(#2 in the Primal Publishing Singles Club). Clark's stories of drug disintegration in the wilds of western Pennsylvania reminded me of a ride I got hitching through that state in 1973--half a dozen hours drinking in pool halls, doing tranquilizers the driver had to combat schizophrenia, and wondering if I'd ever see the interstate again. The country people I met that night were every bit as fucking crazy as any inner city hoodlums I ever ran into on the street. This story of the rape of a handicapped girl brings to light such an unsettling anger and confusion that it made me want to write Clark a blank check for the rest of his published work.--Oberc
This review originally appeared in TapRoot Reviews #5,
Contact the editor, luigi-bob drake, at Burning Press
Copyright Burning Press 1994, 1996.