Suffering and sarcasm abound as the extraordinarily-named, Montreal-born Elyse Gasco examines the theme of adoption and motherhood, with the occasional nod in the direction of family pets and fathers. The seven stories (or is it, after all, just the one story?) prowl restlessly around the subject matter, their tone lurching from shockingly black to moving bleak as babies are born, abandoned and adored in extremely unequal measures. It's an unpromising idea, but by dint of energy, an originality which verges on the outlandish and an unflagging gift for point-blank staccato insights, Gasco makes it work. You may not like it, but when you've read it - "They tag your daughter's wrist and you will follow her forever like a wildlife biologist"; "Things surprise you. For instance, it is OK to eat an Etch-a-Sketch, but it is not OK to drink Head and Shoulders"; "You hate to think what has congealed at the bottom of your father" - you certainly won't forget it.
