Description

“‘I forget my name and that is an act of self-love,’ writes Ilyus Evander in this moving debut, where dissociation and dysphoria make complicated knots with healing. Here, the body is both angelic ghost and mechanical saboteur; at once mythical in its promises and heavy with its limitations. Evander navigates the contradictions of this journey with formal imagination, emotional verve, and a refusal to chart any easy paths to triumph. Yet this is a collection wrought, too, with something like hope—something, at least, like the belief that new names might grow in the old one’s place.”—Franny Choi