A young man, cast adrift after a tour of duty in Afghanistan, finds himself in in possession of a strange power and the responsibility that comes with it.
The squeak of outrage, the writhing body, the inevitable bop, the limp figure tossed away after, like the skin of a popped grape.
Miss Altangerel’s costume gives me pause. She wears the body of a hawk as a headdress, its wings sweeping back along the side of her ears, her own eyes and nose hidden behind the predator’s sharpened gaze and yellow beak. A curtain of rawhide strands hangs from the bird’s chest, strung with small bells and obscuring the lower half of her face. The bells tinkle slightly with her breath. Parlor...