Do you remember when you were growing up and you lived in constant blithering terror that your Mom or your Dad – or worse yet both of them tag-teaming up together – were going to catch hold of your ear and have that long old talk with you.
You know the talk that I am talking about.
You would rather stuff your ears full of flaming worm boogers than to hear your Mom and Dad talk to you about all of that stuff that you had already figured out – but what you did not figure out is that sort of a talk is both uncomfortable, somewhat painful – but absolutely necessary.
That is the kind of book that Sandra Hutchison has created in THE RIBS AND THIGH BONES OF DESIRE.
It is uncomfortable, painful – yet absolutely necessary.
The novel deals with the uncomfortable subject matter of an odd yet undeniable attraction that slowly grows between a thirty-odd physics professor who has recently lost his family in a plane wreck and the teenage girl who used to babysit his young daughter.
KAHOOGA! KAHOOGA! KAHOOGA!
Can’t you hear those alarm bells going off? Oh my god, some soft-headed folks are shouting out – this is a novel of pornographic pedophilia.
Holy shades of Nabakov, Batman.
THE RIBS AND THIGH BONES OF DESIRE is a slow yet painstakingly crafted study of lust, love and the part that the human desire plays in personal healing. Sandra Hutchinson’s prose reminds us that life is never simple or neat. Life is sticky and messy like elephant boogers flung upon a wall of flypaper and fish glue.
If you are looking for a John-loves-Marsha romance you had better call up Harlequin.
If you are looking for a thoughtful organic dissection of the mechanics of human want than you really had better stop farting around with this review of mine and just get over yourself and go ahead and pick up a copy of Sandra Hutchison’s THE RIBS AND THIGHBONES OF DESIRE.
You know you want to.
yours in storytelling,