Pretty Monsters

I used to love short stories. As if fewer words make for better stories (provided they have been put in the right order). Still somehow I lost interest. I got hooked on large volumes with prequels and sequels instead. Until now that is.

Did you ever notice there is always a link between the book you just read and the book you are reading right now? Some quirky detail in both, about a nut allergy or the color of the bathroom tiles? This time, the link is rather blatant. A shameless ad for Pretty Monsters in the book I just finished. But is it coincidence it happens to be in my friend’s bookcase, waiting for me?

So while my friend rehearses the basslines of ABBA songs over and over again, I start to write a review for a book I haven’t even finished yet. So happy I am with my little gem, I already mourn its ending. The weirdest things written with the greatest confidence. A type of ordinary I did not yet know. Fairy Handbags? A Doctor Who esque Library? Fainting Goats?

Could Kelly Link be my new favourite author?