On Patrick Cottrell's mathematical noir-friendly "Afternoon Hours of a Hermit"
My review, my mathematical ramblings, etc.
One of the things I did after my cardioversion ER episode was to ask my father to take me to this esoteric, super boring bookstore that no writers would ever know, hardly anyone ever done any readings there (except for me— of course), this quaint, broken down, dilapidated, presciently semi-demonic place called Prairie Lights and grabbed Patrick Cottrell…
