By Margo Lanagan
As a part of a public execution, a tender boy forlornly is helping to sing his sister down. . . . A servant learns approximately grace and loyalty from a mistress who might quite dance with Gypsies than sit down on her throne. . . . A terrifying come across with a demonic angel supplies a tender guy the power he must separate from of his oppressor. . . . On a bleak and dreary afternoon a gleeful capturing spree results in tragedy for a determined clown not able to flee his fate.In every one of Margo Lanagan's ten amazing tales, human frailty is positioned to the attempt by way of the implacable forces of darkish and light-weight, guy and beast. black juice deals glimpses into common, shadowy worlds that push the limits of the spirit and depart the brain haunted with the information that black juice runs via us all.
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Additional info for Black Juice
Crowed Jelly. ’ I hunted through the sights. ‘Naah, I’ve changed my mind. Let’s not waste ammo on ’em. ’ He cackled and got out his notebook and pince-nez and push-pencil. ‘Ones we know and love,’ he added in an acid, upper-crust voice. He’d come a ways, too, only downwards. Jelly wrote the two names carefully in the book. He had quite a list already. ’ ‘Someone in white. ’ ‘I thought Parrot was all colours. ’ ‘Not these days. ’ I could almost hear Jelly’s eyes rolling. ‘Set up a dialogue, you know?
The buffoons did what you’d expect when the limelight hit them: spread their arms at themselves, kowtowed, cartwheeled and sprouted flowers. ‘Aw, gawd. ’ Jelly was leafing through his notebook. ‘Here come the Yellow Jerseys for the day. With a bottle. ’ ‘Blow ’em awa-ay,’ jeered Jelly. ’ ‘Dunno— Hang on, it’s shaved into their hair. TAT. . and . . ’ ‘La-ame! ’ ‘I can’t. They’re in a crowd. ’ ‘Rocket time! If only. No, maybe Thursday we’ll treat ourselves to a little mayhem. But we could pick off the Yellows every day.
But they lined up so neatly I got them in one. ’ I stepped back so he could check through the sights the puddle of white silks and orange sparklies, dropped neatly round the bend in the boulevard. ‘Very nice,’ he said smokily. I quite liked the smoke smell, and I could see what he meant about the feeling when you breathed it. I could take it up myself. But there were too many other things to spend money on right now. The borrow of this weapon, for a start. Tools to improve the world with. Tools for doing good.