![]() It evokes Yōko Ogawa’s Revenge: Eleven Dark Tales or Jacqueline Harpman’s I Who Have Never Known Men, occupying a space between dystopia and horror. They is spare, troubling, eerily familiar. ‘You’ve forgotten this,’ he had said as he hurled his recently finished fugue into the fire.”) They hold the right arm of Jane, a poet, over flames for eight minutes, for the crime of moving towards her burning work. Should they choose to continue their practice, “they amputate your hands and cut out your tongue”, one of them tells the narrator. A children’s author walks shell-shocked, daily, into a pond, seemingly to extinguish the memory of being set on fire. A sculptor has the broken glass from his sculpture pressed into his eyes. ![]() Unrepentant visual artists are blinded, shameless musicians made deaf. They loathe art, people who live alone, excessive displays of emotion they pilfer novels and paintings, they burn music scores and poetry. Calculating in their cruelty and methods in one moment and shockingly reckless and barbaric the next, they move on trawlers in the waterways and erect eerie towers on the coast where the defiant are sent to have their memories purged. ![]() They have no government, no creed, no mercy. ![]()
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