By Chris Churchill/Contribuor
Sometimes a story is straightforward; easy to understand. Sometimes it is not. Or is it? It is…not. In the case of the books with the more complicated structures, it is often the extreme difficulty understanding what the author is trying to get across that is, in many ways, it’s own reward. “The 1975 Kansas City, Kansas White Pages” is one such case.
It would appear, on first blush, that it is too thick to read in it’s entirety. Is this some sort of dare from an over-literate bumpkin? Is it meant to be read or just ripped in half to impress people? Well, I assure you, it is meant to be read. I sat down in May of 2008 to start out on the extremely rewarding task of decoding this beast. It took me 9 years to read and I lost most of my important personal relationships in the meantime but it was worth it.
To start, let me help you get a little ahead of the game. This book has a couple really important devices that help you along. Firstly, not one character in this book is mentioned more than once. Neither are they described in any way whatsoever. This delicious paucity of detail pulls you in and grabs you, forcing you to ask God itself, “who ARE these people?” The clues lie in the advertisements, but I’ll get to that later. The second important literary device is that, after having read and reread this amazing story, I realized that the author had cleverly introduced each character in alphabetical order! When I first recognized this, I laughed out loud in my hospital room! For hours!
One tasty reward within this alphabetically ordered masterwork was the sheer number of short stories within the main tale. For instance (and I don’t want to give too much away), the story of the Abercrombies. Without explaining why, the author shows us that all three Abercrombies lived on the same street, presumably next door to one another, if I fully understand how address numbering works. There are many such mysterious connections within this monster of a tale. How many Jacksons are there anyway? Can they be stopped? Why are there both Johnsons and Jonsons? What happened so long ago that separated the clan? Some of the names, I couldn’t even pronounce, not even with my 10th grade reading scores.
As mentioned above, the advertisements, (which are generally, but not always, cartoonlike pictures with accompanying large text, the combined effect of which is to compel you to buy something…brilliant!) are the key to connecting the tens of thousands of characters in this biolibrary. The advertisements always include the addresses of the businesses they advertise. Well, if you take the time (and I suggest you do), to internalize the addresses of the intriguing populace of 1975 KCK, then you start to develop a mental picture of where everyone is and what they’re doing. Those Abercrombies? I assume they’re always either buying new carpet or looking into purchasing a van. I mean they live RIGHT THERE!
For the extremely devoted fan of this book, there are Easter eggs by the thousands. For instance, each character has a phone number! And some of them STILL WORK! I called the same confused old lady, asking about how her husband died all those years ago, maybe 40 times. The amount of work that must have gone into setting up this entire outside world is mind-boggling. Truly. I mean, as far as I know, and as Mrs. Abercrombie explained, I’m probably the only person who has ever read the entire book or who has taken on the arduous task of calling all the characters. What can be understood about 1975 Kansas City, Kansas by calling all the phone numbers? Well, most importantly, that things change. And, boy, do they! In one of the most poignant twists in this journey, I called the phone number listed for a James Griffith, the name indicating old fashioned American values and Irish roots. I was told it was the “wrong” number by the person at the other end of the call.
“Really.” I spoke with the confidence of the convictions I received reading this book. “Or are you the wrong person?”
He informed me that his name was Sanjai Patel. I told him it wasn’t. We argued for quite a spell.
And they hung up. Then it dawned on me. The entire book was a test. And I had failed. And that, my fair readers, was the apparent end of this story.
I sat in stunned silence for weeks. I’ve been getting intravenous fluids and constant supervision. I am undone. And blissful.
I am left with one nagging feeling. It is that I can’t wait to read the sequel, which I am told is already out. I can’t wait to catch up with about 30,000 old friends.
Chris Churchill teaches communication, media, and theatre at Northeastern Illinois University. His/book/audiobook, "Ballad of the Small Talker," is available on Amazon, iTunes, and Spotify
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