There is a sense that, if only the pieces could be put together in the right way, some answer to a spill of unasked questions would become clear. There is Only One Ghost in the World follows the stories of a multilayered voice broken into fragments, an intimate witness that both delicately and bluntly reveals the best and the worst in all of us. The intricately woven voice(s) embark on a kaleidoscopic investigation into the loneliness of modern American life and family relationships, exploring the truths and lies we tell one another, and why, with empathy, grief, and humility. There is spiritual significance and consequence to these investigations, knit with the opaque vein of exploring language itself, the practice of etymological study wielded as one tool of unearthing. Inherently political, there is an unavoidable violence in this work, as stories travel from the oil-slicked beaches of California and the alleys of New Orleans to the steps of the Capitol. Here: the raw nerves of gender and identity; here: the lessons of heartbreak; here: true myths and old rumors; here: legacies of art and incisors of seasons. Incompletable Venn diagrams, sibling porn stars; addiction and climate change, the lyrics of disco and taxonomy of slot machines; last meals and unearthed mummies. There is Only One Ghost in the World is a book about what happened just before you woke up, and what happened just after. And what happened next.
