I, No Other

Rimbaud said, “I is an other.” Not long after that, he was selling GUNS. Contra Rimbaud, I, NO OTHER admits only I. In the hallowed “tradition” of the avant-garde, these stories unseat tradition. You may call them absurd, surreal, irreal, experimental, transgressive, dark, playful, or even just funny… but DON’T call them Other!

Ten offbeat Narrations & Exaltations for your delectation:
*a flâneur of consciousness exploring his native city,
*a not-guilty conscience endlessly revising the crime it can’t remember,
*the Holy Assumption of a rogue sexbot,
*a man and his golem usurping Death,
*a timid college girl coming out of her shell to expropriate the Godhead,
*and more!

I, NO OTHER is a cerebral defibrillator you forgot had been implanted until it routinely—and unexpectedly—shocks you back to life. They may hurt at times, dear reader, the jolts of these agitations, but it is a vital hurt. With a cast of narrators on the brink of discovery in all its forms, I, NO OTHER collects Yarrow Paisley’s most exquisite absurdist interludes.

(Nota bene for trigger-sensitive peeps: contains graphic imagery, sexual situations, and broken taboos.)

“Paisley’s voice reshapes your skull as you read his work. That voice is formal, alluring, unmoored. The author scoffs at political correctness while shining a laser beam on sexuality, cultural norms, and societal hypocrisy. Warning: be prepared to be triggered. Or to laugh out loud.”
—Virginia Aronson, author of J’Adoube (I Adjust): Stories