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Room Little Darker
From one of Ireland’s most grindingly authentic and radically original talents, Room Little Darker explores the clandestine aspects of modern life through jagged, visceral tales of wanton sex, broken relationships, homelessness and futuristic nightmares.
An abusive father haunts his daughter and wife from the confines of a nursing home; a couple with an appetite for kink discover their escapades have led them into something unimaginably grim; an addict makes his way around a city centre crackling with menace; an unborn child narrates her own tragic story; a paedophile acquires a sex therapy robot and wonders how they’ll get along.
At once hilarious and profoundly moving, June Caldwell’s stories probe raw sexuality and disturbing psychology, the love (and hate) of family, the darkness and light that lives inside us all.
An abusive father haunts his daughter and wife from the confines of a nursing home; a couple with an appetite for kink discover their escapades have led them into something unimaginably grim; an addict makes his way around a city centre crackling with menace; an unborn child narrates her own tragic story; a paedophile acquires a sex therapy robot and wonders how they’ll get along.
At once hilarious and profoundly moving, June Caldwell’s stories probe raw sexuality and disturbing psychology, the love (and hate) of family, the darkness and light that lives inside us all.
224 pages, Paperback
Published January 11, 2018
25 people are currently reading
385 people want to read
About the author
June Caldwell
17 books48 followersPrizewinner, Moth Short Story Prize 2024 & 2014
*Room Little Darker* (short stories) was published by New Island Books in Ireland, 2017, and Head of Zeus, UK, 2018. My debut novel *Little Town Moone* is forthcoming from John Murray. Non-fiction/journalism includes *In Love With a Mad Dog*, Gill and MacMillan, 2006, and a new Foreword to Nuala O'Faolain's *Are You Somebody?* New Island Books, 2018. In 2019, I wrote the introduction to an anthology of short stories: *Still Worlds Turning*, published by No Alibis Press and in 2020, I curated an exhibition on Nuala's memoir for the Museum of Literature Ireland (MoLi). I have written short stories and essays for: BBC Radio 4; ARC (Royal College of Art); The Long Gaze Back; The Stinging Fly; The Irish Times; The Moth; Winter Papers; The Lonely Crowd; The Broken Spiral; Reading The Future; The Other Irish Tradition (Dalkey Archive); Galway Stories 2020 (Doire Press); West Trade Review; L'Esprit Literary Review; The 32: An Anthology of Irish Working Class Voices; The Art of the Glimpse, an anthology of 100 Irish short stories (Head of Zeus); The Globe and Scales (Marrowbone Books); The Lost Letters of Flann O'Brien; Pennsylvania English; Washing Windows Too; Washing Windows iii; Paper Visual Art; Running Feet, Sharp Noses. I am [twice] a prizewinner of The Moth International Short Story Prize (2014, 2024). I live in Dublin and am represented by Emma Paterson @AitkenAlexander
*Room Little Darker* (short stories) was published by New Island Books in Ireland, 2017, and Head of Zeus, UK, 2018. My debut novel *Little Town Moone* is forthcoming from John Murray. Non-fiction/journalism includes *In Love With a Mad Dog*, Gill and MacMillan, 2006, and a new Foreword to Nuala O'Faolain's *Are You Somebody?* New Island Books, 2018. In 2019, I wrote the introduction to an anthology of short stories: *Still Worlds Turning*, published by No Alibis Press and in 2020, I curated an exhibition on Nuala's memoir for the Museum of Literature Ireland (MoLi). I have written short stories and essays for: BBC Radio 4; ARC (Royal College of Art); The Long Gaze Back; The Stinging Fly; The Irish Times; The Moth; Winter Papers; The Lonely Crowd; The Broken Spiral; Reading The Future; The Other Irish Tradition (Dalkey Archive); Galway Stories 2020 (Doire Press); West Trade Review; L'Esprit Literary Review; The 32: An Anthology of Irish Working Class Voices; The Art of the Glimpse, an anthology of 100 Irish short stories (Head of Zeus); The Globe and Scales (Marrowbone Books); The Lost Letters of Flann O'Brien; Pennsylvania English; Washing Windows Too; Washing Windows iii; Paper Visual Art; Running Feet, Sharp Noses. I am [twice] a prizewinner of The Moth International Short Story Prize (2014, 2024). I live in Dublin and am represented by Emma Paterson @AitkenAlexander
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 40 reviews
April 26, 2020
Well, of course I like my own book!
