A. Lee Martinez: Chasing the Moon and Monster

Approximately one hundred pages into the new novel from A. Lee Martinez, Vom the Hungering, an ancient singular entity who, as the name implies, loves to eat, well, anything, explains to the protagonist Diana, “If you want everything to make sense, you’re only going to be continually disappointed.” And therein lies the truth and beauty of not only the book Chasing the Moon, it is also a purposeful declaration that firmly bolts down the nexus of the unknowable yet oddly accessible universe which Martinez has built into his wildly eccentric overall body of work.

     
Past reviewers of works from Martinez such as Monster and Divine Misfortune accuse the author, albeit in a positive tone, of being light and breezy, nothing more than simple summer reading for the beach. And while the author’s prose does indeed move along at an exciting and easy to read clip, Martinez is dealing with cosmological and theological concepts that should give one pause, reflecting not only on our role within the universe, but upon the vast unanswerable questions of existence itself.

     
In Chasing the Moon, the reader is immediately and inexplicably thrust into a world where a gash in the universe results in the emergence of a bizarre amalgam of monsters and extra-dimensional entities supervised, moderated, and maintained by various tenants at a not-so-typical apartment complex. Diana, being the latest occupant of Apartment Number Five, is tasked with administering the control and care of the previously mentioned Vom the Hungering until the creature either eats her, or she goes mad from an eternity of multiverse nanny duty.

     
Toss into the mix a floating and all-destroying tentacled eye, the reintegration of a god-like entity with his fractured greater eldritch self who is tirelessly pursuing the moon in order to devour it (which would result in the meltdown of our existence, of course), innumerable alternate realities, a mind reading landlord, and disembodied voices that spoil movie endings, and you have just the slightest hint of the Lovecraft meets Christopher Moore genius of Chasing the Moon.

     
In the absolute best sense, Martinez is the ideological love child of Stephen Hawking and Douglas Adams, with the literary kineticism of a Duane Swierczynski tossed in for good measure. While a fast-paced, witty, and altogether enjoyable read, Martinez also forces the reader (directly or indirectly) to contemplate the nature and durability of the cosmos, best illustrated when Diana is confronted with the destruction of the human race at the hands of an all powerful and eternal being. The god in question asks her, “If you stepped in an anthill and someone told you not to move your foot for fear of stepping on any more ants, would you do it? Why is your convenience worth a million ants, but mine isn’t worth a billion humans?”

     
Aside from the existential metaphysics worm holing through his novel, Martinez succeeds in populating Chasing the Moon with characters (both human and not) who basically want the same thing: a place to belong. Strip away the giant bugs, the uncontrollable spawning, and the devolution of the human race, and what you might be left with is the simple truth that we all just want to be loved. And how much it hurts when love leaves.
     
If one were to gather the mind of Douglas Adams, classic episodes of In Search Of, and the offbeat sensibility of Christopher Moore writing at the top of his game, throw them into the Large Hadron Collider and watch as they slam together at the speed of thought, then one might get a sense of the unique treat that A. Lee Martinez has produced with his novel Monster.

     
When you’re scrambling around town trying to scrape together a living as a freelance crypto biological containment agent, there really isn’t a lot of time to contemplate the larger questions of life: Why are we here? How did we get here? How did here get here? However, when Monster, the protagonist of the tale, meets Judy while cleaning up a messy Yeti problem in the frozen foods aisle of the Food Plus Mart, he is unwittingly lured into a cosmic game of chess where the very fabric of the universe hangs in the balance, and where the answers to those very questions could come crashing down around him.

     
Despite populating his novel with enough creatures and beasties to fill a cantina on Tatooine, Martinez anchors his twisted yarn with a lean, fast moving prose, wickedly intelligent dialogue, and, most importantly, a relationship between Monster and Judy that feels genuine, never obligatory, developing organically, allowing for the truth that we sometimes fail to immediately appreciate those we would ultimately trade our very lives for.

     
For Martinez, the unfolding complex metaphysical plot in Monster is secondary to the emotional journey his characters undertake. From the relationship (or lack thereof) between Monster and Judy, to the determined loyalty of Monster’s pan dimensional partner Chester, to the relational angst of the literal girlfriend from hell, these are people we either have known or will know at some point in our lives. And that is where Monster succeeds where other novels of this ilk have failed: characters that feel lived in, who live on long after the final page, and who the reader hopes to spend even more time with in the future.

     
Monster is a quick, light, and enjoyable read with more on its mind than initially meets the eye. A. Lee Martinez has succeeded in creating a work that operates on several different levels, asking the reader to look beyond the cavalcade of cryptos, step past the sophomoric humor, lift the veil of existential intrigue, and see the heart that beats within his various creations at play within the pages. Then again, perhaps I might be reading a little too much into a book that kicks off with a Yeti eating Rocky Road ice cream and concludes with a pamphlet entitled Dragonkeeping For Fun and Profit.