Cosmocopia is the
story of Frank Lazorg. An aging pulp cover
artist who was once the darling of the genre crowd, he looks to recover from a recent
stroke. Though his virility has taken a
hit, more frustrating his muse is lost—an homage to Courbet’s ”The Origins of the World”
(warning: nsfw) sitting half-finished on an easel. But thoughts of despair are interrupted one
day when a package arrives from an old friend.
Containing a brick of red beetle dust, Lazorg begins ingesting a pinch
or two every day. His energy and
creative juices slowly returning, alongwith come strange hallucinations—his dreams
filled with creative images. But nothing
motivates Lazorg like learning his once favorite model Velina Malaspina is now
working for his main rival, and in a fit of emotion after meeting her one day,
finds the energy to complete his masterpiece.
The thing is, it’s not on canvas, rather something more 3D. And into a rabbit hole he falls…
Regardless whether a long novella or a short novel, Cosmocopia is a smorgasbord of ideas
that punches above its weight. Lazorg
ends up in a parallel universe and there he must re-discover the meaning of his
life—of what he was robbed of by the stroke, and what he has to gain by pursuing
his chosen lifestyle. The parallel
universe surreally different than our own, its sentiment is artistic rather than
melodramatic in nature. Di Filippo uses
a glorious array of images and scenes, plot shifts and cultural behaviors to
portray Lazorg’s coming to terms afresh, largely in symbolic terms. The manner in which artists in the world conjure
art from the firmament of existence, the noetics, the wacky sexual habits and
capabilities (and the masked disguises of their genitalia) of its denizens; the
uncanny reaches of the inter-world—all combine to make Cosmosopia a warped mirror reflecting our own.
Di Filippo crediting Michael Bishop for Cosmocopia, the dynamic imagery and humanist foundation of Bishop’s
writing is evident. Perhaps difficult to
avoid when an artist is your protagonist, Di Filippo begins with the idea of
Coubert’s painting in the context of a troubled painter’s life (i.e. the
realist elements), drops said painter into an abyss so he must begin again
(i.e. the surreal elements), and ties it all together in the end with imagery and
events—rushed and overt, yes, but nonetheless imagery and events—that present
the story’s agenda. Deftly confirming
and elucidating the ideas of artistic creation, the cycle of life, cosmology, and
other ideas, the novel is an experience that takes the reader from their world
and back again, granting a wide window into some of the grandest possible
subject matter in the process. It is
truly a work of existential art.
In the end, Cosmocopia
is a Weird text that grasps at the deeper significances of art, the creative
act, and birth/life/death. An immersive work
that mesmerizes the reader one delightfully imagined page after another, the
story of the fiery Lazorg and his experiences in the cosmocopia covers a lot of
ground creatively and thematically. Balancing
quasi grotesque, quasi macabre, fully strange imagery with unpredictable story,
fans of Jeff VanderMeer’s Ambergris
novels will find something to love. Interestingly
enough, with the bizarre yet familiar culture Lazorg finds himself amongst in
the alternate world, particularly the masks, Jack Vance’s work is also
reminiscent—an idea topped off reading this quote: "Pirkle met another wurzel and exchanged aromatic scat lozenges."
(To be direct, however, Vance never
attempted something in the same vein artistically, the similarity only skin
deep.) But most of all, it is the works of
Max Enrst, Salvador Dali, Remedios Varos and the other dark surrealists which
echo through the pages. Visceral,
haunted, surreal, strangely inviting—all begin to describe the experience of Cosmocopia, the rest for the reader’s
imagination.
This review is based on a copy provided by the publisher but
in no way reflects a partiality on my part that extends beyond the text. It is a wonderful little novel.
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