re:mote voices

This hotel was bleak. The lobby smelled of roach spray and wet carpet. A wheezing Pekinese with an underbite tottered out from behind the reception desk and snuffled Peyton’s beige leather suitcase. The old lady behind the reception had a bristled chin — an eighty-year-old sack of boiled meats covered with talcum powder, with the same pop-eyed glare as the dog. Once, somebody must have fucked her senseless: how was such a thing even possible?

"Peyton Amberg" - Tama Janowitz. the cover to this caught my eye on the shelves of a book shop the other day. reading the extract from the publisher's site is curious, it seems to be the story of peyton who is fleeing an unhappy marriage, but the resulting journey would seem to be a harrowing one, with a definite darkness if this piece is anything to go by.