John Elizabeth Stintzi

A chaotic, creative, confusing, surrealistic jumble that seems, I think, to center ideas of trans-ness, of discomfort inside one’s body, of alienation from the reality one is expected to inhabit by outside forces. It’s frustrated and apocalyptic, yet without a misanthropic outlook, and hopeful that we can do better. Not everything about this novel works for me but it’s a memorable and surprising read.

Calling it quits at pg 214 (plus flipping through the rest). Far too much body horror and lovingly described natural disasters for my taste. The form is interesting, but I Just Can't with the content.

I can't say I get what the point is either, other than re/creating an atmosphere of apocalyptic anxiety for its own sake.

I'm not deep enough for poetry, lol. I really liked "Evidence Disproving the Existence of a Junebat" though.

A genre-defying novel full of memorably surreal occurrences. It was a wild reading experience, with moments of terror and laugh-out-loud funny satire that made our own reality scarier and more stark, but not entirely hopeless. In the end, I’m not sure what else to say beyond praising its existence.