RAINY SEASON – A Review by Rose Auburn

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Review excerpt:

I read Rainy Season in one day. Not because it’s a fairly short novel (175 pages) but because I simply could not put it down. It is not a poorly-written imitation of a Noir Romance, it is a Noir Romance. The opening was absolutely spot-on for the genre; sublime, stylised, descriptive and cynical. All the scenes played through your mind in shades of grey and black with the permanent tattoo of the rain which, in so many ways, is another character.

Rose Auburn, Writing & Reviews

Read the complete five-star review at Rose’s website:

ROSEAUBURN.COM

WE ALL DIE IN THE END by Elizabeth Merry – A Review

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BOOK | FICTION | SHORT STORIES
WE ALL DIE IN THE END by Elizabeth Merry
RATING: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

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If Joyce, Faulkner, and Kafka were to collaborate…

The result would be Elizabeth Merry’s We All Die in the End.

Merry’s is some of the best writing I’ve read in a while. Like Faulkner, she creates a fictional world unto its own, Faulkner’s set as a struggling Mississippi town, Merry’s as a struggling seaside town in Ireland, both populated with struggling characters with thick dialects common to their region.

However, regarding dialect, where Faulkner reveals his characters’ through heavy (and at times disruptive) word alteration and accent marks, Merry reveals her characters’ distinctive brogue (seemingly) effortlessly and without hardly a notice through beautiful setting descriptions and strategic use of words uncommon to those not of her world.

The effect of her writing to me is powerful…

And surreal…

Kafkaesque.

Merry’s nineteen interwoven stories, or scenes as identified in the book, often misled me into letting my guard down – getting me lost in the cold ocean spray or in the delectable odors stewing from the stove or in the broguish din of the local pub – lulling me into thinking all’s well (how could it not be in such a quaint little town with waves pounding the shore like a mesmerizing lullaby) until it slowly dawns upon me that all is not well in Merry’s little corner of the world. In fact, not until it’s too late do I realize that just about everything beneath the quaint veneer she has laid for us is in fact quite dark and bleak, and at times… quite deadly.

We All Die in the End has left me with a haunting literary hangover.

And for that, I am grateful…

For, as rare as it is, it is that exact aftereffect I yearn for in every book I read.

EMBOOKSTUFF.WORDPRESS.COM

RAINY SEASON – A Review by Gina Rae Mitchell

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Review excerpt:

Kurt Brindley has written an excellent book in the noir romance genre. This author continues to astound me with his grasp of descriptive words. In Rainy Season, he portrays his scenes so well you will swear you can hear the rain, smell the smoke drifting from the Tokyo jazz club, and breathe in the melancholy saturating the air…

– Gina Rae Mitchell, Book Reviewer Extraordinaire*

Read the complete five-star review at Gina’s website:

GINARAEMITCHELL.COM

RAINY SEASON – A Review by Elizabeth Merry

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Review excerpt:

This book is called “Rainy Season” and rain permeates the whole novel, as if the whole story was contained inside the rain – and I loved this. Here’s a picture of Rich, leaning over his balcony as usual:

“He leaned against the rail and smoked and watched the shadowed, glistening city as it slept within the downpour.”

I found the writing lyrical and rhythmic; words repeated making the prose like music. Indeed, I thought at one time, if I had a tune I could sing this book:

“Candlelight shimmered off her black sequin dress like the promise of a million stars.”

Elizabeth Merry, Author of WE ALL DIE IN THE END

Check out the full five-star review at Elizabeth’s website:

embookstuff.wordpress.com

Moods, Philosophically Speaking…

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As I’ve said before, I’m no philosopher…

For every time I masochistically muster up the courage to venture forth into the realm of philosophy as a studied discipline — time having scarred over and numbed the painful remembrances of the many past futile efforts — I’m buried almost instantly in utter confusion and humiliation.

But since in most regards I’m human, one who looks and stares and ponders regularly with much wonderment and awe, I can’t help but philosophize from time to time…

Usually to no end.

But anyway, my ignorance and inability, philosophically speaking, is not the point of this post… just the handle.

The point for this wandering pondering post is that to me the philosophies (heck, I really have no idea if they are even to be regarded as philosophies in a pure sense (whatever that may be)) of Buddhism (particularly of the Zen flavor), Stoicism, and Nihilism are essentially the same philosophy with different names.

(This is where I get into trouble and why I laid out the disclaimer of my ignorance and inabilities in the beginning of this seemingly pointless post).

I mean, don’t all three at their essence essentially instruct us to let go?

I mean, aren’t they each essentially a similar outlook on the concept of non-attachment?

I mean, don’t the Buddhista have their mu (or as we Japanese say, 無), their not having, their no thing?

And don’t the Stoics have their, well, whatever the Greek word is for their concept of

In Celebration of Juneteenth

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I present to you a little insight to the historical hometown hood of my youth…

The Hubbard House was an Underground Railroad terminus station which sets on a hill overlooking Lake Erie. It was instrumental in helping countless fellow humans find escape from the incomprehensible wretchedness of slavery.

It also sets right across the street from where my old high school used to be.

Unfortunately, during my time growing up in my hometown hood of Ashtabula, Ohio, I didn’t know much about the house, only that it had some vague association with slavery.

I didn’t know because back in my time the history of slavery was barely taught in school. And that which was taught about it, was glossed conveniently over… like the whitewashing of rotted wood.

My real education of slavery didn’t begin until 1977 when the landmark television miniseries ROOTS aired, a story which of course is based on Alex Haley’s hugely important book about his family’s history.

No, during my time the house was abandoned and run down and assumed haunted.

While my old high school has since been torn down, fortunately the community of Ashtabula came together to save the Hubbard House from a similar fate and worked to restore it so that it is now a beautiful and important national landmark of which I’m very proud.

#HAPPYJUNETEENTH
#BLACKLIVESMATTER

#ICANTBREATHE – Dido’s Lament

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“Not again. I couldn’t believe it. I felt helpless and I had to do something,” Yves Dharamraj has said. “We’ve all seen the scenes from Minneapolis, from New York, from everywhere.  Normally, I would’ve gloved and masked up, and marched down Broadway with my fellow protesters crying out against police brutality and racism. 

“But, instead, I took up Anthony McGill’s #TakeTwoKnees call-to-action for musicians to record themselves and post it online.”

Cellist performs heartrending version of Dido’s Lament in memory of George Floyd, Classic FM, June 15, 2020

#BLACKLIVESMATTER

A Turn From the Worst

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So, I was thick into the development of the follow-up novel to THE GOOD KILL (any guesses what follow-up title will be?) when of a sudden it seemed like End Times had finally started to throw down with the Covid-19 pandemic and cult daddy trump’s horrific death-inducing response to it.

With the Killian Lebon storyline as dark and violent as it is, and with all the research into the real-life examples of darkness and violence it takes to bring it out fictionally, I just thought it best for my mental stability to shelve all the pretend mayhem for a while seeing how there was far too much of it going on within our apocalyptic twilight zone of a reality.

But of course I could not not write so I immediately began looking internally for a story that would be able to transport me away to a better place.

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