Available in paperback from Whiskey Tit.   $18 (maybe?).   ISBN 978-0996764643

CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT, BUT COMING SOON IN THIS NEW STREAMLINED AND UPGRADED EDITION!

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I, No Other is a cerebral defibrillator you forgot had been implanted until it routinely—and unexpectedly—shocks you back to life. They may hurt at times, dear reader, the jolts of these agitations, but it is a vital hurt. With a cast of narrators on the brink of discovery in all its forms, I, No Other collects Yarrow Paisley’s most exquisite absurdist interludes.

Rimbaud said, “I is an other.” Not long after that, he was selling GUNS. Contra Rimbaud, I, No Other admits only I. In the hallowed “tradition” of the avant-garde, these stories unseat tradition. You may call them absurd, surreal, irreal, experimental, transgressive, dark, playful, or even just funny… but DON’T call them Other!

(Nota bene for trigger-sensitive peeps: contains graphic imagery, sexual situations, and broken taboos.)

“Lewd, lascivious, lovely; surreal, strange, sinister. The prose adrip with the lusty syrups of paranoia. To be read by candlelight in a velvety boudoir in which you are about to be forcibly deflowered by the ghost of a distinguished Russian-American entomologist.”
—Jason Kane, author of Deep Sky Objects

“Paisley’s voice reshapes your skull as you read his work. That voice is formal, alluring, unmoored. The author scoffs at political correctness while shining a laser beam on sexuality, cultural norms, and societal hypocrisy. Warning: be prepared to be triggered. Or to laugh out loud.”
—Virginia Aronson, author of J’Adoube (I Adjust): Stories

Relevant Publicity

“Man of Letters”. An insightful and incisive article from The Take Magazine, a now defunct local publication. Nathan Frontiero, the author of the article, very generously sat with me for several hours discussing Literature and I, No Other.