I’m writing this as fall shifts into winter and the days grow dark and will grow darker still. This is how Laird Barron’s “Tiptoe” unfolds: a game of surprise played in childhood, now reconsidered in adulthood, takes hold and shakes a more or less happy childhood into terrifying and granular focus. They shake their prey so the body relaxes, involuntarily, and it can’t escape.” I think about that quite frequently, the re-contextualization of a thing that feels good or familiar, so that it takes on a more sinister aspect. Dogs, or hawks, when they snatch up prey. “This makes your muscles relax,” she said. Years ago, a close friend who was also a massage therapist took my shoulders in her hands and gently but firmly shook them.
