In her electric debut, Madeline Cash synthesizes the godlessness of a digital age into a glimmering, sublime, life-affirming collage of stories.
Earth Angel is a book like no other, the paperback that swallowed the smartphone. An Isis recruit, an adolescent beauty queen, and a childless millennial walk into a bar. A Biblical plague rains down head lice, aerial drone strikes, gender non-conforming frogs. An app throws a slumber party for a friendless office worker. Texans in the winter, the Taliban in Springtime, Teslas with ℮☥ bumper stickers, Frozen 5 in Arabic, architectural consistency laws in Laurel Canyon, the longest recorded nosebleed in history.
An unhinged jet stream that is ultramodern and poignantly timeless, capturing the angst of the post-millennial generation.
The fascinating thing about reading books by people who are basically my age (Cash is, I believe, 26) is that you can look up their Instagram accounts and use your impression of their posts to inform your reading. Cash's feed looks exactly like what you might imagine from someone who grew up Lutheran in the Valley, went to Sarah Lawrence and has been profiled in Nylon: a little pouty, a bit irreverent, cohesive but somewhat insoluble (if my mother looked at it, she wouldn't understand it). The other day I looked up the Instagram account of this other girl who went to Sarah Lawrence, and it gave the same energy as Cash's, so maybe it's a Sarah Lawrence thing. Probably. I don't know.
I liked 'Earth Angel,' and I thought the writing was clever, but the unfortunate and also possibly fascinating element is that again and again, as I read the book, I thought, 'Of course.' Of course there's a plague story, and of course there's stories about doomed relationships with men that don't adapt a tone of affectation but still, somehow, feel like they're designed to fit together into a massive orchestration of image that includes the stories and also Cash's Instagram presence and also her magazine. This is not really a knock on her, because this is sort of the way things will be for us young people, I think. Every young person wants to design their own brand of cool, and Cash is just sooner to it than most.
so cynical, so derisive, and so unsurprising, at such excessive levels, that anymore time with these stories and i feared i was going to contract the uber stylish psychosexual misanthropy currently in vogue among anglophone litfic writers—look for the disaffected register they all share, a “self-awareness” that does little to blunt characters’ chronically online ennui, and maybe also an eating disorder—like an infectious disease. a book that hopes its edginess will propel it into niche “anti-establishment” microcelebrity status. 2.4/5.
The summer's hottest new book is: 𝘌𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭. This book has everything:
Bringing babies to drug deals. 𝘕𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘨𝘴. 𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘻𝘦𝘯 5 in Arabic. "Autofiction". Calorie counting. And lots of love for 𝘑𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘬.
A flashy sardonic collection of killer shorts that can be read over and over again. Cash has a bite to her prose, sentences layered perfectly with wit, charm, and smart sitcom dialogue that never runs dry.
All the hot girls are reading this for summer. So, yeah. If you're not reading this, you're literally not sexy lol
tl;dr: trauma porn, repetitive themes and phrases, her editors should be jailed and Cash should take a writing workshop
this book could have been very cool and a fun vignette into modernity had it been edited with more tact and written with more creativity. the short length of most pieces suffer at their own expense; perhaps compressing the themes into a singular novel or even lengthening the stories themselves could have done it a favor.
my opinion is, however, that this collection is a vapid and poorly executed series of stories that do nothing to embody the female experience. rather, i believe at times it can be harmful, cliche, and senseless. out of the 17 stories, 8 include mention or implication of eating disorders, and there are at least 3 mentions of rape. there are innumerable references to violent partners, abuse, and pedophilia. it would be one thing if these inclusions did anything to characterize or deepen the plot in any of the stories, but the majority of these traumatic experiences are simply thrown in as, again, cliche (specific to the female experience) or for shock value.
i also find Cash’s use of multiculturalism in the book to be fetishizing at times (particularly with croatians?) and slightly xenophobic at others. she obsesses over catholicism (and its aesthetics and stereotypes), dabbles in branches of christianity, and is definitely a weird horse girl. so many off-handed allusions to horses.
