By Craig Davidson
A searing novel approximately buddies on contrary aspects of the legislation, from the writer of Rust and Bone, "a author of titanic energy" (Peter Straub)
On the Canadian part of Niagara Falls, lifestyles past the vacationer exchange isn't really effortless. Locals like Duncan Diggs and Owen Stuckey have few possibilities to go away. For Duncan, that suggests shift paintings on a construction line. For Owen, it ability pinning all of it on a shot in school basketball. yet they need to recognize higher; they have been unfortunate prior to. As boys, they have been kidnapped and deserted within the woods. notwithstanding they made it out alive, the reminiscence of that point will not fade. through the years they waft aside, but if Duncan is drawn right into a chaotic international of bare-knuckle struggling with and different shady dealings, Owen, now a cop, cannot glance the wrong way to any extent further. jointly, they are going to be compelled to outlive the desolate tract once again as their friendship is driven to the restrict in Cataract City, a white-hot novel through the emerging big name Craig Davidson.
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Additional resources for Cataract City: A Novel
Their dads worked at the Bisk, too. Mr. Hillicker resembled a Saint Bernard with a beer gut. Mr. Lowery looked like a weasel that had learned how to dress itself. ” Mr. Lowery asked my father. ” “I let him figure it out for himself,” my father said. ” Dunk’s car had a flat black finish and flames licking off the front. He didn’t seem that proud of it. “That’s a hell of a thing,” Dad said appreciatively. ” “Thanks,” Dunk said. Mr. Diggs smiled sheepishly. My car came in dead last in its first heat.
He looked every inch the superhero, with muscles where there shouldn’t rightly be muscles. He inhaled the same air as we did, but I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out he had gill-flaps on his neck that helped him breathe under water or microscopic barbs on his fingertips that let him climb the tallest buildings without fear. He was perfection in the raw. A perfection that was undisciplined and maybe even unwanted: he’d occasionally frown during a match—a fleeting frown as if to say the expectations his perfection created were a small burden.
He snapped on the radio. “Karma Chameleon” by Culture Club was playing. “This glitzy fairy can really carry a tune,” he said, snapping his fingers. 0 Mustang. A farmer-tanned arm hung casually out the open window. There was a tattoo of a wolf howling at the moon on that arm, except the skin drooped so that the moon looked more like a teardrop—which would be poetic, I guess, if it had been on purpose. Mahoney pulled up closer. I caught a flash of the driver: in his mid-thirties, his face deeply seamed and his skin a queer off-yellow like a watery cat’s eye.
Cataract City: A Novel by Craig Davidson