Kristin's work is full of melancholy atmosphere, some misty
fantasy meant for lavish words. Her characters come from
ice, ivy, flowers, wind, and stars. I love, love, love these
people, whoever they are. The mood reminds me of the stories
of Elizabeth Hand. A quote to illustrate:
[Her face] was gray. Not a living gray, like hair or fur, but a
dull, mottled color, the gray of dead bark or granite.
And not just her face but her hands and arms: everything I could
see of her that had been skin, now seemed cold and dead as the
heap of fireplace rocks downstairs. Her clothes drooped as
though tossed on a boulder, her hair stiffened like strands of
reindeer moss. Even her eyes dulled to black smears, save for a
pinpoint of light in each, as though a drop of water had been
caught in the hollow of a stone.
- Elizabeth Hand, Errantry, "Winter's Wife"