Skullcrack City (37 page)

—
Frank Bill
, author of
Donnybrook

“Like a ghost fretting over its lost body (or is it bodies?—in this book whatever you think of as ‘you’ might simply float like a butterfly right into someone else’s body) a boxer attests to his presence, damaged and shimmery though it may be. That this fractured first person narrator feels the need to put the word ‘me’ in quotes speaks volumes. Terrifying volumes. This elastic, hurtling narrative pivots (and pivots again) on a recurring image of almost unimaginable dread—that of being laughed at in your hour of need by an audience of strangers.”

—
Grace Krilanovich
, author of
The Orange Eats Creeps

Available wherever books are sold.

Also from Lazy Fascist Press

Person

by Sam Pink

You see him at the liquor store. You see him at the bus stop, trying to look at you without being seen. Who is he? He is a person. In this debut novel, a person walks around Chicago contemplating the possibility of starving to death on purpose. He has sex with his neighbor. He goes out to look for a job but just buys little plastic dogs from homeless people instead. Who is the person? The person is you. The person is me. The person is sitting in his room shooting an empty pellet gun at his face, feeling the slow exhaustion of a Co2 cartridge. The person sits in a bathtub reading his roommate’s yearbook. He wants to create a contract mandating worldwide friendship. Person invents new and splendid ways of not getting along. You will read this book and remember why you mainly read books that have sex in them. You will become . . . a person.

“If you read just one book this year, let it be Sam Pink’s Person.” —
Electric Literature

“It’s a compulsive page-turner [...] There’s something infectious, I think, about the honesty of the book, in how it relates the sometimes unflattering aspects of what goes on in a person’s daily life.” —
The Faster Times

“...there’s a troubling build-up of rage and self-destructive desire that makes Person incredibly unsettling. In other words, he’s a great example of why I carry Mace.  

—
The Fanzine

Available wherever books are sold.

Also from Lazy Fascist Press

The Last Horror Novel in the History of the World 

by Brian Allen Carr

The black magic of bad living only looks hideous to honest eyes.

Welcome to Scrape, Texas, a nowhere town near the Mexican border. Few people ever visit Scrape, and the unlucky ones who live there never seem to escape. They fill their days with fish fries, cheap beer, tobacco, firearms, and sex. But Scrape is about to be invaded by a plague of monsters unlike anything ever seen in the history of the world. First there’s La Llorona—the screaming woman in white—and her horde of ghost children. Then come the black, hairy hands. Thousands, millions, scurrying on fingers like spiders or crabs. But the hands are nothing to El Abuelo, a wicked creature with a magical bullwhip, and even El Abuelo don’t mean shit when the devil comes to town.

“Carr’s magic shows in how he handles territory most would strand as genre. He fills the pages with magnetic, mostly sparse language, not far from how Robert Coover’s recreations bring new threads to a corpse. His new mythology, set right in the middle of nowhere that many would consider the heartland of our country, is new and old at once, sick and rhapsodic, alive and not afraid to die.” —
Vice Magazine

“The Last Horror Novel is quick and strange, its pleasures diverse—from the poetic prose at the beginning, to its riffs on small town life and the horror genre, to the creep out of a swarm of hands.” —
American Book Review

Available wherever books are sold.

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