DISCLAIMER
The bookstore is open. Come on in! However, I should prepare the women’s section. A lovely man has a way with words, the ladies no defense.
What, pray, is your pleasure? Action! Thrill seekers need their fix, page turners the rush, beachgoers some summer skim. Gratification! Some like it hot, our fast times feeding the frenzy, some short and sweet, don’t have all day. Stimulation! You might swoon at the flex of muscular prose, or pine for the pinup on pulp fiction paperback. Captivation! A twist of plot can titillate, or more curvaceous arc of story. Genre! Do you haunt the horror section, rummage through romance, hang in suspense . . . ? A good read! You all work hard for the money, deserve your satisfaction.
Please, pick up a different book! The bargain bin supplies a surfeit of the fare. You live in a free country, entitled to your preference, however mundane the exercise. My memoir is a different story, look on the top shelf! A good read? The celebrity may not recommend the purchase—to her book club’s loss—but shed no tears for my neglect. The uncommon writer will still enjoy a rare company. Discerning drinkers possess a palate, the best booklovers a sense—as you will confirm in due course.
Public demand? I pooh-pooh the easy pickings! The most memorable book does not cater to the public, a new reader is born of the book. By magic?! Because I say so! Like the making of a promise, the word creates the thing. And I give you my word, you are reading an original, which very declaration is sufficient for success. Very cocky! On good authority. The daredevil gets the girl, the dauntless fighter delivers a knockout punch, and the confident writer builds a trust. Memoir or manifesto? A Lovely Man is a novel undertaking! All well and good, but can you really deliver? Just you wait and see.
Literature has a new hero. Are you sitting comfortably? Feel free to fill a fortifying glass. And please pull the curtains, turn off the show, boot the cat. I have taken trouble in the telling, deserve the fullest focus.
All men are created equal. So they say! I am a generous man, bring you a special present, but not all have what it takes to appreciate the gift. The privileged will take pleasure, the perceptive prize the prose, the philosophical pause to ponder. The peanut gallery may contrive some petty peeving. Fond of his words . . . I am a writer! . . . Is he serious? . . . Light of heart! . . . funny-peculiar . . . Distinctive of voice! . . . such liberties . . . I cast off the chains! . . . lives in the past . . . Verily, I say unto thee! . . . wanders off the path . . . To find hidden treasure! . . . takes his sweet time . . . Like a lucky lady’s lover! . . . looong trains of thought . . . I am thinking of you, a generous man shares his wealth!
I make no apology! The attention deficient will miss their immediate gratification, but only to advantage, I say. A historic hero voyaged for ten years to bed the peerless Penelope. A latter-day delight will pay your present patience.
A little fog? Like Sherlock, you will feel at home. Some bearings will still benefit. Very well, our saga unfolds in San Francisco, California, in the new millennium, when your intrepid helmsman was navigating his late forties and the Twins still towered over the other side of the land. A contemporary Calypso, the computer, already held us captive, but the devil’s phone was just a spawn and the siren of social media yet to seduce the soul of any sailor. The peril lay elsewhere.
A crowd? The ferry may be full, but fear no loss of footing. In another gesture of good faith, I will now read the roster, your page of future reference.
Cheers!