Poet Reb Livingston's debut novel, appropriately titled Bombyonder, explores this confusing realm in lyrical prose that, while often overwhelming and disgusting, is searing and unforgettable.īombyonder is a disjointed tale made up of fragments: diary entries, memories, text messages, letters, forums from the future, and other indirect narrative forms. It is a subconscious space of both apocalyptic absurdity and astonishing lucidity, where zombie sex jokes can morph into profound commentaries on social media, and vague memories hilariously allude to Ancient Greek literary characters. It smells of decaying flesh, drips with bodily fluids, and brims with the anger of a Medusa. Not exactly a physical location, but more than a passing thought, Bombyonder echoes poetry of mythic proportions.
Dont compare cooking, or salary.Marie Curran reviews Bombyonder in The Collagist:īeyond logic and linear thinking, manners and order, humor and horror, there is Bombyonder.
Only someone thin should ever try something so caloric.ĭont download that software you dont know where it came from. I dont feel qualified for health, I find it difficult.
If money is a hurdle in your relationship, write off the money to charity. The cameras in her eyes doesnt hide whats happened anymore. To meet the challenge, be low key and off the radar, become a woodworker, sell large substantial things, sell small things to people who wont buy the large things, little things add up, big doesnt sell everyday, get up and approach people, in person, use a phone, advice on bicycles, go to the casino, move to the mountains, cut the skin behind the fin, run between their legs in such a way as you wont get trampled. You will see no flash or gleam in my eyes, you will see I no longer have the strength to carry a torch and you will wonder how I was able and what could be incinerated next.Īdvice about food, noodles in bulk, advice about placement and presentation, to remain calm and not react, contests are the systems that keep us in check. You will wonder did I make all that fire just to kill a snake?Įven if you dont see my matches or smell my accelerants, you will know that I brought the fire. You will blow the ashes out your nostrils and wonder how much reached your lungs. You will smell the burnt scriptures and humorless smoke. You will see the death announcement in the softening ice staring back and wonder who put it there. You will see the church and trees, the gravel road and the graveyard, the altar and the limp snake, you will see my neighborhood as picturesque and you will take a photograph to post on Facebook.
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