Navaro, J.L. The Blood Cake Vendor and Other Stories. New York: iUniverse, 2004. 512 p. Paperback. ISBN 0595331955.

J.L. Navarro’s latest book is an outstanding collection of speculative fiction that features a diverse medley of stories. Vivid, insightful, graphic and provocative, these stories fall into a number of genres and recall the fiction of Barthelme, Kafka, Borges, Gogol, Schultz, Beckett and other proto irrealists. Unlike these authors, however, Navarro’s fiction has a sharp, bloody, unapologetically irreverent edge — the kind of edge David Lynch fans will find insatiable. As a disclaimer on the back cover of The Blood Cake Vendor and Other Stories forebodes: “Some stories may not be for the faint of heart, squeamish, or prudes. Not recommended for immature readers. Be warned.”

The title story establishes the metaphysical scene for the entire collection. Set in a vaguely mystical wartime city, it is narrated by a self-employed businessman who owns a small shop that sells religious and spiritual mementos alongside heavy artillery including grenades, hand guns and automatic rifles. He resides above his shop in an apartment with his wife and her sister’s ghost, an arrangement he describes with a dreamlike matter of factness. “I don’t mind her ghost living with us,” he says. “She was always quiet and did not strain our resources in the least.” Then there is the blood cake vendor, who uses the “ingredients” of dead soldiers to bake his cakes. As the narrator explains, these cakes are “an acquired taste” that “some people refuse to eat ... on religious grounds.” Overall, the story expresses the absurdity of human relations, which, contrary to all knowledge and intellect, are inevitably subject to various forms of literal and metaphorical violence. This is one of the book’s overarching themes, and Navarro never fails to articulate it with flair and perspicuity.

Navarro’s prose oscillates between a Hemingwayesque simplicity and a Henry Miller-like lyricism. Like Hemingway and Miller, too, he often employs beat, shady, down-and-out characters. These characters are uniquely oppressed and constructed by their diegetic mediatized universes. Hollywood and the streets of L.A. recurrently function as a stage for the sordid, schized masses, who, as the narrator of “Baby Hulk” conveys, represent “a zoo of humanity’s caprice and necessity reflected by the rags that draped them” and “a cacophony of world tongues streaming by with as many varied world faces.” Other, shorter stories like “A Parable,” “Remembering the Crucifixion” and “The Ancient City” probe the vicissitudes and consequences of religious mania — another dominant theme in the text. There are also stories that treat drugs and hallucinations, Internet occultism, incest, vampirism, zombiism and UFOs, among other oddities. What makes Navarro’s narratives effective is his sheer originality, attentiveness to detail, darkly satirical wit and bionic writing style.

The Blood Cake Vendor and Other Stories is suitable for leisure reading as much as pop and scholarly criticism. Read it for a laugh, read it for a wild ride, or read it to plumb the depths of the human condition. There’s something here for everybody.

— Hugo Weaving