Kevin is a brave sick creature who trolls the space between the unacceptable and art. In “Trevor” the “mentally handicapped” Trevor attacks a girl during a church service but just ends up soiling himself. In “Innocence”, a guy in a mental institution finds his high school love also suffering from psychosis and delusions. Or does he? “Schozophrenic Soap Opera Sabotages Sanity” moves smoothly through Pearce’s percolating imagination: “Close up of brilliant acting moment as woman covers her face with her had in a perpetual state of shock and disbelieve at the news that her love life is completely fucked. Victor Newman tears a precision path with his silver, sacred tongue. Big pimpin’ all around. There is no liquor store shootout. Germ warfare doesn’t happen on somebody’s front lawn. Nobody takes the garbage out.” The thing is, Kevin is a good writer. You would think these stories would be replete with excess verbiage but they are actually short, remarkably sparse, and gripping in their own way. Kevin crosses the line, but he certainly makes it easy for you to go with him. (Hal Niedzviecki)
zine, Kevin Pearce, $2, 4476 Concord Place., Burlington, ON, L7L 1J4