounds of the city wafted gently through my window. I could hear the bleats and whirrs of passing cars, and the shouts of children (those who actually – I shudder at the thought – played outside) could also be heard.
Suddenly, there rose above this cacophony a sound that struck terror to my heart. It was a piercing shriek made only by those being gutted by a home invader, something that I vaguely feared, even at five years old.
My fears doubled when I realized that the shriek had come from my own home; worse still, it came from the basement, the physical distillation of all that I hated. However, neither of these facts scared me like the realization that the shrieker was none other than my mother herself.
Without thinking, I raced down the steps to do something, anything. I arrived to find a scene that I would never, ever forget.
My mother was not being gutted by a home invader. The reality was much simpler.
My mother had seen a cockroach.
Okay, okay, perhaps there had been more than one. Two, even – however, the swarm that I remember seething about her feet is probably just a figment of my imagination. However many there were, I’m sure they weren’t trying to remain in the light; knowing what I know now about roaches, I believe that once my mother had uncovered them they bolted for the nearest crevice.
This event would have fallen into the recesses of my memory were it not for the crippling fear of cockroaches that embedded itself deep into my psyche from that moment forward. It wasn’t long before I found myself emitting the same high-pitched shrieks whenever I happened to glimpse any small insect, even when at a distance.
Tyler Knox
The tale I am about to relate is most undoubtedly true. The memory of it still manages to send chills down my spine, despite the fact that the following events happened over twenty years ago. The moment remains seared into my memory as though with a hot iron, driving into me a deep, irrational fear that is with me to this day.
It had been a day like any other. I sat, still blessedly innocent and unaware, playing in my bedroom. A light breeze moved the curtains and sounds of the city wafted gently through my window. I could hear the bleats and whirrs of passing cars, and the shouts of children (those who actually – I shudder at the thought – played outside) could also be heard.
Suddenly, there rose above this cacophony a sound that struck terror to my heart. It was a piercing shriek made only by those being gutted by a home invader, something that I vaguely feared, even at five years old.
My fears doubled when I realized that the shriek had come from my own home; worse still, it came from the basement, the physical distillation of all that I hated. However, neither of these facts scared me like the realization that the shrieker was none other than my mother herself.
Without thinking, I raced down the steps to do something, anything. I arrived to find a scene that I would never, ever forget.
My mother was not being gutted by a home invader. The reality was much simpler.
My mother had seen a cockroach.
Okay, okay, perhaps there had been more than one. Two, even – however, the swarm that I remember seething about her feet is probably just a figment of my imagination. However many there were, I’m sure they weren’t trying to remain in the light; knowing what I know now about roaches, I believe that once my mother had uncovered them they bolted for the nearest crevice.
This event would have fallen into the recesses of my memory were it not for the crippling fear of cockroaches that embedded itself deep into my psyche from that moment forward. It wasn’t long before I found myself emitting the same high-pitched shrieks whenever I happened to glimpse any small insect, even when at a distance.
ohjesusohjesusohjesusohjesus
I mention this story because it underscores the trepidation I felt upon undertaking Tyler Knox’s Kockroach. My stomach churned upon opening the book and finding the image of a cockroach in the corner of each page. As I read, this image appeared to move, and several times I stopped reading to brush wildly at my skin, trying to make the heebie-jeebies disappear.
I, however, triumphed. Not only did I finish Kockroach, but I loved it. In fact, I think that I might even have come to love the little bastards. Okay, okay, this little bastard. Well, so long as he stays the hell away from me.
Kockroach is Kafka’s Metamorphosis reversed. One day, a cockroach wakes up to find he is a man. Disconcerted because he cannot fit into his usual crevice, he slowly learns how to operate his new body. Soon he’s living on the streets and eating out of dumpsters. As he becomes more skilled at using his human body, Kockroach finds himself – where else? – in the criminal underworld, with a sidekick named, appropriately enough, Mite. Lacking emotion or conscience, Kockroach is able to rise quickly though the criminal ranks and soon turns to – just as fittingly – politics.
But don't let the gimmick fool you: Kockroach is more than just a riff on Kafka. First, it’s damn funny, especially as Kockroach learns to behave as a human. (Before he learns how humans eat, he regurgitates his food to give it another go. And why not?) There are plenty of other examples of the wickedly sharp humor boasted by Kockroach, but humor isn’t all it has going for it. It’s also pretty damn smart.
In Kockroach, Knox (the pseudonym of William Lashner) deftly blends his knowledge of the arthropod with his knowledge of the human. At the beginning, Kockroach, firmly entrenched in the present, does not think beyond his current situation. He feels neither remorse nor guilt, but only does what needs to be done to survive and to fuel the twin desires of greed and fear. Soon, however, he learns words and with them come thoughts, and in no time at all he can remember the past and plan for the future. Of course, as his words increase, so do his worries.
In a nutshell: A little off-putting at first, but truly an awesome novel. Kockroach's evolution from cockroach to...well, a cockroach in a human body is smart, engaging, and absolutely unforgettable.
Bibliolatry Scale: 5.5 out of 6 stars
I, however, triumphed. Not only did I finish Kockroach, but I loved it. In fact, I think that I might even have come to love the little bastards. Okay, okay, this little bastard. Well, so long as he stays the hell away from me.
Kockroach is Kafka’s Metamorphosis reversed. One day, a cockroach wakes up to find he is a man. Disconcerted because he cannot fit into his usual crevice, he slowly learns how to operate his new body. Soon he’s living on the streets and eating out of dumpsters. As he becomes more skilled at using his human body, Kockroach finds himself – where else? – in the criminal underworld, with a sidekick named, appropriately enough, Mite. Lacking emotion or conscience, Kockroach is able to rise quickly though the criminal ranks and soon turns to – just as fittingly – politics.But don't let the gimmick fool you: Kockroach is more than just a riff on Kafka. First, it’s damn funny, especially as Kockroach learns to behave as a human. (Before he learns how humans eat, he regurgitates his food to give it another go. And why not?) There are plenty of other examples of the wickedly sharp humor boasted by Kockroach, but humor isn’t all it has going for it. It’s also pretty damn smart.
In Kockroach, Knox (the pseudonym of William Lashner) deftly blends his knowledge of the arthropod with his knowledge of the human. At the beginning, Kockroach, firmly entrenched in the present, does not think beyond his current situation. He feels neither remorse nor guilt, but only does what needs to be done to survive and to fuel the twin desires of greed and fear. Soon, however, he learns words and with them come thoughts, and in no time at all he can remember the past and plan for the future. Of course, as his words increase, so do his worries.
In a nutshell: A little off-putting at first, but truly an awesome novel. Kockroach's evolution from cockroach to...well, a cockroach in a human body is smart, engaging, and absolutely unforgettable.
Bibliolatry Scale: 5.5 out of 6 stars
2 comments:
Ha ha, sounds wonderful! Definitely adding this book to my list. Some bugs I don't mind (spiders = ok) but cockroaches, or should I say kockroaches... ewwww!
freckin' weird but cool.
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