He Makes us Laugh and Grieve Simultaneously: A Review of Joseph Bates's Tomorrowland

Literature — like all forms of art — is most successful when it entertains us andenlightens us. Sure, there’s a certain merit to a superficial tale whose only purpose is to help us pass the time, just as there’s a justification for relentlessly aggressive music or the shamelessly voyeuristic fad of “torture porn” (a genre which speaks volumes about our sadistically desensitized culture, of course). But to be truly worthwhile, a story should mirror our own fears, hopes, secrets, experiences, and hypocrisies with ingenious subtly and plenty of imagination.

That’s exactly with Joseph Bates does in his latest collection, Tomorrowland. In fact, he does it ten times.

A resident of Oxford, Ohio (where he teaches creative writing at Miami University), Bates established himself as a visceral voice in the lit community long before the emergence of TomorrowlandHis debut work, The Nighttime Novelist, was published in 2010, and his fiction has appeared in several places, including InDigest Magazine and The Rumpus. As for Tomorrowland, its opening pages are covered with positive feedback, which isn’t very surprising given the way these pieces almost always amount to a fine duality between humor and heartache; his characters often find themselves in ridiculous situations that serve to demonstrate commentary on the human condition. In this way, he makes us laugh and grieve simultaneously.

Take opener “Mirrorverse” for example. A bittersweet sci-fi saga, it’s one of two selections that feel like lost Doctor Who episodes. Told in the first person, it actually begins as a jab at product reviewing (which makes writing this a bit ironic, I suppose). The speaker’s editor tells him to review a new invention (“The Belton Multiverse Spectrometer”) over the weekend. Essentially, the device projects alternate realities on televisions. From there we’re told that the editor wants a positive review, as is shown by this exchange:

I don’t know if I mentioned it, but they’re paying us for a decent review. So there’s that.

So it’s an advertisement,” I say.

It’s a reviewvertisement,” he says.

Anyone who’s ever written reviews can definitely relate to this dilemma.  Once the story gets moving, Bates explores the all-too-familiar idea of trying to recapture lost love, as the protagonist uses the machine to explore untapped possibilities in which he and his ex-wife (who’s since remarried) indulge in the full potential of their “innocent” movie nights. Like everything in Tomorrowland, it results in a funny twist with moving undertones.

Bates also messes with form in two stories: “Gas Head Tells All” and “Survey of My Exes.” The former is a serious of questions and answers between an interviewer and the protagonist, whose head is literally a ball of flame. It’s a very detailed exchange overall, with plenty of unique details and honest reactions that make Gas Head feel as real as any other character in the book.

As for the latter, well, it’s absolutely brilliant; in fact, it’s easily the best of the bunch. A man sends the same series of questions (including “Do you know I never meant to cause you pain?” and “Did you know that I’m finally better?”) to all of his exes, ranging from Samantha (4th grade) to Shelly P (grad school). We’re told that the man suffered from depression in his thirties, and thus we get the impression that he’s trying to make amends to these women. These conversations reveal a plethora of refined yet monumental sentiments, and their implications are devastating (because this could happen to any of us).

The theme of unfulfilled potential also looms heavy over a few stories, including “Boardwalk Elvis” and “Yankees Burn Atlanta,” in which two middle aged men face embarrassment and self-loathing in the wake of trying to achieve their unique ambitions. These men are sorrowful yet charming (especially Elvis), and as a guy in his mid-twenties, I can envision myself in a similar situation in a few decades (reflecting on my lost goals, not dressing up Elvis or Sid Bream, just to be clear).

Perhaps the most important commentary in Tomorrowland is related to the increasingly narrow barrier between politics and religion, extremism and tolerance, and between authority and manipulation. “How We Made a Difference” is a humorous account of a bizarre Halloween night in which neighborhood children supplement the “trick or treat?” cliché for the mindless conservative rhetoric of [we assume] their parents and the media. For example, the first kids say:

You can’t trust Bob Jamney. . . . He’s a tax and spend Liberal. Can I have a Snickers?

and

Did you know that Embryonic Stem Cell Research takes developing embryos from the still-growing wombs of unwed teen black mothers impregnated by Phil . . . by Phil Clinton?

At first, it just seems silly, but when one considers the real life basis for cases like this (such as the Westboro Baptist Church), the story becomes a thinly veiled (and wildly intriguing) cautionary tale.

Likewise, closing chapter “Bearing a Cross” tells of a town that elects an egotistical Christian zealot as its new mayor. Naturally, the man (Wayne Butts, ha-ha) starts out with modest legislation and only slightly spiritual speeches, but soon his need for absolute power drives him to turn the city into a prison for anyone who doesn’t obey the rules. Eventually, sinners literally bare a cross for their misdoings. As imaginative and ludicrous as it seems on the surface, Bates is also striking up a very relevant and biting conversation about the possible outcome for America if we continue down this path. In other words, Wayne Butts serves as a stand-in for any one of the countless Bible Thumpers plaguing our society.

In the end, Tomorrowland does just what its title suggests—it expresses several potential worlds (both internally and externally) for our future. These pieces are filled with creative surprises, empathetic characters, and simple yet rich emotional consequences, which exemplifies how well Bates balances his own humility and confidence. There’s a level of originality and boldness here that is rarely seen, and these tales will stay with you long after tomorrow ends.

Jordan Blum

Jordan Blum has an MFA in fiction, and he is currently teaching at various colleges. He’s the founder and Editor-in-Chief of The Bookends Review, an online creative arts journal. On his downtime, he composes music, fiction, and poetry while also working as a music journalist. He writes for Popmatters, The Big Takeover, and Rock Society Magazine, among others.

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