Friday, June 5, 2015
Stranger Days reads like The Diary of Anais Nin shot through a David Cronenberg lens. Kendall laces her surrealism with doses of strange of hyper-reality that make you question what's real and what's fiction--if there's a schizophrenic artist creating a replica of everything in the world out of trash, then the insectoid fetus might not be so far fetched (although I'm fairly certain the insectoid fetus is pure fiction...at least I hope so). In the first two paragraphs you can feel the tension vibrating like rusty guitar strings, and with each page Kendall inexorably tightens the screws until her characters are cracking at the joints and finally something has to snap.
Posted by B. Drew Collier at 7:25 PM