First time novelist Grace Krilanovich will be reading from her book, “The Orange Eats Creeps,” at Tavin boutique in Echo Park on Friday night (Nov. 5) as part of the Little Birds Reading Series. The book is set in the Pacific Northwest, “refracted through a dark mirror, where meth and madness hash it out in the woods,” according to the publisher. Krilanovich said the following excerpt comes early in the novel and is set in the Washington state town of Irondale:
“Down by the creek there’s a small town by the name of Irondale, a single lane of highway tacked down right in the middle of a lush forest wilderness the likes of which would do Marty Stouffer proud. I found the rest of my hobo buddies camped out among a few modest houses and sheds situated on a dozen acres littered with mobile home trailers and smelly Meth accoutrements, a display resplendent of the region’s claim to fame in the local papers: seedy clusters of mutant skinless stripped-bare mobile home trailers. This was one of the famous Meth squats of Irondale, a real mustache on the face of depravity.”
Click on the link below to read the rest of the excerpt.
The Jefferson County Leader routinely sent out reporters to lurk behind some crap-filled bathtub, taking notes. More than one soul had been absorbed. Irondale stood as a living monument to Meth dudes who had casually reached a level of ingenuity whereby — after selling the metal siding off their trailers for scrap — they found themselves with nothing left to practice tagging on, so they put the word out, soliciting others to haul in something to fill the void. A yard full of wrecked shit fulfills many needs, doubling as shelter, jewelry, target practice, and . . . ? Some neighbors were once baffled to see a Meth squatter hauling a boat filled with garbage on a trailer with no wheels. When the trailer couldn’t be coaxed into going any further it was unceremoniously abandoned out in the middle of the road, which even by Meth squat standards is pretty resourceful. The garbage that actually did make it onto the property was cast off behind some trees, or used to prop up one of the corners of the skinless trailer, or else dragged off by wild animals for use in their own squats. Very little could grow on Meth squat land and what did was burned down. Massive jamborees were held around giant cauldrons of altered medicine that bubbled delectably away at the fire.”