Fatal Shadows: A Jaded Mystery Reader's Review

I'm not a big fan of mysteries. I get frustrated when the sleuth follows a lead off screen (or off page) and discovers a clue that breaks the case wide open. I always feel cheated when the 'big reveal' happens at the climax and clues are exposed that if I'd known about I could have figured out who done it too. Having been burned more than once, I shy away from most mysteries. But I'm glad I didn't let past experience cause me to avoid Josh Lanyon's Fatal Shadows.

Mystery author and used book store owner Adrien English is a fun protagonist with an appealing quick wit, which Lanyon wisely avoids sending over the top. The mystery surrounding the murder of his best friend was fast-paced and intriguing. Laynon did a good job of layering the mystery with enough twists that, while I had an idea of who the murderer might be, I kept second-guessing myself till the climax.

The nice thing was: all the clues were there for me to put together. Presto! A mystery I can enjoy. Thanks for that.

The other thing I really appreciated is Lanyon's knowledge of the genre. Since his protagonist was a mystery author himself, he could allude to authors and their style, sometimes critically. Then with a wink Lanyon proceeded to duplicate their style in a clever, subtle way that didn't smack the reader across the face.

Fatal Shadows is a fast paced, engrossing mystery. It's well worth the avid mystery reader's time.

Not mention the jaded mystery reader's time, as well.

Now, we see through a glass, darkly...

Jeffrey Ricker scares me.

It seems like any time I pick up his work these days, I find he’s tapped into my brain (The Unwanted: the answer to my teenage fantasies; Fool for Love’s “At the End of the Leash” feeds my love of dogs and my secret voyeuristic streak; Riding the Rails’ “Mount Olympus” brought back memories of the television miniseries of Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles from my childhood, while also reminding me of Burroughs’ John Carter series, and a smidge of my favorite show from the late ‘70s Buck Rogers; and Night Shadows' “Blackout”: if Ricker knows about that night back in Pennsylvania with the Voodoo book – well, then I really am freaking scared). See, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear his fingers were clamped on my face in a Vulcan mind meld.

But with Detours, that connection became a bit uncomfortable.

In the novel, Joel returns from a trip to London, where he might just have met the man of his dreams, only to learn that his mother has unexpectedly died. To fulfill her final wish, Joel drives his parents’ RV cross country to its new owner on the west coast. Along the way, he quits his job, somehow picks up the brother of an ex-girlfriend, makes a lot of food, dumps the same brother of the same ex-girlfriend, visits and gets drunk with his mother’s childhood friends, makes a lot more food, and–oh, yeah–talks to the ghost of his mother, like a lot. All of which made for an entertaining (albeit somewhat detour-laden) road trip. In the midst of all of this it became clear just how directionless Joel actually was.

Earlier in his life, he had had a vision for his future, a plan in mind for what he wanted to accomplish. Dreams. But somewhere along the way all of that evaporated. Nothing tragic caused it. No great turn of events brought it about. It simply…was. And it was in that quiet dissolution of Joel’s life that Ricker’s talents truly shone.

I kept waiting for the big reveal, the explanation of why Joel was allowing life to happen to him rather than making life happen for him. The further I read, the more frustrated I became waiting for some explanation of where Joel had gotten so off track, why his life was such a mess—anything that might justify the pointlessness of his existence. But it didn’t come, and ultimately I realized it didn’t matter. What did matter was stepping out of that rut and finding a new path.

And it was those first tentative steps Joel took at the end of the book that made all my questions and frustrations worthwhile. And it was there, toward the end, that I found the line that best sums up this book for me:

Maybe it’s a mercy we can only see ourselves through a reflection.

Detours is a witty, entertaining, romantic road trip. It’s also an insightful exploration of what happens when our lives become static and what it takes to get us back on track. Nicely done, Jeffrey.

Now, stay out of my head.

Children of the Knight - A Selfish S.O.B.'s Review

I’m a selfish S.O.B. No, it’s true. I am.

I know this because of the barometer by which I gauge myself: my partner.

Like countless others we have those conversations about what we would do if we won the lottery. Tom wants to open a privately-funded homeless shelter that doesn’t get mired in all the bureaucratic red tape. Or maybe it’s a senior citizen home? See, I’m too selfish to remember.

Me? I want to quit my job and focus entirely on writing. Priorities: gotta have 'em.