it is terribly written and edited. Cash repeats words and phrases across multiple stories in a way that makes it all feel cheap and poorly thought out: “perennially updating like a smartphone” [2 stories], “hang the moon” [at least 2], “vehicular manslaughter” [2 not including the epilogue ‘autofiction’], “sage-like” [3 stories !!!!], “libidinal” [2]. i’m sure there’s more, but the lack of creativity after finding her buzz words makes me think of Cash as a one trick pony (horse girl).
i didn’t hate all of it. “slumber party” (though super weird, disgusting, and unnerving) and “they ate the children first” (hilarious and original) were probably my favorites despite still feeling very lacking in creative process and development. i can feel the influence of perhaps kurt vonnegut, ottessa moshfegh, maybe a bit of raymond carver in their absurdism as well as the particular kind of nasty (ottessa) Cash is going for, but i think she needs a lot of help if she wants to be a timeless and original author.
What a hysterical little book! I simply adored this short story collection. I devoured it & wanted another 200 pages of her story telling. The stories felt nostalgic, the characters were relatable, and each one made me laugh out loud. It falls perfectly into my highly sought after "bizarro" category. Madeline's prose is exquisite.
Highly recommend this one if you're looking for something a little different that you can read in one sitting.
Pretty funny and there are even some great moments..but like…Feels bad? Empty? Edgy for edginess’s sake? Idk.. Very of the moment. I dont think i like this kind of thing… 2.5 stars probably
A 21st century fever dream, where corruption and innocence coexist seamlessly, like having a panic attack but feeling jaded about it, like vaping too much and feeling lightheaded.
Things she should’ve mentioned: the notes app, diet coke, the term ‘enby’, IUD arm implants causing weight gain, celebrity public apologizes, Berlin/Berghain, GoFundMe, driving for a food delivery service, enemas, graphic design on the iPad, SqarEats, and maybe #cutforbieber…
for a book i bought mostly because the title and cover enchanted me, i enjoyed these short stories! is very of the moment, will be interesting to see how it ages. but because the moment is now, this book feels like all the anxieties you have and the memories you keep. “hostage #4” astounded me. and “autofiction” was a perfect way to wrap all this up.
Underwhelming and so on the nose 💔 said a lot of things like “I’m perennially updating like a smartphone, barreling forward into the profound depths of the universe” And I hate that.
Reminded me of The Onion and Florida Man/Florida Woman headlines. Absurd shenanigans. I read the first half of this while riding a bus in the middle of a heatwave and the second half a day later while it was pouring rain like buckets. 10/10 matched the weirdness of the content. The stories I found most interesting were: The Jester's Privilege and They Ate the Children First.
tw/cw: pedophilia, mentioned murder, cheating/infidelity, porn, rape, violence etc.
this book, it's fucking good. this writer, she can fucking write. a few more collections like this, and Madeline Cash gets the Nobel. but first Margaret Atwood. or does she need to publish something with Fitzcarraldo to unlock Level Nobel?
anyhow... this book. Madeline Cash is a brilliant stylist; her paragraphs unspool to reveal odd, fascinating, horrifying lumps embedded within. there is depravity and humanity, which are surely two sides of the same coin. some of the stories end in the traditional sense; some in a money shot, some close up shop at the of the business day, some wrap up. but they all resolve.
i am looking forward to more writing from Madeline Cash. around 180 pages is a perfect dose. any more might shock the system. i am reminded of Elle Nash, in a good way, obviously. both are unafraid to remind us that we are messy wet animals, all viscera, bone and hair, walking around like we know better. we don't. nobody does.
A collection of interconnected horror/comedy stories for the too-online zoomer. Sometimes gross without being grotesque, and always simple without being artless, my biggest gripe is the lack of ambition displayed.
Cash has handle on pace, and her prose is clear, but I feel like most of these could have done with a bit more workshopping. She seems to want to exist in a surreal space, but doesn’t commit to the bit to really make it work. A little bit more heft would have benefited the stories.