Dyjak takes no prisoners in this searing examination of a culture of trauma that originates in the family and spirals out.
i remember how uncle came to family gathering as usual,as usual …i remember how one timewhen his kids were grown, he saidchild molesters should be castrated.and i wanted to ask him, but didn’t.and i wanted to ask him, but didn’t.and i wanted to ask him, in front of allhis friends and family ifhe had castrated himself.— excerpt, “i remember”
This is an author willing to risk baring her soul, and steeped in the leading edge of her craft. Dyjak is determined to pry off the tightly nailed doors of our dark basements and let the light pour in, and in doing so she spins our suffering into art.
you dreamedyou dreamed new dreamsand woke-up in the same placeknowingwhy Cinderella has no story once she’s gained the castlesuspecting that Rapunzelbricked-up her own door.— excerpt, “Woman Without a Country”