Kristen Arnett

Kristen Arnett's breakout bestseller is a darkly funny, big-hearted American debut about family, love, death and taxidermy! 'This book is my song of the summer' Parul Seghal, New York Times What does it take to come back to life? For Jessa-Lynn Morton, the question is not an abstract one. In the wake of her father's suicide, Jessa has stepped up to manage his failing taxidermy business while the rest of the Morton family crumbles. Her mother starts sneaking into the taxidermy shop to make provocative animal art, while her brother, Milo, withdraws. And Brynn, Milo's wife?and the only person Jessa's ever been in love with?walks out without a word. It's not until the Mortons reach a tipping point that a string of unexpected incidents begins to open up surprising possibilities and second chances. But will they be enough to salvage this family, to help them find their way back to one another? Kristen Arnett's breakout bestseller is a darkly funny family portrait; a peculiar, bighearted look at love and loss and the ways we live through them together. 'Messed-up families, scandalous love affairs, art, life, death and the great state of Florida in one delicious, darkly funny package. Kristen Arnett is a wickedly talented and a wholly original voice' Jami Attenberg 'There's a gunslinger cool to every sentence . . . Kristen Arnett is the queen of the Florida no one has ever told you about' Alexander Chee 'The writing is subtle and meditative, with the tactile weight of dense fur' The New Yorker

Mostly Dead Things

Emiley Jones

“Will I ever get tired of this?” I asked the question aloud, though I already knew the answer. You couldn’t get sick of sustenance when you were starving.

You don’t know what love is, I thought, wanting to smack him. Love was the steady burn of acid indigestion. Love was a punch in the gut that ruptured your spleen. Love was a broken telephone that refused to dial out. Milo told Brynn he loved her and I could see from the look on his face he thought the words were a magical incantation. Say the word love and it’s there for you; say the word love and the other person feels it too. What I should have told him that day: love makes you an open wound, susceptible to infection. But he was young then and so was I, and I wanted their happiness more than my own. So I swallowed my pain and let myself pretend love could flourish if I didn’t stand in its way.

I often wondered why we couldn’t talk about the present, why the past held all the promise while the future sat before us like stagnant water.

We spent so much time looking for pieces of ourselves in other people that we never realized they were busy searching for the same things in us.

Love was a thing that needed constant care. Our intimacy was an uprooted plant, shriveled and withered.

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