I’m not proud of this fact. Nor have I resigned myself to my nature either. Often times, I’ll volunteer to help out with projects at church or I'll hear of initiatives taken up by my employer or close friends that inspire me to be involved. The thing is, once the time rolls around to step up and count myself in, I find a million and one excuses to not participate. See what I mean? S.E.L.F.I.S.H. S.O.B.

So when I come across someone like Michael J. Bowler, I realize just how out of my depth I am. This guy deserves to be canonized. Seriously, look him up; you’ll see what I mean. His passion for runaways and homeless kids and the juveniles already trapped in a legal system that dooms them to failure from the get-go is awe inspiring. Reading Children of the Knight was like being head-jacked directly to Bowler and his 30-years of life experience with countless young people who our system has marginalized and failed to protect.

Into the midst of their despair and struggle, Bowler drops King Arthur, who has returned just as the prophecy foretold he would when his country needed him most. Apparently, since the United States began as a British Colony, it counts as his country as well.

Arthur sees the struggle of the abandoned, abused, and homeless children of Los Angeles and begins a new Crusade – a Children’s Crusade meant to better their lives and, by proxy, the deteriorating neighborhoods they call home. He begins a new Round Table made up of runaways, juvenile delinquents, members from dueling gangs, and teen prostitutes. It’s a daunting and impressive dream, but Arthur repeatedly proves he’s up to the task.

And therein lies my problem.

I felt as if Bowler loved these children and his vision for their utopia so much that they were unstoppable. No task seemed too great, no adversity too difficult for them to overcome. They all seemed to have hearts of gold and virtuous cores, no matter how difficult or challenging their upbringing. Gangbangers, prostitutes, drug addicts, the children of privilege, everyone's heart of stone seemed to melt almost immediately under Arthur's love and guidance.

Similarly, most of the adults in positions of power (government heads, drug dealers, etc.) seemed to be nothing more than maniacal villains out to thwart Arthur and his young knights at every turn. While I'm not suggesting that a drug dealer would necessarily have a heart of gold, some nuance to their characters would have rounded them out and allowed them to be more interesting people. Instead, most of the characters felt more like types to me rather than living, breathing human beings, and the book read more as an agitprop piece instead of a novel.

I've read numerous reviews of this book in which the reviewer comments on how moved they were by the current plight of homeless children in our society, thanks to Bowler's book. Unfortunately, for me, though the lives of these characters might turn dire, even deadly at times, I didn't feel the connection with them to make me care (selfish S.O.B., remember?). Instead, the book came across as heavy-handed. There were so many speeches concerning the current state of affairs and the steps that should be taken to rectify them that, to be honest, had I not received a free copy of the book for review, I wouldn't have finished it.

Until we came to the climax, that is.

At the end of the book I felt Bowler found his stride and brought everything to an intense close. For the first time, I wanted to know what would happen next and found myself caring about these characters. In fact, rather than ride my bike to work, I took the metro just so I could keep reading and find out what happened. And I'll admit that this old selfish S.O.B.'s eyes did start to burn and get a bit teary a couple of times near the end.

Bowler also managed to keep a lot of balls in the air throughout the novel. He did an admirable job of keeping numerous storylines going without letting them fall to the wayside.

This left me believing that Bowler does have some stories to tell that I would like to read. In this case, however, I felt as if he was so close to his subject matter that he couldn't get the kind of perspective needed to flesh out his characters and make them relatable and, in turn, make me care.

Dickinstein: Emily Dickinson - Mad Scientist

There’s something about a book that doesn’t live up to your expectations – especially when that book and its author have expectations of their own that blow yours out of the water.

I originally heard of Shannon Yarbrough’s Dickinstein: Emily Dickinson – Mad Scientist from Jerry Wheeler of Out In Print: Queer Book Reviews. He ranked it as one of his top 13 for 2013. Intrigued, I marked it as a To Read on Goodreads. Surprisingly, Mr. Yarbrough contacted me, offering me a copy of the book for an honest review. So note to self: you never know who’s looking at what you post!

Other than watching the movie Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, I’ve had little experience with the monster mash-ups released over the last few years. While they seemed right up my alley, I just hadn’t gotten around to reading them yet. I envisioned campy, tongue-in-cheek narrative where, in a fit of machismo, Mr. Darcy pulls out a weed whacker and goes to town on a bunch of the walking dead. That’s what I expected from Yarbrough’s Dickinstein, too. Well, not so much Mr. Darcy, but maybe Emily Dickinson running around like Madeline Kahn at the end of Young Frankenstein. Instead, what I got was a thoughtful, intelligent, and beautiful exploration of life and death, and faith and science.

