Meredith Alling lives and works in Los Angeles. Her short fiction has appeared in Tin House, No Tokens, The Fanzine, Spork, The Guardian, and elsewhere. She is also on twitter as @meremyth.
"Small, intricate, diamond-perfect stories that glow with mystery and joy. I love this book." - Ben Loory, author of Stories for Nighttime and Some for the Day "Bold, hilarious, beautifully strange, consistently surprising, and brilliantly unique - this collection asserts Alling as a daring new American voice." - J. Ryan Stradal, New York Times bestselling author of Kitchens of the Great Midwest "Meredith Alling is viscously mesmerizing. She takes reality and crumbles it up tight in her hands, wringing and smashing and squeezing it to death and when she opens her hands there is a bright flash and music bursting out of everything. Sing the Song is incredible, it devours normal." - Bud Smith, author of F250 "How did she do this? Meredith Alling made the world look different for a time. Sharper, funnier, more tender and alive. All by the power of these stories. And prose so daring and original it's as if she invented a new language. Sing the Song is a brilliant debut by one of our best, new writers. Read it." - Kathy Fish, author of Rift (co-authored with Robert Vaughan) and Together We Can Bury It "Meredith Alling writes sugar-crusted nightmares that will give adventurous readers the sweetest cavities." - Myriam Gurba, author of Painting Their Portraits in Winter "Meredith Alling's song is one I haven't heard before, her ev- ery sharp note a surprise. At every opportunity, Alling twists the mundane into the wild and unexpected. Her stories are born of keen observations, revealing a world I didn't know existed, and already I am desperate for more. To read each story is to be involved in an exhilarating game, for which there are only winners." - Brandi Wells, author of This Boring Apocalypse "'I want to be, ' Donald Barthelme said, 'on the leading edge of the junk phenomenon.' And Meredith Alling in Sing the Song, this postmodern Sears-Roebuckian catalogue of augmented and enriched hot messing scrambled transmog- rifications, delivers fictions that are as sharp as the yipping yodeling angstroms of the molecule-thick edge hone of a samurai katana. These deadly deadpanned and panicked objective correlatives do indeed sing like the vibrations of celestial objects, like the nervous nominative notations quoted from beyond the quilted clouds. These are arias of the Seraphim hiccupping while high on isotopic helium." - Michael Martone, author of Michael Martone and Winesburg, Indiana
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