Best, most propulsive thing I’ve read since Deliver Me. For the “BPD girlies” according to TikTok. As uniquely dark and female. Cool drawings within of fruit and flowers. We immediately understand how this young woman is full of nervous energy: Her parents were locked up for drugs and lethally neglecting their kids and Grandma, letting them rot in their own filth. She is reckless yet anxious, a nympho lesbian. She’s on OTC uppers or naturally manic, scrubbing her filthy flat and cancelling dates. She’s all about manipulation and longing to find a “worthy” girl. There are no quotation marks or clear timelines though it fits her scattered brain, the sense she’s unreliable or omitting even to us. Especially since she can seem more worrisome than the dementia-ish grandma.
Crazy in a pretty accessible mindset. Scanning restaurants for dead family, speaking in flowing fragments, imaging mild violence she wants done to her. Psychoanalyzing her and everyone’s smallest action in prose. Perverted like the men she fears. She meets a lesbian couple she wants to move in with and dominate her. They seem like young pimply Valley Girls transplanted to New England, a bit snippy but normal, calm, minus the frequent kissing. But our girl Helen wants them attentively mean. “There’s a visibility in embarrassment,” she says. Before they seal their arrangement, we find out Helen works at a law firm and freely films her feet for fellow lesbians.
Things steadily escalate so Helen always seems far more sexual/deviant than them. The couple plays mind games though, disorienting teases about where they live or how they got together. The younger one, Katrina, watched her office feet show, and suddenly Helen feels skittish. Or so she plays, occasionally craving the upper hand she didn’t have in childhood to make someone feel ashamed. The language is so fluid, sometimes rhyming or extra gravitational like poetry, (even in easy subversions like saying swallowing “warmth” instead of puke, or “her pitch dropped into a wound,” but still rings so true. This must be a few people’s reality in totality and plenty in shades: mommy and daddy issues, fickle submission, anxiety, suicide you wish someone would do for you.
We continually chip away at our many questions, nothing ever feeling unnatural, rushed or slogged. The nerve spirals are almost psychedelic, which befits the blips mentioning her cough syrup addiction—but we never hear any real effects called out or in scene. While the throuple progresses, her dad keeps guilting her into writing a character letter to help him at his next parole hearing. She’s reluctant but a conflicted people-pleaser, and so the drama gets a double billing. At the end of chapters we’re usually reminded with a sentence that this story is told looking back and she keeps making the wrong moves, so that shovels yet more peril onto the (blue-flowered) plate.
Even though I kinda expect one of the big events, I am still emotionally invested and interested in everybody’s responses, how they play their hand, how similar they really are. So many foils of characters and parallels within parallels nicely spaced apart. The end teases many exciting prospects. The last few sentences felt a tad too soon, limp when we were distracted with family drama, always craving something more about the past, the mom, the brother or the consequences of tomorrow. Nonetheless, that is only a 1% drawback of a 99% compelling, truly original art piece.