on 6 October 2014
A bare boned and stripped back book, where all that exists is pared to the materially extant and the practical. It reminded me of the barren world of No Country For Old Men or the spare divorces of The Outsider. It is a series of vignettes that tells a story and has a narrative progression, albeit skeletal and linear. But each vignette is a repetition, a restated way of a bare way of being. And there's a weird, terrifying consolation in that.
The twins, the book's main characters, are detached from the emotive world and turned toward each other. But perhaps it is this inner outside-ness, this requirement of reaching the other twin, which still gives them a foothold in the larger social world [even if more built on representational similarity than empathy] and they sometimes seem more in the thick of feeling and understanding [or at least insight] than the conventionally well adjusted. This is the dilemma. Like their detached, entirely practical and yet humanly functional ethical behaviour. The book walks tight ropes. It is starkly etched yet beautiful, resonant with tears of loss and yet cool and emotionless and non-judgemental, like the twins themselves.