Paradise Rot
What follows is a fever dream of decay and the juxtaposition of awakening and discovering blurred boundaries between individuals, bodies, sexuality, and plant life.
Antiquarian and Classic Book Reviews
Bandersnatch is a scruffy orange tabby with a big, bossy personality. She is loud and demanding and never takes ‘no’ as an answer.
Adopted a year after Jabberwocky, Bandersnatch is the second youngest cat. Despite having been taken from a barn to a very nice shelter, she was a tough little biter. Just what we needed to play with Jabberwocky.
She does get along well with her sisters — especially Wesker.
Bandersnatch is Hargrave’s second little monster. You can usually find her running laps around the house, climbing up the wrong side of the tallest cat tree, balancing on someone’s shoulders, or dead asleep inside a cushy cat bed. She loves attention, and will literally climb you like a tree to get it.
Some other things she likes include margarine, feathers on a string, winning at wrestles, and folding her paws. Because she has such an attitude, Bandersnatch takes a great glamour shot.
What follows is a fever dream of decay and the juxtaposition of awakening and discovering blurred boundaries between individuals, bodies, sexuality, and plant life.
I was excited to see a performance offered in our local festival this year. The performance did not disappoint, so I decided to review the play here.
Montgomery takes the reader through events and motivations and all of the gruesome details of his crime without any kind of apology or emotion.
Di Benedetto’s style is stark and precise. There are no extraneous words here. No time spared on unnecessary details.
Reading My Prizes is comforting, because even though Bernhard has reached that pinnacle of success and the goal of being recognized as a writer, he still has problems.
It’s a story mostly told in clandestine meetings, burning letters, and obvious consequences that lead to a predictable end.
Like the narrator, the novel wanders between past and present and often between locations themselves.
Clébert doesn’t shy away from any part of his experiences, no matter how ugly, but he also paints a portrait of community and belonging among those that traditionally do not belong.
Lenoard Michaels’ novel/memoir Sylvia is basically a book about a terrible relationship. Michaels meets and then rapidly marries Sylvia in front of the backdrop of 1960s Manhattan.
Of all of the accounts I have read from reporters during the Vietnam War, Schell’s is not the most myopic.