Scorch Atlas by Black Butler has been released today from Featherproof Books. Reviews have been justifiably great– I’ve read Blake for awhile now, and know his writing to be consistently powerful, eloquent, innovative, and beautiful. Excerpts I’ve read from Scorch Atlas are no exception; here is one from one of the 14 linked stories in the book (you can read the entire story at DIAGRAM 8.3):
excerpt from The Many Forms of Rain ___ Sent Upon Us in Those Days Before the Last Days
As if the planet had learned to scratch its back. In massive columns like what we’d seen on TV during our worse storms, stretched check-pattern, warbled spatter. As well, the sound of a billion needles wheedling, tearing their tips against the grain. Sometimes I felt I could hear laugh tracks buried under the floorboards, wedged way deep down in the sod. Somewhere down there was my father. His knuckled rapped against the beams. I began to feel everything inside me at once humming. I felt my organs screech alive: the static replicated in me. When my mouth opened, it came out. The vibration cracked my mirrors. It cracked the foundations of my soft skull. It made me giggle just a bit. I couldn’t keep a hold on as through the windows I saw the wide scrim that for years had nestled me into sleep—the gray/white/black transmission from dead channels, from wavelengths no one had thought to walk.
Plus, a video/audio presentation of another excerpt from the same story: