As U.S. election exit polls began to point to a second presidency for Donald Trump, many Americans were already looking for another kind of exit: moving abroad.
Google searches for “move to Canada” surged 1,270% in the 24 hours after U.S. East Coast polls closed on Tuesday, company data shows. Similar searches about moving to New Zealand climbed nearly 2,000% while those for Australia jumped 820%.
Late Wednesday evening on the U.S. East Coast, Google searches about emigrating were hitting all-time highs for all three countries, according to a Google official.
While many despondent Americans may choose to abandon their country during tough times, Hank has chosen to abandon all of humanity.
A disillusioned aging white male forsakes all humanity, changes his name to Sorrow, and begins identifying as an it, just as its white son learns his Black girlfriend is pregnant, and you begin a murderous rampage targeting interracial couples just like them.
Interested in receiving an advance reader copy of SORROW to help Kurt get the word out about it, send an email to hank@kurtbrindley.com to let him know and and he’ll send you a copy pronto.
So here we are the day after such an historic election, one full of hope for some and angst for others, and it is my pleasure to present to you my new novel Sorrow.
A disillusioned aging white male forsakes all humanity, changes his name to Sorrow, and begins identifying as an it, just as its white son learns his Black girlfriend is pregnant, and you begin a murderous rampage targeting interracial couples just like them.
I believe I mentioned here in the past that I completed a novel in the summer of 2023, and that I was determined to get it published in a traditional manner. Well, after a year-and-a-half of the manuscript being rejected — and by being rejected I mean mostly being ignored — by over a dozen publishers, it is time for me to face the reality that the only way this novel will get published is independently by yours truly.
Since I am seeking your help in getting the word out about Sorrow, particularly by you reading a free advanced copy of the book and posting your review of it at all the usual places, I should probably make you aware of the potential elements of the tale that may cause concern to some.
Let’s not call them “trigger warnings” because that term in itself is quite triggering to many; let’s instead call these concerning elements of the tale simply “noted concerns.”
SORROW’S NOTED CONCERNS
Behavioral health concerns
Suicidal ideations concerns
Abortion concerns
Homelessness concerns
Homicidal concerns
Gun violence concerns
Police brutality concerns
Racism concerns
Identity concerns
Pronoun concerns
Sexual content concerns
Brief nudity concerns
Vulgar language concerns
Religious cult concerns
Alcoholism concerns
Smoking, both tobacco and marijuana, concerns
Pandemic masking concerns
Fully developed Black, Hispanic, and white female characters created by an old white male concerns
I think that about covers the concerning elements of the tale, with some elements, of course, being more concerning than others. At least now you have some idea of what to expect of the story’s content. If it were a movie it would definitely have a solid “R” rating.
I guess I should point out that there are also some magical realism and meta-fictional elements involved in the tale. Perhaps, depending on your literary sensitivities, they too should be included in the noted concerns section, lol.
Anyway…
What is the crux of Sorrow?
Let me give you a full synopsis of it (or is it summary? I always get the two confused):
Harold Thorson Sterner, Sr., who had come to be known as Hank, an aging white male no longer able to bear the downward spiraling, troubled state of the world, has decided to end his relationship with it, the world, and all that it entails: all humanity and its entire “civilized” existence, his name, his family, his profession, all his responsibilities, everything, even, perhaps, his conscious mind.
To ensure his new relationship with the world is clear and properly regarded by others, he legally changes his name from Harold Thorson Sterner, Sr., to Sorrow and begins identifying, not as a man, or even as a human for that matter, but simply as a being, an it.
He, or rather, it, has made this what turns out to be rather ironic decision to forsake humanity just as its white aspiring author son learns his Black aspiring business executive girlfriend is pregnant, and you, an aspiring serial killer, begin a murderous rampage targeting interracial couples just like them out in sunny Los Angeles.
Sorrow, up until now a semi-celebrated author who had moved recently to sunny Los Angeles to adapt its former self’s successful novels into screenplays, attempts to explain its decision to forsake the world it in a letter to its estranged wife Evelyn, who now lives separated and carefree from her disillusioned husband in Miami, enjoying life with her young Cuban boytoy Alejo.
