I know you understand the perils of light

reading Threats by Amelia Gray and it’s completely absorbed me, every waking moment I’m thinking about the construction of the world, about what things are and are not, how things exist, what they do when they stop existing, it’s a haunted book but by the ghost of the narrator who is as dead to the world as his wife, who is leaving ghostly threats beyond the grave

& sure, when you read blurbs and little echoes online about it, you think what a hook! oh there is a thriller in there, such a thriller! with non stop action and a mystery and…it’s one of t he many cases were book blurberies does an injustice to this book. there is a physicality to it

a body horror of sorts, in the way the main character keeps seeing and talking about dead skin & hair…

but there is an out of body experience to it, you feel like the narrator, drifting, floating,

i read one review, where they said how the wording and phrasing is clinical, and I think- that is so wrong. there is nothing clinical about the words he uses, about the sentences, about the length and everything else, sure there is the tone of shock, of everything in shock, of someone numbly walking through their own afterlife….

but there is poetica in those phrasings, and to say clinical strips it of these observations, they are not cold, but instead full of non-distance, it is a closeness so close that the whole world seems to shimmer and then become shadows hunting around the edges of a dream that is everything, the shadow hunting, the dream walking…

so it’s not a thriller, there is no thrill, there is decay and rot and body disgust and all these things, and there is death and death and death and death and death and death but not like murdering rampage, but instead soft disgusting suicides, they all vomit and come clean and the words areĀ blisteringĀ and not clinical but not detached but instead floating indistinct sharp edges that come down and threaten to cut you

and the perception of the world feels surreal, the threats wonderfully surreal. it’s not a threat like “i hate you i don’t know why i married you” but instead a threat like “i’m going to carve the bark off a tree and make your parents wear it” and “i’m going to have conversations with your eldest friends and then we’ll stop talking when you’re around” threats that feel like dream threats, like the haunting unreal threats that clog our moving lives…

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