Book Report Corner

by Rachel A. Rosen

This one goes HARD. I had been eyeing it for awhile—the psychedelic, visually arresting cover kept popping up on my feed. I finally picked it up after hearing the author speak on a panel, and was immediately besieged by friends incredulous that I hadn’t read it already. I mean. It’s swampcore. How much more up my alley can you get? I am pleased to report to both them and to you, dear reader, that it absolutely lives up to the hype.

Green Fuse Burning is about Rita, an artist on an involuntary retreat after her girlfriend Molly forges a grant application in her name. Is Molly being helpful and romantic? Or patronizing? Is a breakup imminent? It might be easier to tell if Rita could get any cellphone bars in her remote location.

But Rita has bigger problems: her own grief over her father’s death, her disconnection from her Mi’kmaq heritage, and the unsettling landscape of the swamp. She hears noises at night—perhaps a body being dragged into the murk? The handful of people she meets are menacingly cold and strange. She’s plagued by intrusive thoughts.

The framing device is a series of gallery labels for Rita’s paintings, alluding to her mysterious disappearance. The story itself is a vivid fever dream told in lush, intense prose. Morris’ background as a poet shines through—every sentence is a visceral gem, packing incredible intensity into only 100 pages. This is what eco-horror should be: unnerving, upsetting, and unforgettable.