It can't be more dystopian than reality

Don't forget we recently released E.H. Jacobs' political novel Splintered River-- where political personalities take advantage of racial tensions and threaten to split America in two

I received my first official paycheck from a newspaper while still in high school. A small local sports-themed weekly wanted to expand into a community “good news” weekly and asked me to write one feature a week to make this happen.

This was in the early 1990’s and I want to say those articles earned me $17.50. My college years led me to consider a career in public relations after an amazing internship at Binney & Smith, the Lehigh Valley icon that made Crayola crayons, just after their sale to the Hallmark Corporation.

I thought I loved corporate communications and public relations— turned out I really loved Crayola crayons. (Still do!)

A journalist’s perspective

After a stint in public relations and alumni communications at Lafayette College, where I met my partner-in-crime and art director Gayle Hendricks, I had a lot of newspaper jobs in an era when I could see the death of print.

I learned layout with blue grid paper and rubber cement AND computer. I received my first email address in college. When I entered the newsroom, white men still held most of the seats on editorial boards and corporate boards and none of them could imagine a world where the Internet overtook print.

“No one would ever stop reading the print newspaper,” they said.

But, as someone who had built my own web pages on Geocities and started a blog on Blogger, and a few years later lost myself in databases like Lexus-Nexus, it was hard to not consider the threat.

As newspapers morphed and sometimes died, I spent most of my time in community newspapers. Those are the weeklies. I’ve worked for free weeklies, subscription weeklies and weeklies tossed in driveways with the daily paper.

But I’ve also worked for the daily. Between each of my full-time newspaper jobs, I would freelance for the local office of The Morning Call, covering the smaller towns in my county. I loved the council meetings, not so much the school boards. My editor took a chance on me then, because I could write a decent sentence, he said, as we talked over sandwiches, probably chicken salad, at the iconic Josie’s New York Deli. (And that’s how I landed as a contributor to Armchair Lehigh Valley, because editors don’t forget dependable writers.)

A good journalist loses the ability to vocalize opinions. A good journalist spends so much time learning everything we can to provide all the sides, all the information. A good journalist doesn’t offer their opinions because we don’t want people to think they can’t trust us. A good journalist offers facts.

This has also changed the way I see the world, and it doesn’t help that in the academic world I am a “critical theorist,” which means no matter what subject I look at, I want to find what people did wrong so we don’t repeat those mistakes. (It’s a little more complex than that, but you get the idea.)

With the election just around the corner, I encourage you all to remember that the current political stage, in my opinion, has focused on personalities and showmanship more than substance. The two-party system creates an us-against-them mentality and offers no incentive to cooperate.

If you’ll forgive some humor… Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off.

Splintered River as the election approaches

I can’t help but feel that nothing we create in our fictional universes will compare to what is happening in the real world. And that is why I agreed to publish E.H. Jacobs’ debut novel, Splintered River. In some ways, the premise of the novel seems unbelievable, and you wonder if these ambitious political characters with minimal scruples could exist.

When I look at the story’s inciting incident — a white police officer in small-town Louisiana shoots and kills a young Black man holding a hot dog — that seems like an actual news story. The events that unfold, the alliances that occur, the scheming, the paramours… Is it really different from our present-day world?

No book is ever perfect, there will always be typos. There will always be unresolved discussions among the publishing staff. For instance, we wanted to release this book before the 2024 presidential election. If we had waited another six months, would the book look different?

As it stands now, here is the back of the book:

Malcolm Douglas runs from a convenience store.

Officer Mike Hargreaves orders the young Black man to stop, but Malcolm raises his hand and Officer Hargreaves shoots him, only to realize that Malcolm's 'weapon' was a hot dog, not a gun.

In small-town Louisiana, the shooting of a Black teen by a white cop threatens to divide not only the community, but the South at large, and potentially the country thanks to a shadowy white nationalist organization and politicians not unfamiliar with scandal.

Mounting violence, a movement for an independent Black nation-state, and a court battle challenging interpretations of the Second Amendment may divide the United States forever.

Will a cast of unlikely heroes-- a grieving mother, an institutionalized spouse of a high-ranking official, a Supreme Court justice and a journalist looking for her own redemption-- heal the chasms?

For those of you enrolled in Kindle Unlimited, you can find the book here:

E.H. Jacobs at lala books November 9

If you’re in Massachusetts, lala books in Lowell will be hosting a local author’s day on Saturday, November 9 from 1 to 5 p.m. E.H. Jacobs will be there, and art director Gayle and I hope to stop by in advance since we’re headed to the Museum of Printing this weekend.

If want to buy your copy of Splintered River, it is in stock at these independent Massachusetts bookstores:

• Andover Bookstore, 74 Main St., Andover, Mass., 01810

• Lala books, 189 Market St. Lowell, Mass., 01852

• Eight Cousins Bookstore, 189 Main St., Falmouth, Mass., 02540

• Tutnuck Bookseller, Westborough Shopping Center,18 Lyman St

  Westborough, Mass., 01581

(and in Pennsylvania, it is on the shelf at Blue Flame Events Retail Store in the Palmer Park Mall)

Poetic Relief at Book & Puppet November 14

I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that maybe poetry offers the outlet and the hope we all deserve.

