One of the most beautiful things about EVENING ORACLE — which is, I think, a beautiful book, elegantly wandering but not lost — is that its goal is not comprehension so much as communication.
As with all great works of literature, it is difficult to believe that so much can be contained by so relatively small a vessel. It is yet another reminder that while we live and breathe and read in a world bound by the laws of space and time, what lies within a book’s pages suffers limits of a different strain.
The stories in BEASTS YOU’LL NEVER SEE are prone to self-vexing. Each narrative dismantles its protagonist, draws and quarters him, splinters him into linguistic abjection.