Ventriloquism is the long-awaited print debut of this mysterious young Canadian author.Lor's quick stories are both darkly funny and emotionally unsettling, with a style that focuses heavily on amazing sentences and sexually ambiguous undertones.
I'm proud to publish Prathna's print debut. I love the way his language and images paint a strong image while somehow confounding your expectations as well. There's a mystery about his work but it's not an obnoxious kind of "I'm a shy small press author" kind of mystery. It's more about how good he is, how young he is, and just how god damn good will he get. This is one of those books you'll be reading out loud to your friends.
there were some sentences/fragments that absolutely floored me and that I have read over a couple times now, but as a whole the bits and pieces and nonsequiturs didn't add up to something that stays w/ me in the way that books like LENNY BRUCE IS DEAD or TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA have.
I'm interested in reading more by Lor and hope that this chapbook grows on me, that I return to it instead of forgetting it.
"If I had alligators for arms I'd come to your house first."
Ten years late to this party of words but damn am I glad I arrived. Surrealist prose poetry ballroom dancing with the grotesque, the sexual, the confused. Every time I open a book, I want the words to be like the words in this book.
Reading Ventriloquism made me a temporary ventriloquist. I did not waste the lines by my eyes and head only. First I read, then read aloud, then only read aloud, read in my head, and read aloud again until I reached the end. The best times were when I pretended to to be a perverted witch, a hermaphrodite hungry, lost in the woods somewhere, fantasizing his/her next victim/plaything/lunch/sextoy/parental component. Supposing it's not make to make sense, I made sense of it anyway, whether or not this makes me needy, blasphemous or wicked. And syllables did flow, as much as urine flows on ghosts who like it.
Physically, Prathna Lor’s Ventriloquism is an elegant little book that somehow feels in the hand like a portal to some alternative universe. The 45 or so pages of disjointed and humorously sinister prose poems do everything possible to heighten this sense, and it’s a truly a bizarre universe to behold.
“I never liked the sound of my own voice, so I went back to the forest, tied myself to a tree, and let the birds peck at my neck until I heard music.”
and:
“If I had alligators for arms I’d come to your house first.”
Dense and difficult prose poems which can, and do, sound fantastic read aloud but which, without constant rethinking, often baffle and estrange--possibly the point. I like difficult, but I like difficult that makes it hard to breathe rather than hard to care.