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October 31, 2020
Each story in a recent collection read, shook my reality stem to root. They meandered through myths to brutalism, tripped on mystical realism, and eviscerated issues of gender, self-image, power and abuse. They thrilled me not because I was wooed and cosseted by narrative or characters, but from the opposite. Reading felt like falling down a well and landing in a place unimagined in any dream but one that touched my mind. They seemed so real. Not to defend my naivety or expose a foolish or gullible nature, I was amazed at how easily shocked I could be by fiction.