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Overview
Tender and satiric, hilarious and humane, Dogwalker plunks readers down in a land of misfits and the circumstantially strange–where one young man buys drugs from a dealer who locks his customers in a closet, while another lands a cat-faced circus freak for a roommate, and yet another must choose between his pregnant wife and the ten-pound slug he’s convinced will bring him a fortune. And throughout these stories moves a divinely inspired collection of dogs: three-legged, no-legged, dogs that sing, that talk, and that give birth to humans. Brilliant, perplexing, and moving, this is a daring debut that strolls along society’s fringes and unearths strange beauty among its misfitsSynopsis
The debut collection of an O.
Book Magazine
Bradford constructs his stories using a jumble of absurd, ugly situations and emotionally stunted and clumsy characters. Take, for instance, "Dogs," an overlong piece of surrealism about a man who impregnates his girlfriend's pet, or "The Texas School For the Blind," a four-page fragment about a blind, deaf mute who stabs himself in the leg. When Bradford is able to create convincing characters, they're strangely moving, such as in "Bill McQuill," in which a joker with a drinking problem takes his nagging landlord hostage. Other stories make for good slapstick, like "Mollusks," in which a giant slug nearly destroys a marriage, and "Mattress," in which the narrator braves the ferocious driving of his roommate in order to claim a piece of used bedding being given away across town. The stories in this collection are weird, it's true, and some of them succeed as grotesques. "The House of Alan Matthews," for example, is a funny parody of neighborhood drug dealers that's also genuinely horrifying. But language and tone remain problematic for Bradford, who deliberately occludes the best moments of the book with banal turns of phrase.
Kevin Greenberg
(Excerpted Review)
Editorials
Bradford constructs his stories using a jumble of absurd, ugly situations and emotionally stunted and clumsy characters. Take, for instance, "Dogs," an overlong piece of surrealism about a man who impregnates his girlfriend's pet, or "The Texas School For the Blind," a four-page fragment about a blind, deaf mute who stabs himself in the leg. When Bradford is able to create convincing characters, they're strangely moving, such as in "Bill McQuill," in which a joker with a drinking problem takes his nagging landlord hostage. Other stories make for good slapstick, like "Mollusks," in which a giant slug nearly destroys a marriage, and "Mattress," in which the narrator braves the ferocious driving of his roommate in order to claim a piece of used bedding being given away across town. The stories in this collection are weird, it's true, and some of them succeed as grotesques. "The House of Alan Matthews," for example, is a funny parody of neighborhood drug dealers that's also genuinely horrifying. But language and tone remain problematic for Bradford, who deliberately occludes the best moments of the book with banal turns of phrase.
—Kevin Greenberg
(Excerpted Review)