overall 8 votes: 
editor rating: 
The supposed memoirs of Arnold Schnabel, a brakeman/poet recovering from a mental breakdown in the quaint seaside resort of Cape May, NJ, in 1963. . . .
overall 3 votes: 
editor rating: 
An experimental novel combining crass commercialism, reader response, and time-tested themes like love, fear, and desperation. . . .
overall 8 votes:
editor rating:
A sprawling fantastic tale of the ’60s, supposedly written by “legendary” B-movie director Larry Winchester. . . .
overall 3 votes:
no editorial rating
The house was full of packing-cases. Even the pretty lawn at the side was to pack up, stiffly and slowly, through the bare echoing November. The very robin that her father had so often made, with his own hands, more gorgeous than ever; amber and golden; here, at this bed of thyme, began to speak of carrots. The grand inarticulate . . .
The credit crunch building slump has caused the number of London archaeological sites to dry up, leaving time on the Archaeologist’s hands to start to notice unsuspected things in the world around him. There are people, groups of people, beings of some sort, living among the general populace, but with something different about them: are they some sort of deity? . . .
Treasured Vulva tells the story of an unnamed man who lives with a woman. He keeps a secret online journal where he writes weekly about his life including his dreams, abuses, and habits. Dark and oddly offbeat, Treasured Vulva is teeming with themes and stirs questions about the nature of devotion, pain, love, and reality. . . .
So first of all, I should mention that I like Dan Leo’s writing. It’s clear and effective. The characters have different voices. There’s some humor, and occasionally satire.
The two stories of his that I’ve read both take place in the 1960′s and not only do they try to get the [more . . .]
"She needed a story that others could slip into, a story that would overflow its sentences, a story like love."
Metafiction is a hard thing to do right. It’s easy to lose your reader in experimental nonsense or lugubrious faux-Borges prose. When the metafictional conceit is a commentary on the financial [more . . .]