An articulate hockey brute ponders his place in the world.
At least that’s what I figure he’s doing, what with all his contemplation on violence and motive. He’s a smart dude, a guy with a handy vocabulary and a knack for history. He’s also beyond his own control sometimes. This is a nearly beautiful story. There are plenty of awkward parts, where the prose is confusing, skipping from one subject to the next thanks to the scatterbrained savant doing the narrating. Feels okay, being on edge in this story. Good stuff.
A good friend handed me this book, in shock at how much up my alley it seemed to be. Short stories. Goalie on the cover (excellent jacket). Even the word visigoth is relentlessly appealing. Some people just know you well.
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, “Red Right Hand”