Wheeling Away at the Wheel

Page 11 July–August 2008 Wheeling Away at the Wheel Ryan smith alarm Mike Daily Stovepiper Books Media 8316 N. Lombard PMB #292 Portland, OR 97203 212 pages; paper, $19.99 ALARM is the second novel by author-cummusician Mike Daily, and it strives to be so many things, it comes close to pulling itself apart. On it’s surface, it’s a book about a not very lovable loser named Mick O’Grady, a man who, in his own words, just “can’t get up.” He flits from job to job, stays until he gets paid, then meanders easily away. He has a desultory relationship with his roommate that he keeps at a distance, seemingly afraid of knowing too much of his own heart. This emotional ellipsis is repeated often in ALARM; Mick swings widely away from himself, then zooms in close and has a moment of insight, only to pull away again and abandon the pursuit of his own, or any kind of, satisfaction. Mick reminds the reader of Henry Chinaski, Bukowski’s literary alter-ego, but without the pathetic beauty. Mike Daily’s Mick is far less pitiable, and far more annoying.The book tries to achieve, through the use of a secondary narrator whose thoughts and reactions appear in bold print along the right side of each page, some kind of higher awareness of itself —a superior commentary on the book’s simplistic portrayal of a marginal life. Interspersed throughout the book are other insertions, collages, artwork, and letters to Portland author Kevin Sampsell. All this with an eye to, imaginably, provide yet another level of commentary on the longing of Mick to be known, by someone, anyone. These tuberosities of information attempt to provide anchorage for the narrative to haul itself up to a level of insight to which it never quite gets. Instead, they act more as foramen, leading the reader away from the thread of the main story instead of complimenting it. The question that ALARM raises most pointedly is about the role of the author in the book, as well as the relationship between any artist and his or her work. Volumes have been and will be written about this subject. Daily’s view seems clear; in ALARM, he puts himself and his quasicharacter O’Grady out like a brightly lit billboard. The thinnest of veneers separates Mick’s meandering thoughts, conversations, and actions from Daily’s. The assemblages, whose number increase dramatically near the end of the novel, are almost all letters between the author and Sampsell. The book includes two CDs by Daily’s various musical projects, one of which is called O’Grady. ALARM strives to be so many things, it comes close to pulling itself apart. There’s the penumbra of something here, though: a novel trying to explore what occurs when a person simply ignores the border between his or her own internal narration and the reality of the world he or she is moving through. It’s a big area to explore, and it takes a delicate touch that Daily is still developing. Reaching for a form that mirrors function, the author tries to surround the reader with his vision of O’Grady’s life, not O’Grady’s life unfiltered. The CDs contain passages of the book accompanied by sound. One of the discs is raw, one-miced at a live show; the other is much more polished. The two presentations bookend the printed narrative, Daily and his band mates wheeling their way through the system of the novel, exploring and amplifying small moments that the eye glides over while reading, providing, if nothing else, a very visceral reminder of the way we both anticipate and ignore an author’s narrative choices. Stovepiper Books Media is Daily’s own press, and he seems to be trying to place it and his own work at some nexus between the old RE/Search Publications and a revamped version of Maurice Girodias’s Olympia Press. His desire and ambition to create a unified mode of expression for his desires as an artist is an admirable one, but Daily needs to be careful not to throw the whole project...