I Wrote the Greatest Short Story Ever Written

Here.

Some Random Things

Last week I traveled with my wife to California for the first time. We attended an Editor's day conference at an SCBWI event in Orange County. This was our first trip to California ever. We had a laundry list of things we wanted to do and see, but ultimately couldn't do any of them because of an overwhelming amount of work that was needed to be done instead--researching, critiquing, reading, writing, reviewing. We stayed in our hotel a lot, a pretty nice Embassy Suites, and stocked up on organic chocolate (because even chocolate in CA is healthy) and hit up a BevMo! to create a mini bar in our room for the lulls int he day. We did get to eat at Lucille's, BB King's BBQ restaurant. Some friends from Bennignton, Tod Goldberg who has a new book out this month OTHER RESORT CITIES, Wendy Duren, and Ryan Mecklenburg who has a short story publishing soon in Fifth Wednesday Journal with me. The food was phenomenal and the conversation was, as always, lively. The biggest highlight of the trip, however, was experiencing our very first In-N-Out burger. We each ordered a Double-Double Animal Style, which if you don't know, is quite possibly one of the greatest burgers I have ever had. It certainly rivals the Shake Shack burger.



I am also reading a terrific non-fiction book right now by Nicholson Baker called HUMAN SMOKE. I don't generally read non-fiction, but now that my novel is finished for the time being and I am enjoying sleeping in for a change, rather than getting up at 430AM/5AM to write, I thought it would be good to switch it up. The list style of the book interests me as it is an area of fiction I am very tied in to and int his incarnation, the listing is done in such a brilliant way through structure that it is messing with my head. I am huge fan of Joe Brainard's memoir I REMEMBER, so Baker's book is kicking my ass all over the place.



Finally, and most importantly, my novel is officially on submission with editors at publishing houses. I don't know much more than that and, frankly, am actively avoiding knowing more than that. I have been writing with a serious slant toward making this a career for 15 years now with the end goal always being to publish a book. I am still far from reaching that goal, from having that bound book in my hand, but there have been people in my life recently that are honestly and convincingly making that happen, getting me closer to it.

First, my wife who has never once told me to get my ass back into bed or to type more quietly in the early AM when I would write through a particularly exciting or dramatic scene.

Second, my friend Jessica Burkhart who has been through the publishing gauntlet herself and not only succeeded, but succeeded beyond her wildest imagination.

And finally, my Agent Doug Stewart, who keeps giving me the facts and nothing more, keeping me informed and leveled headed, which whether he realizes it or not is exactly what I want and need.

Oh, and then I guess there are my parents who call me at random times to freakout in my ear about how excited they are about the submission process and want to know every dirty detail about it. I have to tell them that it has only been a day and a half and I don't really have much information to give.

For the time being, I have a new friend in my life, who has been keeping me company and listening to my concerns, giving me advice and hugging me when I am feeling insecure. Here is to you, new friend!

FDU TLR Reading.

Some exciting news to share:

First, I have been invited to give a reading at the launch party for The Literary Review's Spring issue held in the Orangerie of the Library of Fairleigh Dickinson University in Madison, New Jersey. The reading and reception will be Thursday, September 24, 2009 from 6PM to 8PM. I will be reading with Thomas Reiter, R.G. Evans, and Renee Ashley. There will be wine and cheese and all are welcome. If you plan on attending, please let me know. If you have questions or want more information, send me an email.

Second, I am about a week-and-a-half away from finishing the latest revision of my novel before submitting to Agent Doug for final approval. As a side note, he mentioned to me that ALPHA HOUSE may not be the best title, so in addition to my 5AM writing romps, revising the weak beams, I have also been brainstorming many, many, many bum titles.

Keep on.

JRA

Other Resort Cities

No time to update or comment or rant. But I do have time to send you over to New Pages to read my review of Tod Goldberg's collection of short stories Other Resort Cities.

