The language I can only describe as virtuosic. Brutally, brutally funny. Linguistic pyrotechnics. If we were allowed more characters, I might be able to post-quote any of it, because the brilliance goes on for pages and pages, all interconnected. Please just read it.
I've been excited to read this one ever since I read one of its stories ("The Plums") in a perfectly delightful short-fiction anthology called Wayward Girls and Wicked Women. I like how seamlessly the story passes between prose paragraphs and line-broken poetry, and I recommend both collections.
Our Sister Killjoy | 
