Black Heron Press, 9780930773489, 251pp.
Publication Date: June 15, 1998
About the Author
Praise For Hammers…
“Dakron keeps the story moving along at a sprightly (not to say manic) clip . . . readers of his third novel (after infra and Newt) will discover a writer with a fine ear and plenty of gusto.””I was sucked into Ron Dakron’s prose and the world he created. I read the rest of the book in one sitting because he had created a world I found interesting . . . This is clearly a book better than the sum of it’s parts. I do recommend that you check it out and … let yourself get sucked into the tale Dakron is weaving.” — PUBLISHERS WEEKLY, SEPTEMBER 8, 1997
“Ne plus ultra bizarre, man! With cartilaginous prose, soft as fishbone, sense-bending and scattershot as a Robin Williams shtick where lost meanings blast by, Dakron’s third [novel] follows the comet trails of Infra and Newt with a morphological plot out of Ovid by way of Kafka.” — KIRKUS REVIEWS, AUGUST 15, 1997
“Here’s Mr. Dakron’s fine recent book of fiction, alive and scathing and funny and sexy . . . It’s a cross between jive bullshit, hip-hop Henny Youngman, and full-tilt Rimbaudian street-smartass sublimity . . . If you like relentless, lightning-fast, oh-so-witty prose, you’ll like the book.” — POINT NO POINT, SPRING/SUMMER 1998
“Hammers with its unraveling sentences and unthreaded DNA helix is…an anti-novel in the tradition of Lawrence Stern, William Burroughs, and John Barth. According to Ron Dakron, language isn’t a virus so much as bit rot…Hammers is a series of images generated by flipping the TV channel, a peanut brickel of cultural garbage, a parody of our current state of information disease; this is a black parable involving an incestuous threesome, mass consumption of fish burgers, and the corruption of DNA…Ron Dakron infuses the novel with a warped energy. The language of the book doesn’t feel like a deliberate construction but rather as a literal transcription of the narrator’s hybrid brain. It’s a novel as Tourette’s Syndrome. Hammers is a corrupt piece of information, as sinister as a thirteen year old with a lighter and a keg of butane.” — MATT BRIGGS, RAVEN CHRONICLES, APRIL 1998