From one angle, My Molly (Departed) represents a performance whose protagonist is nomadic language itself. From another, it represents the circus of a short-circuited mind in motion (call it the Broken Author Function, Botched Literary History, the effects of a computer virus of text generator) shot through with loss, energetic fluster, and, by its very exhilirated being-in-the-world, pure plain thrill. - Lance Olsen, author of Theories of Forgetting Reading Talan Memmott’s Molly is like listening to a vinyl record of the Western literary unconscious, of indecent solo longings brutalized into words, skipping on a tiny grain of dust, and the dust is the evidence of shared longings, and that is indecent too. Everything is fucked up, and it’s almost beautiful. - Anna Joy Springer author of The Vicious Red Relic, Love