Steven Seidenberg reads Anon.
The narrator of Anon opens the sluice gates of embittered confession and philosophical reproach to release a deluge of wildly extravagant lyricism, at first submerging its readers in the ecstatic rhythms of its its music, then leading their pursuit of the behemoths of the human condition in turning its gaze upon the storm-tossed tropes of the narrative itself. Seidenberg engages his characteristically aphoristic style to manage multiple lines of inquiry at once. The resultant fragments navigate between testament and treatise, storyline and system, in a manner only echoes in the speculative vehemence of Beckett, Lispector, and Blanchot.