Keep on.

jra

A New Website

I have a website.

http://jrangelella.com

Keep on.

jra.

27 Days

I'm going to blow it right here in the opening. Give you what you want to know. Tell you the damn thing that has been driving me crazy. Then weave back around to tell the story in full. (As a side note, my wife is getting her hair cut and dyed in Manhattan right now, so the Drive-By Truckers are leaping from my speakers.) Today, I have officially signed with a literary agent to represent my novel, Alpha House, and all other creative novel-length and short fiction. His name is Douglas Stewart at Sterling Lord Literistic.

Before I go back and tell the how of this story, I want to give a quick Cliff's notes to all of my non-industry friends and family and readers. Although it is tremendous and exciting that I have signed with an agent, it does NOT mean that my novel will soon grace the shelves at your nearest Barnes and Noble. What it means is that I have signed with a powerful literary house that only represents high-literary work and will, God-willing, sell my novel to a publisher. Once my agent sells my novel to a publisher, then I am a few steps closer to having an actual bound book.

Now let's skip back 27 days from Monday.

It was a Wednesday. Tuesday I had completed a full and recent revision of my novel, Alpha House. The first chapter had just been published in the literary magazine, Hunger Mountain. For months, I had been keeping a spreadsheet of literary agents to target, filled with name, agency, address, phone number, how they accept queries (email or snail mail), and who they represent. Many, if not most, of the names on my list were given to me from friends of mine who are in the industry--editors, agents, writers. So on this Wednesday, early in the morning, I sat down on my living room couch, opened the spreadsheet, and began sending my query letter with a sample chapter attached. The letter had also been written for months, and really couldn't have been leaner or meaner. By the end of the day, I had sent out 15 agent queries all by email, as most agents accept by email these days. All 15 had been recommended to me by my friends. Then there were 5 that I wanted to submit to by snail mail. They were put in the mail early Thursday morning. 20 queries out the door in two days. And the waiting began.

I waited a good two days, before I received 4 emails and 1 phone call from agents asking for the whole manuscript. Everyone kept telling me how unusual this was. That it never happens this fast. And they were right. But because they were right, for the next 20-some odd days I was a nervous, sick mess of a man.

By that Sunday, I had received an agent offer. And by Monday, I was applying pressure to the remaining 19 agents, informing them an offer had been made. This is when things started to stall. I quickly received several rejections, most being damn near love letters of the book, but the general reaction being, "I loved this story. Terrific. But Have no idea how to sell it." My favorite rejection was from an agent who was recommended to me. So I sent it to him and he responded with the following:

Dear Ross,

This looks to have a Judd Apatow-style humor, but sorry to say I just wasn’t drawn in by the narrative here.

Best wishes with ALPHA HOUSE.

If you are familiar with Alpha House at all, then you know the ridiculousness of this rejection.

So over the coming weeks, offers came and went and some agents still hadn't gotten in touch with me. I had narrowed my decision to a number of agents and gave the collective group a final weekend to decide whether they wanted to make an offer. I started meeting with agents, speaking with them on the phone, asking all the questions one asks about where they se your book going, which editors, ideas for revisions, questions about contracts, and so on. By this point it is last Thursday and I am at work, when I receive an email from Seth Fishman at Sterling Lord Literistic, a junior agent, who is also Doug Stewart's assistant. He tells me that Doug is out of the office, but Seth had read my sample chapter and liked it and wanted the full manuscript for Doug.

Naturally, after almost throwing up all over my desk, I sent it. Now the reason I almost lost it on my desk was that of those 20 agents, there were really only 5 that were my dream agents. Of those 5: 3 rejected, 1 was not accepting new clients, and then Doug, who I hadn't heard from. Not to mention that I submitted to Doug without an introduction, without a connection, without a recommendation. My submission was slush. But had been pulled out and read and the full manuscript was in Doug's hand. (As another side note, Seth Fishman is probably one of the fastest readers, and has one of the sharpest analytical minds I have met of late. To my writing friends, if you are interested in querying your novel, query Seth. Seriously.)

