And I always wake up screaming, don’t you? I will always remember the screaming. And, if this doesn’t bother you? I’m not imposing myself on you, am I? After all, you were there. You remember, don’t you? – Harold Abramowitz, ‘Blind Spot’ Indie art usually—if not always—strikes an interesting balance between commercial success, critical appraisal, and creative liberty. By its nature, it’s unlikely to ever reach mainstream audiences and find widespread attention, yet what it lacks in popularity and marketability, it radiates in boundless experimentation, unhindered, often vital perspectives, and invaluable insider appreciation. This is true of music, film, television, video games, and, perhaps most overtly, of literature, where countless writers and presses are challenging conventions every day. One of the most notable examples is CCM (Civil Coping Mechanisms), a publisher whose staff and roster relish every opportunity to subvert expectations with affective and atypical works. Case in point: Blind Spot, the latest novel from Harold Abramowitz. Blurring the line between fiction, prose poetry, and something else entirely, its radical structure, coupled with its constant pangs of emotion and mystery, make it stand out instantly; however, like many incredibly abstract creations, it sometimes feels too aimless, monotonous, and opaque, as if continue...