90,
I've got a first novel I've just edited; it could use a read. here's a query:
Carla Kingston June 14, 2009
[email protected]
Dear ,
Metolius (a novel; 83,000 words) is a MONUMENT to a Vietnam War deserter, and a SEED of new feminism.
MONUMENT
Unwilling participants in the Vietnam War are a generational archetype—a feature of the American landscape, often portrayed in grotesque caricature. For those of us who loved them, fucked them, married them and suffered the secondary damage of war, they’re the unlucky unfallen. The ones who never made it to the wall. Metolius is their wall.
On another level, Metolius satisfies our wish for one last conversation with a dead partner. Who hasn’t turned aside to make a comment to our spouse only to realize again they’ve left us?
SEED
Looking for a stout, hardy heroin who loves men the way a plant loves light? Try Terri White, the voice through which Metolius revisits sex roles, the roots of domestic violence, and our implicit and passive participation in war. A story of men without women to tell it is only half a story.
STORY
Is John Harrington really dead? Terri has reason to question the fact. And in light of their last encounter, ending with the discharge of a gun, she has reason to fear that he’s not. An unannounced visit to John’s brother produces a box of ashes, and sets in motion Terri’s road trip up the west coast. The story of John—Oregon farm boy, reluctant Vietnam vet, and bisexual wild child of the sixties—is told through a series of profoundly intimate and highly explicit conversations with her friend, Dave O’Malley, who acts as Terri’s confidante and companion on her errand of discovery. The journey dips Terri into a funk of secondary PTSD, culminating at the Metolius River in Oregon’s Cascade Mountains.
Kind regards,
CKingston
I've got a first novel I've just edited; it could use a read. here's a query:
Carla Kingston June 14, 2009
[email protected]
Dear ,
Metolius (a novel; 83,000 words) is a MONUMENT to a Vietnam War deserter, and a SEED of new feminism.
MONUMENT
Unwilling participants in the Vietnam War are a generational archetype—a feature of the American landscape, often portrayed in grotesque caricature. For those of us who loved them, fucked them, married them and suffered the secondary damage of war, they’re the unlucky unfallen. The ones who never made it to the wall. Metolius is their wall.
On another level, Metolius satisfies our wish for one last conversation with a dead partner. Who hasn’t turned aside to make a comment to our spouse only to realize again they’ve left us?
SEED
Looking for a stout, hardy heroin who loves men the way a plant loves light? Try Terri White, the voice through which Metolius revisits sex roles, the roots of domestic violence, and our implicit and passive participation in war. A story of men without women to tell it is only half a story.
STORY
Is John Harrington really dead? Terri has reason to question the fact. And in light of their last encounter, ending with the discharge of a gun, she has reason to fear that he’s not. An unannounced visit to John’s brother produces a box of ashes, and sets in motion Terri’s road trip up the west coast. The story of John—Oregon farm boy, reluctant Vietnam vet, and bisexual wild child of the sixties—is told through a series of profoundly intimate and highly explicit conversations with her friend, Dave O’Malley, who acts as Terri’s confidante and companion on her errand of discovery. The journey dips Terri into a funk of secondary PTSD, culminating at the Metolius River in Oregon’s Cascade Mountains.
Kind regards,
CKingston
