Sui generis, Sam. Conceptually speaking, I wonder if anybody else is writing fiction like this, so directly engaging with the thing of the moment, launching off from there. Most other writers would snootily dismiss the Savage stuff as fleeting, but you latch onto it as food for your imagination. Why not? Why can't literature blossom from that? Your work asks that question, and then asks us to stick around and see. Compelling.
this is compelling.
I'm in
I'm in. This moves beautifully. The domestic scenes have real bite, and the ending lands perfectly. Keen to read chapter 2.
Sui generis, Sam. Conceptually speaking, I wonder if anybody else is writing fiction like this, so directly engaging with the thing of the moment, launching off from there. Most other writers would snootily dismiss the Savage stuff as fleeting, but you latch onto it as food for your imagination. Why not? Why can't literature blossom from that? Your work asks that question, and then asks us to stick around and see. Compelling.