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Stuck to his Web,
This review is from: The Consumer and Other Stories (Paperback)
Gira wrestles then wrenches chunks of his flesh from his torso, wringing out the flowing red juices as it pours into rivulets flowing into his ink wells. Dipping his quill he portrays a world populated with atrophism. One glacial ice pick removed from the emotional permafrost of Mishima's short stories. Whilst Mishima lies trapped in the deep freeze, Gira is locked in the cryogenic cabinet.
This collection builds on the glimpses previously revealed in Tape Delay to expose people reduced to insectual drives of non communication. Rubber sexual feeding frenzies of alienated onanism permeates the sensorium of reeking body fluids in one short vignette. Most haunting however is the Coward; a story so hopeless in redemption whilst echoing across valleys, canyons and plains as a metaphor for turning the other cheek when children are being tortured.
The stories expose a world devoid of feeling, even sex fails to build communion in a world bereft of emotional content. Murder and suicide are two options to ensure feelings unfold, to have a sense of anything, themes explored in the wanton ways of monomaniacal fixated killers. Those forever needing another dose of internal reality to keep on going, little mice locked in their treadmills. Another severed head in the freezer joins the second, the first time was the thrill, the second just to keep the first company.
The latest prose is more vivid and gut mangling, less ice bound, the crimonson juices flow better than the old vignettes. All prime focal arrangements portraying a world of complete spider like entrapment.
Not a book for an emotional novice, the themes are bleak, barren unredemptive, they offer no salvation, the antithesis of mainstream happy clappy bonhomie culture. A sliver of a thread back to the Beats with a compressed layer of connection with the Prince of austere bleak entrails; Yukio Mishima; Death in Midsummer , Acts of Worship and the Sailor who fell from grace with the sea.
There is no higher praise.