November 6, 2018
I thoroughly enjoyed this collection of short stories, even though its style screamed MA Creative Writing graduate from its every pore. This is transgressive fiction as it's "supposed" to be written, to titiller rather than épater the bourgeoisie, suggesting a need for their approval despite the simultaneous desire to shock. Nonetheless, it's wonderfully imaginative and unwholesome fun. I give it four stars because Caldwell has a wicked sense of humour and because it deserves better than the three-star average it appears to be getting on here.
February 8, 2018
Fucking hell, a book to knock you off your bourgeois feet, invigorating, funny, bold and studded with great writing. I swear because you have to here - these stories of group sex, S&M, deformity, mental illness, drugs, bodily functions, implants, disease, poverty, betrayal, brutality and love in modern Dublin are not for the faint hearted. The fainthearted would be missing out though as there's a lifeforce running through every sentence. To be truthful I was glad I finished it because I couldn't take much more. It demands to be read all at once, but maybe that's not a good idea, the sweep and punch of it is tiring, and there's some repetition of subject matter and theme. This really knocked me about.
here's an extract:
Another brother, Paul, went clear mad in that room. Ran off to the British Army and got caught up in the Falklands - not actually fighting - but overseeing penguins and derelict army buildings when everyone else scarpered. He put a £90,000 bet on a horse and flung himself out of a B&B window in Warwick after they paid to get rid of him. My mother invited him home to rest it out but he stayed five years and turned mustard yellow in the room. He eventually died giving himself over to numerous medical trials to feed his gambling habit. He always said he saw faces and not just in the dead leg of night. Mean, wizened women's faces, out of holy nowhere, in the glass panel of the kitchen door...
and another:
Knobby's high rise flat in East London and there's a gun on the table. 'Man innit man innit' is all I can make out. Reggae tunes, loud and demanding. Too much Barney Rubble. Ain't it Mork and Mindy out. Cunts cunts cunts. One of his cronies wiping coke-snot from his hooter, rubbing runways of slick onto a gnarled hand. Fear ferreting up my legs so much I have to step out on to the balcony to glare at the half-lit office blocks with tiny security men anting around inside.
here's an extract:
Another brother, Paul, went clear mad in that room. Ran off to the British Army and got caught up in the Falklands - not actually fighting - but overseeing penguins and derelict army buildings when everyone else scarpered. He put a £90,000 bet on a horse and flung himself out of a B&B window in Warwick after they paid to get rid of him. My mother invited him home to rest it out but he stayed five years and turned mustard yellow in the room. He eventually died giving himself over to numerous medical trials to feed his gambling habit. He always said he saw faces and not just in the dead leg of night. Mean, wizened women's faces, out of holy nowhere, in the glass panel of the kitchen door...
and another:
Knobby's high rise flat in East London and there's a gun on the table. 'Man innit man innit' is all I can make out. Reggae tunes, loud and demanding. Too much Barney Rubble. Ain't it Mork and Mindy out. Cunts cunts cunts. One of his cronies wiping coke-snot from his hooter, rubbing runways of slick onto a gnarled hand. Fear ferreting up my legs so much I have to step out on to the balcony to glare at the half-lit office blocks with tiny security men anting around inside.
September 11, 2017
What a brave, brilliant force of a book. Full of grit and guts and yet humanizing and honest. This unforgettable collection brings vital stories and a unique voice to contemporary (Irish) literature wherein our ever-expanding realities are keenly and mercilessly reflected. I found some scenes inaccessible (they left me in the dark), but every story offered up enough to keep me glued to the page.
July 25, 2017
It's hard to know what to make of this book. There's no denying that Caldwell is an excellent writer in terms of style. Each story deals with wildly different subjects, and Caldwell communicates the different worlds aptly and intriguingly. However, the stories are needlessly obscure. Its almost impossible to decipher what's going on, if anything. Most of them lack a plot or any notable direction. It also seems as though they're written to be scandalous, and they succeed in that and are good from that perspective, if that's what the reader wants. But in my opinion, they aren't enjoyable stories, moreso interesting because of the shock factor. Certainly a very original and unique book.
