In Katharina Volckmer's outrageous second novel, Calls May Be Recorded, a sex-obsessed call center employee confronts his issues with his self-absorbed mother and his own overweight body during one typical day on the job.
Jimmie may work for London's Vanilla Travels Ltd., but his sexual fantasies are anything but. The homosexual and former actor is preoccupied with his weight ("his body was taking up too much space") and still lives with his mother, "the Signora" ("Raised by women, Jimmie had been pro-vagina for as long as he could think. Even if they did nothing for him erotically, he had always acknowledged their struggle"). His catholic imagination covers heterosexual hook-ups between colleagues and a co-worker's toilet habits. And it's not all in his head; while wearing his mother's lipstick, he pleasures a male colleague in a bathroom stall.
"Thank you for waiting. My name is Jimmie. How can I help you today?" each call opens. He's on the complaints line. The customers' situations are bizarre--the hotel room is too orange, the pool boys are not flirtatious enough, the "Romantic Spa Break" is not welcoming to singles--and his replies are wildly inappropriate. It's only a matter of time until he faces disciplinary action. In fact, his supervisor asks for a meeting that afternoon. But through one last call, Jimmie just might find the impetus to change his life.
As in her debut novella, The Appointment, Volckmer fearlessly probes the psychological origins of gender dysphoria and sexual behavior. This X-rated version of The Office, though not for the squeamish or easily offended, is uproarious fun for Shalom Auslander and Timur Vermes fans. --Rebecca Foster, freelance reviewer, proofreader and blogger at Bookish Beck