Twilight Time is a wheelie bin full of the dark horrors and strange joys that inhabit the ordinary moments of modern life. Bruce Glasscock, handyman, wanders his muddy yard with cigarette and broom dreaming of sex and shit and blood. His life is a series of failures that have left him drowning in a swamp of impotent rage. He can't have sex, can't tell jokes, can't even keep the leaves from falling on the lawn. His greatest joy now is watching his dog piss on the face of a garden gnome. At first Glasscock is just infinitely unlikeable, but the magic of this book is that out of the rotten cesspool of images that are Simon Crump's palette, he manages to infuse the mundane emptiness and petty failures of Glasscock with surprising moments of tragicomic beauty and an unflinching empathy for the ugliness within us all.