Description
Sometimes, stories that are short and initially appear to have very little meaning will stay with you throughout a day emotionally and have a sort of additive effect on the mundane. In their new collection, Transmutation, Alex DiFrancesco uses the ten stories to put the “monster” in the “mundane,” an equation that adds up quickly as soon as one encounters any other human being.
As pleasant as the “orgasm” of sneezing, these slightly uncomfortable tales create more questions than the reader chooses to ask (which is the definition of a monster). Seven may be superstitious, but in this case ten is tenable. This is my critique. The stories vibrate with a tragic and aloof yet vibrant rhythm, like a persistent downstairs neighbor whose every step and song haunt your dreams.
Comparing writers and artists is a tedious task, and I foresee DiFrancesco’s bright and experimental style falling victim to the temptation. But I will say (to catch the beast) that DiFrancesco unwinds the often psychological “body horror” genre into the not unprecedented but nevertheless timely “horror body” and the results are deeply remarkable or, to put a finer point on it, stigmatic.