In the book, a young Emily Dickinson receives a copy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and is fascinated by its premise. She decides to make a machine of her own – a “second life apparatus” as she calls it – to bring back the small, dead creatures she finds in her regular walks through nature. Successful with her experiments, she confides in a few close acquaintances. A couple of these confidants suggest that, with the help of her device, she might bring back a human being, something she’d not really considered before. This was her gift to nature; she’d not given much thought to playing God. But when a close friend dies unexpectedly, she finds herself willing to do anything to save them.

Yarbrough wrote Dickinson like he knew the woman – intelligent, witty, peculiar, and reclusive. I could easily envision the Dickinson in this novel as the prolific woman of letters history has shown her to be. Her love of nature, her fascination with death, her idiosyncrasies – they are all deftly handled by Yarbrough in his eloquent and poetic prose. His writing made me feel as if I was one of the fortunate few that Dickinson let in to her small circle of friends, walking the garden paths of the Dickinson Homestead with her and exploring the town of Amherst, Massachusetts by her side. It had the feel of a very private memoir. And each time I opened its pages, I felt as if I’d been given admission to her personal world. Dickinson’s joys and fears, her insecurities and secret desires all played out beautifully on its pages.

Not satisfied with one style of prose, Mr. Yarbrough threw in a second, something more in the vein of Shelley’s Frankenstein. I was surprised when he went all gothic on me for several chapters toward the end of the book as the plan to bring a human being back to life unfolded. It felt as if he was channeling one of the romantics for several thousand words. Then he finished the novel by returning to the quieter, more contemplative style from earlier in the book.

All in all, a highly enjoyable and thoughtful read, one that I strongly recommend.

Jeffrey Ricker's THE UNWANTED

I’ve been waiting for this book to come out for some time now. Despite my forty some years, I still love YA fantasy and haven’t seen that many quality LGBT YA fantasies come out that captured my attention. I’ve liked Jeffrey Ricker’s short fiction for a while now and was excited to see what he would do with the genre, so when Bold Strokes Books made this available on Net Galley for early review, I gobbled it up.

Jamie is a short, physically-underdeveloped teenager who happens to be the sole out gay kid at his high school (in the role of Jamie I kept envisioning Josh Hutcherson from his Cirque du Freak days – for his height, just his height; nothing else, I swear). After a particularly rotten day at school, he comes home to find that his mother, who he thought was dead, is actually alive. And an Amazon. Having been dumped on his father’s doorstep sixteen years earlier, he now learns that he may be the only one who can save the Amazon race.

Sounds like the son of Diana Prince and Steve Trevor gets his own spinoff comic book, right? It’s not. It’s way cooler than that. And besides, Jamie’s mom doesn’t even own an invisible jet. She owns an invisible winged horse.

Ricker created a fun, action-packed, thoughtful novel that kept me page-turning all the way to the poignant ending. He invested his characters with such warmth and charm that watching them work through their personal struggles was engrossing. He also didn’t gloss over the difficult consequences for the choices they made.

Considering the subject matter, I expected the book to be grander in scope than it was (what with the Amazons, gods, prophecies, oracles, and the like), but Ricker somehow kept the action on a low simmer for most of the book, and focused instead on the story unfolding between Jamie, his parents, his best friend, and a school bully, so that when he did go all epic on us toward the end it had a much larger impact. That isn’t to say that the book is slow. On the contrary, it moves quickly and Ricker sucks you in with Jamie’s narrative and wicked sense of humor. There was just a quiet intensity beneath the surface that he cleverly held on to as long as possible until it boiled over.

One of the things that I was particularly taken with was Ricker’s ability to maintain a light mood despite all the turmoil that Jamie experienced. His personal struggles with the lies his father had told about his mother’s absence and the bullying he received at school for being gay ran the risk of turning the story maudlin. But Ricker didn’t fall into those easy traps. Despite Jamie’s struggles, he kept the mood light while still giving sufficient gravitas to Jamie’s personal journey.

