Book Review: The Zoo, A Going

Read 4/16/15 - 4/20/15
2 Stars - Recommended Lightly, not a good book to start with if you are unfamiliar with Dzanc as a publisher
Pages: 132
Publisher: Dzanc
Released: 2014



Oh man. I was so torn while reading this book.

On the one hand, when compared to his 2011 release Girl With Oars & Man Dying, it's incredibly more readable. Girl With Oars was a shock to the system with its experimental language, which made reading The Zoo, a Going such a sweet pleasure.

On the other hand, The Zoo just seemed to go nowhere and was content to take its sweet ole time getting there. It's a contemplative day-long walk through the zoo. If you snoozed a bit on a bench in the shade, you weren't missing much, whereas with Girl With Oars, Tyler's style of story telling actually forced you to pay attention and keep up or it was going to outrun you and leave you choking on its dust.

Anyone who's experienced divorce as a child will immediately feel a tinge of nostalgia while cracking open The Zoo. Jonah, whose age is not disclosed, accompanies his parents to the zoo during a tumultuous time in their relationship. He is an anxious kid. He worries a lot, and not just about his parents and the signals they send out like fireworks in the night sky (he's hella observant and pays attention to how they interact with each other and with him). And he worries about other things, non parent-related things, things that most younger kids wouldn't necessarily find themselves worrying about. If he's not careful, he'll be gray and troubled by ulcers well before be needs to be.

And he certainly didn't hit the parent jackpot either. His dad is a prick. He bitches and complains and curses and ignores. His crankiness is wearing and tiring. Jonah's mom is the opposite. She laughs and shows patience. She dotes. Her behaviors and actions throughout the book scream "peace maker". She's unhappy but she's determined not to let Jonah see that. And she fails miserably at it. And it would appear that there was a baby brother somewhere in the mix - we aren't sure when or for how long or even what happened. Perhaps that was when all the troubles began? Having only an emotional, introspective little kid to rely on for this information, much is left unsaid, and we can only speculate.

Tyler has broken the book out into short chapters named for the animal Jonah and his parents are viewing at that moment. Jonah reflects on each animal, tries to engage his parents in some banal banter about them and then internalizes the animal and its current situation to a memory he has of time spent with his family. Some memories are tame and pleasant while others begin to show you how they ended up here, at the zoo, broken and faking it and fighting to hold it together.

It's one of those uncomfortable reads where nothing much is happening and the parade of animals appears endless and everyone (with the exception of the narrator) desperately wishes they were somewhere else. Yes. Everyone. Including us, the reader.

Sigh.

Indie Spotlight: Lorraine Devon Wilke

It's been awhile since we've had an author spotlight on the blog. So I was thrilled to hear that Lorraine Devon Wilke, author of the recently released Hysterical Love, wanted to share her thoughts on intentional self-publishing. 

Self publishing has worked hard at shedding the stigma that has dogged it for years. More and more often, authors - both long time "big 6" favorites and unknown debuts - are weighing out their options, doing the research, and intentionally choosing to publish their work on their own. 

Read on to see why Lorraine went down that road and why she believes it is time to stop auditioning....

When It’s Time To Stop Auditioning, Self-Publish 

Let me start with a disclaimer: this is nota screed against traditional publishing. Yes, those are trendy and there are lots of them out there, but this is not one. Life has taught me that when something sustains over a long period of time, it’s usually because it provides a useful and desired role in the greater scheme of things. I’d guess that’s the case with traditional publishing.

This is, instead, a few of my cobbled thoughts on the topic of why one might choose to self-publish, that newer paradigm in the bigger book industry picture. In the myriad of reasons why one might take that turn—and there are many—these are mine:

As someone who’s been involved in a variety of creative mediums throughout my life, the concept of stepping front and center to be judged toward some artistic goal is not a foreign one. Which is a convoluted way of saying, “I’m well-versed on the audition process.”

From birth on, in fact, we’re all immersed in the act of working for something: the cookie, the pat on the head, good grades, parental/teacher/coach approval, sexual attention of boys/girls, that job we want, the lead in the play, first prize, the record deal, a deserved raise, and so on.

If you’re a writer, an author? The “something” you work for is getting published. And back when traditional publishing was the only option available, or even now if you choose that road, the auditioning process toward that goal can be a brutal one.

An actor? You go up for a role, and, if you’re lucky, there’s a callback. If your luck holds, you go to the director, producer, network; whatever, and, usually, within a relatively short period of time, you know whether you’re in or out. Jobs, much the same time trajectory. Record deals, boyfriends/girlfriends, that raise? All of these come to fruition quickly enough that you either celebrate tout suite or launch your grieving process before the next snow.

