"He creates - and at the same time affirms - the dark we’ve all got inside us."
A month ago, reading a William Trevor story, I became overcome by an unnerving feeling, a sensation that morphed, two or three pages in, to one of absolute recognition. I must have read the story in 2007 when the book first came out, or maybe even earlier in a magazine. I didn’t finish "The Dressmaker’s Child" for a second time. Nor will I finish it. Why the need to read it again when, in my own way, I’ve been living it, re-reading it, for years now?
Trevor and Orner are two of my favorite writers, and I'm very pleased to see that Orner and I share admiration for the great Irishman. Besides his fiction, Orner's Lonely Voice columns at The Rumpus are consistently rewarding.