In 1974, a 19-year-old telephone company employee in an abusive marriage finds her way to freedom.
“Now this Sock Man had dubbed me with his sock, and had claimed me as kin, and I remembered what I had always known: I was Daughter of Dirk. I was Minion of the Crab Queen. I was in a full fever. I wasn’t a normal girl. I was supernatural. I was uncanny. I was magnificent.” When we meet Celia Dent, she has not yet become aware of her uncanny magnificence: She is working at the telephone company where her job is to disconnect the lines of those with unpaid bills—“We called it ripping your lips”—caught up, along with her co-workers, in the grisly details of the murder of one of their colleagues by her husband, which occurred with a second colleague hastily hidden under the bed, but a used condom on the floor in plain view. The death of Vivienne Bianco is oddly titillating to Celia, which she knows is not the right reaction, but ascribes to the oppressive and dull reality of her daily life. Orphaned and alone by 17, she’d made the grave error of marrying a brutish man she refers to as “my Drew,” and her home life is so unpleasant that her tedious commute on the train and her depressing job (where she must deal with unsavory callers like the Sock Man) feel like a welcome escape. The death of Vivienne Bianco sets something new in motion, and Oshetsky is an author who relishes bold and sometimes surreal swipes of plot—more melodrama and mayhem are on the way, noirish twists delivered with a deadpan comic spin. With her collection of desecrated Barbies, her naïveté, and her poor impulse control, Celia is a fetching character for whom the reader dearly wishes a positive outcome, despite all the dead bodies that seem to be accumulating around her.
Darkly charming, highly original, and fiendishly clever.