One of the other major selling points for me was the parental/adult characters in the book. Normally, in YA fiction they tend to take a backseat to the teenagers and are there either as the villain or to throw roadblocks in the way of the action or provide sage advice at just the right moment (in those “mwa-mwa mwa-mwa” Peanuts’ voices). Not these folks. They got down and dirty and were as invested in the action as Jamie and his friends. Ricker also cleverly rounded out the cast with enough supporting roles so that you weren’t sure who to trust until the big reveals later in the book.

Jeffrey Ricker’s The Unwanted is a real winner. If you pick it up, you’re lucky. It’s a YA novel that deserves all the attention it garners.

The Magic of Words

Growing up, I cut my teeth in Prydain and Narnia. I grew up in Krynn, Middle-earth, and the world of The Lost Swords. I spent hours imagining what if…? What if the places were real? What if the powers and the weapons were possible? What if I could reach into those pages and be a part of that reality. Apparently, I was in good company.

Jim C. Hines grew up thinking the same thing, only he took and ran with it and, as an adult, brought it to life in his urban-fantasy novel Libriomancer, the first of the Magic Ex Libris series. Hines has taken the power of the written word and given it magic – real magic. The belief of readers, thousands upon thousands of readers reading the same text, gives a small group of magic users the ability to literally reach into the pages of a book and pull out whatever they can visualize from the narrative (swords, ray guns, potions). As long as it can fit through the size of the book, it can be manifested. A fascinating magic, Hines does a solid job of working through the logistics of his magic system, creating rules and playing his own version of ‘what if’, which is where the book really takes off.

His main character is a real bibliophile and enjoys nothing more than getting lost in the power of the magic he wields and trying to discover its limits and possible uses. It’s clear that Hines enjoys this too.  Every time we came to a section where the limits of the magic system were tested, I could feel the writing and the story pickup. I could sense Hines own excitement at what he’d created.

The challenge was, similarly, I could feel it wane whenever he wasn’t exploring the magical elements. The quest, the romantic love interest, most of the minor characters - all of those needed the same spark of excitement that the magic held.

This was a solid telling and a world I’d like to return to, however I’d like to see Hines bring the same sense of wonder to the non-magical elements of his world as he did to the magical ones.

Fool For Love

I’ll be honest. This may be only the second anthology I’ve ever read cover to cover. I was never a big short story reader until I started writing more of it a few years back. I find anthologies (esp. genre anthologies, which is what I normally read) such a mixed bag. Some stories pull me in with a strong plot and fascinating character. Others just don’t catch my attention. It was illuminating for me to read an anthology not based on genre but on a theme. Fool for Love not only gave me a collection of well-written, character-driven stories, but it also challenged me to look at love and romance in a new light – several new lights in fact.

"Thai Angel" David Puterbaugh

What a great way to start an anthology! Somewhere in the first scene I realized how little description I was reading and that it was almost entirely dialogue. My background is in theater and reading this story reminded me more of a script than literature - which in no way is a criticism. Attempting to develop character and conflict almost exclusively through dialogue is not an easy task and any author who can pull it off is very gifted. David Puterbaugh is one of these guys.

His characters were a blast to read, especially Kama’s mother, with her cantankerous personality. She wasn't the only one though. Kama struggling to make a go of his family's restaurant while hiding his sexual identity from his Thai mother, his wannabe actress sister who only wants what's best for him, his potential love interest, and his eventual love interest – they were all so clearly drawn through the dialogue that extensive description wasn't necessary. I enjoyed reading about these folks so much, I only wish it could have gone on longer.

 “Love Taps” Mark G. Harris

Okay, I’m embarrassed to admit that the passive aggressive nature of this couple’s relationship completely appealed to me and the evil tricks they played on one another had me laughing out loud over and over again. It’s like Edward Albee had Martha and George give birth to a pretend dog instead of a pretend son. Genius.

Although a little confused at first, I got into the groove of the narrative quickly and, as I’m writing this, I’m still laughing as I recall pizza boxes attached to walls and late-night prank calls. The mischievousness, the paranoia, the dead-on shorthand dialogue of lovers who’d been together for years, the freakin’ jealousy over a non-existent dog – all of it, I am ashamed to say, I could appreciate and relate to. I loved this thing. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that I actually do have a flesh-and-blood dog at home by the name of Henry.