The letter, more a missive really, prompts Sorrow’s son, who is already in the midst of his own crisis due to his girlfriend’s unexpected pregnancy, to trek out to LA in hope of finding his odd father and providing him the care that he needs. His girlfriend, distraught at her boyfriend’s untimely departure, soon follows him out there. Together in LA, the troubled couple has unwittingly placed themselves at risk of your violent wrath.
And so, as the story unfolds and Sorrow slowly morphs into what? a Christ-like figure? a mad bodhisattva? just another behavioral health breakdown victim littering the streets of LA?, and as whatever it morphs into somehow draws to it other disillusioned souls who begin worshipping it, and as three of its original acolytes, a self-identified indigent and two hippies, are able to magically fly – one by spinning his long, matted hair like helicopter rotor blades and the others by vigorously flapping large palm fronds typically reserved for their worship of Sorrow – and use these skills to fight evil forces on behalf of Sorrow, and as all but one of the story’s narrators mysteriously, suspiciously, disappear, and even as the body count from your murderous rampage steadily grows around it…
Sorrow does not respond.
Okay, maybe that was a bit TMI, but, simply put, what we have here with Sorrow is a very contemporary tale with all of society’s, especially American society’s, tragedy and drama, hopes and dreams.
If you are interested in reading and reviewing Sorrow, and I hope you are, please email me at hank@kurtbrindley.com and I’ll shoot you a copy post haste, as I hope to have the story published on Amazon soon.
Or you can just leave a comment here if you prefer and we can take it from there.
Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or silly action for no other reason than because he knows he should not? Have we not a perpetual inclination, in the teeth of our best judgement, to violate that which is Law, merely because we understand it to be such?
I am partial to the title, as it is quite representative of the literal climate of the story’s Tokyo setting as well as the story’s dark, metaphorical mood, so putting it out to pasture was not an easy decision to make.
However, after trying several different covers in a futile effort to get the book noticed, I decided it was time to take more extreme measures.
I am pleased to introduce to you:
Romance Noir
With the heartbroken shards of a shattered past lodged deep within his soul, falling in love is the last thing a mysterious American expatriate in Tokyo is looking to do, especially with an alluring jazz club singer shrouded in vague mysteries of her own…
And to celebrate its new name and look, it, and all the rest of my books, are free all day at Amazon.
Usually that’s okay because he is such a great storyteller, one, I believe, who (whom?) deserves to be appreciated literarily well beyond the horror genre. Few can convey the human condition, its perils, its pleasures, as well as he.
But, to me, his overzealous output of words is always a fine line issue because, even though I usually finish any novel of his that I attempt to read/listen to, the ones that I don’t finish are always because I become overwhelmed by what to me seemsan abusive overwriting of character and plot asides, a la…
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Even four years after the sudden death of his wife, best selling novelist Mike Noonan can’t stop grieving, nor can he return to his writing. Now his nights are plagued by vivid nightmares of the house by the lake. Despite these dreams, or perhaps because of them, he decides to return to Sara Laughs, the Noonans’ isolated summer home. In his beloved Yankee town, he finds himself falling in love with a widowed young mother, who struggles to keep custody of her 3-year-old daughter. He is also drawn into the mystery of Sara Laughs, now the site of ghostly visitations, ever-escalating nightmares, and the sudden recovery of his writing ability. What are the forces that have been unleashed here – and what do they want of Mike Noonan?
Amazon
Bag of Bones is a perfect example of this. Weighing in at a hefty 752 pages it is immensely overwritten in my blurry view. However, the story is limber and sinewy enough that I was able to make it through to the final round.
I know, I know, enough of the boxing metaphor. I get it.
Another example of an overwrought novel of his, you ask?
Well, funny you should ask because I just finished fighting my way through one…
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A terrible accident takes Edgar Freemantle’s right arm and scrambles his memory and his mind, leaving him with little but rage as he begins the ordeal of rehabilitation. When his marriage suddenly ends, Edgar begins to wish he hadn’t survived his injuries. He wants out. His psychologist suggests a new life distant from the Twin Cities, along with something else:
“Edgar, does anything make you happy?” “I used to sketch.” “Take it up again. You need hedges…hedges against the night.”
