In Oxpecker, Thedieck serves up country-size portions of braggadocio with humble pie for dessert. His signature stew blends poetry, prose, and a handful of short stories in a stock of irreverence and warped humor. He whisks in counter-truisms, cynicism, mirth, and a generous dollop of misperceived reality. On the visceral palette, Oxpecker’s medley evokes a familiar taste: the loss of life’s sacredness. Love and grief are two sides of the same coin. We never know when the author’s shibboleths are flipping a coin or the bird. Oxpecker is a crafty little fellow that frees us of our ticks so we can emerge from the wallow of blackness and despair into the savanna of hopefulness and joy.
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