I haven’t found many reviews of Jim Krusoe’s fiction, and those that
exist don’t capture what he can do—maybe because reviewers have
trouble comparing him to other authors. Krusoe’s stories are like
Haruki Murakami’s dreamier fiction, but without the hard-boiled
violence. The ephemeral and fantastic elements in Krusoe’s novels are
similar to stories by Richard Brautigan or Aimee Bender, but he doesn’t
produce anything resembling the perfect little miniaturist worlds those
authors create. The only analogue for Jim Krusoe is Jim Krusoe.
Krusoe’s first novel, Iceland, shook my world. It was a novel
about memory and, maybe because of the subject matter, I fondly recall
reading it through a kind of sepia-tinged filter. Girl Factory is similarly memorable. The narrator of Girl Factory is an
employee at Mister Twisty’s, a frozen-yogurt shop in a strip mall, and
he’s pretty happy with that banal existence. Even an awkward encounter
with a hyperintelligent dog (that seems to be communicating complicated
emotions with its eyes) doesn’t rouse his curiosity. It’s not until
horrible things out of a cruel gangster movie start to happen that he
explores the basement of Mister Twisty’s and discovers its horrible
secrets.
As in Iceland, Girl Factory has its own set of
specific laws. The narrator inherits a mad scientist’s project and goes
about trying to disassemble things with nothing but a tragically
misguided set of good intentions. Beginning the book, the reader might
be led to believe that Krusoe is writing David Lynch–style
fantasy, without any internal logic; by the end of Girl Factory,
it’s obvious that Krusoe is a keen satirist who knows exactly what he’s
doing. Nothing in the book makes sense at first, but it’s ultimately
possible to discern the pattern behind the events.
Krusoe uses elements of science fiction and horror, but isn’t
invested in either genre or their inevitable clichés. Everything
he writes about seems fresh and enthralling and new, but somewhat off.
It’s an experience akin to seeing the most beautiful face you can
imagine, but the eyes are out of alignment by a fraction of an inch.
Girl Factory is frightening and fascinating, and even though the
conclusion doesn’t tie up every loose end, it’s a complete and
satisfying book, a weird signal from another world that catches your
attention and then is gone.