By Brian Evenson
Compliment for Brian Evenson:
"Brian Evenson is likely one of the treasures of yank tale writing, a real successor either to the iteration of Coover, Barthelme, Hawkes and Co., but additionally to Edgar Allan Poe."—Jonathan Lethem
"One of the main provocative, artistic, and proficient writers we have now operating today."—The Believer
"There isn't a extra severe, prolific, or apocalyptic author of fiction in the US than Brian Evenson."—George Saunders
"Packed with sufficient atrocities to provide Thomas Harris pause. . . . no longer many writers have the mind's eye or the audacity to rework what seems like salvation into an totally unique outpost of hell."—Bookforum
A filled bear's center beats with the rhythm of a useless child; Reno retains receding to the east irrespective of how a ways you force; and in a mine on one other planet, the airborne dirt and dust won't cease seeping in. In those tales, Brian Evenson unsettles us with the standard and the extraordinary—the terror of dwelling with the information of all we won't know.
Praised by way of Peter Straub for going "furthest out at the sheerest, least sheltered narrative precipice," Brian Evenson has been a finalist for the Edgar Award, the Shirley Jackson Award, and is the realm delusion Award and the winner of the overseas Horror Guild Award, the yank Library Association's award for top Horror Novel, and one in every of Time Out New York's most sensible books.
“Evenson’s writing is anything to be learn briefly periods, like a great tea that you really want to have fun with to the final drop.”—Twin towns Geek
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Additional resources for A Collapse of Horses
Charlie was sitting on her haunches, her head cradled in her arms. 'Charlie,' he said, touching her arm. ' she cried out, her voice bright and vicious with a self-loathing that made Andy's heart ache in his chest. ' 'Shhh,' he said. ' He held her. The cars swashed by them. Any one of them could be a cop, and that would end it. At this point it would almost be a relief. Her sobs faded off little by little. Part of it, he realized, was simple tiredness. The same thing that was aggravating his headache past the screaming point and bringing this unwelcome flood of memories.
Charlie walked over to the machine, which stood in the corner, pretended to look at it, and then walked back. 'Not our brand,' he said. 'Oh. Shit. Okay. Goodnight, buddy. ' He went out. The gravel crunched beneath his feet, hideously amplified in his ears, sounding like stone cereal. He walked over to the evergreen shrub where he had left Charlie and Charlie wasn't there. ' No answer. He switched the room key on its long green plastic tab from one hand to the other. Both hands were suddenly sweaty.
He had refused a third operation because it might mean a colostomy bag on his leg for the rest of his life. His dignified walk always made Cap think of the fairy tale about the mermaid who wanted to be a woman and the price she paid for legs and feet. Cap imagined that her walk had been rather dignified, too. ' he asked Al now. ' 'Good. I won't keep you long. ' Albert folded his small, slightly yellow hands in his lap. 'The state police are cooperating nicely. All highways leading out of Albany have been road blocked.
A Collapse of Horses by Brian Evenson