Like a gothic teleplay by Gertrude Stein, filmed by Andy Warhol, and transcribed into a stunning lyrical novel by the very voyeuristic monster at its center, lustful in equal measure for the scintilla of soap opera set pieces and the two women — one master, one slave — trapped in an ever-shifting atmosphere of vamp and apprehension.
“i look out of the window and watch as the waves suck back, white froth coiling and leavening; suddenly her face appears as if she is here, shining and beautiful. i have never seen her so clearly, so near. my heart, bloodthirsty, beats and i whisper. i whisper her name against the glass. i say her name and i am ungovernable.”
“Deep in this fabulous book someone says ‘i watch to aid her loneliness.’ The many meanings of that phrase suggest the glittering accomplishment, the rare morality of this book. Is it a ‘cure’ or an increase of loneliness one is after? The reading of Beyond This Point Are Monsters was an aid in many ways to many aspects of readerly need. What is helped, after all by going beyond ‘this point’? — it is the need for monsters Roxanne Carter understands, not the avoidance of them. I have never read a more gorgeous novel in which the beauty is all in the mystery, not in any solution.”
— Bin Ramke
“The interior of the interior of the interior, precise movements in a haunted house: Here is a revelatory territory, dimly lit, curtained. In gorgeous sentences, Roxanne Carter translates the uncanny paradoxes of intimacy through shadow, ocean, ash. To read Beyond This Point Are Monsters is to wake in a dream, from a dream, and realize you are in a room illuminated by darkness. Its enchantments are both important and a pleasure.”
— Selah Saterstrom