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342 pages, Hardcover
First published March 8, 1999
The writer of the black novel must take despair as his lover because, like all desperate men his absence of future is all he has. Though negative, this absence is most likely the only areas he has ever known (worse still if he once knew others). I try to breathe life into despair; adjusting the bed of Procrustes to a shape proper for man is what writing meant so me.