I Go To Some Hollow
Les Figues Press
There are about eight or nine reviews of this book online already, and most of them cross the same territory: quiet, elusive, strange, lonely, the everyday made mysterious, erotic, and so on. What struck me is how exquisitely the book captures tangential life in the midst of its shifts. And so undramatically, too, though with ever-present emotion. No event is just itself: it is part of something else: it relates and causes. Duras is in here, Sarraute is in here. But they both freight their worlds with symbols and angles, which is not the case in I Go To Some Hollow. Cain’s fictions mix in the seemingly unremarkable, and yet they are clearly remarkable.