Anyway that weekend was one of the longest of my life. Tuesday I was making a final decision. It was time to put this whole agent thing behind me. I am not built for this type of stress. I need to be writing or revising or reading. But Monday morning rolls around and there waiting for me in my email is a message from Doug. He wants to talk. He wants to meet. I call immediately and we make plans for me to meet him at Sterling Lord on Bleecker Street later in the day. We meet. We hit it off. His vision for the novel was spot-on. He told me his opinion of my novel and how to approach editor submissions and it was like listening to my own words. The very things I had been saying for years about this book were now being told directly to me. We discovered we liked the same books, mainly Bret Easton Ellis of which he likened my book to American Psycho. What?

But by far the coolest part of meeting Doug was this: he never made an offer. he never said those words, "I would like to represent you and your book." We just sat there for a minute looking at each other. He said, "Well." I said, "Yeah, well." And that was it. We shook hands. He sent over the contract. We did some adult negotiating on the contract. And now I have fully-executed agent agreements in my possession.

The next step is one more revision, which is to be completed by the end of September.

I kept much of the past 27 days secret from most of my friends, so as to temper my own expectations. But my wife and good friend, Jess, both kept me calm and cool and gave daily affirmations and picked me up when I would get another heartbreaking love letter rejection. My parents were inside the inner circle too and their own excitement were a constant reminder that I was on the right path.

I graduated from the Bennington Writing Seminar in January.

My birthday is on Wednesday, the 26th. I'll be 29.

And in the past week, I got an agent, a lawyer, and was given a prescription for eye-glasses from my doctor.

I guess this means I am, officially, an adult.

Chapter One

Welcome to a big freaking update.

ALPHA HOUSE is complete and by that I mean finished. From start to finish. Linear and done.

Currently, it's in the hands of several literary agents. The details of my literary agent search will be available if a decision is reached and finalized, but in the mean time I feel you should know that one day whenever I do land a literary agent I hope that he/she looks exactly like the creepy bastard in The Matrix movies.

But I digress.

For those of you who have had an early peek at Chapter One, I thank you for your comments and congratulations. Now that the website it finished, I wanted to finally announce that the first chapter of my novel ALPHA HOUSE is officially up at Hunger Mountain.

Some projects rip out of you like a lion, as Paul Schrader said of his experience writing Taxi Driver. And others are a labor of fucking love. ALPHA HOUSE was a labor of love. I have kept the inner circle for this book small, only allowing a few select individuals inside the city walls for a look around. These individuals have been instrumental in the journey of this novel, offering epic editorial notes, financial and emotional support, beers, beds, therapy sessions, love, medication, and brutal honesty.

To the following five people, I owe more than a blog post can offer, but at least it's a start, so here I go.

1.

My wife, Kate, has practically been a slave editor over the years, pouring over every page at a rate that would make that Tonka Truck spokesman nervous. She read draft after draft and I'm sure has not seen the last final draft yet either. She was there the night i wrote the very first words and there the morning I wrote the very last. I am lucky to have her in my life. And she is kind of a big deal.

2.

Patricia Volk, who when I told I was planning on abandoning ALPHA HOUSE, said I was insane and should be locked up. She was my first teacher at Bennington and the first real writer to encouraged me to go at the Big Nasty again. She worked on the early chapters. She told me that I needed more dick jokes. Then asked me hard hitting questions about my main character, like was he circumcised.

3.

Joe Stracci, who in a frank and direct way has always told me everything I am doing wrong with my prose and doesn't sugar coat shit. He says to me, "you don't need me to tell you you're a good writer. You need me to tell you why you should be better." Joe once wrote me a letter, essentially talking me off the metaphorical roof and back onto solid fictional ground. In that letter he writes:

And now, the time has come--time to push through. You've been sailing around the world, and up until now, your voyage has been relatively uneventful. Now, you're in the middle of the Atlantic, and you're stuck with the sheets up in a squall. You can abandon ship and hope your desalinization tablets really work, or you can batten down the motherfuckering hatches and push on. It would be easy to give up, but I think I know which option you'll choose.

