Hera Lindsay Bird

Bird turns her prescient eye on love and loss, and what emerges is like a helicopter in fog...or a bejewelled Christmas sleigh, gliding triumphantly through the contemporary aesthetic desert...this is at once an intelligent and compelling fantasy of tenderness...heartbreaking and charged with trees...without once sacrificing the forest...Whether you are masturbating luxuriously in your parent's sleepout...or pushing a pork roast home in a vintage pram...this is the book for you...heroically and compulsively stupid...whipping you once again into medieval sunlight. But you know, do whatever you like lol