It isnt easy to make a reader laugh out loud. Even when confronted with the sharpest, funniest prose, many people will respond with nothing more than a quiet chuckle. Perhaps society has trained us to approach literature with a certain level of decorum.
Whatever the reason, all I can say is good luck chuckling quietly during One More Thing, the wonderfully cockeyed, consistently hilarious debut from B.J. Novak. The co-star, writer and co-executive producer of NBCs The Office has captured a lot of media attention with this collection of 63 fictional narratives and comedic vignettes – partly because of the seven-figure deal he signed last year with its publisher and partly because its just that good. Whats striking is the wild imagination he brings to these pages, taking familiar narrative constructs – a woman and a man on a blind date – and infusing them with the unexpected: The guy turns out to be ... a warlord? (The words rape and limbs came up more than on any other date she could remember.)
Nearly every story brings a deliciously wry jolt of the unexpected. In The Rematch, Novak follows the hare as he trains for a follow-up race with the tortoise, who is now doing charitable work with The Slow and Steady Foundation. In Wikipedia Brown and the Case of the Missing Bicycle, the author imagines how useless Encyclopedia Brown would have been at solving mysteries if he functioned by todays Internet standards. ( The government caused 9/11! Wikipedia Brown shouted suddenly, for no reason). In No One Goes to Heaven to See Dan Fogelberg, Novak confirms that the afterlife exists and that its live-music options are spectacular.
Novaks sensibility is reminiscent of Woody Allens but with a lot more references to texting, tweeting and using apps. His style is part Steven Wright and part Charlie Kaufman, married with a sharp ear for (and satire of) contemporary pop culture.
In The Comedy Central Roast of Nelson Mandela, presented as the transcript from a 2012 evening of Mandela-ribbing that featured the networks usual band of insult lobbers, Novak delivers a spot-on spoof and an incisive commentary on squandering ones freedom of speech. When we can say anything, what do we say? Mandela asks the audience when its his turn, prompting visible particles of physical shame to fly from the pores of Jeffrey Ross.
Obviously, not everything in this collection qualifies as a story in the traditional sense. Many are just humorous riffs, some with fewer syllables than a haiku.
Novak does stretch his legs at times, writing a few short stories of more substantial length and with more defined narrative arcs. The longest of these is Kelloggs (or: The Last Wholesome Fantasy of the Middle-School Boy), in which an unnamed adolescent travels to the cereal companys Michigan headquarters to claim a $100,000 prize he won off a cornflakes box, a tale that plays out, in some ways, like a flipped-script version of Alexander Paynes Nebraska. He plots it well – the twist is one most wont see coming. But this story and others would benefit from deeper character development. At times, Novaks protagonists seem like cardboard cutouts working to serve the writers voice instead of developing their own.
Novak closes his collection with the tale of J.C. Audetat, a poet wannabe who wins widespread acclaim with his English translations of literary classics – including The Great Gatsby. Audetat (sounds like autodidact) updates previous authors works in largely insignificant ways, but no one seems to notice, as illustrated by the quotations from critics praising him. The story is a critique of several things, including media buzz and how it can sometimes be disproportionate to actual skill. Perhaps that subject was on Novaks mind as he considered how his literary work would be received.
If he was worried, he shouldnt have been. This is his first book of fiction – he has others coming, including a childrens picture book – and hes already established himself as both a gifted observer of the human condition and a very funny writer capable of winning that rare thing: unself-conscious, insuppressible laughter.