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Good book.
I heard about this work from the author's husband, the incredible Michael Cisco, who gave high praises to it. Of course, when Michael heaps praise on something, there's good reason to pay attention! While I did feel that there were some "clunky" constructions and a typo or two, this can be forgiven once the reader lets herself or himself be swept in by the rushing wind of elevated prose and exquisite descriptions. These soon fold into and around the carefully-examined emotional states of the cha...
Seriously enjoyed "The Almanac of Dust," by Farah Rose Smith. It's dark, decadent, sad, and beautiful. Exploring themes such as sorrow, loss, obsession, passion, hate, love, mental and physical decline, and even some philosophical ponderings on life, reality, existence, what it is to live, materialism, minimalism, and much more; how quickly we begin to deteriorate from our obsessions and losses; how love can hurt just as much as it can heal. It is truly a remarkable read. "The subterranean mind
My main reservation about this is the "everything is nothing" doomy sermons. I heard someone complaining a while ago about too many stories featuring voids and nothingness, seeming kind of a empty threat. Could we take these sermons as a partial reflection of the arrogance of Von Rehm (who I guessed was a provocateur who was nonetheless onto something) and Bhodi (who is disgusted by Von Rehm but reluctantly absorbs his ideas)? But don't let that put you off, for a book so much about nothingness
This was a short compelling novella that I enjoyed in one sitting. It reads as a strange fairy tale with heavy atmospheric colors of Weird Fiction. Our characters: Bhodi Xeussofi- logical man studying an esoteric text ; shuns the notion of “the supernatural” Brinna - sensitive woman experiencing visions ; used to write poems ; desires to flee to “Silver City” seeking a cure for her illusionsThe story is framed more in Bhodi’s perspective, but one can’t help but be constantly wanting to hear mor...
Ever find yourself wondering why no one writes like J. K. Huysmans any more? Or Mervyn Peake, but overtaken by demons of precision? Or Leonora Carrington just coming off a three-day gin and elderflower binge? Be wistful no longer. Read this, and be pleased.
I'm not sure I have the words to properly review The Almanac of Dust. It's one of only a handful of stories I started reading again immediately after finishing. It's a story about the blooming and rotting away of love. It's about afflictions both physical and mental, and the degenerative aftershocks of loss and obsession. It's beautiful and grim: a gothic fairytale laced with metaphysical implications. With one slim story Farah Rose Smith has earned a place on my shelf alongside Angela Carter, C...
