This entry considers Paul Park, one of whose Starbridge novels I read many years ago and remembered as disturbing but gorgeously written. When my to-read shelf began to run low, I ordered several of his other books. My memory was correct, though in the end I wasn’t sure if there was anything underneath the hideous beauty. Park is a poet of cruelty; his work features a stunning variety of suffering deliberately inflicted on others in the name of truth or religion or natural order.
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