Hannah Pittard, "There Is No Real Name For Where We Live"

Things get a little more fucked up in a fucked up little trailer park when a dog turns up dead and hanging from the big tree in the center.

(from McSweeney’s, #16)

Excellent story. There was an unwavering sense of hopelessness and dread that made me feel so bad for the characters, or most of them. You sort of buy into their implied worldview, that there’s no escaping the perfect circle of their nameless trailer park. What a mood. Felt good to be in such an ugly place.
Here’s a moment:
I can tell Tessa isn’t the same girl anymore, the way you can tell the last car in a funeral procession from the first of the cars that aren’t.
Moonie calls an official meeting after the police finally leave, like we’re some high-school club.
No, I’m not going to make Hannah Pittard fight Hannah Tinti.

Cynthia G. Mason, “Surprise, AZ”

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