Traditional book publishing? Dear God, who invented that process: Satan? I’m being facetious, of course (Satan wouldn’t know a good book if it arrived on stone tablets), but there is something oddly sadistic about the gauntlet authors who “go traditional” must traverse:

1.      Write the book and/or book proposal.

2.      Spend oodles of time (and money, if inclined to take classes) fine-tuning that notorious missive called “the query letter,” one that meets every arcane and immutable demand of the literary agent world (which will require several different versions of said letter).

3.      Diligently research which agents are open to unsolicited queries in your particular genre and note how they like to be approached.

4.      At this point, you should have your Excel spreadsheet out, organizing all the info you’ve gleaned into appropriate rows and columns (you do not want to double submit, for God’s sake, or query someone who won’t read fiction, or—dear Lord, NO—make the mistake of “checking back” if their site says “we only respond if we’re interested”).

5.      Once organized, put together impeccable packages with that perfect query letter and whatever else each specific, individual agent prefers; then judiciously send off in whatever amounts and time increments you see fit.

6.      There. Done.  

7.      Then you wait.

8.      And wait.

The seasons turn. You celebrate a birthday. Your sister gets married. The people next door move out. You lose the Oscar pool. Somehow you gain five pounds. You finish your non-fiction piece on elder care. You wait.

Then, oh happy day, you do hear back! From some. Most are quickie email responses: “Thank you, but I’m not the right agent for you.” Some are scribbled notes on your snail-mail queries...same basic message. They might give you some info as to why they’re not right for you (usually not), but whatever you do, don’t write back and ask; they won’t tell you. And they really don’t want you write back, ever. There’s little doubt literary agents are the busiest people in the world. Just not for you.  

But, if you’re lucky, you garner a few requests for more(more pages, chapters; manuscripts). You send whatever they request, excited to take that next step, thrilled that your sample chapters grabbed them, your “premise was intriguing,” or your title was “caught their eye.” You send it all off, wishin’, hopin’, thinkin' and prayin’...and then you wait. And wait.

Your parents take that cruise to Greece. You finally learn how to use Illustrator. More of the Arctic Shelf melts. You write another book. Your brother quits school to join a band. You start working out again. Your boyfriend gives you a cordless vacuum for Valentine’s Day. You wait.

And you either hear back on that additional material, that manuscript sent, those extra chapters, or you don’t. Usually you don’t. If you do, you get something like, “I didn’t fall for the writing as much as I’d hoped.” Or, “Given the competitive marketplace, I really have to love a project more than I loved this one.” Or, “You’re just a vapid writer of uninteresting pabulum and unless there’s a vampire, whip-wielding protagonist, or at least one set of six-pack abs in the opening chapter, we’re not the right agent for you.” Okay, probably not so much that last one, but likely some version of...well... some of that. Rejection comes in a wide spectrum of hues and shades.  

And then you...

Then you what? You’ve done your work, learned your craft, spent years honing it to a spit-shine by writing articles, blogs, short stories, screenplays, etc. You’ve gained the expertise to know how to build a crafty narrative, construct a propulsive story arc, and conjure characters that jump off the page. Your dialogue is spot-on, you can make ‘em laugh and cry; your themes are resonating, universal, yet unique, and those who’ve read your work are moved. Your book is loved (certainly by you), and it deserves life.

But you’ve essentially been auditioning for years at this point and, for whatever reasons, the literary agent who is right for you has not materialized. And traditional publishers aren’t all that welcoming to new writers who don’t have one of those. So what are you to do?

You self-publish. You DIY. You grab your destiny by the collar, drag it up on stage, flick on the lights, and let that sucker dance. Like indie filmmakers, indie musicians; indie theater companies, photographers, painters, potters, and mimes (yes, I do know some indie mimes), you take matters into your own hands. You access professional book builders—editors, formatters, proofers, cover designers—and you build the book you loved writing into the book you will love selling, one that looks and feels exactly as it should, just as you want it, with the cover, title, edit, and marketing plan you dreamed up.

YOU STOP AUDITIONING AND YOU GIVE YOURSELF THE JOB: published author.

You deserve it. It feels good, feels right. The sense that you stopped waiting for permission to proceed and just...proceeded. Power to the people!

I know there are countless stories out there about why authors self-publish. Fact is, some never even considered the “traditional publishing audition gauntlet,” choosing, instead, to leap into the indie pool without a second thought. Others straddle both worlds, bouncing back and forth, depending on the book (I believe that’s called “hybrid publishing”). Some would cut off their arm to get a traditional deal; others eschew that path as so much conformist malarkey.

Me? Yep, I finally stopped auditioning and gave myself the job. And it’s been a wild ride of hard work, empowerment, and tremendous satisfaction. Though someone did ask me not too long ago if I’d ever consider a traditional deal for upcoming books. To be honest, I would...if it came to me. I wouldn’t mind having passionate collaborators working alongside me on this journey (because, let’s be honest; it’s hard doing it by yourself!). But I wouldn’t audition for it. That process is not one I could imagine putting myself—or any beloved book of mine—through, ever again.

