If we were the sort of friends who went out and got coffee just to catch up after not seeing each other for a long while, I would probably bring up this book I read recently called To The Moon, Darkly by Pablo Baez and say that is a collection of stories, some loosely connected, all of them a precise and unforeseen jab to a vital organ, with Teardrops being the throat-punch that really dropped me to my knees
and you’d say something like oh for real
and I would nod to mean yeah it hit really hard
to which you’d ask what’s it about
well it’s a sort of like Friday the movie, the one with Ice Cube, but if it was directed by Quentin Tarantino, if that makes any kind of sense
that sounds dope actually
it is it’s like a horrible gritty flesh sleeve pulled tight over a beautiful poetic skeleton
whoa
no dialogue quote marks either because there isn’t characters talking there’s only the story the book itself like one big thrumming character where the scene the dialogue the descriptions everything is all part of that character and it feels so alive because those things aren’t there it’s just all words all describing and it’s genius really it pulls you right in
yeah
you should read it, I would tell you, because it’s what mainstream and popular literature doesn’t have or can’t offer, it’s fresh and new and different and risky but genuinely good and purposeful and powerful, I would say. At least, if we were friends of that sort, I would say that.
