For all the book-listeners out there: I am happy to share that a new audio-book version of The Last Furies has been released, one in which I narrate and present the book in my own voice and reading style. I am excited to be able to offer this “homespun,” I-am-I, A.I.-free version in my own vocal signature, thanks to Lost Telegram Press’s support and advocacy of artistic individualism. This edition also features an introduction by the publisher. Sample chapters can be heard at losttelegrampress.ca, and a copy of the audio-book can be ordered here: https://losttelegrampress.ca/product/the-last-furies-audio-book
The Beastie Boys are one of the punk-hip hop catalysts and musical driving forces in the narrative of No One Dreams in Color. Specifically for fourteen-year-old loner and misfit, Ali, who never goes anywhere without the Beasties pumping in her Walkman. Excerpt:
“Today’s selection: Paul’s Boutique. Ali felt the Beastie Boys provided the best soundtrack for bike riding. Or taking over the world. Maybe even the universe. Ali slid the cassette into her Walkman and placed the headphones over her ears. Then she clicked the PLAY button and waited for the music to start before she took off. She peeled out of her driveway, hooked a sharp right, and when she got to the end of her block, she made a wide sweeping arc onto the boulevard, propelled by the music. Ali wove between cars with rhythmical ferocity, and then rode the yellow line in the middle of the street. When riding her bike, Ali felt invincible. Like nothing could happen to her so long as she was pedaling, swerving, jumping curbs. Her mother wanted her to wear a helmet. Ali refused. I don’t want my daughter’s brains splatted all over the road. Don’t worry, Ma, that won’t happen. Me and Silver Fox . . . it won’t happen. Out here, on the bike, nothing could touch her. In her eyes, the Silver Fox was nearly equivalent to having a superpower.”
I am honored that our experimental film The Bride has been selected for inclusion in the inaugural Taos Film Festival (April 23-26). Looking forward to Taos’s long-awaited reintroduction to the film festival circuit as a high desert cinematic stopover and enclave.
In my forthcoming novel, No One Dreams in Color, the protagonist, Andrew, has been deeply inspired by an experimental, nine-minute film called Wendigo. The spirit and mythical reonsance of the “wendigo,” an Algonquin legend that speaks to a ravenous creature associated with coldness, famine, and starvation, plays a significant role in the novel’s multi-layered narrative. Excerpt below:
“I recalled what Mack had said about New York having a wendigo spirit all its own. In extending that concept, or widening its umbrella, you might say that Wendigo-psychosis was the corrosive rot at the foundational base of American culture and society. That progress was nothing more than progressive illness and spiritual deterioration. The wendigo was not just some horrific, ice-hearted creature that stalked winter woods of the north, but a poison and virus that circulated freely beyond the parameters of its designated geography. And carried people into the dark inner sanctum of their own lonely winter woods.”
John Biscello 