July 21, 2017
I've never read a collection this over the top in terms of style, story and swagger. Caldwell's style is very close to stream of consciousness. Think a contemporary Molly Bloom with an S&M kink. I'll be honest, some of the stories went screaming over my head, but those that didn't went right down the gutter in ways that were shocking and astonishing. A lovely filthy book.
October 22, 2017
Brilliant beyond the beyond! Caldwell is a master of language! Here are some quotes:
“He always said he saw faces and not just in the dead leg of night. Mean wizened women’s faces, out of holy nowhere, in the glass panel of the kitchen door leading out into the back garden.”
“And the house was never going to spew him up willingly either.”
“A water tank in the attic, only replaced the previous year, decided to manifest a swollen belly on the toilet ceiling, bursting through its own guts before the lift arrived.”
“His life was now a junk shop egg timer. Throat broken. Stomach empty. His head, well, basically in not so many words, it had begun to thoroughly scoff itself. Middle cerebral artery: considerable shrinkage. Clots: many. Brain bleeds: more to be expected. Aspiration pneumonia. Muscle Damage. He screamed. Roared. Pegged at us as if he were grabbing on to a half-inflated lifeboat.”
“…high up in the armpit of the hills…”
“Despite his seething arrogance, he still struck me as the type that’d lose the nelly in an existential tantrum and hang himself one day.”
“He knew he smelt like a sardine but that’s what Polish beer does to a man on a low wage.”
“This town is gone rough as a nun’s moustache.”
“He always said he saw faces and not just in the dead leg of night. Mean wizened women’s faces, out of holy nowhere, in the glass panel of the kitchen door leading out into the back garden.”
“And the house was never going to spew him up willingly either.”
“A water tank in the attic, only replaced the previous year, decided to manifest a swollen belly on the toilet ceiling, bursting through its own guts before the lift arrived.”
“His life was now a junk shop egg timer. Throat broken. Stomach empty. His head, well, basically in not so many words, it had begun to thoroughly scoff itself. Middle cerebral artery: considerable shrinkage. Clots: many. Brain bleeds: more to be expected. Aspiration pneumonia. Muscle Damage. He screamed. Roared. Pegged at us as if he were grabbing on to a half-inflated lifeboat.”
“…high up in the armpit of the hills…”
“Despite his seething arrogance, he still struck me as the type that’d lose the nelly in an existential tantrum and hang himself one day.”
“He knew he smelt like a sardine but that’s what Polish beer does to a man on a low wage.”
“This town is gone rough as a nun’s moustache.”
August 31, 2017
A stunning collection of short stories, not for the faint hearted.
Favourites include "SOMAT" - a tale told from the POV of a fetus inside a woman with a fatal brain injury (bringing to light once again how the 8th Amendment in Ireland needs to go).
"Natterbean" is glorious - language is used in such an inventive and clever way. It took me a few minutes to "get", and I don't know if someone who is unfamiliar with Irish accents and intonations would fully grasp it, but it's brilliant and worth getting your hands on the book for.
The author has covered a multitude of uncomfortable subjects here - sex trafficking, pedophilia, kink, drug abuse, death, desire, lust, sin, depravity - but she has done it in a clever, twisty, funny way. There were some moments of genuine laughter for me - even if they made me feel a bit guilty for laughing. "Leitrim Flip" in particular - it's such a horrible situation but I couldn't help but laugh.
If you're looking for something a bit different, and you like Eimear McBride's "stream of consciousness" style of writing but wish it were a bit easier to read, then give this a go. It's worth it for "Natterbean" alone.
Favourites include "SOMAT" - a tale told from the POV of a fetus inside a woman with a fatal brain injury (bringing to light once again how the 8th Amendment in Ireland needs to go).
"Natterbean" is glorious - language is used in such an inventive and clever way. It took me a few minutes to "get", and I don't know if someone who is unfamiliar with Irish accents and intonations would fully grasp it, but it's brilliant and worth getting your hands on the book for.
The author has covered a multitude of uncomfortable subjects here - sex trafficking, pedophilia, kink, drug abuse, death, desire, lust, sin, depravity - but she has done it in a clever, twisty, funny way. There were some moments of genuine laughter for me - even if they made me feel a bit guilty for laughing. "Leitrim Flip" in particular - it's such a horrible situation but I couldn't help but laugh.
If you're looking for something a bit different, and you like Eimear McBride's "stream of consciousness" style of writing but wish it were a bit easier to read, then give this a go. It's worth it for "Natterbean" alone.
