![]() Nowhere have I found another author so insidious and multivalent in his renderings of both the true terror and multidimensional hysteria of being alive. ![]() That’s me just simply saying that when Brian Evenson speaks, I believe it is time to listen. That’s not me speaking over-the-top about an author I have come to likely crib more from than any other. Almost as vividly as I remember reading each of the series of progressively insidious and truly haunting stories, I equally remember the aura of the book as object, the way I sat it on my bed in weird light and stared at the psychedelic cover full of stories that I still have not found a way to shake, staring at it as if at any moment it might come alive, much in the same way that as a child I stared for hours at the cover to my first dungeon master’s guide, full of incantation and instruction, or the reams of comic books that for years lived in my blood.įrom that point forward, I made it policy, or the policy was made of me, to read every word that Brian Evenson gave into the world. ![]() ![]() I can still remember with odd clarity the first time I read the words of Brian Evenson: I ordered ‘The Din of Celestial Birds’ after running into it somewhere on the internet in my earliest explorations of independent lit, and as I can’t remember fully how I found the book, I must more imagine it found me. ![]()
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