Embracing the Uncanny: A Review of Walking Practice by Dolki Min
When I first stumbled upon Walking Practice, the premise sent a shiver of intrigue down my spine. An alien grappling with the quirks of human existence while navigating the perplexities of gender and mortality? Count me in! I’ve always been drawn to narratives that challenge the boundaries of identity and organism, and Dolki Min’s original work, translated by Victoria Caudle, promises just that. As I dove into the murky waters of this unique story, I found myself wrestling with the very nature of what it means to be human.
The novel’s narrator, an alien marooned on Earth after their planet’s cataclysmic explosion, grapples with adopting a humanoid form. Their journey revolves around something as deceptively simple yet profoundly layered as learning to walk. But walking here serves a dual purpose: it’s not just about mobility, but also about understanding human gender binaries—an endeavor that the narrator finds bewildering. “How was it even possible to divide something with so many visible variants into just two groups?” This question reverberates throughout the pages, inviting readers to reflect on their own experiences with societal expectations and identities.
What captivates me most about Walking Practice is its playfulness amidst the grim subject matter. The narrator’s dark escapades—seducing potential partners solely to fulfill their unusual dietary needs—serve as both a literal and metaphorical examination of vulnerability and exploitation. Min’s peculiar yet incisive humor often reminds me of Bernhardian rants, bringing a delightful absurdity to existential musings. For instance, the narrator says, “I’ve figured out how to read mainstream body trends . . . Criteria are like glass. As long as they are respected and held without dropping them, they’ll stay solid and won’t break.” Such reflections astutely underline the fragility of societal norms, especially regarding gender.
Caudle’s translation particularly shines in moments where the alien narrator’s form—and language—starts to fragment. The typographical decisions employed to illustrate this breakdown not only capture the chaos of the narrator’s experience but also invoke a sense of empathy in readers. I found the experimenting with typography—such as elongating certain vowels—invigorating and an apt representation of how words fail us in expressing complex emotions.
On a more technical note, if I were to point out a critique, I would mention that the pacing can falter slightly in places, and while the narrative is relatively simple, the depth indeed lies in its exploration of queerness and human behavior rather than in plot complexity. That said, the heartfelt immediacy of the prose engages from start to finish.
To conclude, Walking Practice is an exhilarating experience, not just for those who enjoy speculative fiction or contemporary queer literature, but for anyone curious about identity’s intricacies. If you’ve ever felt at odds with societal labels or marveled at humanity’s contradictions, this novel will resonate with you on profound levels. Its inventive narrative and thought-provoking themes left me pondering my own experiences long after I turned the last page. I left with a newfound appreciation for the art of walking—and perhaps, understanding—among a myriad of identities, all scrambling for recognition and acceptance.
In a world ever keen on shackling us to rigid categories, Walking Practice dares us to embrace the beautiful chaos of existence.