This is the second instalment in the Tristan Grieves Fragments, and is just as messed up and weird as the first, which I previously reviewed right about here!
As with Fragment no.1, this tale is laced with lyrical prose that does more to set the scene than tell a story. This underworld is depressingly real, and is soiled with terrible people with deplorable actions. There be death, pimps, and prostitutes at play within these few pages.
It is a very short piece once again, so I won’t mention plot details, because you need to experience this transgressive piece in all its sordid glory with no warnings of the terrors that await.
This is story that, while not pulling you in with its characters or story-telling (and done very intentionally), compels you to become engrossed and held prisoner by the language and dingy atmosphere painted throughout every word. I could close my eyes and point at a random sentence and it would sum this story up perfectly.
I can’t really say anything more here, other than I really enjoyed this. If you want to witness a surreal, yet beautiful shithole (and who doesn’t?) then get yourself involved in the mind of Erik Hofstatter.
Categories: book review
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