   

But whatever way each of our roads turn, however we get to where we’re going, whatever reasons compelled our decisions to independently strike out with work we believe in, how lovely is it that we now have the choice? Auditioning may be a valid option for some, it may still have a place in the publishing industry at large, but it should not be the only game in town. Lucky for us indies, it no longer is.    

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lorraine Devon Wilke is a storyteller in whatever avenue of the arts she’s exploring: photography, music, and, of course, her writing. Whether her blog, The Huffington Post, her photographyor her original music, her mission is always to find the heart of the narrative. Her debut novel, After The Sucker Punch, and short story, “She Tumbled Down,” were 2014 successes, while 2015 brings the launch of her second novel, Hysterical Love (available at Amazon and Smashwords). Visit her site for all links and info.

Melanie Reviews: Kill Marguerite and Other Stories

Kill Marguerite and Other Stories by Megan Milks

240 Pages

Publisher: Emergency Press

Released: 2014

Guest review by Melanie Page

Megan Milks’s collection Kill Marguerite and Other Stories is both innovative and uncomfortable. The stories frequently use frameworks to shape the outcomes, such as the title story in which two adolescent girls battle it out for popularity and respect in a videogame, allowing them to use weapons, found objects (like jet packs and hearts), and lose lives when they are killed.  Other stories, like “Twins,” which comes in two parts (“Elizabeth’s Lament” and “Sweet Valley Twins #119: Abducted!”) use popular culture that many women today will admit they were raised on: Sweet Valley Twins, The Babysitter’s Club, and My Teacher is An Alien. The collection also uses song lyrics, Ancient Greek myth, violence, a whole lot of body fluids, and plays with concepts of gender.

The use of pop culture that is familiar to me was definitely my favorite aspect of the collection. Milks uses common conventions to make a connection to readers that also gives them the opportunity to reconsider what they thought they knew. In the title story, the girls live in a videogame world. Here, Milks is rather clever; the way players process new information in videogames and learn from it to make better choices after they die in a tough level challenges the notion that we can’t go back and have the perfect witty comment or knock the mean girl on her ass. Essentially, readers can relive their own brutal adolescence with the hope that a particular moment can be redone until it’s how we want it.

A problem with relying so heavily on popular culture is that it could leave a lot of readers confused. Had I not read hundreds of Sweet Valley Twins and Babysitter’s Club books, the references would have been lost on me. Personally, I’ve never read one of the My Teacher is an Alien books, but the title of that series kind of gives it away. There was also a story that uses lyrics from a song or band that I’ve never heard of. The relationships between the girls, though, are rather intricate but seemingly simplistic. Without knowing those relationships, some of Milks’s writing loses its power and sounds mean or trite, such as why one character is so popular and another is a loser. There is no room for expansion on these claims because they are well-known facts in the world of the Wakefield twins and the babysitters.

Another problem many readers may have is with Milks’s constant use of bodies being what we normally consider gross. Only in a few stories, like “Swamp Cycle” and “Slug,” did I have a deep-seated gross feeling (one that lasted for days). I expected “The Girl with the Expectorating Orifices” to be the worst offender, but instead I saw this story as the one that made the most sense. The girl with the expectorating orifices pukes when she’s drank too much, has snot running down her face when she’s crying, she menstruates, and gets diarrhea when she’s too anxious. This all sounds pretty normal to me, but we are so uncomfortable with our bodily functions that they are removed from public view. At first, the story seems gross, but as it goes on and the narrator shows how everyone has expectorating orifices, the story becomes almost comfortable and relatable.

Other stories, like “Slug,” explore bodies in a way I didn’t understand. “Slug” is the tale of a young woman named Patty who dates men and punishes them (I think) by shoving dildos in their assholes. She wears a strap on under her skirt and seems generally unsatisfied sexually. But when a six-foot slug climbs in through her window, suctions its way down her body, and then enters her vagina and nibbles on her cervix, Patty is sold. Eventually, she turns into a slug as well and, long story short, ends up eating off the other slug’s penis. Trying to figure out the symbolism of all of this is hard work—which doesn’t mean it’s not worth the work. At first, I thought that Patty wanted a penis and then became a penis (a slug), but then she…ate a penis? Or, the story could be a metaphor for a female to male transition (I think).

So, here is where I start to feel like both an idiot and a bad person. Because Milks’s characters are pretty gender fluid (pronouns switch, names typically reserved for one gender are used for another, roles disappear), I get that she’s writing about topics that are not discussed often in public, nor are we educated about such subjects, though I truly wish we were. I read as much as I can about gender so that I am educated, but I also recognize I am an outsider who may not fully understand. Since I don’t want to assume what Patty is doing in this story and end up looking like I don’t accept and respect gender differences, “Slug” left me feeling pretty awful.

