True Things About Me

This unabashedly predictable tale of abuse by Davies (Grace, Tamar and Lazlo the Beautiful) finds its redemption in a sizzling voice. Our nameless heroine, who gets bowled over by a man in a car park (and pays a price for it), describes everything%E2%80%94sex, abuse, cooking%E2%80%94from the same detached perspective: "La, la, and thrice la, she sang, swooping and banking up by the fluorescent light strip. It verily is." Referring to her flighty self in both first and third person and also as a disembodied witness creates a vibrant Alice in Wonderland feel, though dark as pitch since this Alice is copiously beaten, robbed, and humiliated by "Mr Blond," the rough, enigmatic man she clings to. This doleful expos%C3%A9 is also a romantic potboiler for the masochistic; a chronicle of a woman coming undone and crawling back for more: "I longed to see him. When I woke up in the morning the longing woke up too, like a strange creature on my bed. The feeling moved up from inside my pelvis and settled in my throat." Ouch. (July)