I am pleased to be returning to my fiction-writing projects!
I. My first novel is set in (Appalachia circa 1930) and overflows with fetching, forlorn, forsaken, fanatical characters--embroiled in snake-handling, embalmed in moonshine, embarrassed by intemperate sensuality, and emboldened by mania, morbidity, and magical thinking.
The schizotypal, idiosyncratic, odd, and eccentric entertainingly bother the reader with their personality disorders.
As Prohibition roars into America--one of my protagonists uses this poster in his late-20's-early-30's fool-some-of-the-people-all-of-the-time Crusades in Kentucky, West Virginia, and Missouri--as an advertising prop in his traveling-snake-oil-abstinence shows.
If you lived then, attended one of his 'temperance crusades', and came upon this "P-R" poster...I mean--seriously--would you quit drinking? Snakes play a central thematic role--and the book will not be for the tenderhearted, bleeding hearts, or Harlequin lonely hearts. Below: a watercolor I painted on one of my treks to the hero, Hyman P. Fogarty's, mountain stomping grounds in Hell-fer-Sartin, Kentucky.
I would not recommend the 200 Proof moonshine I was offered.
A man came out of the woods, held a rusty squirrel rifle on me, handed me a jug of what I found tasted like embalming fluid and commanded me to take a big drink. Dizzied, delirious, and dumbfounded by the quaff, nevertheless, I was surprised by his handing me the rifle, taking the jug back, and demanding that I hold the gun on him while he took a deep drink. I still have bouts of heartburn.
I am returning to my own 'roots' (SE Kentucky to SW North Carolina region) to finish this work--interviewing dozens of elderly folk in the region about their experiences. Basically everything in this fictional manuscript will have occurred somewhere, at some time in Appalachian history--but with names changed and identities protected.
II. My second novel (Chinatown/San Francisco circa 1984) features a Ming Vase McGuffin sought after by the Chinese Mafia. The innocent hero, Vietnam Vet Blind Hawk--a descendant of Pilgrim-helping Squanto, who lives in a warehouse fixing up found-junk to sell in flea markets, finds himself caught between the Tong, British Museum detectives, and the FBI.
The story tries to push and pull the reader from conundrum to conflict to redemptive crisis: pure entertainment that won't let you go until the story ends too soon. (There may be a sequel.)
(unpublished works-in-progress): Copyright 2008 by Philip C. Brewer All Rights Reserved
No comments:
Post a Comment