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  The man I am talking to wants to kill me. He has a
knife in his pocket and in the last five minutes he has begun to
feel the weight of that knife, just above his groin. He
has even gone so far as to trace the outline of the knife
inside his pocket with his fingertips, under the table,
where I can't see. We have a table between us but
it's a small table and he could grab me by my hair
and pull me forward easily, turning my body away as he
pulled me by the hair so that I would be stretched
backward across the table and he could bring the blade
down along my throat. There would be a second as the
blade slit into my throat when there would be no blood
and then, with what satisfaction would he watch the thin
line fill with blood, overflow. He would pull my head
down a little farther towards him, so that the blood
would run over my chin, my face, into my nostrils and
over my eyes. . . Jacob saw the messengers when he opened the kitchen
door. There were three of them, standing together in the far
corner of the room, in the midst of conversation. When the tallest of the
three noticed Jacob, who stood shocked still in the doorway, he turned
to the other two and said, "It's awake."
Jacob feigned outrage. "What is this?" he
demanded. His knees were weak and he could hear his heart
thumping feebly in his ears. He dug his nails into the
palms of his hands to be certain that he was awake.
The three creatures stepped away from the corner in
unison, focusing their attention upon him. The tallest,
who was the spokesman for the group, stretched his hand
out, palm upward. Jacob backed away from the proffered
hand, partly in fear and partly in fascination. The
creature's fingers were webbed together with a film
like substance that glistened as if it were wet. All
along his arm the film hung in loose folds. When he
raised his arm these folds pulled out into a diaphanous,
almost liquid sheet that extended from his waist to the
diamond bright material of his torso. Jacob attempted to
communicate his surprise by looking into the
creature's face, only to find his terror doubly
reflected in the pupils of two shining silver eyes. He
closed his own eyes and covered them with his hands. . .
 ---New York Times "Few have written so surprisingly, so convincingly, as Valerie Martin about sexual obsession" ---Margaret Atwood Little mad obsessions encased in precise prose make stories so startling you can't let go. Martin drags the psyche out of the dark cellars and closets into daylight. What happens is unsettling and weirdly beautiful in masochistic ways, like a gingerbread house with built-in gas ovens. Emotionally painful, iconoclastic, brilliant. ---Booklist "The generosity of Martin's understanding opens every character to the full, astounding range of human possibility. Her revelations build mesmerizing excitement, a surprising kindness, and an unexpected sanity in the darkness." ---Katherine Dunn, The Washington Post Book World "A formidable writer in a class by herself . . . With her clear and penetrating gaze, Martin looks at the world and sees its horrors and contradictions, its terrifying beauty, and renders her insights through the characters of memorable women. She is a disturbing, provocative writer of risky and dangerous fiction." ---The Times-Picayune, New Orleans "Martin may well prove to be one of the important American writers of her generation." ---Daily News, Los Angeles "Powerful" ---Vogue, London "Eerie . . . compelling" ---New York Times "Remarkable" ---Walker Percy "An impressive writer" ---Ann Tyler "Remarkably fine work, full of insight and truth" ---Paperback Buyer, London "Rich in perceptive prose . . . rich in probing character" ---Chicago Tribune "Valerie Martin is fascinating, tantalizing . . . contemporary and extraordinary" ---Boston Globe "Valerie Martin holds the reader's attention with an Ancient Mariner-like grip" ---Glasgow Herald Valerie Martin is one of those rare writers who understands the loss of traditional motives and order, but in her work never yields to the jumbled directionless excesses that tempt the modern fictioneer. Her stories are tight, bound with a tension that is as delicate as it is strong. And they are disturbing, unequivocal---a voice that will stay with you for a long time. ---Small Press Book Club 
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