In the opening (and title) short story of Dantiel W Moniz’s outstanding debut collection Milk Blood Heat, two girls – one black, one white – on the cusp of adolescence slice their palms, mix their blood into a bowl of milk until it turns a cloudy pink and then drink it, absorbing each other both figuratively and literally.
This act – at once intimate, transgressive and ritualistic – establishes the atmosphere of the book, which has female experience, bodies and boundaries as its core, and thrums with a sticky sensuality. The situations Moniz’s characters encounter are familiar – sibling rivalry, infidelity, rebellion – but her perspective is so unusual, and her descriptions so visceral, her stories are a dark but thrilling joyride off the beaten track.
Much of the book…
