Her purse smelled like juicy fruit
Begun as his residency project at Yaddo in Saratoga Springs, New York, Carl Wilson recalls the life of his mother, Louise Wilson, with heartfelt candor, poignancy, and humor. Spun from humble beginnings in 1960s Detroit, the linocut prints and prose in Her Purse Smelled Like Juicy Fruit will register with all who lovingly look back at their upbringing and the women who raised them.
"I woke up grabbing a cigarette. There was a butt lying on my pillow next to me. I fell asleep last night with it still in my mouth. It had burned all the way down to the filter. The old folks used to say God looks out for babies and fools, well he must be looking out for me because I could have burned the house down with me in it.
It was seven thirty in the morning and it was already a scorcher. It had to be every bit of eighty degrees already. The antique box fan was in the window wheezing; blowing in a fresh parcel of dirty air. I looked at the crud in the center of the fan blades and listened to its motor groan. Every day it was slowly dying a little bit more. Like me, it probably wouldn’t last much longer."
dead & LOST in detroit
a graphic novel
He was trapped in a hard city with the hardest woman and stuck in an unbearable job. Carl Wilson's noir-flavored, existential magical misery tour of a graphic novel wanders the barren landscapes of Detroit's auto plants. It's a strange, unforgiving world painted in prose and black ink.