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234 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 17, 2017

Near evening, I hitch a ride to a motel along the highway. But some people are not as decent as the freckled guy. Some people are encouraged by my size, since as a small woman, even at thirty-seven, from far away I could look like a child. And so some people force you to reveal as you pretend to root in your bag for a tissue with your left hand, the little pistol that you are now holding comfortably in your right. These red-thick ballcappers need to sense that, as my mother said when she gave me the gun, that you wanna use it, that you've been waiting to use it on any motherfucker dumb enough to be dumb. These people, you see, can only understand humanity at gunpoint. As I walk away from him down the highway, the driver calls me a cuntfaced bitch out his window, detailing my impending bodily harm, but I think he now knows that I too have fears, hopes, dreams.
come to my blog!He refilled my glass, Look, it ain't your fault this world is no place for women.The ten stories in this collection felt as if someone had grabbed only statement pieces from a jewelry box: each one is wholly distinct, strikingly memorable, and wildly clashing with one another. Very little about any of these stories either faded into its neighbors or was meant to simply take up space; each story was crafted in its own voice and its own form. I'm thrilled to have found that kind of imaginative range and vision here, because I share a lot of Benz's interests: the way violence shapes our world and our lives, the idea of complicity, and the expectations and constraints placed on women of color. There was a steady and eloquent thematic cohesion: each story seems to hinge on the decision of whether to commit violence, and what that does to the characters involved. There's a lot of brutality here, but it wasn't irredeemably bleak. Just clear-eyed and curious.
But us women are in it, I said.
Have another, he said. Don't dwell.