A scandalous fantasy in which He gets under Her skin, but can't get into her identity; the arrival in the morning mail of a mysterious parcel of wrists set him in pursuit; the author takes a real life trip in search of his own fictional Tennessee; an idyll on the quirkiness of the irrepressible number 43. These are the four Moving Parts through which obsession exfoliates identity. These four come together for the first time ever in the West or the East in a unique and innovative book, creating a resonance known only to a few in the far North buried under 86 feet of snow, where you must never touch your tongue to the blade of your knife.
"a contentious knight of Hope out to do battle with the toothless electronic Dragon of Commerce." —American Book Review
I made the first incision at 7:15 A.M. It was an important step. I touched the point in lightly just under the left armpit and slowely pulled the blade down along her side. The knife travelled like a kayak. My system was to accomplish the seperation with one continous lateral cut, dividing her skin in two halves, front and back. That was better then a bilateral division along the axis of her symmetry because it would make for the least disfigurement when the skin had to be replaced and would permit easier disguising of the adjustments and stretching necessary to fit that small skin over my relatively large frame.