Sorry to Disrupt the Peace- Senses in the Foreground

Somehow, Patty Yumi Cottrell manages to write a humorous novel about suicide.  I'm not sure if it's my gallows' humor, or her skillful use of bizarre imagery, rambling tangents that alternate between self-deprecation and delusions of grandeur, or ridiculous situations that highlight the overall absurdity of life and death which make it such an entertaining read.

Cottrell employs all the senses when painting her scenes, effectively transporting us to Helen's side. The stench of a dead squirrel in her brother's closet sticks to our nostrils (14). She often makes a point to clarify that she is shouting. Although when we think of the sense of "touch" we often think of the way a velvet fabric may feel, Cottrell utilizes touch through the use of visceral body functions. When she describes having to take a massive shit in the small airplane bathroom after 6 shots of espresso, we feel her discomfort. When one of her "troubled young people" talks about the penile pain inflicted by his girlfriend's twig-like uterus, we wonder what that would feel like (72). Through corporal sensations, we are shown, rathern than told, Helen’s emotions. We feel them.

For the sense of sight, Cottrell uses strange descriptive phrases, which also serve to conjure strong emotions. The look of disgust from her mother reminds her of an infestation of cockroaches that lived in the kitchen counter of her roommate, her roommate who once loved to cook (74). Her mom wears a white robe that "swallows her" and makes her look like a ghost (69). Chad Lambo was the standard jock in home room that wore sleeveless champion shirts -- we can all picture someone like this from our past (70-71). Because of the large role that description plays in her prose, I am transported to her inner world. It's quite enjoyable.

Most of the time, Helen's character doesn't seem to have a lot of self-insight, but based on other characters' reactions to her, we see that the author does. Helen is clearly lacking self awareness when she calls herself “sister reliability,” believes she is the "red balloon" for her troubled young people, claims she is a supportive beacon of light for her family, and photocopies hundreds of informational pamphlets that she believes will help people in New York City (181). However, the author realizes that Helen is a tad off, and we realize this through the sleight-of-hand comments made by other characters. A lady from the street looks up at her "with concern" after she exclaims out her window (p 15), her parents tell her to stop trying to help when she soaks the flowers in bleach, Thomas tells her that she has a crazy look on her face, and her job has placed her under an internal investigation. Perhaps Helen does, as her brother believes, have a mental health condition. This interplay is entertaining to watch, and Yumi Cottrell does a good job of showing, rather than telling, about Helen's personality.

I can relate to the dark humor of this book, as we often employ gallows humor in the medical field. When my friend had a patient's blood splash in her eye during a procedure, which is a way in which serious infections such as HIV and hepatitis can be transmitted, she dryly referred to it as his "AIDS blood."  When I had blood splash in my eye last night, my medical director asked me if he seemed clean. I responded, "Antioch clean." We laughed. I often use humor to deflate potentially emotionally difficult situations, so I can see myself writing in a style similar to Yumi Cottrell. I think this may be an especially effective technique when dealing with a topic that is at risk of having too heavy of an emotional layer, especially if feeling sorry for a character is not the point of the narrative.

-Melody Glenn