The story that gives this collection its title is also a succinct introduction to what anyone unfamiliar with Michael DeForge can expect. The title of All the Cameras in My Room describes the dystopic nature of our current tech-saturated world in a way that evokes a smile, but also a distinct sense of unease. For those who have read DeForge before, this will come as no surprise because the legendary Canadian cartoonist has long been devoted to these explorations of disquiet. There’s a strong taste of the absurd in his work, but also a deadly seriousness with which he dissects our lives and times.
When it comes to short stories, there are always risks associated with a collection, be it in graphic or any other form, because it’s hard to find a point of stability. Some stories will be more engaging than others, and they will all resonate differently with readers who identify with certain aspects or characters. This works in DeForge’s favour though, precisely because of how he revels in leaving things open-ended. If you can’t identify how you feel after reading something he has created, that may be precisely the point.
Consider the opening story ‘The Spins’ published in the form of a tiny booklet tucked inside the dust jacket flap. It’s about a celebrity ice skater named Jess who has made a bargain with the devil allowing him to spin indefinitely. For every rotation he completes, the Earth is denied one less rotation around the sun, and this leads to a series of existential questions. It’s whimsical, but also indicative of how easily DeForge can make the absurd seem palatable with the lightest of touches. Nothing about it makes sense, and yet it seems plausible. It also sets the tone for the full-page stories like ‘This Call is Being Monitored’ about a call centre agent’s questionable attempt at customer service.
This collection marks a stylistic shift for DeForge, from the ‘blobbier’ character designs he has favoured in recent years to something more free-flowing. What hasn’t changed are his concerns related to the stranglehold of ‘Silicon Valley evangelists and technocrats’ or the inadequacy of guardrails to protect the average person from morally corrupting forces. That concern also gives his humour its bite, because of the profound truths that underlie it.
Take the story ‘Holiday Special,’ about a beloved Christmas TV programme and its creators. What starts off as an exercise in nostalgia quickly devolves into something bleaker, involving visions of the afterlife, unexplained accidents, and the fickleness of memory. In ‘Universal Studios Monsters’, Count Dracula has X-rated conversations with werewolves, zombies, and mummies, all while raising questions about the concept of romantic love.
One of the best ways to read DeForge’s stories is to treat them as an experience: to dive in without expectations or explanations and allow them to work as they will. It is a process that allows one to revel in the extent of this singular artist’s imagination, and to find everything from joy and disbelief to the farcical, in the best possible way. All the Cameras in My Room is a book of many strange wonders, which is always a good thing.
Michael DeForge (W/A) • Drawn & Quarterly, $25.00
Review by Lindsay Pereira
