Sex forms an important role in nearly all of Cris Mazza's writings. In her recent novel,
Dog People, sex became the common denominator in a funny story about the relationships between canines and human beings.
With her new collection of short stories, Mazza again focuses on sex — wonderful, glorious, necessary and sometimes disturbing relationships between members of the human species.
Former Virgin (FC2 paperback, $11.95) captures the quirky but extemely talented Mazza at her best. These tales run the gamut of emotions, from romantic to hilarious, from surprising to completely involving. This young lady consistently brings forth some of the most original fiction being produced today.
While she's not yet a major player in the publishing world, one can't help but believe that her time will come, especially since she deals with the topic that sets off more alarms than any other.
She edited a collection called Chick-Lit 2 last year, the book of unconventional avant-garde fiction that included stories by lesbian characters about lesbian characters. The book came out with a stamp inside the book cover denoting sponsorship by the embattled National Endowment for the Arts. Although Mazza calls the stamp "a mistake," a U.S. congressman called for an investigation.
The publisher calls Former Virgin (is that a great title or what?) "more postfeminist short fiction that explores problems and situations caused only by the ordinary people who suffer through them." Mazza concentrates on how women have started to question themselves, making that all-important query: What have I DONE to myself?
While never dirty for dirt's sake, Mazza takes themes that push buttons in the sensitivity of those little old ladies in the sewing circle. The book burners, a clique which rears ugly heads all too often, are bound to feel uneasy over Mazza's ability to hit the notes that ring too loudly in sensitive ears. For instance, consider the opening line of her story, "Let's Play Doctor," which reads "The nurse shaves away her public hair."
The story deals with a woman's operation, having a cyst removed near her tailbone after repairing a hernia. As the nurse prepares the patient, they chat about the heroine's youthful appearance while "the razor makes a scratchy sound."
Mazza defines fiction as "a communication device that works more like a mirror than a speech."
"There's probably no such thing as objective, pure, direct communication." As an associate professor at the University of Illinois at Chicago, she's learned "there's a different way of communicating in each different situation and 'saying exactly what you mean' actually means something different in each arena, from one-on-one in the hall to faculty meetings to classroom discussions."
In calling fiction a mirror device, Mazza said she finds out about her characters "as I play and live with" them. "Afterwards this 'message' is contained in the reader's similar experience 'living alongside' and watching the characters." Mazza said the mirror device occurs in different degrees to different people. Reactions range from embarrassed laughter to indignant rejection. She said one reader complained, "These people are lunatics."
None of Mazza's books reached bestseller status. "Dog People" was published as a trade paperback by the small Coffee House Press in Minneapolis. "The reading public doesn't know how to hear about new books published by independent literary presses," she observes. Mazza feels certain there's a market for literary works and "the biggest publishers need to stop assuming they are the only experts on what people want to read."
Mazza has no ambition to write popular fiction, no aspirations to become the next Jackie Collins or a female John Grisham. "The Chicago Symphony doesn't attempt to enter the world of rock music and doesn't compete with rock music for listeners. That doesn't mean the Chicago Symphony shouldn't have a recording contract."
What's next for this prolific author? "I have begun to explore other lives, other experiences," she said. "I've branched out from my own experience. I have a novel manuscript about a wildlife biologist who fears he may be a sex killer waiting to happen. And I'm working on a novel about a woman who takes her father out of a rest home and they go live in the canyons of Southern California as neighbors to the migrant workers who live in illegal camps."