Stirring the Mirror
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The imagery of these fictions is layered and rich, as in "Funnel Cloud":
Like a gargantuan screw, the black cloud carves its way through the miniature landscape. A wheat field uncoils like pencil shavings; crows and shingles scatter like graphite dust. Holsteins, hens, and a swayback mare spiral inside the wind's embrace, then plunge like darts into the orchard.
But the work in Stirring the Mirror isn't about image alone. Kluge has a gift for portraying emotion in a deliciously grim sort of way. Take, for instance, the opening lines of "Jar of Bees":
He stored his anger like a swarm of killer bees in a baby food jar, then hid the jar in the musty dumbwaiter at his core. The passageway under his ribs was dark and drafty, echoing with a warning buzz. Black static surrounded the space once occupied by an incandescent heart.
Links to some of Kluge's work appear at her blog. But to get the full immersive effect of her work, I strongly recommend buying yourself a copy of Stirring the Mirror and walking through these typographical veils that hide worlds. Strongly recommended!