Hi.  This is Miette, and here’s a new little something I’ve been working on, lovingly referred to as Whisk(e)y Tit.  And yes, I know, everyone and their mother can now publish a book, and everyone’s mother generally does.  I get it.  The signal-to-noise ratio in the world  of publishing is about to flatline.  Yes, yes, yes I know.  But there are books out there, unpublished, unpublishable by the industry’s standards, that need to be read.  We (and I’m not invoking some sort of royal We.  I speak here of me, Miette, and the Whiskey Tit authors) – we are here for those books.

So, what’s a Whisk(e)y Tit?  Flash back to your time at your mother’s breast, if the gaps in your brain will heave you back that far. Once you’re there, you’ll get it.

A disclaimer is in order: I never wanted to be a publisher, inasmuch as we have to define ourselves by the things we choose to do, but as a writer, I often find myself privy to magnificent, viscera-shifting works of literature.  I’m not sure there’s such a thing as a “calling,” but there’s no denying the unmistakable compulsion to share these works with you.

And so, like the bare hairy legs beneath the trenchcoat of a schoolyard creep, we want you to be braced for the surprises sure to follow.  For our first release, we’ve chosen Jon Frankel’s GAHA: Babes of the Abyss, which is exemplary of the work we want to bring you: literature that makes you swallow deeply, sit up straight, and pay attention as you reach around on the floor in front of you in search of your dropped jaw.  We will be publishing our second title, by Jim Strahs, by the time you learn to reattach it.

We like: genre-bending genre fiction, eastern European and Scandinavian literature in translation, challenges to the idea of narrative.  You know, the usual.

If you know of radical literature that we should know about, texts that loosen our inhibitions, work that makes us stay up too late and get a little closer, let us know.