On the other hand, “Earl and Ed” was a story that used metaphor to examine “unnatural” relationships that are shunned by the majority and how violence and sadness can result, and it was done in a way that allowed me to both learn and enjoy the story. Earl is a wasp (penetrating stinger—I’m making assumptions) that is referred to in feminine pronouns. Ed is a flower (just think Frida Kahlo) referred to in masculine pronouns. Ed can create life, whereas Earl is always leaving because she needs her freedom to fly (I kept thinking “and this bird you cannot change”). The roles of the characters change from what is “expected” and kept me reading and questioning what would happen to this bee-flower relationship.

Overall, Kill Marguerite and Other Stories stretched the boundaries of my understanding and comfort. I applaud Milks for writing challenging fiction that goes against the standard of easily-digestible reads that reiterate what readers already believe. Although a tough collection, readers who want to come away from a book feeling differently will enjoy this collection.

Melanie Page has an MFA from the University of Notre Dame and is an adjunct instructor in Indiana. She is the creator of Grab the Lapels, a site that publishes book reviews and interviews of folks who identify as women at grabthelapels.com.

Page 69: The Damnable Legacy

The Page 69 Test is not mine. It has been around since 2007, asking authors to compare page 69 against the meat of the actual story it is a part of. I loved the whole idea of it and so I'm stealing it specifically to showcase small press titles - novels, novellas, short story collections, the works! So until the founder of The Page 69 Test calls a cease and desist, let's do this thing....

In this installment of Page 69, 

we put G. Elizabeth Kretchmer's The Damnable Legacy to the test.

OK, Gail, set up page 69 for us.

One of the novel’s key characters is a troubled young teen named Frankie. She’s a cutter and a chronic runaway, desperate to get away from her drug-addicted mom. In this scene, she’s at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport and has just stolen a woman’s boarding pass to Vancouver, B. C. although she really wants to get to Oregon, where she’s hoping to meet up with a family friend who she knows will take her in. But first, she’s hungry, and she’s trying to buy a quick snack before scheming her way onto the Portland-bound plane.

What is The Damnable Legacy about?

The Damnable Legacy is about a midlife mountaineer who still regrets the decision she made thirty years ago to place her daughter for adoption, the biological granddaughter she’s never known (Frankie), and the minister’s wife who figured out the relationship between the two. Unfortunately, her discovery happened right before she died of terminal cancer, and she put a plan into place from her deathbed to bring them together. Now, she must helplessly watch (and narrate) from the afterlife as her plan tragically unfolds.

This is a story about love and survival, exploring the importance of attachment, faith, and place, and asking how far we should go to achieve our goals - and at what cost.

Do you think this page gives our readers an accurate sense of what The Damnable Legacy is about? Does it align itself with the book’s overall theme?

This page gives you a glimpse of Frankie - a girl with lots of chutzpah - and of the inevitable teenaged dichotomy of child versus budding adult. It’s Frankie’s desperate situation and her spunk that readers fall in love with and make her one of the most cherished characters in the story, and her hunger for that hot dog could symbolize, I suppose, her hunger for a greater form of nourishment and her discovery that all forms of nourishment come at a cost. But of course I wasn’t necessarily thinking about theme or symbol when I wrote the hot dog scene. Note: her reference to a dying grandmother doesn’t refer to the narrator; it’s a bit of a lie she’s making up to get on the plane. Also, anyone familiar with Saturday Night Live of long ago, or Chicago’s Billy Goat Tavern, might appreciate the Coke, no Pepsi line, although this hot dog vendor is independent of the BGT at O’Hare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PAGE 69

The Damnable Legacy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

G. Elizabeth Kretchmer earned her MFA from Pacific University. Her short stories and essays have appeared in The New York Times, High Desert Journal, Silk Road Review, SLAB, and other publications. She independently published her debut novel, The Damnable Legacy of A Minister’s Wife, in 2014 and will be re-publishing it through Booktrope as simply The Damnable Legacy in July 2015. When she’s not writing, she’s facilitating therapeutic and wellness writing workshops or walking Lani, her Labradoodle/publicity director, in the Seattle area.

Kate Reviews: The Exit Man

The Exit Man by Greg Levin

3 stars - Recommended by Kate to readers familiar with the genre
Pages: 358

Publisher: White Rock Press
Released: May 2014

Guest review by Kate Vane

The Exit Man has a great premise. Eli, a man who is drifting through life, finds meaning after he takes over his late father’s party supplies store. He learns that his father and a friend, while both terminally ill, had hatched a painless and undetectable way to die. Eli’s father inadvertently spoilt the party by dying naturally. The friend requests Eli’s help to complete the deal.

