The Dottery

Contemporary science asserts that environment affects human life just as much as DNA; 'The Dottery' asserts that western culture interrogates women even before they emerge from the womb. This collection, perhaps fantasy, perhaps closer to garish reality than readers would like to admit, teaches that non-judgmental love is the one (flawed) redemption. In a last Mutter/Dotter interaction, Kaschock writes: 'When it is time to go I offer my hand. She wraps it in a napkin, tucks it into her pocket.' This is a long moan for love, and readers must accept its laced, metallic sweetness.

A lot of fun to read. Kaschock captures the truth of how we come to terms with our masks—imperfectly.

Inventive and exhilarating, Kirsten Kaschock's The Dottery tells the story of mutters and dotters in fresh, bracingly original language. Dolls, surrogates, goldie (who 'was lock, lock, locked') and mannequins play out this keen allegory of gender in ways that are both astonishing and terrifying. Kaschock is an alchemist—you will be changed.

The Dottery is a living book of confrontational, formally inventive risks. Reading it is to become a believer in the relational, permeable body and not get hung up on whether or not that body is human before we decide to love it, to touch it, to accept that it may create us, then kill us, then feel the wound in its own side.

Irreverent, irrepressible, and intelligent, The Dottery subjects the identity we call 'daughter' to a deeply feminist skepticism. Yet Kaschock's slightly loony allegories and mocking manifestoes belie a deep tenderness for the wounds dealt to women by sex and gender. Dear dotters, mutters, buoys, and men, you won't regret entering The Dottery, though you won't leave unscathed.