He did. And I did too.

4.

Kekla Magoon, who read my first chapter submission to Hunger Mountain, accepted it, and then proceeded to re-re-re-re-re-edit the chapter and STILL found ways to make it stronger, bigger and better. She gave a portion of my little novel a home and a life. She counteracted my growing belief that I was, in fact, insane for writing this book. Kekla, an incredible writer herself whose words are far more meaningful than my own, is the consummate professional and one of the hardest working writers I know.

5.

And finally Bret Anthony Johnston, who rode shotgun with me up every peak and down every valley of the Great Reorganization of ALPHA HOUSE. He told me when I was right. He told me when I was wrong. And became a very good and close confidant and friend.

This book's travels are far from finished, I know, but I am taking this moment to stop, step back and recognize the hard work so many people have put into this book on my behalf.

Keep on.

jra

The Big Nasty

The Big Nasty is finished. (“The Big Nasty” is the new nickname for my novel.) It's finished, officially. No more work will be done to it for the time being. There is a beginning. There is a middle and there is an end. It has been rewritten, torn apart and put back together six different ways. It has been steamrolled. And it has been polished. And now it is ready for its debut.

But not for the public. Instead, for agents.

The Big Nasty is well-rested and ready to party.

I have called in all my favors. I have spoken to every friend and every teacher who has ever mentioned in passing, “when you’re finished a draft, let me know. I have the perfect agent for you.” And now, in some cases, these agents that at one time, years ago, were perfect for me, are no longer even agents.

By the end of the day today I will have sent six queries out, two of which have already responded and requested the full manuscript, which naturally and immediately has been sent on.

The Big Nasty likes to be liked.

This past weekend my wife roughed up The Big Nasty one last time, tightening the lines to the point of explosion. And now all of the tinkering and toying and whining and bullshit pain-in-the-ass outlining is finished.

The Big Nasty works out like a marine.

I have no idea how long this agent process will take. Days. Maybe weeks. Months. Maybe not at all. But it’s god-damn exciting.

The Big Nasty is alive, folks. I’ve taught it everything it knows. Now watch it go out there, rob some kid of his razor scooter and kick-push its way down the Avenue of the Americas.

Only the Glass

This past week represents the official first full written draft of my novel, Alpha House. The book has taken many forms early on. The outlines and sketches, at times, included multiple narrators, multiple back stories, fantasy, and magic. There were hundred of pages written and then deleted due to a false start. The book has been written linearly, in sections, in fragments, in random sequential order by sentence, and at one very low point, dictated into a tape recorder.

The book took its final form. The outline was written, changed quite frequently, but more or less remaining complete and intact. Then each section was written out of order. I would finish one scene and then jump to a completely different scene in the book to keep the pacing and energy fresh and spirited.

And now the sucker is finished.

This weekend my brilliant and life-long editor/wife, who was sitting across from me, listening to the very first words of Alpha House after being written down around 1am in the dining room of our first real apartment--which just so happened to be above our landlord, a pot-growing townie--will begin the polish edit, the line edit, pinpointing the general concerns and queries.

She hears it from me enough, but she really has no idea how much of this book belongs to her and her guidance.

Once her edits are entered and the book is finished another draft, the book will be ready for submission. I have a tight schedule in mind--a week--to finish the polish draft. Then, the agent queries begin.

I have waited and dreamt for so long about beginning the next step of agent-ing and publishing the book that I am experiencing extreme anxiety and excitement about it. Not in an ungrateful or unreasonable way, but simply experiencing the emotions of dream slowly taking a tangible and very real form.

There will be more updates to come. Many people to thank. Many good, good friends have been giving such excellent and well-balanced advice lately that I hope to be able to repay with generosity to spare.

