Ballistics is the first novel from the award-winning short story writer DW Wilson. Told in the first- person by two of its main protagonists, Alan West and Archer Cole, it describes the journey they take through a fire-threatened rural Canada in search of West’s father, a man he’s never known.
If Pynchon is the Boba Fett of literary fiction (masks, clandestine operations, cool accessories) then the question we might find ourselves hollering would be, “Thomas Pynchon? Thomas Pynchon, where?” Right next to us, it turns out. For the first time, generations born in the ’80s and onward will find the author’s antic capering delirium and unflappable political sophistication addressing the moment we currently occupy and in the present tense, no less (akin to Gravity’s Rainbow).
Each name given in the novel, from neighborhoods where wealthy, predominately white Zimbabweans live (Budapest), to the dialectal name for Michigan’s most populous city when heard by the ears of Darling and her friends (“Destroyedmichygen”), teaches the reader that the names we are born with and the names we are given hold significance and weight beyond a sound in the throat.
A new review of books focused on debuts, translations, and all works that would otherwise go undetected. It is a collaborative of authors, translators, and reviewers bound by one purpose: to contribute to the dialogue of literature.