Like a fracturing
mirror, Davenport’s
short fiction presents key images recurrently. Beginning with childhood
memories of the horror of her mother’s death, Davenport moves
gently
between stoires of her life. These stories are all coloured by the claw
- the image of her mother that haunts her life.
Moving roughly along a timeline, her scattered images weave a
surprisingly clear story.
To go
to the heart of the truth is too much pain. I enter from an
angle and light up the edges of my object with pastel relief.
Davenport’s story is ghostly and quiet, fragments of dreams
and
memories entangle to produce an engaging fiction.
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