Welcome to another installment of If My Book, the Monkeybicycle feature in which authors shed light on their recently released books by comparing them to weird things. This week Naomi Jackson writes about The Star Side of Bird Hill, her debut novel published this summer by Penguin Press.
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If Dear Mister Essay Writer Guy were a brunch item, it would be an omelet with spiced zebra meat and firm avocado. Brunch would be served in a remodeled gas station, with Esso still written above the big bay doors. Our waitress, Midge, would call us “Honey,” and pour coffee until we couldn’t take it anymore. Her hair would be orange. “You’re like a skeleton,” she would say, trying to get us to order more food. “The pie was made this morning.”
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Welcome to another installment of If My Book, the Monkeybicycle feature in which authors shed light on their recently released books by comparing them to weird things. This week Adrienne Celt writes about The Daughters, her debut novel just published by W.W. Norton/Liveright.
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Welcome to another installment of If My Book, the Monkeybicycle feature in which authors shed light on their recently released books by comparing them to weird things. This week Kevin Maloney writes about Cult of Loretta, his debut novel published this spring by Lazy Fascist Press.
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If Kitchens of the Great Midwest were an extinct reptile, it would be a champsosaur, a gavial-like aquatic predator of the order Choristodera. The reason why is a slightly sad story, like how missing the bus in winter is sad.
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Welcome to another installment of If My Book, the Monkeybicycle feature in which authors shed light on their recently released books by comparing them to weird things. This week Christine Sneed writes about Paris, He Said, her third book and second novel, recently published by Bloomsbury USA.
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If The Book of Speculation were a body part, it would be the back of the knee, a dark place you don’t try to pretty up, the spot that makes you bend. It lets the flashier parts of you do their thing. It’s got a male librarian, a working stiff—a real back-of-the-knee kind of guy—a body part someone admires but never mentions. This book is about resilience. The back of the knee doesn’t wrinkle.
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If The Book of Laney were a snowstorm, it would be a snowstorm that burns bright and hot until it melts away and builds itself up again and again until all you see is snow melting and burning and freezing.
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