“Matchmaker” Shawn Anniston

The main character in the next piece doesn’t believe in romance. Burned at his high school prom by an Eddie Vedder look-alike, he’s given up on love and adopted a very cynical attitude toward romance. No one has a prayer of breaking through the walls he’s built up over the last decade…or do they?

This was a lot of fun. The characters were lively and full of love for the pessimistic narrator, which made his snarkiness easier to digest. There were times I wanted to bop him across the head for his self-centeredness, but his friends had a gentle way of nudging him back to a more reasoned mindset that made him endearing rather than annoying. I was really impressed with the fact that Anniston didn’t need to delve into paragraphs of internal monologue to spell out his character’s arc. He let his dialogue do the work for him and it paid off in a delightful way.

“A View” Brandon M. Long

My partner and I have been together for over fifteen years now, and during that time we’ve been asked more than once how we met. Our story includes a small-town grocery store, a credit card, and a bag of dinner rolls. When I tell the story, I usually make the comment that my partner was nothing I was looking for but everything that makes me happy. The two men in the next story have much the same experience.

Both Chris and Will have expectations of their ideal man.  Whether those criteria actually embody what they’re looking for or are only shields they use to keep others from hurting them is the question at the heart of this tender, quiet story about ours fears and the courage it takes to overcome them. Long’s “A View” left me mindful of the one I wasn’t looking for, but who can’t help making me happy.

“Gratitude” Felice Picano

This is an interesting take on the theme of love and romance. An author, who has found public acclaim later in his career, makes a split second decision to save the life of a construction worker. The fact the construction worker is a glorious specimen of manhood doesn’t hurt. The fact the construction worker has a wife and toddler and a large extended family only sweetens the deal as the author discovers a new type of love and affection.

Picano’s beautiful prose swept across each page with confidence and verve. I was so captivated by it that it took me some time to question the deceptions the author had perpetrated in order to be embraced by this blue collar family, as well as what he was willing to settle for in lieu of a more traditional idea of love. Then I realized being a ‘fool for love’ included facets I’d not originally considered. That’s the beauty of an anthology that's this well written and varied.

“Happy Hour at Café Jones” Rob Byrnes

Brian’s a bit of a realist (read cynic) who doesn’t believe in modern romance and finding ‘the one’ online. But he gives it a go Café Jones. Will he find true love or will his suspicions about on-line dating be confirmed? I thought I saw the twist in this one coming a long way off, but to Byrnes credit he didn’t take the easy way out. Instead, he chose a different route that was much more satisfying, not only because it wasn’t expected but because it helped reveal a depth to Brian I hadn’t expected. Nicely done.

“Trunk” Trevor Healey

The next story takes place in one of my favorite cities. I’ve only been to New Orleans once but, to me, it felt like coming home, and years later I still miss its vitality and hospitality. I haven’t had the opportunity to return since Katrina devastated the area but I hope to soon.

The main character in Trunk rips into New Orleans, spreading his own personal form of devastation. A refugee from the LA scene, he comes to town for the recovery – both the city’s and his own.  He makes an effort of it, but old habits die hard and soon enough he finds himself down a familiar path with drugs and sex, only this time with a southern minister who wants to save his soul and a voodoo man/fortune teller (l kept envisioning Papa Legba from American Horror Story: Coven here), who might have the key to his future. Fast paced and a bit raunchy, I wondered if Tarantino wasn’t going to shout “that’s a wrap” when I got to the end. Like one of his films it wasn’t so much about where we landed but how we got there that made this story fun to read.

“De Anima” Joel Derfner

To say that Noah was a bit disappointed by his boyfriend’s decision to attend a reparative therapy conference would be an understatement. To say his response to the decision was slightly neurotic would be an understatement of epic proportions. From the first sentence this story had me with its breezy, bitchy tone. Plus I got an anatomy lesson to boot!

While Derfner masked it as a light read, what really struck me was his deft portrayal of Noah’s boyfriend as he tried to understand how his faith and sexuality could coexist. Though it played like ambient music at a party, his struggle gave a nuanced edge to the story and ultimately more weight to Noah’s final decision. I also enjoyed the TV-watching, home-cooked meals, and (while I don’t knit) the knitting, which was more familiar to me than the clubbing and party boys so often reflected in gay fiction these days.

“Like No One’s Watching” Josh Hemlin

THERE ARE GIANTS IN THE SKY!!!! THERE ARE BIG, TALL, TERRIBLE GIANTS IN THE SKY!!!!

