This collection is violent, and uncomfortably sexualised, and yet the intensity of the human connection is the strongest thing you are hit with, and the shock value of some of the actions actually fade against that context.
It feels like it is only a marginally exaggerated version of real events, perhaps we live in an age where “fact” will almost always outpace fiction to the extremes.
But there is tenderness of a sort, for example
“The flat felt more empty
than usual as
Sophie hadn’t been home in three days.
Her food was
still in the fridge and her clothes were in her wardrobe.
To be so alone in a place she had
shaped; her presence was hovering over
the many objects she had brought
from charity shops...”
The power of presence and absence is a familiar experience to anyone that has shared a home would someone not departed.
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