There are a lot of things to love about this collection. The format, 40 tales so short they could be called micro-stories, works powerfully well with the sharp, dark tone of the narratives. Each bursts from the page relentlessly, one after the other, bruising the reader with their intensity.

The prose, heavy with an undercurrent of rage, violence, and disgust, is as effective as it can be beautiful. Scanlan's use of language is masterful and her ability to bring these stories to life is powerful.

The stories (one only several sentences in its entirety) are surgically cut spyholes into the tenebrous moments of people's lives.

The characters are all familiar and yet they are 'other'... They inhabit ordinary places but, as each seemingly average character seems to be screaming from their core, the familiar locations begin to feel unstable and otherworldly.

You'd think that this would all coalescence into an incredible whole and yet, it didn't work that way for me.

The stories are dark but they are also, without fail, steeped in misery and hopelessness. It's one thing to read a short, sharp, shocking tale or two, and another to read forty of them in succession. The thing about reading stories this dense one after another is that you become numb. Without a moment to come up for a breath, you simply sink. There isn't any respite to be found and without it these stories simply lose their efficacy. They cease to be individual without the glimmer of light to illuminate all the blackness.

It also felt that it was dark for dark's sake. For example, there was plenty of animal cruelty (which I admit I find difficult) that felt forced... Like the author was trying too hard to be shocking and cause pain. And although I disliked reading it, it ( )