4 out of 5

Transgressive, surreal, gorgeously vile; if the bisected female anatomy spliced with a skinned, nightmarish, grinning skull/musculature on the front cover fascinates, then you’ll likely find equal fascination with the contents.  And if you’re repulsed or otherwise, than the same rule probably applies.

Inside, Kate loosely tracks the thoughts and sexual predilections of a child / children featuring various malformations – missing eyes, claw hands – segueing between sequences via a Bill Plympton-esque morphing, filtered through Lacour’s fascination with body horror: reaching physically inside a body cavity, skin stretching and turning into tendrils which draw us out and toward the next vignette…

The visuals follow the sparse thoughts of the children, and are juxtaposed with unicorns and Count Duckula and so on; violence and defecation and masturbation are all topics for fair play.

What does it mean?  That’s up to you, I’d say, but it’s a journey of confusing and lovely and can’t-look-away images, bravely pursuing depicting thoughts as they can and do occur, in all their conflictingly repulsing and appealing nature.