Rimbaud said, “I is an other.” Not long after that, he was selling GUNS. Contra Rimbaud, I, No Other admits only I. In the hallowed “tradition” of the avant-garde, these stories unseat tradition. You may call them absurd, surreal, irreal, experimental, transgressive, dark, playful, or even just funny… but DON’T call them Other!
- Ten offbeat Narrations & Exaltations for your delectation:
- —a flâneur of consciousness exploring his native city,
- —a not-guilty conscience endlessly revising the crime it can’t remember,
- —the Holy Assumption of a rogue sexbot,
- —a man and his golem usurping Death,
- —a timid college girl coming out of her shell to expropriate the Godhead,
- —and more!
I, No Other is a cerebral defibrillator you forgot had been implanted until it routinely—and unexpectedly—shocks you back to life. They may hurt at times, dear reader, the jolts of these agitations, but it is a vital hurt. With a cast of narrators on the brink of discovery in all its forms, I, No Other collects Yarrow Paisley’s most exquisite absurdist interludes.
(Nota bene for trigger-sensitive peeps: contains graphic imagery, sexual situations, and broken taboos.)
- “Lewd, lascivious, lovely; surreal, strange, sinister. The prose adrip with the lusty syrups of paranoia. To be read by candlelight in a velvety boudoir in which you are about to be forcibly deflowered by the ghost of a distinguished Russian-American entomologist.”
—Jason Kane, author of Deep Sky Objects
- “Paisley’s voice reshapes your skull as you read his work. That voice is formal, alluring, unmoored. The author scoffs at political correctness while shining a laser beam on sexuality, cultural norms, and societal hypocrisy. Warning: be prepared to be triggered. Or to laugh out loud.”
—Virginia Aronson, author of J’Adoube (I Adjust): Stories