A review of The Burrow by Melanie Cheng

Cheng’s writing is so lovely, and her insights so acute, that even the slow chapters remain engaging. Her figurative language is especially striking. When Amy drifts into sleep, “better days flash, in orange hues, behind her lids.” Pauline reflects that, when one is young, “death [is] something to be teased and taunted, unseen and remote, like a hibernating animal.”

A Review of The Golden Land by Elizabeth Shick

Shick expertly pulls us into Yangon life and culture through glimpses of people, streets, food vendors, colorful gardens, and ancient temples. As Etta strolls through a working-class neighborhood, she notes how “makeshift shacks are stacked one upon the other like the slipper seashells I used to collect at the beach as a child,” then passes a man who “stands in front of his shack, his longyi hiked up to his groin as he lathers soap over his bare chest and legs.”

A review of Foreign Attachments by Roslyn McFarland

Foreign Attachments is beautifully written, with a great attention to detail and obvious research that brings the characters to life. Jean Rhys is a particularly interesting and tragic character in this rendition with plenty of intrigue left to the reader’s imagination, though I dare anyone to read Foreign Attachments and not give into the temptation to not only begin looking closer at Stella Bowen’s paintings but also exploring Rhys’ story and the work, not so well read these days, of Ford Madox Ford.

A review of Zeke Borshellac by James Damis

The book is a lurid purple-prosed comic masterpiece. I have not had as much pleasure reading a deep dense novel like this since The Sot-Weed Factor, A Confederacy of Dunces, Tristam Shandy, Quixote, Auto-da-fé, Joy Williams. The lietmotif of the book is wretched comic human excess. And ambition. And language! Borshellac begins his self-transformation as a stowaway on a fishing vessel, where he ineffectually disguises himself as a man-sized perch, lolling among the mountainous heaps of fresh-caught fish.

An Interview with Steve Rasnic Tem, King of the Horror Short Story

Tem lives alone in a modest house just south of Denver. Most striking when you walk in are the two walls—living room and adjoining dining room—covered with family portraits: his kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids. One senses the warmth and richness of his family that’s he’s surrounded himself with which makes his forays into darkness and horror all the more frightening and intriguing.