Sent to the Silkworm House – Gwen Hilton
Gwen Hilton gives you everything you could ask for from a literary debut. Her voice shakes in a dynamic tenor, awash in 21st century zeitgeist while recalling the commanding style of the canonical greats. Sent to the Silkworm House rattles you with cunning mnemonic triggers, crystallizing and festering like a stagnant wound or scabbing off abruptly, leaving you mesmerized by the scaffolding of skittering narrative as the speaker chafes at linearity, revolts against hermeneutics. With a startling confidence that announces innovation, Hilton’s compass is physical, violently magnetizing inward, pulling from the reservoir of collective and private memories like capturing a generation on its last straw. Chasing serenity, confronting trauma through visceral sensation and wasted lives with the grace of ambiguity, old enough to know better but young enough to still feel the silver barrel pointed at disposable youth. Sent to the Silkworm House engrosses without revealing its motives. It is metaphysical surgery, a book charged with eternal priorities, unsafe for the spiritually unconfirmed. It draws a sinuous swath through materialist human resource-culling antisocial industrial death and painfully orchestral sorrow and sociocultural idealism. Step out of the way or get flattened. The limits of the written word as instrument to confound are corkscrewing you from end to end, the pages are radically dense and dimensional, and there’s no way out but through.
5.5×8.5″. 130 pages perfect-bound. Cover Art by Arturo Herman Medrano.
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