September 1, 2017
Wow - the room sure gets a bit darker every time I opened this book. I thought I was starting to grow out of transgressive fiction but I think I was just getting tired of books that are all shock and no substance. Room Little Darker is all substance - the shocking part is that these stories reflect real stories from the country we live in; sex slaves / braindead women grotesquely forced into life support / immigrant abuse / pedophilia / and a good smattering of abusive arsehole men which all results in a strong undercurrent of rage throughout the stories. I did find a lot of the prose hard to decipher, but I like that now and then. If simple, easy-to-follow books are 'Easy Listening', then Room Little Darker is raging Punk turned up to eleven; you don’t quite catch all the lyrics, but Jaysus does it pack a punch. I read this on a Kindle so If I ever meet June Caldwell at a book signing (Book in-joke...) I’ll be sure to ask her to sign my shoehorn instead. After I’ve cleaned it.
July 18, 2018
Ietwat bizarre verhalenbundel die ik vermoedelijk niet genoeg heb gesnapt om goed te appreciëren. Ik heb het wel geprobeerd (van mei tot juli :)), maar ik blijf dus met het gevoel zitten dat er veel meer in zat en ik het er dus niet uit kreeg.
August 29, 2017
For the most part June Caldwell's extraordinary collection, Room Little Darker, features stories about people who live on the outside of mainstream society whether it's an addict looking for his next hit, the extremes of S&M and fetish culture or those, woman mostly, dealing with sexual and physical abuse. At times the book reminded me of Ottessa Moshfegh's brilliant collection Homesick For Another World (also published this year) with its focus on the marginalised and its obsession with the human body. With Caldwell though the sex is more graphic (possibly more perverse depending on your taste) and her fierce prose, her language and sense of place, less accomodating.
Perspective is key to Caldwell's fiction. It's not always clear who is telling is the story, we are plunged into a world of short sharp sentences and references to places and people we don't know. And then there are those stories where the point of view is clear but where in the hands of someone else the piece would have been twee or pretentious or overly quirky. We have one story from the perspective of an unborn foetus, the other told mostly through the reports spat out by a contraceptive implant. The first is a devastating look at the issue of abortion and health care in Ireland while the other is a darkly funny, albeit icky, look at infidelity. Same goes for a story about a man who lives and talks to a tree. The piece eschews quirkiness for something darker, disturbing as the story explores issues of mental health. And just so you don't think it's all grimness, despair and decay Caldwell also has a mean sense of humour deploying similes, especially in relation to sex, like weapons of mass destruction. Some favourites include, "'Fuck sake I almost came!' As if I was supposed to read his twitches like a basket of braille bundled by the cottage fire," or "I grabbed hold of him liked a boat part I'd no interest in but had to rough-house to get on with the boating holiday regardless." And while not a simile I can't go past - "Squirmed the worm and the toad we did."
The one out and out science fiction story in the collection happens to share the same premise with the novellete 'Cameron' in Krissy Kneen's mosaic novel Uncertain Grace. In particular the invention of synthetic teenagers - BoyBots in the Caldwell story - to be used as a sexual outlet for convicted pedophiles. Caldwell passes no judgment, she leaves that to the reader, but your left no less unnerved, uncomfortable.
June Caldwell uses language like a dirty knife, smothered in all manner of bodily juices, repeatedly stabbing the reader in the groin. It sounds awful, but I find prose this intense and covered in muck refreshing, especially when it's utterly unvarnished and captures the truth of abuse, of sex, of drug addiction. This is a truly fantastic collection of stories and if you have any interest in unique voices dealing with difficult subjects through perspectives both strange and unexpected than why are you still reading this - buy the book!
Perspective is key to Caldwell's fiction. It's not always clear who is telling is the story, we are plunged into a world of short sharp sentences and references to places and people we don't know. And then there are those stories where the point of view is clear but where in the hands of someone else the piece would have been twee or pretentious or overly quirky. We have one story from the perspective of an unborn foetus, the other told mostly through the reports spat out by a contraceptive implant. The first is a devastating look at the issue of abortion and health care in Ireland while the other is a darkly funny, albeit icky, look at infidelity. Same goes for a story about a man who lives and talks to a tree. The piece eschews quirkiness for something darker, disturbing as the story explores issues of mental health. And just so you don't think it's all grimness, despair and decay Caldwell also has a mean sense of humour deploying similes, especially in relation to sex, like weapons of mass destruction. Some favourites include, "'Fuck sake I almost came!' As if I was supposed to read his twitches like a basket of braille bundled by the cottage fire," or "I grabbed hold of him liked a boat part I'd no interest in but had to rough-house to get on with the boating holiday regardless." And while not a simile I can't go past - "Squirmed the worm and the toad we did."
