in love with the alien (curiouser & curiouser); my review of Deb Cassidy’s The Plucker…

The Plucker: From the World of Spilt Milk by D K Cassidy
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Curiouser and curiouser; plucky author, plucky book!

I think we’ve all heard the phrase that there’s no such thing as a normal family, only those you haven’t met yet. Or: Normal? It’s a cycle on a washing machine, isn’t it?

I couldn’t resist reviewing this book in order that I might use those two lines. Because nothing exemplifies the idea – that we’re all kind of weird, in our own way – than the books I’ve read to date by D K Cassidy. That being said, she’s difficult to review without giving anything away – which I will not do, and state as much in all my reviews.

But let me tell you about the book’s disturbingly hilarious qualities, because, for black comedy, this is a true gem.

Firstly, I found myself cringing for most of the characters concerned, thanks to the author’s wonderfully adept method of drawing the reader to centre-stage, by way of her pithy and at times repetitive phraseology – repetitive use of proper nouns, for example; again, we have one of those books, written in 3rd person, and yet which leaves you feeling as though you’ve read it in 1st. But then do we? Because we’re able to discern how the protagonist must come across to those other characters – I must point out here, too, that I didn’t cringe for those reasons alone, but for a personal, more physical one. But like I said, I’m giving nothing away…

Then let’s think about the ‘alien’ the author’s provided us with. An intelligent alien, an astute alien, particularly with regard to her own ‘failings’ – or what society recognises as failings, and so she must too. Call her Pria – that’s P R I A, in case you’re wondering, an unusual name, but then it matches her different shade of skin. And what are we left with? A page turner, whereby we turn each page with only the one eye open; Pria’s essence so being that, while she may differ from the rest of us, we can’t help finding a little bit of ourselves in her at the same time.

Thought provoking, I guess the description is, whereby the author presents us with no more than what some might view as mundane – sorry, no vampires, no bare-chested cowboys, no time travelling knights. Just someone a little different… who, I might add, IS capable of bringing about the ‘paranormal’. Or is that just in her head?

Whatever the case, we’re all supposed to be on the ‘…’ spectrum somewhere. Aren’t we?

Bravo, D K Cassidy, I’ve not only learned two new words describing skin conditions, but these truly are the kinds of books I like to read!

Chris,

your literary, theatrical friend

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