Wandering through Blake Butler's There is No Year at the moment. The brain is doing backflips. Suppose what's so surprising about this book is how goddamn funny it can be. A few times now, I've been that guy at the table, by himself and his nose in a book, when, without warning, one burst - HA. Honestly now, read this passage:
The phrase "Lynchian" seems to keep appearing when people talk about this book. Which I guess is true, though also, hmm. In either case, if there really is a Blue Velvet moment found somewhere in here, it's when the father builds a black maze out of tacky suburban restaurants.
Also. I had the pleasure of hearing Blake read last night. It was excellent. If he's coming to your town, go. Dates here.