Somatic Book Review of Beast Feast by Cody-Rose Clevidence

Cody-Rose Clevidence
Beast Feast
Ahsahta Press
$18

Before beginning, take a butter knife from the kitchen counter drawer and begin to saw off your breasts [or] before beginning, take a butter knife from the kitchen counter drawer and begin to saw off your penis and balls. A steak knife will not do, you really want to feel the irony here of the most delicate weapon in the vicinity causing the highest intensity of pain. DO NOT WASH THE BODY PARTS DOWN THE DISPOSAL ! I instruct you to use them as book marks. You may need time to rest your eyes in between pages, as the content is rather mindfully invigorating, and it will be appropriate while coming back unto a page to have a reminder of the parts of you that did not exists as parts, but as an extension of the whole, before you were so mercilessly dragged through the poetic forrest that is Clevidence’s mind. A book that makes you WORK. Red gatorade is not recommended for hydration, the dye stains your insides and we might need those for later. Water is best, unless you reside in a city where Whole Foods is more rampant than water supply, in which case certified organic coconut water will do (however, do not drink the milk of the actual certified organic coconut, which excessive consumption has in some cases been known to cause diarrhea, which will cause, most obviously, dehydration).
Furthermore, embarrassment is expected once the blood stains swim into abstract pool designs on your respective boob or ball areas, but this book is really not meant to be consumed in the corner crevice of a couch in your mother’s basement. It is meant, obviously, to be experienced in the presence of beasts.
Any preschool will do, really. I recommend volunteering for story-time around page 52. Scream (I do not mean this gently) SCREAM the words into their wild, absurdly bendy little human ears until they are satiated to the point of missing snack time. Before encountering the last page, run! (I do not mean this gently) RUN ! Nearing the end of the last page, you will be, physically, a deformed running beast, captured and consumed by the sticky hands of small beasts, booked marked in time of death by severed breasts and/or balls. This is, arguably so, the preferred state of being for whispering the last line, and truly offers such a visceral perspective for interpretation of the text as a whole.

REVIEW BY MARIE CONLAN