Saturday, May 14, 2011

This is mama’s home, this is mama’s skin

This is a guest post by Caleb J Ross as part of his Stranger Will Tour for Strange blog tour. He will be guest-posting beginning with the release of his novel Stranger Will in March 2011 to the release of his second novel, I Didn’t Mean to Be Kevin in November 2011. If you have connections to a lit blog of any type, professional journal or personal site, please contact him. To be a groupie and follow this tour, subscribe to the Caleb J Ross blog RSS feed. Follow him on Twitter: Friend him on Facebook:

Mama said I like what you done, thanks for that, you write all those books? yeah, any good, no. I like what you done though. My writing? nope, everything else though. Like Saramago you write on and on and on with barely a breath. Just for this blog post, I said. Very meta. Saramago doesn’t do meta.

Mama welcomed me, said I could stop by this blog of hers and did so without stipulations. Bad news for me. See she’s done some things, witnessed some things too, and at the end of all these things she’s still standing. Not true for those she’s witnessed doing those things or those she’s done those things to.

She creases back Stranger Will, her knuckles and fingernails still bloody from those things she’s done. I read some of this, she says. I read the part about finding the lady in the basement, about taking her to the hospital, about finding out she’s been pregnant, but isn’t any more, about finding out that doctors told her she’s just got to wait until the rest of the baby pieces come out naturally. Naturally, she says pulling up from the book, not funny.

No supposed to be.

Then I like what you done, she says.

I read the part about the kids hugging that tree, all covered in poison-

Phenol, I correct her.

That stuff really burn through clothes like you say?

I didn’t say. I wrote.

I done some things too, none of this garbage you write about, but real stuff. I’m gonna look into that phenol stuff. Can I keep this book?

I’m not taking it away.

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