Books by Timmy
Kill Me Now
Our hero inventories his attributes: “My fingers bleed because I bite my nails. I’m always spitting on the sidewalk. I draw on my sneakers and the back of my hands when I ought to be listening to people that are smarter than me. I fidget. I chew on my pens until they explode in my mouth and the ink gets stuck in the cracks between my teeth and people laugh. My shoelaces are always coming untied. I sweat in my sleep and wake up very cold. My short-term memory sucks donkey wang. Everything I touch somehow gets lost. People tell me I look confused. I’m always getting in trouble for it, for not listening. I exist in a constant state of reprimand. I squint…But fuck all that. I don’t know. It’s gotta be something else. Something bigger. Something about me. A quality. Something that shouts: RETARD!
“Anyway, people are always introducing me to strangers that way. And I don’t bother to correct them. I’m too proud.”
Part of the appeal of this narrator is the way he embraces an insult and wears it as a title of honor, which requires a strange courage and a peculiar grace. KILL ME NOW could be the story of Huckleberry Finn’s trip to Hell… or no, just the seamier sides of Baltimore—not so much the mean streets of The Wire as the post-apocalyptic working class neighborhoods of Matt Porterfield’s Putty Hill. Miles Lover, a.k.a. Retard, is as crusty a kid as they come, with a taste for strains of trouble that would stagger an adult. But as much as he thinks of himself as a moron, his perceptions of the weird world he lives in are subtly and precisely nuanced, and his story, inside its scaly carapace, has a surprisingly tender heart. Readers will be reminded of Huck abjuring reform and adopting wickedness at the end of Twain’s classic—and also, perhaps, of Frantz Fanon:
LE REBELLE (dur)
Mon nom: offensé; mon prénom: humilié; mon état: révolté; mon âge: l’âge de la pierre.
My name : Offended ; my first name : humiliated ; my condition : revolutionized ; my age ; the
age of stone