Still struggling with discovering a method to the madness of this hyperfiction novel by Shelley Jackson and it’s mainly because I’m so damn stubborn about learning the controls. I’ve gotten just a few pages into it, but am reluctant to make a mess. Today or tomorrow I’ve got to put some serious time into it and start moving along.
The story, from what I see, looks intriguing. Being the human epitomy of an oxymoron, I’m anxious to rush ahead without taking the time to consult the compass and thus find myself racing to stand still.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology