The unknown becomes an increasingly greater fear with each day. Technology plays an especially vital role in this development. It’s next to impossible to keep up-to-date with the latest in emerging science, information technology and biotechnology. There is a growing schism separating the keepers of this knowledge from the masses in our global world order. It can feel as if despite our achievements, the current state of the planet speaks for itself: a global pandemic, mass protests, rapid climate change. So what do we make of the role of technology in our present-day? How do the dark and unknown capabilities of technology inform our modern anxieties? Eye strain? Zoom fatigue? Nightmares? Kim Fu’s short fiction collection, Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century, is a thoughtful, lively embrace of speculative fiction and magic realism in which modern themes of identity, love, desire, and technological consequence are stretched and scrutinized to alarming proportions. In these twelve stories, set between the present day and distant future, Fu introduces the reader to concepts that are at once immensely smart and bone-chillingly real: an adolescent girl grows feathers from her ankles; an insomniac envisions the Sandman; a mall kiosk salesman holds the key to mortality. But rather than simply shock, a tender bed of feeling weaves these stories together. Fu creates worlds that blend the fantastic with the mundane, embarking on rich character studies that explore the unknown and reveal insights into our everyday lives.

Each story in the collection builds upon encounters with the supernatural or morose in a different way, leaving each story feeling distinct and sparkling with ingenuity. It’s almost as if the pieces came from a best-of anthology. Yet the ultimate strength of this collection is how Fu situates her characters within these magical worlds, relating these frantic experiences as necessary human struggles. For example, in the second story, “Liddy, First to Fly,” a group of girls bond over their friend Liddy growing feathers from her ankles. Rather than respond with abject terror, this new phenomenon brings them closer together. As the wings become a normalized component of their friendship, the narrator remarks, “There was a way in which Liddy’s wings didn’t strike us as extraordinary. The realm of pretend had only just closed its doors to us, and light still leaked through around the edges.” The narrative unfolds like a coming-of-age tale focusing on innocence, friendship, and growth. Lesser Known Monsters flows in much this same way, with stories colliding the familiar with the otherworldly but never losing its ability to inspire wonderment and predicate fear. 

The theme of technology and technological consequence is significant throughout this collection of stories. Fu’s vision of the future isn’t purely dystopian. Advancements in technology hold the promising ability to streamline our lives and fulfill our most superficial desires. But more often than not, rather than fixing our everyday struggles, technology merely acts as a conduit to the human condition, creating new desires, addictions, and nightmares. When there are no mythical beasts or terrifying monsters in a story, technology and its role in our daily lives usually occupy center stage. In the opening story, “Pre-Simulation Consultation XF007867,” a woman attends a consultation for a virtual reality simulation, hoping to spend time with her mother before she falls ill. The dialogue-led story evolves into a passionate argument between her and the simulation operator, who insists visiting the dead is prohibited because it can become too addictive. The resulting back and forth is a moving, at times hilarious meditation on grief and longing. In “Twenty Hours,” a married couple keeps their relationship alive by repeatedly killing one other, making use of an expensive printer that regenerates the human body and consciousness. It’s a delightfully off-kilter representation of relationship woes and marital kinship that surprises in its invention and relatability. Such stories are also evocative criticisms highlighting the darkness within our inherent trust of tech conglomerates and data-storage.

In other stories, elements of magic realism creep into common-place experiences. In such stories, Fu pulls the reader into unsettling narratives that make the reader genuinely feel and fear for her characters. In “June Bugs,” the narrator is a woman escaping an abusive relationship who rents a house infested with June beetles. As she recounts her tumultuous relationship, the beetles scurry from wall to wall, ceiling to ceiling, falling into her food and appearing behind every surface. At the end, when her abusive partner finds her, the beetles come to her rescue in a delightful twist ending. It is a poignant portrayal of how an abusive relationship warps an individual’s self-worth, with the beetles acting as a physical manifestation of trauma. Likewise, in “The Doll,” a group of young children take turns holding onto the doll of a deceased girl from their school. What is already a disturbing story of a family’s unfortunate death ceaselessly brinks on the edge of horror as the group begins to suspect the doll is haunted.

At the center of Lesser Known Monsters are the characters who occupy and effectively ground the reader within these weird and twisted worlds. Fu has a remarkable ability for crafting compelling and dynamic characters, surveying feelings and anxieties with emotional realism and sharp dialogue. As readers, we are pulled into their emotional realities, watching as their perspectives and intentions snap into focus. Often, this entails watching them writhe and squirm, as in the case of “June Bugs.” The desires at the heart of this incessantly weird collection most often stem from a need to belong. There is often a palpable longing to be understood, to escape, and to be freed. Consider this passage from “In This Fantasy,” a largely plot-less exercise in character and imagination: “Sometimes in my fantasies, I just disappear… I journey through the stars, fingers trailing through cosmic dust, the unfeeling desolation of space. I sink through a fizzing, golden ocean, bubbles drifting past, gently dissolving my skin.”

Stories of technological advancement evoke great mechanical achievement at the cost of human connection. Instances of magic realism that range from supernatural (“Bridezilla”) to modern (“#ClimbingNation”) chart the effort and fall from innocence accompanied by a changing world. As a result of the magnitude and scope Fu brings to each topic, such as sexuality, grief, and innocence, we see the struggles of these stories end ambiguously, with characters submitting and receding quietly into the abyss. For example, in “Time Cubes,” the narrator, a depressive woman in an isolated dystopian community, becomes infatuated with a Time Cubes salesman, a man who sells small animals in toy boxes that age back and forth with the turn of a knob. The narrator sleeps with the salesman, based on the advice of her therapist. She finds his workshop alone in his apartment and steps into a life-size time cube, turning the dial back fully, seeking erasure.

There are some weak spots in the collection—as with any short story collection, such as the sensation-based performance act, “Scissors.” And at times, it can feel underwhelming for such great concepts to arrive in your lap, only to dissolve inconclusively. But as often, there are also extraordinary twists of breath-taking storytelling. Ultimately, Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century is a stellar dive into the recesses of Fu’s deep and creative imagination. The collection ebbs and flows with vivid imagery, funny dialogue, and bizarre scenes that readers will recognize themselves within. As the state of the world continues in its path of disarray, this acknowledgement through fiction is a comfort. Fu only seeks to test our modern anxieties further, playfully nudging: if you thought climate change was bad, how do you feel about sea monsters?