The one out and out science fiction story in the collection happens to share the same premise with the novellete 'Cameron' in Krissy Kneen's mosaic novel Uncertain Grace. In particular the invention of synthetic teenagers - BoyBots in the Caldwell story - to be used as a sexual outlet for convicted pedophiles. Caldwell passes no judgment, she leaves that to the reader, but your left no less unnerved, uncomfortable.
June Caldwell uses language like a dirty knife, smothered in all manner of bodily juices, repeatedly stabbing the reader in the groin. It sounds awful, but I find prose this intense and covered in muck refreshing, especially when it's utterly unvarnished and captures the truth of abuse, of sex, of drug addiction. This is a truly fantastic collection of stories and if you have any interest in unique voices dealing with difficult subjects through perspectives both strange and unexpected than why are you still reading this - buy the book!
July 27, 2017
Much praise has already been heaped upon this collection of short stories, and rightly so. Caldwell’s writing exposes a brutally truthful voice, and perhaps, is responding to the fundamental underbelly of human nature – the murky and the painful – stuff that readers can relate to, however uncomfortably the narratives punch out from the pages. You may laugh, gasp, cringe or cry, each story with the capacity to leave you a little battered and breathless, but that won’t stop you turning the pages for the next assault on your senses!
December 4, 2019
Darker than dark, rich and luscious, to the point where you have to ration the stories or they would sicken you. Some of the scenarios have lodged in my head and I know they will not be leaving. Brave, risky writing with a good dash of black wit.
April 16, 2020
A very strange collection which revels in assembling a band of misfits, outcasts and deviants. When Baloo urged Mowgli to look under the rocks and plants to take a glance at the fancy ants (and maybe try a few), it was towards a greater awareness of the natural world and all its constituent parts he was pushing his pupil. When Caldwell peels back official Ireland's urbane and sophisticated sheen, we get a look at an Ireland that exists, I'm sure, but I don't feel any the wiser for it. If I can run with the Jungle book analogy for the moment, there was an edifying aspect to Baloo's teachings, a straining towards comprehending the world as many, and yet as one. Room little Darker notes that there are many shades of green that walk among us, some of them tragic, but the abiding sense from the collection is of a kind of voyeuristic nihilistic glee. The prose is scratchy, at times memorable, but for me fails to come together in the grander, indefinable sense that gives meaning to the collection. Rather, all we get is a a string of grimy ditties; pained people leading painful lives.
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February 12, 2021It was well written but I found this really quite grim. Different stories suit different times, and I think everything depends on your mood while reading. It's taken quite a while to get through the short stories. But if anything, the fact that I wanted to continue to the end is a good indication as far as I'm concerned. I can't give it more stars though as I don't think I could go back and reread it any time soon.
July 27, 2018
Beautiful poetic prose. Dark raw stories. Contrast between the lyric style and the subject matter of the stories makes for an interesting read. This one is not for the faint of heart. And I'm not sure that I would recommend it to that many readers. But there load of talent displayed by this author and I will be interested to see where she goes from here.
August 22, 2017
Oh my. Just finished reading Room Little Darker, and my eyeballs are smoldering. June Caldwell is a powerhouse! Gifted with a voice, style and wit like no other, Caldwell explores dark, passionate corners of humanity. My favorites include "SOMAT", "Natterbean", "BoyBot™", and "The Man Who Lived In A Tree".
January 29, 2018
Incredibly well written, these stories take the reader completely out of their comfort zone to see another side of Dublin. Although some of the stories went a bit far and two were quite similar, it is an experience to read this unique collection. It might have been nice to have one story end well or be about more relatable love situations though.
February 6, 2018
Yeh I did enjoy this collection of short stories .. Have to say was very graphic but enjoyed all the stories especially the one about the homeless man who was living in a tree ... would reccommend it ! Hope to see more from this author !
