A funny, epistolary-style narrative listening in on the citizens of a small town intentionally and unintentionally revealing too much during an uninterrupted town forum
A sinkhole in a football field, the recent death of a beloved crossing guard, an elementary school renaming to erase the memory of a Nazi sympathizer. These and other local issues prompt residents of Salvation Station, Pennsylvania to speak at a forum moderated by the local school board over a school year.
But calling these sessions moderated would be an overstatement. By design, the Citizens Comment portion of the monthly meeting offers no feedback or interaction. The board’s sole contribution, aside from opening and closing remarks, is to listen. Which sounds like a copout, even after it’s explained at the start of one session “Getting into a back and forth would distract us from our goal—to be all ears.”
But their unresponsiveness makes for interesting results as these one-way monologue sessions turn into earnest open mic nights. Participants often veer off into humorous, self-indulgent, and inadvertently self-exposing tangents. For some, the town’s name, Salvation Station, could be an apt description of what the forum becomes for them. There are a few one-off participants, but there’s a core set of regulars stepping up each month, at the lectern or online through Zoom.
The speakers are as quirky as one might expect from a small town. Especially one with schools bearing the titular nickname that has a contentious history of its own. Many exemplify modern archetypes—a literal and metaphorical Karen, a conspiracy theorist, a New Ager, and plenty more. Left unfettered, however, personalities distinct from these labels emerge along with ulterior motivations for speaking.
Such as Earl McGuidry (aka Fang Strong), son of the high school principal, for whom the forum is an ideal platform to vent bitterness at his father, Stan:
“Huge thanks to the board for like, whatever pressure it applied to Big Stan, aka Principal McGuidry aka The Boss Man, aka the Godfather of Salvation Station Middle and High School, who finally saw the error of his ways and dropped his opposition to the Salvation Station Satanist Society. Not gonna lie, never thought it’d happen . . . Why the glum face, Big Stan? Chill. Turn that frown upside down! (Remember telling me that when I was little and sad? It’s totally freaking invalidating, by the way).”
Earl is as self-absorbed as any other speaker. But for him and the others, interesting things occur as their lives intermingle inside and outside the forum. Altogether they meld into a colorful collection of voices from people who prove relatable as humans, if not necessarily for their values or opinions.
This variation of the epistolary novel uses transcribed oral words instead of written letters. It’s an elusive but fascinating way of storytelling that’s deftly handled without the availability of such methods as internal monologue. While everything is on the surface, the board’s deliberate silence inhibits immediate conflict. And other than the act of speaking, all action occurs off screen, meaning descriptions and references to events are prone to hearsay and subjectivity.
However, subplots seep through from those references and reactions to or reflections on what’s been said before. A little patience is needed to let the characters and subplots unfold. The good thing is this patience is rewarded in a non-rushed, natural way. Until then, the voices are diverse and entertaining enough to sustain interest.
The satirical portrayals of archetypes are humorous and sometimes touching, empathetically handled and not too on-the-nose. However, they can be repetitive or predictable, particularly introductions from the likes of Earl who always opens with a bombastic introduction. These get a little tiresome to read, and no doubt to hear, but they are brief.
The magic happens when the archetypal guises break down and expose the individual. It’s clever how the board’s formal indifference implicitly puts it on the participants to sort matters out for themselves. This results in conflicts and bonds that become evident as the words reconcile the action outside the forum. It’s in a way akin to how visual artists utilize negative space.
Neil Connelly’s unique approach in Slubber Doffers succeeds thanks to its eclectic citizens and the chipping away of facades to unveil their true natures. Connelly captures the pretensions, flaws, and vulnerabilities that enrich small towns to humorously poignant effect. Go Doffers.
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