Sweeping forth with the same alterations to steel-o (as it were), Lapham has continued his experiment in: cohesion… Of all things, the decision to make a story (actually) make sense, has been roundly rejected in order to seek out it’s own choppy, Post-Modernist vision and own unique focus on the frantic and the pulpy. With 8 volumes down and only one more to go (repetitiously known as Vol.5) the typical unloosed aluminum yarns of persons and places have been re-coiled to (generally) pleasant effect.
Thankfully, surprises continue and we’re treated with a stories that include more interstices and gritty backstories. A firmer picture has created something more structededly seen within the mind’s eye and it returns that appreciation with more attention to be granted to the normal devices of dialogue and action that typically propel their tales. Tints and tones of the orthodox shine through and the results, while certainly not losing an iota of their *Laphamness, ultimately retain what we love and are injected with what we need.
More hi-jinx. More Mid-West state weirdness. More wiles.