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Scott McClanahan: The Sarah Book

Scott McClanahan: The Sarah Book

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“McClanahan’s prose is miasmic, dizzying, repetitive. A rushing river of words that reflects the chaos and humanity of the place from which he hails. [McClanahan] aims to lasso the moon. . . . He is not a writer of half-measures. The man has purpose. This is his symphony, every note designed to resonate, to linger.”—New York Times Book Review
And so there was the falling and the falling and then the gasping for air–this love which is only a reminder of death–a spell cast to kill one another. Or perhaps it was from long ago in a play that wasn’t a play anymore but an actual garden. And there was a man and there was a woman who were growing old together. And this was their only wish: Let us be young again. I thought about the play and the words of that world.These were not the last lines of a play but words from long ago that someone spoke to a someone–words that sounded like this. I was saying this now.For wherever she was—there was my Eden.
The Sarah Book is Scott McClanahan’s continuation of the semi-autobiographical portrait he’s been writing over the years about his life in West Virginia. This one is the portrait of his love there.

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