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I have waited, and you have come

by Martine McDonagh

The post-apocalyptic ruin of civilisation affords Martine McDonagh the freedom to indulge her talent for the macabre. A decidedly original tale, I HAVE WAITED AND YOU HAVE COME is about the triumph of the inept, scruffy and dreamy over the fussily domesticated and the pragmatic. “I”m a stickler;” says the heroine, “this is how I do things”

The novel unfolds, as though told through a story-board, in linear and
economical detail: the reader is drawn hypnotically into a mysterious, primitive existence where visceral intuition informs expectations. Psychologically sophisticated, the book explores the sinister line between obsession and possession (in the metaphysical sense), the stalker and the stalked, the axe and the umberella. The subtext is a lesson in futurology within a sexual frame of reference. In a nightmare cosmos, between whirlwind and williwaw, sadism and taxidermy, and by the New Dawners out of the last tribes of Romany, a first novel has been born, innocent, bloody and reeking, but with its own inescapable demands on our attention. Ignore it, O Philistines, at your peril.

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