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D. Foy's second novel is a tornado of brutal Americana. Patricide is a heavy metal Huck Finn that whips up the haunted melancholy of Kerouac's Doctor Sax, a novel of introspection and youth in its corruption that seethes with the deadly obsession of Moby-Dick, and the darkness of Joy Williams' State of Grace. Beyond the story of a boy growing up in a family derailed by a hapless father, Patricide is a search for meaning and identity within the strange secrecy of the family. This is an existential novel of wild power, of memories, and of mourning-in-life, softened, always, by the tenderness at its core. With it, Foy's place among the outstanding voices in American literature is guaranteed. Matthew Specktor says, "I already knew Foy was a genius. Now I'm beginning to think he's a saint." Scott Cheshire calls Patricide "a true work of art--addictive, hypnotic, relentless." Dennis Cooper calls this bold, exhilarating novel simply "fantastic." Stalking Horse Press donates from the proceeds of each of its books to a humanitarian or non-profit organization of the author's choosing.
This beautiful monster drops on Monday, but I had the honor and privilege to read it early and I have to say DON'T SLEEP ON THIS ONE. Foy is masterful with restraint and pace and pulling heartmeats apart. Run.