Eli after some reflection, agrees to do what he asks. In so doing he turns his life around. He is inspired to continue his work as an exit man while still maintaining his upbeat, balloon-selling persona by day. Then he finds himself saving, rather than ending, a life and this throws up a whole new set of challenges.

The author is unflinching and compassionate in his descriptions of the terminally ill people Eli encounters. Some have humour and courage, while others are deeply unlikeable. They are all real and convincing.

However a couple of things don’t quite work for me. The first is Eli’s voice. He has some good lines, but he also explains everything to death. There’s a long, slow set-up showing how he came to do his first exit. Then we get the act itself. Then we get an explanation of how he felt about the whole thing. Then a recap of where he is in his life. This pattern repeats throughout the book. For a story like this to work, it has to have pace and momentum but, like a balloon, the author keeps blowing it up and then letting it deflate.

I also felt that the story, having promised big issues, shied away from them. The dilemmas which Eli faces are a little too neatly resolved. There are some plot twists but they don’t really relate to his own behaviour and its consequences.

It’s one thing to be in favour of euthanasia in principle, but how would you feel if you were actually there, doing it? For a stranger? Eli never struggles with a difficult case, one that makes him question what he’s doing, or his own motivation, or puts him in serious danger. Higher stakes for Eli would also make for more tension and energy in the narrative.

I would have liked to be more challenged by the issues and for this to be a shorter, sharper read. Trust the reader – we can deal with it.

Kate Vane writes crime and literary fiction. Her latest novel is Not the End. She lives on the Devon coast in the UK.

Chris Wesley's Guide to Books & Booze

Time to grab a book and get tipsy!

Back by popular demand, Books & Booze, originally a mini-series of sorts here on TNBBC challenges participating authors to make up their own drinks, name and all, or create a drink list for their characters and/or readers using drinks that already exist. 

Today, Chris Wesley shares a never-before-published prequel peek into the lives of the four main characters from his novel “The Gospel of Wolves, Episode One”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Have you ever been in a predicament and realized that you could trace the roots of your troubles back to a single event?

These flash fictions are an exclusive look into the events that set each of the four main characters of my book, “The Gospel of Wolves, Episode One” on their own private roads to hell while searching for their versions of heaven.

Each flash fiction would be the character’s answer if you had asked them, “What’s the most important drink in your life, and why?” the day before “The Gospel of Wolves, Episode One” begins. Yes, a prequel of sorts.

Next to each name is the mythology behind their decisions in my books about them. Consider it a hint that won’t be uttered in the books.

Andros Koresh (The Daylight Dreamer)

What most call liquid courage, I call an emotional amplifier because it dials whatever I'm feeling up until it distorts. That sounds harsh. I know. But as any electric guitarist will tell you, it’s when you push your signal so hard, that the tubes overdrive into distortion that the real fun begins.

It was the Long Island version of Ice Tea that taught me this wisdom after going three glassfuls deep at a friend’s wedding reception. I met a girl that evening who almost caught the bouquet. I made her laugh with a snide comment about the woman who did catch it.

Our chemistry survived the sobering process and the reappearance of clothes into the equation. We were inseparable for the next 33 hours.

“I’ll see you on the other side.” She told me dreamily just before I left her in bed for work. Those were the last words I ever heard her utter.

She was gone when I returned home. She left no way to get in touch with her, but she also left all of my things, so it was a little hard to get too mad at her.

I guess that’s why my needle goes into the red emotionally whenever I have a Long Island Ice Tea or two in me. I’m still trying to get to the other side and find her again.

---

Lindsey Falco (The Elusive Master)

Control is an illusion. Especially when a man is trying to pick up a woman.

Most men actually think they chose me instead of the other way around.

Influence though, is another matter.

It was during the intermission of a dance performance when a man of influence ordered a Chardonnay for me. It was my first time trying it, but when I heard the husk in his voice after he put his mouth next to my ear, whispering how the wine tasted off my lips, I lost all interest in whatever else any bar had to offer.

I gave him the go ahead, but he was a tease and stretched the night out with a walk after the performance before we returned to his car.

Circumstances precluded a night spent together though and he wore the saddest puppy dog eyes I'd ever seen when he asked to make it up to me.

I could tell right then and there what he was after. My answer was, "No".

It’s just…better this way for the both of us because I’m not here to find the love of my life. My mother did and I saw what it did to her.

I can’t let that be me.

---

Lucien Karr (The Wave Maker)

"You can't be part of a conversation if you add nothing to it," my mentor and paint instructor Milford Aimes advised me. The coffee cup he was gesturing in my direction with, spilled some of its contents onto the table between us. He cursed, dipped his finger into the spill and put it in his mouth. "Good coffee, by the way."

