the sound of white ants

The Sound of White Ants
Brian Howell
2004, Elastic Press
ISBN: 0-9543747-7-0 (paperback)

On the other hand, I see myself walking with her into you, Bumako, into your black gate, where knives and swords and spikes will swing and shoot and lacerate us together in a glorious, perfect consummation of metal and flesh. If we are lucky, one or both of us will be decapitated, leaving the other to carry his or her partner through the endless passages of you...

— "The Sound of White Ants," p. 8.

Brian Howell lives and teaches in Japan, and the 16 stories in his new collection delve into the quiet desperation he senses seething beneath the culture’s surface. A deep and profound sense of loss resonates through many of these selections; a recurring theme is the loss of or estrangement from family members due to suicide, accidents, murder, and despair. Perhaps the clearest example of this theme is revealed in the story “Not Really Human,” in which salaryman Osamu slowly realizes the true irrelevance of his wife Kazuko and daughter Akiko to his life, with frightening results:

He knew that if he had to say specifically what it was about her that was so right for him, it might be interpreted as an insult, that perhaps what he saw in her reflected more what he saw in himself. That she was less an independent being in herself than an addition to his existence, that she was in some ways not really human. (—"Not Really Human," p. 55)

Even when two souls connect, Howell suggests, the result can only be annihilation. Thus, in “The Tower,” “A Lesson in Flexigation,” “Idol,” “Cocoon” and “Holding Pattern,” we see men and women connecting only to be destroyed, in one way or another, by their connection.

Sometimes the whole shape opens up like a giant camera aperture and he sees her down in the center, as if she is stuck in a black hole. Then he flexes again, and any hint of her disappears. (— "A Lesson In Flexigation," p. 45)

Yet not all of the stories in The Sound of White Ants are filled with despair. A few are genuinely hopeful, such as the bittersweet romance of “Apparent Distance” or the delicate mother-daughter bond revealed in “A Loss.” Other stories are more disturbing but still hold out the hope of fellowship, such as between father and child in “Only the First Night” or fan and porn star in “Idol.”

Howell’s writing is quiet and subtle, preferring unsettling hints of a world askew to ravening monsters bursting out of the woodwork. Only about two-thirds of these stories can be categorized as horror: “The Sound of White Ants,” “The Tower,” “A Lesson in Flexigation,” “Not Really Human,” “The Ichimatsu Doll,” “Head of a Girl,” “Mobile, Phone,” “Half a Life,” and “Holding Pattern.” The other third are mainstream literary tales, although some of the most powerfully affecting stories in the collection can be found here: “Scale Model,” “Only the First Night,” “A Loss,” “Idol,” “The Space Between the Walls,” “Apparent Distance,” and “Cocoon.”

The characters in this collection are united in their puzzlement about the world, their inability to come to grips with the roles and expectations placed on them by an uncaring culture. Although the stories are about Japan, the deep themes of these works will touch any First World reader who has felt the alienation and one-dimensionality of modern, consumerist, career-driven society.

Although the book is very well-written, The Sound of White Ants does address some aspects of Japanese culture that may make readers uncomfortable, such as the preoccupation with erotic and pornographic images, and the sexualization of schoolgirls. In addition, only five of the 16 stories are told from a woman’s point of view, and of those five, in only two does the woman prevail. In the rest of the stories women are victims, sex objects, threats, or incomprehensible strangers, which makes enjoying this collection a challenge for female readers.

Nevertheless, The Sound of White Ants is a well-written, quietly disturbing collection that spans genres and cultures to describe a sense of alienation and loss that will be relevant to all modern readers, not just fans of horror.

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