We Were the Universe
Early release notes had two catchy factors, one, something about Wink, Texas. Yes, I’ve been through there, more than once. The second was a fictional home in the “Mid Cities,” kind of a no-man’s land between Dallas and Ft. Worth. In the book? It’s called “Pivot.”
My own history? One old acquaintance runs a church out there, and the rest of the roots are mostly baseball games, ball parks, laced with distant motorcycle memories on pavement that has been resurfaced and redirected.
“I’m so used to crunchy lawns and stunted trees, the brown water they pump in to saturate the sad grasses of our metroplex.” Page 111.
The Mid-Cities, as they were. Are?
We Were the Universe
Maybe a working title?
“There isn’t love without obstacle, he sings, and I think, ‘I’m on the toilet and my husband’s in Texas,’ and this could be, should be, a new verse to this song.” Page 185.
Love, loss, psychedelics, and motherhood in the Mid-Cities? That verse works, too.
We Were the Universe
Fractured. Fractured text. Fractured telling. Fractured tale about broken people. What hits so close, it’s so similar to what I hear, almost every day. Fiction that feels real.
Poetical, looking on the author’s website, a degree with some kind of specialization in Faulkner? Really works well.
We Were the Universe
Dynamic storytelling.
Also: see Capricorn.
