Monday, November 16, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Let me start off by saying, that I had heard of Mr. Bush before sitting down to read this morning and as is the case with most authors, small press or otherwise, I was prepared to hate EVERYTHING, I was prepared to savage words with words, but I can’t do that here because Bush’s book is a rare find in the world of publishing, it is actually interesting.
Bush’s words, are they poems or fiction? I couldn’t really tell, but then who cares. Angles of Disorder isn’t a book that exists to offer its readers any answers, but it does leave plenty to think about. I will say this, from the very beginning of this carnival ride, I call it that, because that’s what it feels like, a sense of permanent deja vu sets in and just refuses to leave. Bush’s pieces are more than just fucked up slices of life, or prose paintings turned sideways, they are glimpses into an alternate reality, they are our dreams turned inside out, honest, they exist without an ounce of pretense.
All of this said, the book’s title feels like a soft lie. There is an order to everything in the universe of this book, a carefully crafted sense of memory, with an almost narrative structure. After all, the book’s tales offer images that could happen every day and in fact I’m sure they do.
I know very little, if anything, about the author’s past collections, future aspirations, or how one leads into the other to help form the words in Angles of Disorder. In the end though, none of that matters. The hardest part of having to review this book is that I can’t tell you that you will like it, whether you will think it’s good, bad, or even downright amazing. I can only say that my gut tells me that the writing inside is strong, and I think that’s as much as Zachary C. Bush himself could or would tell you.
Go with your gut. Would I recommend picking a copy? YES. But don’t expect flowers or soccer mom musings strait out of the pages of Ploughshares. Something about this book left me freaked out and hoping that I don’t run into Zachary C. Bush on the street, though maybe I already have, maybe that is the point after all, I’d like to think so.