Opening these pages is like stepping through a secret doorway to discover a menagerie of wonders, impossibly beautiful.
There are sentences here so fine, so perfectly worded, they made me gasp.
Unsettling, mysterious, slightly subversive, deeply moving, these stories are small punches to the heart.
Though collectively they feel huge, as if Bess Winter drew them from the worlds of a dozen novels, so richly populated are they with ideas, desires, dreams.
Machines of Anoth.
