This is the second book of D. Liebhart's I have read and I can't wait for the next. Contemporary fiction isn't my usual genre, but Liebhart's introspective and acutely insightful style borders on literary fiction. This isn't a casual novel for the lighthearted; Feral Creatures will rip a hole in your soul and leave a scar. But it will be one you treasure as a reader, one that will change your perspective on life and the world -- and perhaps how you read. It did for me.
This is, in large part, due to Liebhart's skill as a writer. The prose is simultaneously lyrical and straightforward, soothing and incisively sharp. There were several moments I had to pause reading, just to take a breath. But the urge to know what happens, the need for resolution drove me back.
The story moves slowly, but the pace is measured and deliberate -- and warranted. The story unfolds in overlapping parts, revolving around three women: Julie, Crystal, and Varvara, and their children: Logan, Mateo, and Myra. Their lives are ordinary -- recognizable as our own. It is the tragic intersection of their relationships with one another that the novel builds toward. It is a situation we have all -- at one point or another -- dreaded to prepare for.
Grief, loss, and the hardship of loving their children are the major themes of these women's' lives -- indeed, of ALL our lives.
A fantastic find from my local dollar store! This collection of creative, narrative non-fiction was a lovely "start of the year" read.
These articles, written as the world emerged from the Covid-19 pandemic in 2020 are poignant historical artifacts. I found myself (reading them in 2025) reminded of that time and how awful it was -- especially for those in the food and hospitality industries.
This collection of essays, however, do not solely focus on the pandemic (though many do); a few are historical and others illuminate specific niche industries, their problems, and critique our current consumer/food industry culture.