In November, Noble Quills at Book & Puppet Company, the independent bookstore in downtown Easton, will feature McKenna Graf and Darrell Parry. That event is November 14, at 6:30 p.m. I encourage everyone to come down and see the new location of Book & Puppet and reflect on the power of McKenna’s and Darrell’s work, as they both use the everyday aspects of life to explore poetic themes. Their work can also be found on various online retailers, and also in stock at not only the Blue Flame Events Retail Store but also on campus at the Lafayette College Store.

And if that’s not enough to shake any funks you might be feeling this November…

Horror tales & wine at Cellar Beast November 15

And if you just want to pour a glass of wine and embrace the horror…

I will be reading chapter three of my ghost novel, Courting Apparitions, with William Prystauk, J.Z. Nieves, and Liz Rosen at a special “wine and book pairing event” at Cellar Beast Winehouse in Andrees, Pa. That event is 6 to 9 p.m. and features an opening set of poetry by Darrell Parry. Tickets are $15 and include a flight of wines paired to each of the readings, selected by the sommelier at Cellar Beast.

For more information or to reserve your ticket, click here. I don’t know much about Liz or J.Z., but I am excited to learn more about them. J.Z. is promoting her debut novel, Brothers. You can visit her Amazon author page here. And Liz, this is what I found when doing a search, so hopefully it’s the right author.

Now, if you’ve been around here a while, you might recognize Bill’s name. He’s reading from his horror novel, The Hanging Girl. Bill and I have been friends for about 15 years now, and you can see his books here.

Now if we can dip into the arts…

Meanwhile, while I am doing my best to host free workshops and sell books, some of my colleagues are mentoring the next generation. Both author Larry Sceurman and fine artist Maryann Riker will be speaking to college classes in the coming weeks.

Larry most recently released the dyslexia-friendly children’s book, Bookworm’s Magical Journey. Maryann has contributed covers and interior artwork to several Parisian Phoenix books (covers for The Phulasso Devotional and Twists: Gathered Ephemera and interior art in the marginalized voices anthology, Not an Able-Bodied White Man with Money).

Maryann will be specifically talking about zine construction, so that should be a lot of fun. I’ve been practicing my “zine folds,” and I found this delightful web site to show some techniques. Speaking of fun and the fine arts, I stopped at the Art Pop-Up at Easton Public Market to see some of the members of The Arts Community of Easton, which includes not only Maryann but also Bonnie Winfield of The Journey Home.

And for this week’s writing resource:

• Oh Write! If you’re looking for online writing spaces that offer friendly competition or personalized writing spaces for just you and your critique partners— check out Oh Write! It’s a bare-bones notepad type word processor that tracks your word counts and shows you the word counts of other people in the room. So, if writing sprints motivate you, this could help the writing doldrums.

  

Phulasso Personal Protection for Women

Join author Thurston Gill for a workshop Saturday, November 2 from 10 a.m. to noon. Women will examine their situational awareness, observation, discernment and personal protection execution skills. This workshop is held at the Powerhouse Arts Complex in Mount Bethel, Pa. For more info and to register, click here.

Thanks for reading this far. Soon, we’ll announce our 2025 production schedule. The only reason I haven’t is because I get so long-winded in these newsletters!

As always—

Angel

Gayle and Angel at Electric Jack’s JackOLantern Experience

Added bonus links: Parisian Phoenix titles available through Barnes & Noble.com

Children’s Books available from Parisian Phoenix Kittens via Barnes & Noble

Excerpt from Splintered River

Pushing open the door to the QuikShop, Malcolm heard the sleigh bells on the door announce his entrance. He looked toward the back, where his hot dog was waiting behind the small, glassed-in grill, when he saw small bunches of yellow and orange flowers arranged in white buckets alongside the wall near the entrance. Touching the stems of a yellow bunch, he thought of Summer and wondered if he could go without lunch to buy the flowers.

“Watcha doin’, flower boy?”

 Malcolm whipped his head up and froze, seeing the smile: large, white teeth with one protruding and slightly crooked. He stood upright and stiffened. His mouth stretched into a nervous grin.

“Hey, Ulysses. Whatsup?”

“Buying some flowers for your mama?” 

Ulysses crossed his arms over his sleeveless, ribbed undershirt. 

“No, actually,” said Malcolm, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I thought your mama might like these.” 

Malcolm picked up the bunch of yellow daisies. Ulysses took a quick step forward and Malcolm flinched, stepped back, and instinctively moved the flowers between himself and Ulysses.

“Those flowers ain’t gonna do you no good, except on your grave.” 

Ulysses turned and walked away, snatching a candy bar on his way out the door. Malcolm watched the door swing shut.

“You buying those flowers, son?”

Malcolm turned to see Mr. Spencer, the store owner, looking at him. He lowered the flowers into the white bucket and walked to the back of the store for his hot dog. Malcolm took the hot dog from the clerk and abruptly turned his head, as if seeing someone or something move quickly past the front window of the store. He had heard Ulysses talk about Summer. 

“Ulysses…wait…” he whispered.

  “He left, remember?” said Mr. Spencer. 

Malcolm bolted out of the store, barely hearing Mr. Spencer shout, “Hey, you didn’t pay!” and turned the corner. Malcolm looked down the long, wide, empty boulevard that was Main Street, the rising heat visible by the bending of the light above the asphalt. He heard shouting behind him, but his head was awash in an ocean of noise. A humming coming from inside or outside, he could never tell. Hum...hum…hum…then louder. HUMM… HUMM… HUMM… now more insistent… HUMMMHUMMMHUMMM.