Chicken, the new novel by Toronto author and poet Lynn Crosbie, is a clamorous, electrifying kaleidoscope of sex and violence that veers toward sensory overload. But just when you think you can’t take any more, there are moments of desperate tenderness and melancholy that almost make you weep. Oh, and it’s funny too.
Toronto Star
Crosbie’s prose is seductive and deft, and imbued with yearning . . . Chicken sounds a clarion call for the necessity and potential of transgressive literature — the kind that allows difficult, conflicting truths to exist simultaneously. Crosbie defiantly acknowledges both the deviant and the sacred, the romantics and rebels that exist in all of us.
Quill and Quire