Thumbs up for Sinner, Baker, Fabulist, Priest; Red Mask, Black Mask, Gentleman, Beast by Eugie Foster. Fantasy.
It’s an unfortunate fact that sometimes great writers come to one’s attention only because they have died. If this work is any indication, the world has indeed lost a great writer. There is absolutely nothing nice in this novella about a society in which identity is, let’s say, flexible—but it is exquisite.
The yellow mask draws me, the one made from the pelt of a mute animal with neither fangs nor claws—better for the workers to collect its skin. It can only glare at its keepers through the wires of its cage, and when the knives cut and the harvesters rip away its skin, no one is troubled by its screams.
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