Welcome to Litsy!

Hilarious weekly progress reports is about all the literary output our narrator can manage when he embarks on a 2-month residency at a shopping mall infested with sentient hair. He investigates a murder, swallows a pair of ghosts & attempts to instigate an uprising against evil. His battle cry: A little help, please? His self-delusional soul searching is silly yet somehow poignant. Absurd #CanLit for fans of Kafka, Suzette Mayr & Grady Hendrix.

For there is only so much space in my heart to admire any species other than my own, and that space is currently carved into the shape of a horse. (Try to cram an elephant in there and I‘d need an angioplasty.)

…every now and then I did glimpse a “personal” plate, featuring some odd combination of letters and numbers encrypted into a slogan or epithet
(BOY 1DER, I DOMN8, 2GUD4U, etc). These flashes of ego would have provided helpful signposts amid all that anonymity if their arrogance weren‘t so generic and uniform.

And after several days of said scheming I had schemed a scheme so brilliant, so cunning, so unexpected (especially to myself) that, glutted with nerve, I dared to utter my favourite phrase …
Vengeance is mine, I whispered into the shadows. Or if not quite “whispered,” exactly, then mouthed, or at the least very loudly thought.

The bathroom seemed somehow detached from the mall—& perhaps the universe. An antechamber. A vestibule of the soul with its atmosphere of purity & sanitation, its soothing antiseptic odour of chlorine. And in it I too detached from the world—& then myself. I lost all sense of time & space. I forgot my purpose. I was airy & unburdened, adrift. I gazed into all that light & had no thoughts, none at all, & the trance was broken only when the ⬇️

And guileless yet full of guile, feckless yet full of feck, shiftless yet shifty, affectless yet affected, baseless yet base, shameless yet shameful, bloodless yet bloody, headless yet heady, footless yet afoot (at something), good for nothing, bad to the bone, best ignored, worst ever, mediocre, mundane, unexceptional, exceptionally awful, awfully terrible, terribly horrible—and just really, really bad.

This book is weird and hilarious. Hilariously weird. Weirdly hilarious. Just read it. Highly recommended

I really don‘t know what I just read… Kill the Mall started strong – our unnamed narrator has just been offered a “residency” at a mall, during which he will live in an unused storefront and will spend his time “making work” and “engaging the public.” For the self-proclaimed lover of malls, the residency seems like a dream come true, but soon enough it becomes clear that this mall is not what it seems as strange things start happening around him⬇️