Rebecca Loudon on Bombyonder
“I loved you against all odds and algorithms.”
~Bombyonder, Reb Livingston
In Bombyonder (Bitter Cherry Books), Reb Livingston is not afraid to name the monsters that crowd and clog our neural pathways. Bombyonder is a book devoted to language, to deconstructing the 21st Century dream, a pink page-a-day diary that leaks secrets and secretions, the saddest animal, the flattened science of the flesh. Bombyonder is a holy scream into the blasted slag heap. It is love and love’s conjoined twin, hate, in no uncertain terms. It’s a terror, a stupid white wedding, a stand up comic that barks like a seal, a black Bakelite telephone ringing and ringing in the deep night when you think you are safe. Livingston’s language tangles, weaves, dances and involves itself in deep play. There is discomfort this book. It is not a lullaby or a watercolor heron flying into the night. Livingston upturns every rock in the tide pool and she doesn’t pull her punches. I found myself holding my breath as I read. Bombyonder shoots out of the most tender cannon you could possibly imagine. Be careful when you read it. You will become splendid. You will bleed.