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So I was hung over... (1 Viewer)


Senior Member
so my partner, she goes to this festival of authors in toronto over halloween weekend, while I stay in london, dressing up like a woman, getting drunk, nearly arrested, and almost lynched. when I go to the train station to pick her up, I'm a wreck, can't stomach any food, and my brain feels worse than I look, which, incedentally, is pretty fuckin' bad. we kiss, hug, all that jazz, and then she tells me she has a present for me. I'm thinking, out of exhaustion, not rudeness, that I'm really too hungover for anything and I just want to die. then she pulls out this swanky hardcover collection of short stories, the debut work of a Canadian writer she saw speak. I've got too many books as is, I'm thinking, yawning. then I take a peek at the blurbs.

some tolks I never heard of call the stories "strikingly original", that they'll "knock [me] on [my] ass", and, one of my favorites from Peter Straub: "...only a very few writers have described the dead-end world and its broken, desperate, self-deluded, sometimes tragic inhabitants witha clear-eyed, essentially sympathetic authenticity, and with Rust and Bone, Davidson takes a prominent place among them".

Alright, I can live with that. Then Brett Easton Ellis tells me, "these big, riveting stories about tough guys in trouble are the best I've read in a long time from a young writer."

So okay, I love BEE. I open the book right then and there, read through some pieces. The style is nice and gritty, the content, pretty decent.

I'm always up for upping fellow Canadians, and I was wanted to know more, so I checked out his blog. Great guy. Anyway, his collection Rust and Bone is out from Penguin and if you like masculine stories (ha! punch me in the face for using such a gendered term), pick this up.