By Steven Paul Lansky
Shoes
The novella shifts between places, a possible diagnosis, a change of heart, and/or venue, that keeps the reader in a rather delightful attempt to keep up with or abandon meaning in a literal sense. Take the rich detail and let the author’s sure hand move the narrative smartly back and forth through the doorway. Understand that the instrument of illustration is unnecessary for genuine pleasure in getting a little lost in the story and getting a little lost in the author, but the graphic element helps. There is a personal metaphor in all the mileage piled up, in the distance, from place to place recounted, time travel, from footnote to footnote.
Steve Lansky has a unique perspective, from the doorward gaze, drawn either way, of the neurotypical, or the neurospectacular. Somewhere in between ambition, and accomplishment (something of a bipolarity itself, eh?). He starts a conversation with a version of himself, and flexes outward, as the reader becomes the most colorful of chameleons. Sure, there’s some shapeshifting here, and a relaxation of the serotonin guardrails, that order memory, and experience, to behave in a linear way, but it’s supposed to be fickle.
BIO
Steven Paul Lansky lives in Clifton, an urban Cincinnati neighborhood. He likes to paint, sketch, play harmonica, and write poetry. His works include the chapbooks, Main St., and Eleven Word Title for Confessional Political Poetry Originally Composed for Radio; a novella, A Black Bird Fell Out of the Sky; and a collection of vignettes and sketches, Life is a Fountain. His audiobook, Jack Acid, may be found on Spotify and Apple Music.
