This is a book borne of its nouns, its noun-ness: boy, girl, child, mother, milk, horse, sky, meat, knives, god, ghost, box-cutter, bones. As its reader, I am made to hold these things, their thinginess, in the hands of sentences that make the mundane sing and lean and turn its tongue towards the fantastic. I want to pick up my own pencil and rub it against such singular strangeness. This book is the dark play of a writer who refuses to grow up or grow old and who is old enough to know that children "drink milk from each other's eyes. The oldest child, her teeth are nickels and the youngest plants them inside his chest, A voice sings Hallelujah, and then Thank you, thank you, thank you." I'm thankful that this book has found its way to my own eyes. I am made to see things in ways that only David Greenspan can.-Peter MarkusDavid Greenspan's Milk Sickness raises up language both wholly unexpected yet hauntingly familiar, like a nightmare you forgot you had. A hypnotic read. -J. A. Tyler, author of Only and Ever This
