“Witness,” The New Quarterly, 131.4
“The Paitron Saints of Lamborghinis,” Grain, 41.1
“Acute Failure,” Room, 36. 4
“What Makes You think You’re the One?” The Puritan, 17.4
“USS Roosevelt,” Here Be Monsters, 6.3
“Homage to Dinosaurs,” Echolocation, 11.2
“In Public,” The Art of Trespassing Anthology, Anna Leventhal ed. Toronto, 2008
The narrator in Molly Lynch’s “Patron Saint of Lamborghinis” works as a cook in an oil rig camp. She sets the scene economically: “I was one of the nine females in a camp of over two hundred men.” There’s no way you’d stop reading after that, is there? And indeed it is not possible to stop, for what follows is lovely and perfect, a voice reminiscent of Jane Eyre. Lynch juxtaposes the delicacy of the narrator’s feelings with the bleak landscape and the vulgarity around her, and both she and we are left, inevitably, a little bruised. The fine supporting cast adds an uncommon depth.