When Come Knocking came to Los Angeles, the interactive theater production that took over six floors of an abandoned building was met with raves, lines for tickets, and reviews calling it the "must-see experience of a generation." But after dozens of people were killed and hundreds injured on a bloody night of chaos during the shows run, the nation was captured by one inescapable question: How could this happen?
As the dust settles, investigative reporter Adam Jake's is tasked with uncovering the truth behind the massacre. Through a series of interviews with survivors, cast members, and witnesses, Jakes pieces together the chilling reality behind what was supposed to be the ultimate theatrical experience.
Somehow I missed—despite it being boldly stated on the cover—that Come Knocking was written by the same author who wrote Fantasticland, a book that’s been on my TBR for a very, very long time. Told through a series of interviews, Reddit posts, voice memos, 911 calls, and the occasional letter, Come Knocking explores the events that led up to more than fifty people being murdered on the night of March 14th.
I was going to talk about the structure of the novel, the play/performance itself (I would’ve loved to experience the show firsthand), and the way the author manages to make each voice distinct and believable. Instead, I want to touch on the not-so-subtle social commentary woven through this heartbreakingly violent act born of rage and pain.
I think most of us are aware of just how mean-spirited the internet has allowed people to become. As a society, we hide behind our screens and usernames, giving ourselves permission to use hurtful, hateful, extreme, and occasionally violent rhetoric when dealing with people or works of art we consider to be the “other.” It seems we can no longer have a civil discussion on most platforms, largely because we’ve segregated ourselves into online communities that think like us and hold the same “values” — values we see as superior to those of the “other” groups we now view as the enemy. That kind of online self-radicalization saturates the narrative of Come Knocking. This was not an act of violence that could have happened twenty years ago.
To a lesser extent — as the real motivation isn’t revealed until the end — the other piece of commentary I want to touch on is probably a bit more controversial. This violent act, like too many of our real-world tragedies, was ultimately born from abuse and trauma that was never treated or taken seriously. Come Knocking may be fictional, but it fits a pattern we’ve all come to recognize. When massive, extremely violent acts are inflicted on the public, we often chalk them up to “mental illness,” yet almost no one asks what caused that illness or what pushed someone to lash out this way. An abusive or violent past can’t excuse what a person does—but how can we ever start preventing such acts if we refuse to address their roots?
What I don’t want you to think is that the social commentary gets in the way of the story—because it doesn’t. The author is skilled enough to let the story tell itself, allowing all these themes to resonate without overwhelming the narrative. It’s a story that’s both violent and heartbreaking, and it’s made all the more frightening by how real it feels. When I finished reading, it took me a few minutes to remind myself that this was fiction—because it felt all too real.
If Fantasticland comes even close to the emotional impact Come Knocking had on me, I really need to move it up on my TBR pile.
