The Dying City

There's a lot to be said about Connor Coyne's Urbantasm. It's a loving Xennial tribute to 1993. It's the story of a dead factory town named Akawe which stands in for and somehow also next to Flint Michigan. (Akawe means “Similarly” in Yoruba and “first of all” in Ojibwa. So, not only is the city a character, it's also two adverbs.) Most of all, however, Urbantasm is a coming of age story told with such specificity that it becomes universal. A tale of first kisses, contrived plans for new identities and the utter confusion that comes from being thirteen years old.

Coyne's book takes us from the mundane to the surreal and everything in between. It is the story of madmen with knives, and ghosts that disappear with the right sunglasses. It's a novel that is comfortable expounding on everything from Miles Davis to the Insane Clown Posse, from Eurylochus to a place called the Butt Hut. If you've read his work before, you should recognize the author's ability to discuss typically low art topics in typically high art terms. His prowess is in full display here, incidentally making the case that such distinctions of “high” and “low” are meaningless. (Just so you know: they are.)

Urbantasm is a unique take on familiar themes that manages to be both bold and vulnerable with its sheer honesty. We are experiencing the utterly exposed heart of Connor Coyne.

400 pages deep, and it's only the beginning.