I smiled, proud that I had finally found the right proportions of coffee and bourbon to keep what he called 'heat in his bones' and 'taste on his buds' at the same time. The assisted living place he now lived at, frowned upon their residents drinking alcohol like this, so I always added the bourbon to the coffee I bought him from a gas station up the street before pulling up into the Majestic Palms parking lot.

I had caught him on one of the good days where the Alzheimer’s disease he suffered from didn't have such a strong grip on his memory. He was helping me find a theme for my upcoming first solo exhibition of my watercolor paintings. We had ruled out every one of my ideas.

Just then, one of the staff entered the common room we were sitting in and greeted us both.

"Hey Charlie," Milford turned in his chair to face him, "when you hear the words watercolor paintings, what kinds of things do you think the artist painted?"

Charlie continued laying out the snacks for the residents as he said, "I suppose flowers, girls in bright dresses, maybe a pretty landscape. I'm not into that stuff, so I don't know."

"There you have it." Milford said.

"There I have what?"

"War," Milford answered. "The general perception is that you use pansy paints to express yourself. Defy what people expect from you and your medium and reach deep. Your roots are military. Be brave enough to honor them while joining the artistic conversation."

While I didn't see taking his suggestion as being brave, I felt deep inside that the theme I chose would drastically change at least one life somehow.

I lifted my own bourbon-coffee concoction to my lips, wondering if that change would be for the better and felt the heat creep deeper into my bones.

---

Aristotle Troublefield (The Road Scholar)

The first time my pops ever got drunk with me, I was seven years old. He grabbed himself a beer and pulled a Sarsaparilla out of the fridge for me.

He told me that it was the drink they drunk in the Old West.

“The gunslinger would ride into town and take the parch out his throat with one or two of these,” he said, handing me the bottle. “This ain’t the kind of drink you take from a glass, you always use the bottle, ya hear?”

I told him what he wanted and we kept drinking while practicing our form for the game horseshoes.

As the empty bottles collected on the window seal, I imitated the way his speech slurred and every now and then, teetered before falling to the floor like he did. We cackled like hyenas. It was one of the last happy times we had together as father and son.

My moms came in soppin’ mad from her double shift at the sprinkler factory after she saw what we had got up to. Pops couldn’t keep another lick of beer in the house again. Because of this, he saw no need for the Sarsaparilla either.

A local bar gave him what he couldn’t get at home anymore and that’s when he learned to be mean with his drinking, at least towards me.

At first, Sarsaparilla carried the memory of that one night together, now I order the drink because they say addiction is hereditary.

I travel a lot and while I don’t have trail dust to contend with, I still like the idea of using it to take the parch out of my throat when I come into a new town. Silently, I always raise the bottle and give a toast to that night, never touching the glass when they give me one.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chris Wesley is an award winning fiction author, poet, songwriter, fine art photographer and a smart-ass-mouthed romantic. His fiction books “The Gospel of Wolves” and “Regret in Triptych” feature perfectly flawed protagonists and are available through major online retailers. You can learn more, grab swag and go behind the scenes on his website chriswesley.com.

Drew Reviews: The Ghost Network

The Ghost Network by Catie Disabato
4 Stars - Highly Recommended by Drew
Pages: 288
Publisher: Melville House
Releases: May 2015



Guest review by Drew Broussard 

The Short Version: In January 2010, a trailblazing young pop star disappeared. Several months later, a young woman drowned in Lake Michigan. Cyrus Archer, a fading academic, begins to draw connections between the two - and this book is his non-fiction account of the connections he found, involving mysterious societies and forgotten architecture. 

The Review: I enjoy a good oral history (fictional or otherwise) but a fictional non-fiction piece can be tricky. Especially when you're presenting it with footnotes and all the associated trappings. On the one hand, if the author actually does the somewhat rigorous work of trying to write like they would a rigorously fact-checked non-fiction piece, the book can succeed in a delightful mind-bending way. On the other hand, if they slip up even once, it can destroy the reader's faith. So I was understandably wary going in, even if I was intrigued by the setup - and thankfully, the book pulled me under its spell rather quickly. By the end, I was (almost) completely won over.

I think the best way to describe the tone of Archer's book (and, by extension, Disabato's) is "Internet longread": it doesn't quite hit the academic high-notes of essayists like John Jeremiah Sullivan or journalist-writers like Lawrence Wright but it still has a sense of being well-researched and deeply considered. The footnoted articles and stories are often convincing enough that I even went so far as to search several to see if they were real. And I was honestly, delightfully, stunned to discover that while io9.com has not in fact published a piece called "Chicago's Never-Built Train System Looks Like a Giant Octopus"... the Situationsts are the real deal. Psychogeography, dérive, Guy Debord... it's all real. And the book becomes that much more interesting, as suddenly the expected and unexpected begin to switch sides.