It's like I was given a bag of broken glass and told to glue the glass back together. I was not given directions on how to do it. I was not given directions on what the glass was to form. Only the glass. And time to figure it out.

Keep on.

jra

To View Again; Re-view; Review

Thanks to John Madera and his editorial guidance and friendly networking, I have had the luck and pleasure of expanding out into the literary world to review books.

This month two of my book reviews have published.

The first was my review of George Rabasa's The Wonder Singer (Unbridled Books, May 2009) in New Pages.

The second was my review of Michael Kriesel's poetry chapbook Moths Mail the House (sunnyoutside, 2008) in The Chapbook Review.

Every time I sit down to write about someone's work I constantly find myself stuck for about a day, unsure of what to write, of what to say, of how to say it. Not whether I liked it or hated it. Not why I feel the way that I do. These are the easy answers. But instead it's how to navigate the page. They are not the best and as I have told John already, he is a FAR superior reviewer than I. However, there is a beautiful balance I find in stepping over the line to the other side, seeing fiction and poetry through the eyes of the objective.

I have a few books in my stack left to review: a chapbook, a new blockbuster, and a collection of short stories.

Keep on.

jra

Wordsmith

These past several weeks have been quite the little roller coaster.

Celebrities died. Civil unrest. Kidnapped soldiers. Watching my wife's acquisitions be nominated for major awards. Literary agents expressing interest in my novel. Heavy life conversations with Mom and Pop. Fourth of July fireworks. Coney Island trips. Had a table thrown at me. Had a 41 year old try and fight me in a bar. Met up with old friends who I haven't seen in seven years. Lost my keys. Made amazing turkey sandwiches for lunch. Found my keys under my bookshelf. Made and drank pina coldas. Re-remembered that I hate pina coldas. Read some terrific books. Read some terrifically BAD books. Laughed so hard I nearly peed myself. Swore at the television as the Mets lost another game. Wrote some new short-shorts. Had some other short-shorts rejected. Had some book/chapbook reviews published. Have a few short stories close to their publication dates. Listened to some great new albums by the Drive-By Truckers, The Walkmen, and The Dexateens. Rediscovered PBR. Lost and caught up on sleep. Big bills. Loan consolidation. Witnessing heart-stopping accidents in Brooklyn. Met the Puerto Rican family across the street and watched as their kids set off illegal fireworks all over the place. And said an official goodbye to a dear friend who lost her battle to cancer.

Also, today is the anniversary of my wife and I moving to New York City. With my father's help. A sweet and meaningful day for too many reasons to recount.

To a regular person this is life.

To a wordsmith, these are each a hum of a story.

Bennington Redux

This weekend I will be traveling with fellow Bennington alum, Joe Stracci, back into the mountains of Vermont. There is an alumni celebration of some yearly landmark, that the Bennington Writing Seminars has been in existence for some number of years. To be honest, I am not sure.

And, yes, while this is exciting and certainly worthy news, there is a less-exciting and more meaningful reason for me and my classmates to be there. A dear friend and classmate, Retha, passed away a few months ago, losing a long and difficult battle with cancer. Her smile was the best. It was holistic. Therapeutic. Her laugh would roll through a room like a bowling ball. She loved her wine and on nights when she wasn't drinking, she loved her tea. Whenever you would see her, no matter what was going on, she just had the ability to light you up like a Christmas tree.



So this weekend our class is traveling back into the mountains to hold a memorial for her. We will read her work, remember her in hopefully humorous and beautiful ways. After the memorial, there will be much libation and celebration. For a terrific friend, a real writer, soaring spirit, and badass chick.

Godspeed and cheers.



This is the Bennington effect.



And these are the hooligans that will be causing mischief in Retha's name.



Keep on.

Weeks Like Mountains

Weeks have been passing like mountains.

