“Somewhere between form and figure, dark and light, grey and matter, salvation, lust and a kaleidoscopic consummation, Andrea Kearney posits her tale of The Gentleman Caller. Cinematic in its scope and meter, The Gentleman Caller represents a muted allegory; an ode to the bizarre delights and the absurd agonies of a nameless civilization’s undulating, suburban penumbra. A vulnerable figure of obscured femininity comes into focus in the quotidian vista. Her world is normal enough, but everywhere we look it seems that chaos is beginning to seep in through the cracks. Ants stage microcosmic invasions underfoot and twisting vines creep into frame. The lead character and her enigmatic lover embark on an autumnal tryst, parting the heavy shrouds of mundanity and taboo. The atmosphere becomes corrupted with a naked, faceless kind of beauty and their entanglement occupies the strange and forgotten corners of both psyche and surrounding. There are ubiquitous themes in Kearney’s vision but the experience here remains open, each page relating to the next in a stark and autonomous sequence of vignettes. Her masterful, delicate penmanship betrays the awkwardness of honesty and the collapsed narrative is in tune with the hum of discord. Stark, melodious and ultimately frightening, the story of The Gentleman Caller lingers after the first reading like a profound and indecipherable dream.

– Jack Carr