Folio. (66)pp. With manipulated perspectives, strung-together and picked-apart texts, and saturated etchings on heavy papers, Campbell transforms a scene from his adolescence into a commentary on violence, family inheritance, and grief. In his own description of the book, Campbell recalls his mothers persistently burying his sheath knife in the garden "to guard me from 'the crimes it might commit me to,'" a compulsion he calls "almost farcically Freudian." From these early events emerged the two poems of the book, "A Knife" and "Widow's Song," as well as the artist's book itself. The texts themselves cut like knives across the pages, especially those laid out and then photographed at an angle and then reprinted as such. The result is a book of winding, slicing, cutting, and coloring as a material manifestation of crimes, committed or not. Aiding the point are excerpts from the Second Book of Kings, Cymbeline, and a Derivsh call to dance, as well as references to Campbell's mother's illness and the history of the Nazi salute. Bound in black paper over boards, both of which are decorated with an abstract, textless version of the perspectival "knife." Minimal rubs to corners, else near fine. Housed in slipcase.