"the red truck"

has anybody read this book?

i am fifty pages in, but would it be crazy if i preemptively lauded the red truck by rudy wilson as one of the most unique and extraordinary books i've read?

the book is majestic. the book is a little peter markus, a little barry hannah, and absolutely there is nothing else like it.

i'll snip something out:

Alan jumped. His shortness ran, his shadow crouched toward a tree that got two small bullet holes in it, one that came through the boy's head, coated red. The blood was on his neck, it dripped down there, past the sun-brown to the sun-missed whiteness of his body that pulsed and then stopped. he had tiny hairs on the nape of his neck and on his back. His mother ran her fingers there. He lay, now he curled up last into a circle on the ground. His lips touched the dust in the grass. In his throat was a lump of air connected by nothing to a point of being.