Plow the Bones

Yesterday afternoon I read Douglas Warrick’s short story collection, Plow the Bones. It’s extraordinary. I’d put it right up there with Jagganath and Let’s Play White which you know are the two best short story collections I’ve read in the last couple of years. It’s strange as fuck and really intense. I could only read one or two stories and then I had to check twitter or walk around a little, just because it was kind of too much to swallow at once. And he’s just a hell of a craftsman.

But the best story in the lot is “Ballad of a Hot Air Balloon-Headed Girl,” which I feel like told me something so true about people that I’m kind of at a loss as to how to go on after reading it. But this isn’t one of those cases where it’s “the best story by far.” Every story is really great. I also liked the one about the golem rock band. Hell, I liked them all.

Anyway, if you’re like, “Man, I want to read something like Jagganath but sadder and scarier,” here’s your thing.

Plus, honestly, when was the last time you read a fiction book with references to Paglia? Hell, he takes his title from her! And then, I suppose she beats him to death with a life-sized mannequin of Madonna, which I think is how all interactions with her must end, so that will be sad, but somehow fitting.