Time passes unexpectedly or, perhaps, inexactly at the school. It's hard to remember what semester we are supposed to be in. Several of the clocks still operate, but they don't show the same time. The red bells, affixed in every room, erupt several times each day, yet the intervals between the disruptions wax and wane with an unknown algorithm. The windows are obscured by construction paper murals. Consequently, the sun rises and falls in complete ignorance of those of us attending the school. Many of us participated in the decorations in some lost point of childhood. A few of us still have dried glue under our fingernails. In the room I sit in now, the windows are covered with a glitter and glue reenactment of the colonization of Roanoke by Sir Walter Raleigh. Outside of the window, who knows? Children go to school long after all the teachers have disappeared, a man manages an apartment complex of attempted suicides, and a couple navigates their relationship in the midst of a zombie attack. In these short stories, we are the upright beasts, doing battle with our darker, weirder impulses as the world collapses around us.
"Michel's stories are often an uncanny combination of sinister and funny, tender and sad. Laura van den Berg calls them 'mighty surrealist wonders, mordantly funny and fiercely intelligent,' and many of them will soon be released together in Michel's first story collection Upright Beasts."
The Millions
"The world presented in Michel's admirable debut collection is similar to our own, yet twisted just enough to feel strange. . . Michel frequently knocks his brief bursts of prose out of the park."
Publishers Weekly
"Lincoln Michel is a master of where literary culture and the internet meet. His recent collection of funny, dark short stories, Upright Beasts, similarly blends worlds and bend rules."
