Matthew Battles does not write stories that move, develop or unfold. He
creates worlds that hiss, snap, and rattle, and decorates them with
objects that brood in black, glassine silence, or crumble into dusty
revelation. Characters are left to grab at scraps of reality sent
whipping about them at hurricane force. Ideas run faster than memory can
sieve them from the flow, leaving vaporous reverie to fill the vacuum -
dogs populate trees, demolition men bear holy forgeries, and a slick
dark box siphons off synaptic vibrations.
In The Dogs in the Trees, man's best friends deliver an enigmatic
rebuke. The protagonist of The Sovereignties of Invention is enthralled
by a gadget that plumbs the depths of the stream of consciousness. In
The Manuscript of Belz, a librarian ponders the glamor of the book and
the bloody limits of cultural experience. And The Gnomon seeks in
Internet culture the same dark energies limned by Poe. Each story within
waits, still, dark and deep, to yield its unique shock of uncanny
truth.