The Review of Contemporary Fiction
Dra— by Stacey LevineMonique Dufour
Stacey Levine. Dra. Sun & Moon, 1997. 150pp. Paper: $11.95.
Levine has created a three-dimensional world of two-dimensional people. The world of Dra is a literal labyrinth of bureaucracy, where endless hallways, train stations, and indoor airports link one bizarre official interior after another, from employment offices where employees and applicants sit on open toilets along a far wall to an abandoned work site guarded by one efficient secretary. Dra has been notified that she is eligible for employment, and the novel follows her incessant quest for work.
The setting is a substantial counterpoint to Dras meandering consciousness, which the third-person narration traces in a series of violent reversals. Her historical ancestor is Henry Adams, who found himself lying in the Gallery of Machines at the Great Exposition of 1900, his historical neck broken by the sudden irruption of forces so totally new. For Dra, every turn is dangerous, as she is utterly unprepared to deal with forces both mundane and spectacular. No wonder that she spends a great deal of her time huddled under stairwells and in telephone booths and toilets. Even bowel movements are crises.
Often it is argued that the antidote to an impersonal and absurd world is human connection. In Dra, characters speak with sentimental and unguarded earnestness about the meaning of life, about sex and dread and disease. The Administrator, the Nanny, the Nurse, and Manager each implore Dra to talk about her feelings and are infuriated by her reticence. Yet all this honesty is as revealing as, say, a job interview. Tell me your biggest flaw, weve all been asked. We all know to lie. Just be sure to keep track, and dont begin to believe yourself.
Dra is a masterful book about a horrifying world. Youll recognize it because you live in it. [Monique Dufour]