You’ve probably seen this as a banner to the right on this blog. It’s the cover of a book of poetry by Brandy Schwan called Grim Trixter. I posted it to help out the editor of Apex Digest since we developed one of those interesting Internet friendships after we both published in the fourth issue of Surreal Magazine.
Now, with that out of the way, I must say that this review is completely spontaneous and has absolutely nothing to do with my friendship with Jason. <g>
I don’t usually post a review twice in one week (well, yeah, new to posting reviews here) but I have to say something. The publication of this book has run the gauntlet of bad luck –including lost packages. One might think it cursed.
Grim Trixter is most definitely cursed. Cursed with something that reaches into your chest and freezes your heart and lungs until you can do nothing but read. Pick this book up and whether you enjoy poetry or not, you’re stuck. Stuck in one place until your back petrifies and your toes go numb. The beauty of the language, the lush atmosphere, the eroticism both subtle and in-your-face… oh my. You will read and reread and forget the world around you exists.
It’s Thanksgiving day and I’m supposed to be in my kitchen cooking and I only want to curl up in the dark with lit candles, a glass of chilled wine and this book. I want to immerse myself in the beauty of language, in the twists and turns, the rhythms and sounds– I want to pull out my pen and paper and go back to that magical, creative place one only finds in solitude and dreams.
But, I have twenty or more people coming and I can’t. I can’t.
If you want to read what others are saying about the book, click here. Better yet, get yourself a copy. It’ll turn into one of those books that eventually falls apart from constant handling. I promise.