Saturday, August 26, 2006
One of my favorite things about the Internets is their ability to provide previously unencountered authors. I received a comment on my Library Thing profile, I followed the commenter via several links to her website, saw that she was reading a book by a former teacher of mine, read some of her reviews, and found The Garden in Which I Walk (and three others I've purchased but not yet begun).
Writing in which the distinctions between fictive characters and their creators are allowed to blur can easily become formulaic and expected. Not so with Brennan's stories, which are remarkably controlled. She is as shocking and funny as Stephen Dixon, but is much sharper and more analytical. Her characters wallow in beautifully rendered misery. I'll be reading more of her stuff for sure.