A slice-and-dice splatter novel in which time-travelling streetwalkers hump their way from the trendy east London of today back to the skid row mutilations of the Jack The Ripper era. As gentrification forces the hookers from their age-old beat along Commercial and Wentworth Street, they don Victorian widows' weeds and ply their trade in local graveyards. Amid these psychogeographical dislocations, warm blood isn't the only thing that gets sucked by the night creatures who haunt Home's anti-narrative. This is without doubt the weirdest book ever written, the illegitimate offspring of the Marquis De Sade balling a post-modern literary extremist at a ladies of gangster rap convention.
|Number of pages||205|
|Publication status||Published - 2004|