Grace Krilanovich has a written a beautiful, deranged, hallucination of a novel.
Behold, the landscape within: "The land had spilled out as organs from the giant mammoth-type creature. Slashed by a human, it rotted on the ground many, many years. Its liver sank gradually into the earth, and still lies as a petrified engine spinning in its tomb. The animal's other body parts, its tusks and paw scaleds, formed a craggy topography. Its spine, the mountain range that holds the forest softly in its lap" (113).
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