There is something hugely predictable about the m.o. of The Rock Eaters. Look at the tapestry of life and add one magic realist element. Then, select a character or characters and present them as subject to identity politics. Mix, mash, and voila, you have the majority of the collection The Rock Eaters (2021). Peynado, knowingly or unknowingly, pays homage to Gabriel Garcia Marquez in scatter shot, 2021 culture war fashion.
Yet there are more than a few moments Peynado's authorial voice shines. There are sections of amazing prose. Put on top of this the fact that each story, despite the semi-predictability of its m.o., is not predictable in terms of plot. The reader can simply open themselves and let Peynado take them somewhere story-wise.
The Rock Eaters opens on a nice metaphor, “Thoughts and Prayers”. Satire of the bitterest sentiment, it tells of homes literally watched over by guardian angels, and the job these angels do, for better and worse, protecting their homes' children from mass shootings when they go off to school. While the story briefly loses focus, and is once or twice over the top in its politics (“The Mothers, all of them white ladies...), the commentary remains more than effective.
“Stones of Sorrow Lake” is an extended vignette of a town and its people’s mental pain. The pain captured metaphorically (that m.o. again), each person bears a different sized stone, depending on the amount of pain. Possible to have the stone removed, all it takes is a trip to Sorrow Lake, and more importantly the will to do so. While not as bad as the title would indicate, “The Whitest Girl” is nevertheless a politicized story about a catholic school full of latino girls, and the one white girl in attendance. An us vs them vs them at the beginning, it ends by eliminating (proverbially) one of the thems, but is too clearly a “moral lesson” about empathy and compassion. Doesn't have a YA label, but should be taken as such.
“Yaiza” is a relatively maudlin story. It tells of two teen tennis players who become rivals. One rich, one poor, the fates that await them later in life hold the key to the story's message. Peynado pulls a cheap plot trick, but things come together for a semi-realistic conclusion. “The Great Escape” is another symbolically rich story. It tells of a niece who routinely visits her aging, artistic aunt but is never allowed inside. A metal gate separating them, no locksmiths seem capable of opening the door except one, making me feel like there should be quotes around “great”—in the best way.
“What We Lost” is a vignette with a wonderful, rebellious voice. But as with some revolutions in the world, one wonders against what? The story features body parts, but what do they symbolize that has been taken from real Western world? The title story is a generational one. It tells of children born in a new land who, upon hitting puberty, are able to fly. Their children's children inheriting the ability, the next generation's parents discover that their offspring eat rocks. The question for the reader shortly becomes why. The story answers this metaphorically, and ends in a “stranger in a strange land” setup. If the story is about immigration, I'm not sure the situation in the US can be summed so neatly.
In the story “True Love Game”, two girls make a list of boys they could marry and boys they could fall in love with. A virtual competition resulting, their choices ultimately prove malevolent. Departing from the earlier described m.o., “The Touches” is a straight forward sf story in an ultra-Covid world where people live in bubbles. Aiming at profound, the story hits somewhere in the solar system, instead. The next story is a bildungsroman paced at 100m dash speed (with touches of Happy Days' the Fonz). “The Man I Could Be” is about an outsider teen who is given an all-powerful leather jacket by his father. Expectations inevitably come with the jacket. The speed with which Peynado develops this story (80s cut scene pacing) will be the hinge upon which it is or isn't a success with the reader. In “Catarina”, a woman wrestles within herself over an affair she is having with a man whose wife is in a permanent coma. The emotions are real, but the relevancy of the situation is obviously limited.
And finally, the best and worse stories in the collection. “The Dreamers” is a wonderfully dynamic tale of three high school friends with different expectations and directions in life, and the proverbial loss of innocence looming large. It captures their teen years, and their pain and carefreeness, excellently. Taking the freedom and humanity of “The Dreamers” and flipping the script is the victim-mongering story “Miraculous Cages”. About a person who can’t pay student loans, it's puppy-weakness is intended to leave the reader sympathetic yet fails to address the decision path which lead to that point in their life.
As can be seen, the most ambiguous aspect of the collection is its theming. Contemporary hard left talking points form the core (as opposed to moderate or classic left), with a hefty dose of generations, youth, and families loaded on top. When writing the stories, Peynado faced a spectrum: destructive ↔ questioning ↔ constructive. The Rock Eaters exists somewhere between destructive and questioning but would likely think of itself as somewhere between questioning and constructive. By going the identity politics route, there is a lot of us vs them—a good deal of social segregation, that is, as opposed to an inherent unification in which differences are treated as normal. The reader will need to make up their own mind regarding this approach.
In the end, The Rock Eaters is one of those collections whose success is dependent on what the reader brings to the table in terms of politics and expectations for style. My assumption is that Peynado would say the stories are an examination of political, social, and familial elements. But there are too many socio-political assumptions inherent to the stories for the collection not to be looking hard left (again, as opposed to moderate or center-left). Regarding style, the majority of stories are realist with a twist—people walk upside down, sleep is not possible, tumors become stones, etc. Imagination is present. Diction is sharp and minimalist, boosting the effectiveness of the collection. I can easily see fans of Kelly Link enjoying this. As for the future, Peynado has a brighter future than a lot of writers debuting in the early 21st century. The issues with message and theme I can bear when the author shows the promise Peynado does.
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