Scandals is a visceral, disjointed, and poetic collection of prose poems and microfiction by Alex Osman. Each piece crackles with a mix of grotesque surrealism and dirty realism, pulling readers through a dreamscape of broken childhoods, addiction, failed relationships, dead-end jobs, and backyard Americana. With titles like “Fistful of Farmapram” and “Coneheads 2,” Osman captures the absurdity and horror of ordinary life gone sideways. These stories don’t follow arcs or plotlines so much as they explode, flash, and leave behind a strange aftertaste.
Reading Scandals felt like watching a dozen televisions all playing static-soaked reruns of your worst memories. The writing is jagged and violent, but there’s heart underneath all the madness. Osman’s voice is sharp, funny, and sad. He stitches vulgarity to vulnerability, making you laugh in one line and feel genuinely sick to your stomach the next. Some pieces veer into the surreal and almost cartoonish, while others ache with emotional weight and quiet desperation. The writing sometimes reads like a confession, other times like a dare, and it never once apologizes for itself.
This isn’t a book that plays nice. It’s chaotic. But even when it falters, it’s never boring. Osman knows how to make ugliness sing, and that’s not something every writer can do. I often felt like I was eavesdropping on a stranger’s fever dream or watching a VHS tape recorded over too many times, distorted, but oddly personal.
I’d recommend Scandals to readers who appreciate raw, experimental writing and don’t mind a little dirt under their nails. Fans of Harmony Korine, Dennis Cooper, or Lydia Lunch will feel right at home. If you like your art loud, weird, and soaked in equal parts sorrow and wonder, this book might just floor you.