Edgar leaves for Duma Key, an eerily undeveloped splinter of the Florida coast. The sun setting into the Gulf of Mexico calls out to him, and Edgar draws. Once he meets Elizabeth Eastlake, a sick old woman with roots tangled deep in Duma Key, Edgar begins to paint, sometimes feverishly; many of his paintings have a power that cannot be controlled. When Elizabeth’s past unfolds and the ghosts of her childhood begin to appear, the damage of which they are capable is truly devastating.
The tenacity of love, the perils of creativity, the mysteries of memory, and the nature of the supernatural: Stephen King gives us a novel as fascinating as it is gripping and terrifying.
Amazon
Duma Key maintains the unbelievable fighting weight (sorry, I can’t seem to shake the blasted metaphor) of 783 pages! Strangely enough though, it doesn’t seem quite as flabby as BoB.
Now, as one would assume, these books are for all intents and purposes horror novels; ergo, I listened to them instead of reading them, for, to me, horror is served best via the ear versus the eyes. You know, ghost stories around the campfire vibe and all that.
One of the best attributes of BoB as an audiobook is that the King himself reads it. He’s a fantastic narrator, and he doesn’t seem to mind at all having to read all the extraneous words he wrote.
Duma Key is narrated exquisitely by none other than John Slattery. The only problem with him as narrator is I could never get Roger Sterling out of my head while listening.
And if you don’t know who Roger Sterling is, then take a lap!
The deceased author William Gay, that is, not the former professional football cornerback William Gay.
Well, William Gay the cornerback may also be a literary genius, I’m just not aware of it.
But I am aware that Nic Pizzolatto is too a genius, at least of the screenwriting variation, as is evidenced by his hugely popular HBO series True Detective.
I watched season one of True Detective as soon as it was released, what… nearly ten years ago now.
I liked it. Maybe not as much as many seemed to have at the time, and certainly not as much as I like season two (I know, I know… I’m woefully in the minority on this one – I have never been much of a fan of Woody Harrelson’s acting, and I thought Matthew McConaughey’s character was a bit over the top), but I liked it enough to dig into the particulars of its development.
Which is when I discovered Nic Pizzolatto.
And which is when shortly thereafter I discovered Thomas Ligotti…
As this highly misanthropic madman (both literally and literarily) genius author was a huge influence on NP and his creation and development of MM’s forlorn and highly misanthropic character Detective Rustin “Rust” Cohle.
Come to find out there is an actual philosophical movement, however slight (hopefully), that actual believes that, for the sake of humanity, I guess, humanity needs to be disappeared.
Apparently, NP was so influenced by Tl that some/many believed he plagiarized the immensely pessimistically nihilistic author for much of MM/Cohle’s dialogue.
I can understand why (while imitation might be the sincerest form of flattery, I do not condone plagiarism of any stripe), TL’s short stories are some of the most awesomely horrific stories I have ever read/listened to, and I truly appreciate NP for turning me on to the human depressant…
Although, to date, I have not yet been able to make it all the way through his anti-humanity book. It’s too depressing, simple as that.
Incidentally, during Joe Rogan’s last interview with Elon Musk recently, I was surprised to discover, seeing how well informed they both always seem to be, that neither of them seemed to be aware of TL or of his influence on NP or of the whole down with humanity philosophy as they first heard about the Voluntary Human Extinction Movement in a less than recent New York Times article entitled Earth Now Has 8 Billion Humans. This Man Wishes There Were None.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8OnqAHpLxkA
Rogan probably has heard of it before but as much dope as he smokes and as old as he’s getting to be, he probably burned out the brain cells responsible for recalling that information.
Anyway, long story short…
Or have I missed that bus already?
Anyway, for some reason I forget, a few weeks ago I mentioned to my son that I enjoy season two of TD much more than season one.
(Season three isn’t even in the discussion as it is immensely forgettable. And from what I’ve seen of the upcoming season four, it looks equally immensely forgettable.)
My son was shocked at my (poor) taste and went on to pan season two and praise season one, as do most.
So, I figured, since I’ve already watched season two three times, I might as well give season one another shot, seeing that it’s been nearly ten years since I last watched it.
