I am that kid on a grubby, dirt street in Bihar. Where rats scamper in sheets of blackness along channels of moss laden ditches. Where throngs of decrepit, wooden stalls, not more than a foot away from these nostril-filling canals, populate the air with–quite paradoxically–aromatic street food. Litti accompanied by a side dish of roasted
She was cautious of course. As woman are taught to be. The first time they would meet in public, on her territory. An emergency exit strategy had been lined up. But that was competency rather than caution. She wasn’t the type – or age – to be taken as naïve. Early-fifties but well-groomed, technically a
When you were twelve you made a new face to put on top of your face. As far as you could tell there was nothing wrong with your face—it looked completely normal, just like everyone else’s—but for some reason, nearly every time other people looked at you, they got angry. This had been happening for
I’m not too sure what I expected with Ironopolis…but it wasn’t this, no preamble just straight in to the heart and message of this wonderful offering from Glen James Brown and Parthian Books. It is not a book I would naturally be drawn to reading…but drawn I was, like a wasp to a jam sandwich!
From the outside all may appear dazzling, golden, dripping in sequins and sprinkled with glitter, but look inside and there is darkness, murkiness and depravity. Take hold of Social Creature and turn its pages and you may find yourself twisting and contorting out of shape as this tale pulls you through its competing visions: it