David Ulin writes about Shelley Jackson’s new project at the Los Angeles Times. If you didn’t hear about her previous project, Skin, now is a good time to do so. Her new project is similar. The story is told one word at a time but written in the snow.
Jackson makes that explicit by rendering snow as not only métier but also subject; this is very much a winter’s tale. “There are snows,” she writes, “made of clock faces and circular slide rules, of maps to undiscovered countries, of the shattered breath clouds of those who have cried out for help unheard on a clear winter day.
