‘The Maladjusted’ by Derek Hayes

Reviewed by Alex Merrill

In his aptly named first collection of stories, Derek Hayes presents a relentless assortment of social misfits, bullies, brooders debilitated by shyness, loners who over-think their every move to the point of paralysis. As one of them says, “I’m already too self-conscious. I’m self-conscious of my self-consciousness.”

I don’t love this book. I like parts of it. I appreciate, for example, how Hayes gets the voices of characters such as Mike, the protagonist of his title story. Mike is socially awkward, probably a genius, maybe autistic. Just as The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time caught the rich inner life of an autistic boy, Hayes captures the inner monologue in Mike’s head in a way that is both excruciating and enlightening. Mike’s only contact with the outside world – besides his visits with his social worker – happen when he sits on his fire escape spying on his neighbour at three in the morning. Mike yearns for some other kind of human connection but is scared of people and doesn’t know how to be with them. With his social worker’s help Mike has developed a three-step plan to meet people at a chess club. When he finally sits down and plays a game of chess with a stranger, he has the climactic – and beautifully understated – revelation that he can do it, he can get over himself, at least for a little while.  “I’ve been distracted for thirty minutes, without metacognitive awareness,” he says, “It’s a pleasant respite, really.”

Hayes seems at his best when he’s writing about the basketball court or teaching, clearly two subjects he’s familiar with. In those settings his dialogue moves briskly and the story along with it. He has a good feel for young men and their pissing wars, for the ugly interplay among bullies, the bullied and the ones who watch from the sidelines. In “A Feel for America,” two young men who’ve been teaching awhile in the same ESL school and sharing an apartment in Taiwan close ranks when a new teacher moves in, a former linebacker from Denver. Alpha male struggles ensue and the balance of power shifts. In the story “In The Low Post,” a twenty-five-year old man dominates the local basketball court in a north Toronto ghetto, bullying his minions into submission the same way he was bullied when he was a kid. Like other bullies, this guy sees himself as a mentor, a teacher, a general, until a new kid on the court fights back and shows him up for the tormenter he is.

I would have enjoyed this book more if the writing hadn’t kept getting in the way. Hayes’ prolific use of adverbial speech tags reminded me of the old Tom Swifty pun, “Take the prisoner downstairs,” said Tom condescendingly. Throughout the book are these: “She dropped the video clumsily,” “he says absentmindedly,” “She smiled nervously,” and “the ball haplessly bounced.” I saw so many in the first story I wondered if this was a conscious choice, a device he was using to develop the voice of the main character, an insecure man who felt he had to explain too much. But after finding them in the next story and the next, I wondered peevishly, where is the editor?

I was also distracted when characters spoke out of character. A twenty-year old woman says, “Maybe it will give my nerves a rest,” which is something my grandmother might have said. Or a young man says, to signal that we’re about to have a flashback, “My thoughts unfurl four years to Camp Skyhawk.” There are other awkward moments too. This mixed metaphor, for instance, sent me spinning: “He’s struggling like a wounded antelope trying to keep up with the herd, scanning the crowd like a small child at the zoo….”

Many of these stories read like character sketches rather than complete short stories, and some were more like self-help guides. “That’s very observant of you,” where a very large lonely woman screws up her courage to proposition a waiter, is a case study in how to overcome your fears when you’re socially stigmatized. “The Maladjusted” is about how to make friends and face down your inner monsters. “Inertia” describes what happens when you smoke too much dope.

Hayes clearly has empathy for his characters and interesting things to say about outsiders. He knows about the lonely and their torments, which are potent subjects for great storytelling. I just think that he needs to work on explaining less and editing more so the stories can be told.