Synopses & Reviews
Amidst disillusioned saints hiding in wrestling rings, mothers burnt by glowing halos, and a Baby Nostradamus who sees only blackness, a gang of flower pickers heads off to war, led by a lonely man who cannot help but wet his bed in sadness. Part memoir, part lies, this is a book about the wounds inflicted by first love and sharp objects.
A weird and wonderful tale about the wounds inflicted by first love and sharp objects. 'A stunning debut by a once-in-a-generation talent' - George Saunders.