[Review] Antisocial Norms by Zeke Jarvis

Antisocial Norms by Zeke Jarvis is a collection of thirty short stories sure to entertain anyone with a mind for the weird and a few minutes to spare between Zoom meetings. With stories that range from thought-provoking to downright absurd, Antisocial Norms examines the odd and perverse unspoken rules of contemporary America, sometimes through allegory and sometimes with zombies (there are no less than five zombie stories in this collection, six if you count run-of-the-mill reanimated lab corpses as actual zombies).

Overflowing with warning signs for those who care to see them, Antisocial Norms has some real life lessons dispersed between the zombies, the werewolves, the ghosts, and what some would call crude humor and language. In “Are You Feeling Me?” emotions can literally be swallowed - in a convenient pill form, no less – yet there are still communication problems between the man and woman in the story; swallowing your emotions might seem like the easier solution, but real resolution requires talking about your emotions instead. The opening story, “Losing Face,” starts with a man in a waiting room literally losing his face: skin peeling off, splatting on the floor then slapped back on his face. All the other patients must decide to either ignore him and save face, or acknowledge his problem and risk metaphorically losing their own face. Commentating on society’s habit of ignoring that which makes us uncomfortable, “Losing Face” is a startling visual example of the awkwardness that comes from ignoring – but not really ignoring – those who are different.

Other short stories in this collection ask the reader to really question the idea of good versus evil. “The Werewolves in the Alleyway” starts off with two werewolves in the alleyway screwing, presumably enjoying themselves, minding their own business, and not harming anyone. But on a balcony several floors up, some kids don’t mind their own business and start throwing beer bottles at the werewolves, proving you don’t have to sprout fur at the full moon to be a monster. In “Evening Out,” a woman arrives at her Judgement only to find out that being “good” isn’t good enough; she needed to be actively anti-evil, stopping acts of evil when she saw them rather than just not committing them herself (see: any recent dialogues discussing the difference between “not racist” and “antiracist”). A superhero starts to question whether superheroes are either super or heroes in “Piss On Your Grave?” when he realizes that they’ve been saving people from the one-off villains, yet have completely ignored society’s hardships that people have fought against every day. And in “Keep Your Hands and Arms Inside the Vehicle,” a family pays for the privilege to kill zombies on a zombie safari - sounds fun, right? After a few kills, though, the family starts to feel remorse over the inhumane act of killing these once-human beings. While zombies are generally seen as the monster, “Keep Your Hands and Arms Inside the Vehicle” shows how morality and intention truly decide who is the evil monster.

If questions of morality and life lessons aren’t your thing, Jarvis included several stories that are sure to put your imagination to work. In the penultimate tale, “The Grieving Process,” a family sits down to grieve the loss of the father and husband. Of course, in this story collection, the grieving process entails eating the father’s remains, whether that be in the form of steaks, spaghetti and meatballs, tacos, or ribs; this form of grieving puts a whole new spin on the son wishing he had some of his father’s goodness in him. “The Gravity of the Situation” deals with absurdities that are so common they are no longer absurd; for the people in this story, gravity turning itself off is as likely as the power flickering or the Wi-Fi being disrupted. Even while floating around in the air, people persevere and find ways to live through the hard times. And in a personal favorite, “A Fair Trade” describes the physical procedure for removing an unnamed, dark substance from the protagonist. After the procedure, the man feels lighter but he realizes that he lost a bit of himself in the process. The beautiful realization about “A Fair Trade” is that is can be read two ways. The physical substance can be literal, representing a physical object, something that needs to be surgically removed before someone can get better. The physical substance can also symbolize any number of mental illnesses, with the removal representing the process someone has to go through to get better and the part of themselves they may have to leave behind on that journey. Stories like “The Grieving Process” and “A Fair Trade” provide wonderful (if not occasionally disturbing) visuals on the surface while providing a deeper meaning for each reader to dissect.

Whether you’re looking for a few laughs between classes, a new zombie story to chew on, or something with deeper meaning (or all three in one), Antisocial Norms is worth the read. Packed with thirty stories that could all easily be episodes of The Twilight Zone, Jarvis delivers a fresh look at the human condition through unique situations full of both wit and depth.