Perhaps the least 'original' invention in the book is Molly Metropolis. Her story is distinctly Lady Gaga-esque: her outrageous fashion, her humble but driven beginnings, the whole "Eat Pop"/Pop Eaters thing - all of this feels like Gaga circa that second album with a healthy dash of Janelle Monaé's smarter pop eclecticism thrown in for good measure. It also, although 2010 wasn't all that long ago, feels like another lifetime in pop culture years - only five years away but long enough now in relative terms that I felt a longing for something like Molly's unified crazy aesthetic. 
Of course, maybe I also just love the idea that a pop star is actually also a big ol' nerd who wants to discover the secrets of a long-defunct weird-Left society. Don't really see those around, you know? (Nerdy pop stars or long-defunct weird-Left societies, take your pick.)

Disabato's novel has all the problems you might expect from a rigorously applied structure - namely that, even clocking in below 300 pages, there are some moments where the plot seems to stall. The writing is smooth and continues to pull you forward, but you get the sense sometimes that instead of actual motion, you're staying in one place while someone runs scenery by you on a conveyor belt. It's not often but that feeling is there at times, especially just before the halfway point. I actually think that some of this, however, comes down to Disabato being a really canny storyteller: she's created, in Cyrus, a fully-formed journalistic narrator who just isn't a spectacularjournalist. When 'his' writing falls into one of these lulls or the story seems to jog in place, I found myself nodding approvingly at Disabato. It'd be unrealistic if the story was all action, all excitement, all forward-motion - because the real world doesn't look like that. 

There's a surprising amount of philosophy and theory in this book, too. Knowing that the Situationists are real gives you some context for what to expect, but Disabato is able to pull over multiple levels of cultural criticism at once: she's got the actual real-life theory, the middle-aged gay male doing the research, and the young(ish) gang of characters actually involved in the plot. An extensive breakdown of a fictional music video fits in comfortably with a pages-long digression on this or that aspect of Situationist history. It all reads in a comfortable, I-caught-this-article-then-clicked-onto-that-one-and-then-down-the-rabbit-hole sort of vein - a very 21st Century novel without trying to be anything of the sort. 
And while I don't want to give much away about the conspiracy that threads its way through the book, I'll just say that it was right up my alley. Abandoned architecture, forgotten train lines, and the like are my jam - so I was delighted to see all of that getting equal time with everything else. 

At the end of the day, I had a conflicting thought. I deeply enjoyed the sort of 'true life' mystery that was playing out in the novel and the way Disabato kept it between the lines on the concept from start to finish - but as the novel ripped towards the conclusion, the concept began to get in the way of the exciting story. There was a non-concept-y version of this tale out there that might've been differently enjoyable - it would've lacked the real-world grounding but might've seemed less abrupt towards the end. 
Still, I can't fault Disabato for the way she wrote the book, because she absolutely nails it on every turn. I was reminded a bit of the ending to Marisha Pessl's Night Film as I read this, the same shocked sense of wonder and hunger for more. This book doesn't hit the heights that Night Film does but it doesn't try to either; it aims for something much simpler and succeeds admirably.

Rating: 4 out of 5. A terrific debut novel, one that fires on all cylinders. Disabato writes with several layers of confidence, presenting a fictional non-fiction book in the guise of a novel. Her desire for plot kicks in with the epilogue, but it does not invalidate that which came before - in fact, the tone changes enough to believe that it is in fact the epilogue to a book written by someone else. That alone should make you want to read it, to see how she pulls that off, but it's also a terrific read for the 21st Century kid in all of us. Pop music, psychogeography, kinky sex stuff - this book has it all and has fun with all of it.

Drew Broussard reads, a lot. When not doing that, he's writing stories or playing music or acting or producing or coming up with other ways to make trouble.  He also has a day job at The Public Theater in New York City.

Page 69: The Green Kangaroos

The Page 69 Test is not mine. It has been around since 2007, asking authors to compare page 69 against the meat of the actual story it is a part of. I loved the whole idea of it and so I'm stealing it specifically to showcase small press titles - novels, novellas, short story collections, the works! So until the founder of The Page 69 Test calls a cease and desist, let's do this thing....

In this installment of Page 69, 

we put Jessica McHugh's The Green Kangaroos to the test.

OK, Jessica, set up page 69 for us.

At this point in the book, Perry Samson is in Springfield Rehabilitation Hospital for his addiction to a drug called atlys. He's been in this rehab before, sent by the same person who checked him in the first time: his sister, Nadine. But like most of his rehab stints, Perry is unwilling to get sober.  

What is The Green Kangaroos about?

"The Green Kangaroos" is about addiction, family, and all the ways we torture each other with good intentions. The story follows Perry Samson, an atlys addict in 2099 Baltimore, as he faces trials from his little sister, mysterious doctors, and a world that has him digging literal chunks out of his flesh to maintain his habit.