A lot of exciting communications have been taking place this past week. My Hunger Mountain contract came in the mail yesterday on the heels of sending the editor my headshot and bio. Also in the mail yesterday was the Flash: the International Magazine for Short-Short Stories with my story "Do These Horses Bite?" Finally, I received word from Fifth Wednesday Journal that they accepted my story "Hoodlums" about a man who believes he is Al Capone as a means to cope with his fractured life.

Back to the Hunger Mountain news, the first chapter of my unpublished novel Alpha House will publish at the end of this month.

And as if these weren't enough on my plate: I am reviewing books for The Chapbook Review and New Pages. My first review came out last week on Pocket Finger.

As for collaborations, my wife and I are beginning our journey through the world of Nancy Drew, outlining and writing the first of two trilogies. Also, we are working on a new epic multi-book story. Can;t divulge too much about it, other than to say we are writing extensive outlines, character descriptions, and back story. Once finished, we will take turns writing different sections.

Keep on.

jra.

A Happy Emo Morning

This morning I found myself walking down Seventh Avenue in Brooklyn on my way to the F train as the sun came up over the buildings. Some shop keepers tipped buckets of soapy water onto the sidewalk. Others unloaded fresh bread and bagels into their stores. The streets were quiet. No birds chirping. No one running. No cars.

So I walked in the street at sunrise.



I was listening to Ben Gibbard's solo songs off of the album Home. Feeding into my whiny emo self.



On the train, before we went back underground, the sun hit us straight on. The passengers, all pretty much asleep, all made a collective groan.



When I got to Paragraph, there was no Thumbsucker, some random person was in my cubicle by the window and there was a protest going on outside.

I tucked away in one of the vacant cold spots in the room and dove into my Hunger Mountain edits on Part One: Dick of ALPHA HOUSE.

Good writing morning with a healthy does of self-doubt and fear.

A happy emo morning.

The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn)

I am packing for a mini-vacation to Dirt Jerz with the wife. She is out running errands and I am in the apartment trying to decide whether to bring the tequila or the vodka, so I just pack both. Buy fresh limes. Irish cheese. Sicilian olives. All the while, listneing to Weezer's Red Album. Here is not only a return to form, but one of the best rock bands of my generation.

PLEASE NOTE: Listening to the Red Album makes me want to push a sixth grader into a parked car, steal his razor scooter, and kick-push my way through Brooklyn.



Keep on.

jra.

Bonks You Out!

Today must be the day of re-discovery.

A co-worker returned from his lunch break and carried a plastic bag that rattled as he set it on his desk. I stopped filing papers and asked him what was in the bag. He pulled out three boxes of candy and handed one to me.



I haven't had Boston Baked Beans in probably ten years. They are red candy coated peanuts that could probably crack a tooth. They are delicious and addictive. One of my all-time favorites childhood candies.

Now that the tiny baked beans of goodness are almost gone, I am remembering my other favorite all-time childhood candy--Bonkers. The precursor to skittles and starbursts and sprees. And better.



I think there was an overhaul and major redesign in the Bonkers packaging and recipe because I found them a few years ago at Dylan's, but tasted and looked nothing like I remember. The "Man" tried to make them more like Now N Laters. What crap.

Where did all the great 80's candy go? Like Wilco and Billy Bragg, I am sad and lonely.

Keep on, Slackers.

jra

Remember Charlie the Unicorn

About a year ago this video surfaced and made the rounds on the internet. I must have watched this thing a hundred times over two weeks. Some seriously wicked animation. Sick humor. And over time I came to hate the word Charlie.

Then I forgot all about the video.

Today I remembered it.

Happy Thursday.



Keep on.

jra

Michael Simon Is Psychotic and Jewish

Dearest Slacker Nation:

How are you today?

Life has been crazy for me of late.

Freelance work is going well. Dancing with a few high profile magazines, but still too early to get excited. Editors and their deadlines rattling at my cage. No Thumbsucker to speak of, sadly. And a three day vacation (escape?) to New Jersey (New Jersey?) on Friday.

