Krakow Melt

Olga Wolstenholme's picture

Krakow Melt: “Don’t Fall In Love With Fires, Start Them”

Krakow Melt
by Daniel Allen Cox
Arsenal Pulp Press
176 pp., $15.95

 

My mother reads books backwards and if what she reads intrigues her she’ll give the beginning a try. I read the first line, the last line and something picked at random from the middle, and if these decontextualized sentences tug at something inside me there’s a good chance I’ll pick up that particular book and add it to my “to read” list.

Yes, you heard me right, I’ll read the last line. There’s no need to gasp, you can close your jaw now. And no, it doesn’t ruin the story. Last lines very rarely give anything away concerning plot and without the context of a story to back them up, they’re not easy to remember. What they do hint at, though, is the aesthetic of a book, whether I’ll like the style or not. I knew I would like Krakow Melt from it’s very first line: “Krakow is crows. Big, floppy ones.” Actually the first paragraph is pretty golden as far as I’m concerned.

Krakow is crows. Big, floppy ones. I don’t live in the city center but in Nowa Huta, a suburb a few kilometers east. We can still hear them sqawking from far away, yammering on about the histories. I do a bit of that myself.

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