‘The Big Dream’ by Rebecca Rosenblum

Reviewed by Lisa Pasold

No doubt every decade needs an examination of the mundane, an argument for the importance of the extremely ordinary. Rebecca Rosenblum sets up the theme in a predictably-dysfunctional suburban magazine publisher, Dream Inc., and follows a wide range of office characters through a moment in their day. She starts with the tech team and gradually works through to the VP of Human Resources as the company is shut down. “He supposed his own life had been ordinary, in some ways. Many ways. It hadn’t seemed so at the time,” writes Rosenblum in The Big Dream. Her collection of linked short stories posits that everyone’s life is mundane and lonely and yet worthy of examination. I agree. But if our lives are dull, surely short stories should be interesting. To riff on Tolstoy’s famous quote, all boring people are boring in their own unique way.

The big flaw with The Big Dream is that few of Rosenblum’s stories rise above the ordinary on an artistic level. Their uniqueness doesn’t shine. The stories all work at the functional level; each brings its appropriate epiphany, its appropriately-parsed emotion, its well-chosen cultural mosaic, but the craft rarely moves beyond IKEA-level workmanship. IKEA works brilliantly at the everyday; it makes excellent knock-off affordable furniture. So I want to furnish my flat on my office drone salary? Awesome. Just have to borrow a big car to haul all those flat boxes home.

The flaw with IKEA is obvious: if I buy a sofa made of particle board and styrofoam, I get functionality. I don’t expect creative surprise and enduring craftsmanship. But if I read a short story collection, I expect a little more than particle board functionality. Maybe Rosenblum would tell me that’s a foolish expectation, especially when reading about Dream Inc., the lifestyle magazine publishing office where her stories are set.

The stories feature recognizable pathetic true-life moments featuring frequently-nameless office drones—think “The Office” reiterated yet again, this time set in Mississauga. Rosenblum nicely frames the frequently stupid decisions her characters make, reminding us that we’re all self-delusional much of the time. But I found myself putting down the book on any excuse—I would rather drive around a mall parking lot than read this book, because I’d see more of interest. And I really don’t much like mall parking lots, at any time of year.

Two stories stand out:  “After the Meeting,” which seems to happen before the meeting in question is described, several chapters later, but chronology isn’t really an issue—these stories all feature Dream Inc. office inmates, and Rosenblum has a good time playing with stereotypes of race, gender orientation, and IT workers. Also, there’s “Complimentary Yoga,” a story whose protagonist is a likeable asshole. Even angry and creepy, he remains empathetic, surrounded by equally-confused and increasingly-desperate office workers. Here’s one of Rosenblum’s more likeable characters describing yoga: “Skinny rich bitches are lazy, but still they must exercise, so they do exercises lying down. Is like exercise nap, to get stretchy.”

Honestly, I’ve never read a better description of the damn downward dog. But it’s a rare delight, all the more frustrating because clearly Rosenblum could be hilarious and mean and just right, but she pretty well never bothers. Much like any office drone, maybe she’s too busy Facebooking or worrying her infected wisdom tooth to actually give the short stories a needed extra polish.

One problem isn’t her fault: at some glitch in the editorial process, she was encouraged to include apparently random emails from the Dream Inc. Building Services. We all receive more than enough of these emails in real life, so if they’re going to be sprinkled into a short story collection like yellow plastic carrier bags in an IKEA outlet, they’d better be useful. But they’re more like a pile of cleverly-designed handles that don’t serve any new purpose.

Rosenblum’s “professional interview” research on her blog guarantees that these stories are true-to-life—and she writes believably about her characters. But all too often, this book traps me on the Bloor subway line, listening to a cubicle worker complain about his oh-so-terrible day much too loudly into his cellphone. Buddy, I want to tell him, we’re all having a crappy day. Show me why yours is the one I need to know about.

Biblioasis| 200 pages |  $19.95 | paper | ISBN #978-1926845289