Justle as Bustle

JUSTLE by Brian Evenson

“…named after two brothers. […] A name can travel in either direction.”

As you can see, I got very excited about that first quote! – a quote now having become the satisfying culmination of many of my real-time reviews in the last few months, even years, dealing with literature as a Zeno’s Paradox, particularly my recent reviews of Aickman the writer or Fontana editor: as linked from here.
I got excited about this story as a whole, too! And not just whole, but beyond its own pouch.
The story of a man telling his son why he is named JUSTLE. The name of the place where his Grauer branch line reached, a place where he melded and merged with sexual troilism or even a ménage à quatre, involving Evenson shapes and shifts of somehow Kafkaesque spirituality, as spawned by Beckett. Never assume a salesman is telling you the truth about your inner pouch, I say.
Ouch as gestalt not particle of the literary body. Moving and poignant, without knowing exactly how it means what it does. As narrated by JUSTLE, whereby his mother eventually took charge. Pouch as this book’s suffocating womb? Hypoxemia again. The Castor and Pollux of GRAUER?

“Halfway there, his regulator began having trouble. Soon, it was quite difficult for my father to breathe.”

“What story? There was no story.”

Full context of this review of THE GLASSY, BURNING FLOOR OF HELL by Brian Evenson here: https://dflewisreviews.wordpress.com/2021/08/18/the-glassy-burning-floor-of-hell-brian-evenson/