There is an arresting specificity to Susannah Dickey's astute tragicomedy, in which sky is 'the colour of a cous cous salad', gods rub shoulders with video game characters and everyone is enslaved to desire. Corrupting the classically male, reportedly frivolous hendecasyllabic form, Dickey forges a register that feels ancient and millennial.
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There is an arresting specificity to Susannah Dickey's astute tragicomedy, in which sky is 'the colour of a cous cous salad', gods rub shoulders with video game characters and everyone is enslaved to desire. Corrupting the classically male, reportedly frivolous hendecasyllabic form, Dickey forges a register that feels ancient and millennial.
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