Book Review*

Autobiographical work by men with disabilities has become relatively common, but fiction about men with physical disabilities by male writers is in extremely short supply. Once one gets past Andre Dubus' "Dancing After Hours," works of fiction with physically disabled characters men as protagonists become very difficult to name. This being the situation, when a new novel appears it is a cause for some hope. One chance for such optimism comes with the publication of Irie Parker's Twisted Consequences.

Coupled with the title, the pulp fiction appeal of the cover lets readers know that they should not be expecting Umberto Ecco, although a cursory glance at the structure may lead him to believe that something postmodern is going on. This illusion passes quickly as the reader quickly discovers that this is a case of WSYWG, Twisted Consequences is a straight adventure-action read.

The opening scene of the novel ostensibly functions as a way of introducing the reader to the fact that the protagonist, Tyson, is in a wheelchair and that he has an in-your-face attitude. While this scene may appeal to Beevus and Butthead fans, unfortunately, it will strike many as puerile and most readers of Wordgathering would be much more likely to give the novel a fighting chance if they skip the hors d'oeuvres and go right to the main course.

The real story begins about ten pages in when the style suddenly switches to an email correspondence. The use of email format has the double advantage of recalling the originally epistolary form of the English novel, while at the same time appealing to those whose lives are embedded in a computer-centered world. It is also, like the old letter form, a great way of naturally revealing to the reader things that they may not know about the characters. Since most readers have a bit of the voyeur in them, this format has an innate appeal and functions very well to draw in the readers. In addition, Parker creates a situation where he does not have to start in media res.

The reader learns that Tyson has recently met a young woman from Bucharest online through an international dating service. This gives Parker a chance to reveal to the reader something about Tyson's situation:

Okay, Michaela, you asked about the treatments I follow. First I would like to say that my routine is fairly structured. I have a nurse that helps me get up in the morning, and also one that puts me in bed at night. The morning is much more involved and time-consuming than at night. It takes a good...

This technique not only advances the story but more importantly - from the point of view of disability literature - give some insight into the life of a young man with quadriplegia from the viewpoint of an author who knows first hand. It is also further testimony to the superfluousness of the opening of the story.

Through a series of emails that range over the course of a year, readers learn all about Michaela's rather flitty life in Bucharest. They also learn of Tyson's work as a photographer and that he has a brother, Jack, who is in a rock band. Tyson is thoroughly sirened and wants to meet Michela face to face. He first offers to pay her way to the United States, and, when that does not work out, he makes plans to travel to Romania. This sets up the second part of the book.

The second major portion of the book shows a shift in technique and point of view. This is common currency in post-1950's novels and sets the reader up to suspect that a new point of view will reveal insights that may not have been possible through an email format. Such a shift is welcome, but, the hope for insightful character development should not be nursed too long. What could have been an opportunity to explore the all too real difficulties of a meaningful relationship between a man in a wheelchair and a woman who skims the surface of life like a water strider, quickly devolves into a keystone cops scenario. While one could argue that reading an adventure novel is all about the ride, from the point of view of this reviewer, it is a missed opportunity.

The second half of the book involves the protagonist's trip to Budapest. He takes with him his brother Jack and a goon of a body guard named Rex. Just why he feels the need to pay a bodyguard to travel with him on a European vacation is not quite clear, but Rex does provide the pretext for getting the trio into less than desirable situations. It would not be fair to reveal the ending of the novel, but suffice it to say that it will leave readers looking for anything thing like a universal theme scratching their heads.

Having said that, it is unfair to criticize a novel for what it does not purport to do. At one point in the story Tyson, who serves as the author's alter ego says, "I can watch any kind of movie, but my favorites are adventure and science fiction." While there is no science fiction here, it is quite possible that Tyson would enjoy this novel even were he not the hero of it.

One of the major contributions that disabilities literature can make to literature in general is to provide insights not available to authors who have never lived with disability first hand. Parker certainly qualifies as a writer who understands the situations of his protagonist deals with on a daily basis. One of the most authentic and engaging scenes occurs when the phone rings and, after many online correspondences, he finally gets the chance to hear Michaela's voice:

Michaela, is that you? His voice crackled from the dryness. Then suddenly his abdominal muscles contracted violently, forcing all the muscles in his left arm and hand to flex quickly. The unexpected spasm jerked the phone away from his head and slammed it against the bed's headboard. His weak grip loosened and the phone ended up spinning on the floor. Tyson's inability to rise to a sitting position caused this conversation to be over it ever got started. He could hear her sweet voice coming from the floor, asking if he was okay a few times, then the line went dead.

In another scene Tyson describes to Michaela something of his daily routine.

My plan is to do all my routine stuff just as I did today. I consider this to be my real job, managing the nurses and aking sure my body, my house and my pets are all taken care of. You know, basically, the little repetitive things in life we all have to do to stay alive.

My situation is unique and frustrating because I have twice as many things to take care of than the average person does, and that average person sometimes believes that all I do is sit around and do nothing, while they have to go to work.

Even in Romania where the feckless trio probably deserves everything it gets, the inconveniences of being in a wheelchair are laid bare and one can't help but feel Tyson's discomfort with "the wheelchair hitting the rutted streets." If there is an accessible building in country, Tyson and company fail to find it as he is hauled up and down stairs and in and out of back rooms. If is safe to say that Twisted Consequences will do nothing to promote disability travel in Bucharest.

Notwithstanding the credit that Parker deserves for including scenes like the above one question that readers are likely to ask him is, why is disability absent from the novel except in relation to Tyson. It's a bit like reading a story by Toni Morrison, in which only the protagonist is black.

Twisted Consquences is Irie Parker's first novel and nobody is going to be nominating it for a Pulitzer Prize. The mistakes he makes are the mistakes of a young writer who is writing as much to prove that a young man in a wheelchair using adaptive equipment can write a novel as for any greater good. Even so, the book deserves consideration. The fact that Parker has put the novel out there and that his hero is a man in a wheelchair who neither pities himself nor bemoans his situation but can party and place himself in exciting situations may well work to create a positive image for younger readers.

*Read the interview with Irie Parker, the author of Twisted Consequencesin this issue of Wordgathering