All that and I received a lovely response from Michael Simon on my previous post:

I did read a few of the Preacher comics as well as one 87th Pct. book while I was working on the Reles series.

I loved what you said about my work. I'll be adding your blog to the top of my Links page as soon as I can remember how to do that. I never thought the words "unknown writer" would sound so flattering. And I particularly like being compared to Elmore Leonard, only more psychotic and Jewish. I don't know if that describes me or the books, but either way, I'll use it as a pull quote.

Many thanks, and good luck with your book.

Michael Simon

I knew I liked the guy.

Keep on.

jra

Michael Simon's Prose Sizzles Like Fatty Bacon in a Pan

For Xmas, my wife and I don't buy each other presents. No bad sweaters. No DVDs. No jewelry or candles or vacuum or gift cards. It's not a religious thing. More of meaning thing. We used to do the whole Xmas where we each tried to out do the other. But it got old. And expensive. We wound up with a lot of shit that we never used and couldn't find a reasonable place to put.

Now we just buy books. Every Xmas we exchange one book.

The first Xmas we did this (a few years back) she bought me the graphic novel PREACHER. And, holy crap, is that a fun read.

The second Xmas she bought me two books: Dirty Sally and Body Scissors. Both by an unknown writer by the name of Michael Simon.





These books were the first two in a series of cop drama/noir-ish thrillers. Now there are a lot of books like these out there and although I am sucker for them (most notably any of the books in the 87th Precinct series by Ed McBain) I am always hesitant to explore an unknown author. But my wife had done her homework. Here is a clip from Dirty Sally:

Death approaches from the left, a medic once told me. Its cold form moves up beside you from the left, touches you and takes you. In desperate situations, medics park themselves on a patient's left side to get in death's way.

Dirty Sally's description:

Dan Reles escaped to Texas at 15. Today he's an Austin homicide detective—the squad's only Yankee and its only Jew. Still reeling from his partner's death, Dan tracks the brutal murder of a young prostitute and the violent cover-up that follows.

Body Scissors follows Detective Dan Reles with an equally good yarn, down another dark and lonely road. But I never read it because the first one was so good that I couldn't let BS be the last book. I couldn't end it there. I had read rumors of more books in the series, but needed to wait to be sure. I am a purist. I won't watch one episode of the television show 24 from week-to-week. I need to buy the entire series and watch one after the other, like machine gun fire. So I waited for more books, letting BS collect dust.

And as typically happens with me, I forgot all about Michael Simon. That is until yesterday. I discovered that two more Reles books have been published.

The third book in the series: Little Faith.



And the fourth book in the series The Last Jew Standing:



Both seem wonderful and lush in all the ways a cop noir should be wonderful and lush. (And I will be the first to admit that TLJS has a pretty terrible cover, especially when compared to the previous three.)

Michael Simon has a lean, brutal, no-frills style of prose. I am reminded of Elmore Leonard, sure, but more psychotic and Jewish. Never have I read such detailed, yet gorgeous descriptions of quartered bodies, Texans, and hollowed out human heads. Simon understands his genre. Doesn't try and change it. Is a student of the form. Hits the expected cues on the nose. And doesn't disappoint.

If you're a fan of the detective in a wrinkled suit noir, you must add Simon to your collection.

If not, then don't waste my time. I could give a shit, honestly. He's badass, that's all I have left to say. That and he is one sick pup. And his prose sizzles like fatty bacon in a pan.

At the Bar in Bennington

Afternoon, slackers.

Just a quick note to all my Bennington friends and family.

Thanks to Ian Williams and Joe Stracci and their good will of free lodging and transportation, I will be attending the Bennington Writing Seminars graduation this year. Should be up on Friday late afternoon/early evening. See you all at the bar.

Also, an update on the Thumbsucker will be posted tomorrow morning. Stay freakin' tuned. I am thinking of leaving her a note on the couch to see if she writes back.

Until then.

Keep on.

jra