Okay, now that I've got that out of my system.

This was a fun one. Set among the chaos and excitement of a high school production of Sondheim's Into the Woods, it explores the insecurities so many of us felt with our first love as two teenage boys set off into a woods of their own making to discover who they truly are. Sweetly told, Hemlin gives us a memorable taste of what it was like to be young, gay, and in love.

“At the End of the Leash” Jeffrey Ricker

As the owner of two large breed dogs, how could I not love the next story about a dog walker who finds the chance for love among poop bags and dog collars? This one also spoke to the voyeur in me, who would love to go poking through someone's house when they’re not at home. Not to steal anything, just to snoop. To understand them better, to discover who they are on their most intimate levels, to snatch a glimpse at the heart inside a person. Yep, I can totally relate to the dog walker at the heart of this light-hearted romp.

I relate to his slightly quirky personality and his personal quest for vindication. I can relate to the cross he must bear in the form of his employer's little girl (who I swear is going to grow up to be a dominatrix one day). But most of all I can relate to his love for a good man who owns a good dog. They're the best, aren't they?

“Two Tales” Paul Lisicky

Lisicky gives us two short fairy tales, two splashes of poetry. Bears trolling the woods and hermits sitting on park benches. Or am I mixing up two stories here? They felt like two paintings beautifully rendered, two seemingly disparate pieces beautifully linked. Too, too good.

“Heart” ‘Nathan Burgoine

‘Nathan isn’t the only author in this anthology  with whom I’ve had the incredible honor to share a table of contents, but I feel a special kinship with his stories as they more often than not cross the line into the supernatural, the area where I, as a reader, feel most at home. 'Nathan does it in such an interesting way, though. Not needing to toss a witch from a high rise window nor slam some sword into a sorcerer's chest, he finds the magic in subtle ways, in the gentle twist of reality. And he does a damn good job of it too.

This was 'Nathan's first published piece, but you wouldn't know it as he explores the lengths we'll go to in order to save the one we love. It's confident and crisp and powerfully told. I'm not going to say anything more about this other than: read it; it's worth it. But get ready: ‘Nathan’s gonna bitch slap you across the face with a box of tissue. You've been warned.

                                                                         

“Party Planning” Rob Williams

Williams gives us the romance most gay men can relate to. Not the one with the older boy, nor the straight one, not the first love, nor the one that broke our hearts. Nope, he gives us the love story we never quite escape - the one with our mothers.

Cleverly told from the young man's point of view, it's the mother that really shines in this tale. And while he's making that awkward first step toward his independence and budding sexuality, he's leaving his mother behind. Or is she pushing him away? Ultimately, it doesn't matter. What does is the shift in their relationship as both discover things will never be the same again.

“Two Kinds of Rapture” Andrew Holleran

It's always a thrill for me to read something set in an environment with which I'm familiar, where I can recognize the street corners and clearly see the landmarks to get my bearings. There's something reassuring about knowing I've walked the same streets the character is walking. Holleran's story had that for me.

Set between DC's more established, staid Dupont Circle and the younger, more vital Logan Circle neighborhoods, it felt as if I was walking with this group of men as they headed to the home of a young gay couple. And while I've not yet reached the age of these four gentlemen, their personal journeys seemed familiar to me somehow. Holleran provided wonderful insight into their perspectives on rapture, the moment when you realize you’re crossing that line from young and vital to established and staid, and our individual search for love. Beautifully told.

“Everyone Says I’ll Forget in Time” Greg Herren

I’m not sure where to start with this one. Within a few sentences I felt my heart constrict and my eyes begin to burn at the exquisite pain it evoked. Gorgeously human, quietly devastating, somberly hopeful, it rang true on so many levels, and again I’m amazed at how this book’s theme revealed itself to me time and again. Take my word for it, this one's worth the price of admission all on its own.

“Angels, What You Must Hear on High” John H. Roush

And lawdy, lawdy, what they must hear! All the hilarious, painful, sleazy, lovely bits; the best and the worst of the human race. Roush gives it all to us in the anthology’s final story, chronicling an entire life in just a few pages. He seems to wrap up the entire anthology and its varied perspectives in this brief yet touching piece. Like the curtain call at a musical, it gives us our favorite themes and lets us relive the memorable moments one more time before the final bow. A great ending to a great anthology.