fiction chapbook by Vincent Tinguely, 26 pages, Egg Sandwhich Press/Editions Sandwich Aux Oeufs, 5824 Clark Street, Montreal, QC, H2T 2V7
A writer has just arrived in Montreal “stripped of any sense of purpose,” having lost a girlfriend and let go of what used to be his life. He mopes around for awhile, occasionally makes very interesting observations, and occasionally puffs clouds of poetic bad-breath. For example: “Punching a wall. Too long without a dollar? Too long alone?” He has a tepid affair and finally finds a degree of redemption in a relationship with the ex-girlfriend of his alpha-male friend Evan. He’s her consolation cup, and we suspect, partly from a dream he has of being molested by a satyr, that she’s his. I’m glad I read de(con)struction, there are many lovely, nuanced descriptions, and some memorable scenes. It makes me curious about Tinguely’s other writing. But de(con)struction feels way too much like the narrator’s savouring his own squalor so that he can write about it, much like Jack Kerouac did in The Subterraneans. (Donato Mancini)