I firmly believe, now more than ever, that I exist in my own made up fairy tale land. In it, things are not what they really are but instead are what my impulsive imagination insist they must be.
Such was the case ofThe Butchering Artby Lindsey Fitzharris.
Here’s what happened.
I saw the cover one day while oogling books on Amazon. That’s what I do to zen myself when the inmates start to run the asylum around here and I need some adult-minded time. I don’t know about ya’ll but there’s only so much Nick Jr you can watch before your brain becomes oatmeal (For the record, Hey Dougie is my jam.)
That’s when I stumbled across the brilliantly designed cover. In bright bloody red, the title and author’s name are splashed across a toned and matted painting of fancy men opening a human body. A scholarly man…
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