Do you think this page gives our readers an accurate sense of what The Green Kangaroos is about? Does it align itself the book’s overall theme?

I was surprised, but it actually does represent the book pretty well. While the story centers on Perry and his addiction, it's also about his family, notably his sister, and their apparent addiction to his sobriety. Nadine is obsessed with Perry becoming the happy person she thinks he should be while Perry wishes she would focus on her own happiness. But when a person's happiness hinges on someone else's actions, it's just too much pressure. This page absolutely illustrates that vicious cycle. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PAGE 69

THE GREEN KANGAROOS

“He made his decision.” Nadine wipes her nose, giving me a teary glimpse before facing Collins again. “Let him go.”

“Miss Samson?”

“You heard me. He doesn’t want treatment, so his being here is a waste of your energy, my money, and time Perry could be using to kill himself.”

“If he continues down this road, that’s a guarantee,” Collins says. “I want to make sure you both understand that. Perry could die from his next hit.”

“That’s always been a possibility,” I say.

“You see? Let him go. He’d rather be dead than my brother.”

The force field fades, and an orderly loosens my cuffs. I’m still woozy, and my legs are too rubbery to support me. As I fall, I reach out for a helping hand, but Nadine, who would have normally caught me, looks down with her arms crossed in defiance.

Collins helps me back onto the bed. “We can’t release him in this condition. Are you sure you won’t change your mind, Miss Samson?”

“Not unless he changes his.”

I don’t reply. I wish I could change my mind for her, but I can’t. And once I get a hit of atlys, I’ll forget I ever wished it.

 “Very well. I have some paperwork you’ll need to fill out. Should I give you some time to say goodbye?”

“That’s not necessary. He’s already stolen enough time from me,” she says. “Goodbye, Bea—” She stops, crinkling her forehead. “’Bye, Perry. I hope you find happiness, no matter what it takes to get there. I know I won’t be happy having to tell Mom and Dad their last son is dead.”

She turns on the word “dead” and marches out of the infirmary, giving me no satisfaction in the speech I’d been waiting years to hear.

“Take him back to his room and give him a nutrient shot. If he’s to be discharged, he’ll be discharged in the best shape possible,” Collins says.

The orderlies grab me, Broken Jaw whipping me against the neighboring bed when he latches on.

“Easy . . .” I groan.

The man scoffs before pulling down his gauze. His top lip is stitched to hell. The clear thread has tangled his enflamed flesh, turning his lip into one only a mustache could love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jessica McHugh is an author of speculative fiction spanning the genre from horror and alternate history to young adult. She has had sixteen books published in six years, including her bizarro sci-fi romp, "The Green Kangaroos," and the first two books in her edgy YA series "The Darla Decker Diaries." More info on her speculations and publications can be found at JessicaMcHughBooks.com.

Book Giveaway: The Z Club

Since July 2010, TNBBC has been bringing authors and readers together every month to get behind the book! This unique experience wouldn't be possible without the generous donations of the authors and publishers involved.

It's the first of the month and you know what that means.

It's time to bring you June's Author/Reader Discussion Book!

We will be reading and discussing The Z Club

with author JW Bouchard

JW Bouchard has generously made 15 copies of the book available:

 5 ebooks (PDF and mobi - open internationally) and

10 print (for US only)

A little bit about the book:

RISE OF THE ZOMBIE-KILLING NERDS… When a Chinese space shuttle carrying mysterious cargo crash lands in the small town of Trudy, Iowa, a group of nerdy horror movie buffs must band together to stop an outbreak that is bringing the dead back to life and turning the rest of the population into brain-eating zombies.

THEY’RE STILL NOT HAPPY ABOUT BEING PICKED ON IN HIGH SCHOOL… Armed with their considerable knowledge of bad cinema and an ice cream truck full of stolen guns, they will battle the infected to save their town and to keep the outbreak from spreading to the entire world.

TO THE FAINT OF HEART… This book is full of gore, humor, and more cheesy one-liners than you can shake a stick at.

This giveaway will run through May 8th. 

Winners will be announced here and via email on May 9th.

Here's how to enter:

1 - Leave a comment here or in the giveaway thread over at TNBBC on goodreads, stating what format you prefer (choose one option from above, if you live outside the US, you must choose one of the digital formats).

2 - State that you agree to participate in the group read book discussion that will run from June 15th  through the 21st . JW Bouchard has agreed to participate in the discussion and will be available to answer any questions you may have for him. 

 3 - Your comment must have a way to contact you (email is preferred). 

ONLY COMMENT ONCE. MULTIPLE COMMENTS DO NOT GAIN YOU ADDITIONAL CHANCES TO WIN.

 *If you are chosen as a winner, by accepting the copy you are agreeing to read the book and join the group discussion at TNBBC on Goodreads (the thread for the discussion will be emailed to you before the discussion begins). 

GOOD LUCK!