My contribution to Mickey Z.'s anthology about starving artists, The Murdering of Our Years, was singled out in a review. The nice thing is, it makes me sound more interesting than I really am:
"Weeping into the coffee
My sentimental favorite, though, is a writer named Christine Hamm, who describes herself, at age 7, as "a strange, unwashed, shy and morbid child." Hamm attended Reed College, where she wrote a collection of short stories for her thesis. "I wrote about the real stuff: death, sex, transvestites," she says. Then she got a master's in creative writing at SUNY-Binghamton.
Today, Hamm is a secretary. And one shivers to imagine what sort of story Herman Melville would concoct from her experiences. Though he wouldn't necessarily have to – she is clearly capable of writing her own.
Here's an excerpt from her prose poem, "Bad Secretary": "She weeps into your coffee; staples memos to her blouse. She has acne; her lipstick smears. She breaks up with her boyfriend every other weekend and makes you hear about it. ... She doesn't wear underwear. She doesn't bathe. She makes you love her. She is your master."
Here's the complete review at Mountain X.