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Clevenger Quotes

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A couple of times this week, I’ve talked about how good Craig Clevenger’s Dermaphoria is and I’m in the process of writing up an actual book review. I also intend to get an interview with Clevenger when I can; he’s been available but I’ve been swamped so I’m the bottleneck here. But in the meantime, to give you an idea of what amazing lines and images Clevenger conjures up, here are some selected quotes. I’m not going to give you any context or description of the plot involved in these snippets taken from various places in the book. Just read these passages from Dermaphoria and you’ll get an idea of what makes his work so interesting.

He wears a knee-length black raincoat, oblivious to the evening heat. He could be stretched across a set of crossbeams in a cornfield as easily as he could be flesh and blood.

You haven’t heard loud until you’ve heard God’s jackbooted angels kicking down the door to the sky, ripping yours from its hinges and your house from its foundation. Angels don’t knock or ask for paperwork. They cleave the biggest tree on your property down the middle, blow your fuses, smoke your television, radio and phone lines and leave you for dead.

Toe Tag. Shit. Goddamned Boo Radley with a chloroform rag and a bone saw.

One of White’s stuttering lab geeks gave word that a coyote by the handle of High Tail had gone supernova between drops, scorching his ghost onto a patch of Route 127 like a Nagasaki flash shadow.

Sky the color of dead flies, an unbroken sheet of clouds carried on a warm wind that smells of electricity and flowers. Sweat on my face, my back, I’m sweltering beneath my Sunday best with a cold glass in my hands. The jangle of ice and the distant crash of thunder like an avalanche.

Buy Dermaphoria here.