Carla
I am a different—and better—person than I was before I read this novel.
Dark of the invisible moon. The nights now only slightly less black. By day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.
Stream of consciousness dystopia, the end of the world as a flowing prose poem, sifting through the reader’s mind like the ash on the road.
I know this novel might seem unapproachable, or even painful, given the state of our world right now, but let me tell you, I feel like I have experienced a catharsis. I feel a wee bit stronger and ready to face the monsters than I did. My mind has been given a good cleanse, or a good shaking.
I am a different—and better—person than I was before I read this novel.
Dark of the invisible moon. The nights now only slightly less black. By day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.
Stream of consciousness dystopia, the end of the world as a flowing prose poem, sifting through the reader’s mind like the ash on the road.
I know this novel might seem unapproachable, or even painful, given the state of our world right now, but let me tell you, I feel like I have experienced a catharsis. I feel a wee bit stronger and ready to face the monsters than I did. My mind has been given a good cleanse, or a good shaking.