And I recently finished rewatching it.
And I still enjoyed it, probably more because this time around I was familiar with TL and his work and the insight from it was appreciated.
And though I still prefer season two, I still liked season one enough once again to once again look up ol’ NP to see if he has been up to anything new.
Didn’t really discover anything new by NP that interested me, but I did discover this old Buzzfeed article that interested me greatly, as it lists all the literary influences of NP’s that went into the development of season one.
And it was from this article that I discovered William Gay.
The author, not the cornerback.
And I cannot believe I have never heard of this good ol’ boy literary genius before.
And by good ol’ boy, I mean that was one dude whose neck was severely reddened. Crispy, if you know what I mean*.
Never had I read/listened to a collection of short stories where ever single story is as completely fantastic as these are. Especially in a collection written by just one author.
Because my eyes are shot because of the side effects from my bone marrow transplant of so long ago, I listen to books now more than I read them.
Consequently, I have a pretty good ear for great narrators. Great as defined by me anyway.
Tom Stescschulte has been a longtime favorite of mine and this to me is the best work he has ever done.
So, yeah, once again I must thank NP for turning me on to yet another amazing author.
And I hope I’m wrong about season four. I’m a fan of Jodie Foster so I hope she pulls it off.
So, that’s the short story long of it.
Oh yeah!
Since I’ve already missed the short bus, let bring up one last thing…
I’ll make it fast – punctuation be damned.
If you are a fan of audiobooks like I am but are not a fan of Audible’s expensive subscription like I am – the only reason I started my subscription back up recently is because I was offered and I accepted a one-month free promo (which they are betting I will forget to cancel but which I marked my calendar so to hell with them I won’t fall into that expensive trap) – then you must be estatic like I am that Spotify is now offering audiobooks for those who are subscribed with a premium membership like I am and all the books I have on my audible wish list are available on spotify as are many many more and my TBLT (to be listened to) list is so long now I probably won’t finish it until I’m in my eighties, which, sadly, is almost as close as my forties are far away…
Yeah…
*Apologies for the stereotype but, dagburnit that dude is one countrified dude. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just, well, you know how the stereotype goes…
I guess there is some comfort to be found in knowing…
That it could always get worse.
Yeah…
Not sure if I have the imaginative capacity, or fortitude, to imagine how.
Hope I don’t.
But, still, here we are, despite it all, moving forward…
Even if it’s just at the most timid and extremely infinitesimal pace.
Because we must.
And we shall.
So yeah, in the midst of all this, all this being our latest global nightmare of ___________ [fill in the blank]*, I finally managed to do something I have been wanting to do pretty much since the onset of the past global nightmare of ___________ [fill in the blank].
I’ve always wanted to write and illustrate a graphic novel.
But that would be a lot of work.
Too much for someone as uninspired and unartistic as yours truly.
So I figured why not give one of the AI machines a shot at illustrating some of my writing since they seem to be all the rage lately…
Which also seems to be making all the human artists rage lately as well.
But hey, if you can’t beat ’em might as well join ’em, right?
I mean, hey, better take advantage of the tech now before it takes complete advantage of us as our AI Overlords, right?
Right?
Anyway, I fed some of the characteristics of Rich and Miko, the two main characters of my novel Rainy Season, into the AI engine Midjourney, and this is a little taste of what it came up with…
I must say, I’m pretty impressed. Just the vibe I was going for when writing the novel. There are other cool renditions of the troubled couple, as well as some beautiful renderings of a rainy Tokyo night filled with the hazy glow of neon, just like the story’s setting calls for.*
Pretty nifty.
And a little scary.
But hey, maybe the awakening tech might just allow me to release an illustrated edition of the novel.
Sure would be a lot easier than having/trying to draw all those illustrations myself.
I guess if I’m going to do it, I better hurry before the AI becomes fully aware…
And finds itself less interested in rendering unto us silly pictures from silly stories…
And more interested in having us render unto it our complete and total carbon-filled, mushy-hearted fealty.
Yeah.
*I tried using the same defining terms with the DALL-E AI machine and the images it rendered were lame compared to Midjourney’s.