January 2, 2021
Every short story in this book left me in a downer - every single one.
That said, there’s no point limiting yourself to the safe and interesting ‘book club’ selections when you can try something like this, which is a definite challenge and a striking piece of work from a contemporary Irish author.
Why only ‘three stars’ then? It’s like I said, it was a real downer after each story (in a good way I suppose).
That said, there’s no point limiting yourself to the safe and interesting ‘book club’ selections when you can try something like this, which is a definite challenge and a striking piece of work from a contemporary Irish author.
Why only ‘three stars’ then? It’s like I said, it was a real downer after each story (in a good way I suppose).
April 5, 2020
Caldwell’s linguistic prose trails you along, through street slang and doggerel towards the ominous otherworldly. A nervous breakdown on the page; a tour de force of heartache and love. From childhood recollections to unbearable ache and the yearning of a life inhabited by hurt. Her unusual — unique — voice rolls from sentence to sentence, from story to story, tainted by yearning and grief. It feels like it was written in one long melancholy sitting — and that is what the best of original writing can do. Peter J
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May 26, 2021Uuuffff
November 9, 2018
Wonderful book, subversive and entertaining. Caldwell can write searing and accurate characters and alarm and amuse in equal doses.
June 9, 2018
This book warrants 4 stars for the inventive and colorful language but I rated it 3 because it sometimes made me feel ill. Apologies to the author.
February 3, 2018
Fierce and enjoyable, look forward to more from J C
July 11, 2018
This was a wild (and sometimes deeply disturbing ride) from beginning to end. A few of the wilder stories have a Black Mirror vibe to them, complete with AI of the future.
A good quick read that will both gross you out and make you cheer for the characters.
A good quick read that will both gross you out and make you cheer for the characters.
April 5, 2020
Made me levitate
February 5, 2020
I’ve lived in Ireland for over 22 years, a full-on Kerry culchie who never understood Dublin, until I read Room Little Darker by June Caldwell.
"The city tipped down in a duck beak towards the Garden of Remembrance. Rain scattering Swarovski beads on the path as he plonked along. He thought of Carol’s fresh face at eighteen. Cement angels leaned forward from Georgian chimneys. ‘I’m out of me nugget!’ he roared."
Dubstopia
Literature, Irish literature in particular, is full of nice stories about nice, normal people who may have an itchy uncle stashed in a cupboard but all in all, nice. Room Little Darker isn’t grand Georgians, it’s gregarious gutters. It’s not manufactured trauma masquerading as metaphor, it is reality, undressed, unadorned, raw.
June’s writing first came to my attention on Facebook where she wrote bloggy-type posts with jaw-dropping linguistic virtuosity. June’s mesmerizing, at times poetic, vernacular ease, is modern Joycean. As the city teeters, bulldozers crunch needles and flatten tent cities, we need these stories. These voices. And bravo to June for telling them real, hard and true.
"The city tipped down in a duck beak towards the Garden of Remembrance. Rain scattering Swarovski beads on the path as he plonked along. He thought of Carol’s fresh face at eighteen. Cement angels leaned forward from Georgian chimneys. ‘I’m out of me nugget!’ he roared."
Dubstopia
Literature, Irish literature in particular, is full of nice stories about nice, normal people who may have an itchy uncle stashed in a cupboard but all in all, nice. Room Little Darker isn’t grand Georgians, it’s gregarious gutters. It’s not manufactured trauma masquerading as metaphor, it is reality, undressed, unadorned, raw.
June’s writing first came to my attention on Facebook where she wrote bloggy-type posts with jaw-dropping linguistic virtuosity. June’s mesmerizing, at times poetic, vernacular ease, is modern Joycean. As the city teeters, bulldozers crunch needles and flatten tent cities, we need these stories. These voices. And bravo to June for telling them real, hard and true.
April 3, 2021
Unfortunately the majority of this book is verbal diarrhoea. It seems like the author's aim was to unsettle and disorientate the reader in writing tales that are extremely hard to follow to say the least. About four stories here are just about worth reading - Leitrim Flip, BoyBot, The Man Who Lived in a Tree and The Glens of Antrim stand out for me. The rest is just completely forgettable and not worth suffering through. Save your time, patience and energy for another book.
April 6, 2021
Partially incoherent
Displaying 1 - 30 of 40 reviews