Baby Geisha
Baby Geisha (Trinie Dalton, Two Dollar Radio 2012, 162 pages)
A Small Doggies book review by Reyna Kohl
Baby Geisha consists, in part, of musings that recall the telling of dreams; when one wakes up and blurts out what can be remembered of epic adventures and epiphanies had in some other world as seen on the backs of closed eyelids. These pieces are the parts that stick after the reality of the pillowcase wipes the connections away.
Dalton's stories squeeze and twist with elements of love (often unconventional), emotional distance (and dissonance), and death (at once touching and disturbing). There are lovable and pitiable animals (including humans), and magical plants too wonderful to be left alone.
There is a searching-but-never-really-finding quality to Baby Geisha starting from the first story, "Wet Look," about a somewhat random experience in Small Town, USA, involving making friends with the locals, a case of beer, fireworks, and a snapping turtle. "Wet Look" also begins another recurring theme: The human propensity for violence (let's call this the id) butting up against the urge to be peaceful and loving (this might be thought of as the super-ego); the push to be at one with the natural world, as opposed to wreaking havoc, and a mostly-failed attempt at reconciling these two forces.
Dalton's best and most engaging work (in my opinion) begins a little more than a third of the way through the book. I'm not suggesting you skip the beginning and to a particular page (pg. 59); the first third of the book is also definitely worth a read. But the stories "The Perverted Hobo," "Baby Geisha," "Jackpot (II)," "War Foods," and "Shrub of Emotion" stand out among the myriad strange and interesting pieces that make up this collection.
"Jackpot (II)" is like a perfectly bizarre Mexican folktale about a Giving-type Tree, a husband and wife (Huevito aka “Little Egg” and Florencita) and their unhealthy relationship maintained with and in connection to this ancient tree. Even with a gauche of Dalton's distinctly modern language and references over top, the tale retains an aspect of timelessness (and magical realism).
“[Florencita] had spent many an evening carving pictures of skulls and naked ladies onto the tree's bosom as if tattooing an old friend... She deliberately did not want to nickname the tree, because she didn't want to fall in love with it. She and Little Egg had TP'd the tree as kids.”
"Jackpot (II)," about a bunch of free-spirited friends each nicknamed after characters from Greek Mythology and confusion pertaining to the one called “Pandora,” while an interesting meditation on female friendship, seemed, to me, less organic.
“Zeus, wrapped toga-style in the crisp white bed sheet he'd yanked off our bed... Hermes smoked a capri cigarette in a monkey fur coat... “
Meanwhile, Pandora amazes everyone in the room by melting ice cubes with her southernmost lady-parts.
I squirmed through the first portion of "The Perverted Hobo," trying to get past the distraction of a slide named “Slidey” and the anthropomorphic perspective of a dog (“Bob”) dominating much of the beginning of the story. But the rest of it got under my skin in a good way. In fact, "The Perverted Hobo" inspired a dream in which a close friend of mine received a visit from his long-absent father (much like the main character in the story – sorry for the spoiler).
The title story, "Baby Geisha," quite possibly the most lovely, is again a sort of battle between the id and the super-ego, but it is also about the easily smudged line between the two. Dalton causes one to wonder how we distinguish between acting on one's own desires, and actions taken based on what one believes they should want to do. Written for those who have experienced a sort of guilt rising as the quiet tick of their biological clock becomes more audible, still feeling the push to be frivolous, independent, less maternal. And about ruinous misunderstandings between human beings who are close to one another.
There were certain things about this book that irked me for seeming too deliberately quirky and stories that ended in ways that seemed a bit forced, but I found it easy to get past these elements once the depth, beauty, and insight of Dalton's writing pushed the distractions aside and let me slip into the places she was taking me; into the dreams themselves.
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Baby Geisha is currently available for purchase through Two Dollar Radio.
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Learn more about Trinie Dalton at her website.