Books for Bricks

Norman Mailer and the Writing of "The Beast"

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Fri, 29 Nov 2013 23:30:00 +0000

One of my favorite devices in writing non-fiction is that of writing auto-biographical elements in the third person. This actually has a name - Illeism - and is a long held mechanism in literature of many sorts. Julius Caesar used the device based on an egoistic assumption of hubris not unlike that used in the present day by Cam Newton, or Floyd Mayweather in sports interviews. Henry Adams used it to distance himself from his own family stories in "The Education of Henry Adams" though he acknowledged its use was in some ways falsely self-deprecating. It gave the appearance of distance while in fact maintaining a deep sense of self.

So it goes.

But no where in modern literature has this been more evident (or more beautifully utilized, in my opinion) than in the writings of Norman Mailer. In "The Fight" - his legendary exploration of the Ali-Foreman fight in Kinshasa - he approaches it straight up. In that text he refers to Mailer frequently as merely being one character among many. By referring to himself in that way, he was able to infuse the story with some of his personal anecdotes and observations without allowing himself to dominate the story as such.

In his Pulitzer Prize winning "Armies of the Night," Mailer is more of a major character in his own story, so he uses the appropriately 1960-ish sobriquet of Aquarius to refer to himself. By doing so, he allows his character to comment more subjectively than perhaps he could have done had he used the first person. If Aquarius thinks or feels something, we accept it; if Mailer did the same, it would feel less like the 'history as novel' feel that he was attempting to convey and would perhaps feel pedantic or discursive even. As it was used, it was brilliantly executed and propelled the story forward without distraction.

I understand the trappings and limitations of this technique. I have used it often - usually in those situations where I want to tell my unique story without infusing my own self too overtly upon it, much like Henry Adams - though that is of course, pretty much impossible. In my early writings about Senator Gary Hart's 1984 Presidential Campaign, I was the Editor of my college newspaper, in my Animation interviews I was the Scribe. And for writing "The Beast" I felt it allowed me to ascribe certain lyrical attributes to the feelings and experiences of The Servant of the Dust, without also saddling that character (and he is indeed a character in the context of the story) with the linguistics of my own ego - though of course that is probably impossible as well. It is in the humble yearnings of the Servant that the story is propelled for me. It felt disingenuine to treat it else, although I wholly acknowledge that we are inseparable and indistinguishable.

As it should be.

Whether it is a successful device or not, is surely up to each individual reader who brings their own unique context and experiences to bear. For me, it intuitively felt right. And as a writer and a human being - that is everything.

An Excerpt from "The Beast"

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Sat, 23 Nov 2013 13:44:00 +0000

This week's blog entry is a taste of what we're talking about here. It is the opening of "The Beast". This was written approximately twenty minutes after the events told within it transpired. It is interesting that I knew kind of where the book would be going - but not in a precise sort of way.

I couldn't obviously control the events upon the bus to make a readable story about a bus ride, but I could not escape my own personal context either. I carried that with me to the bus: my ethos, my experiences, my deep feelings for why I am on this earth, and my voice. Of all my books, this one bears my writer's voice perhaps the best of any - maybe because it is the book that means the most to me.

Chapter One

7:24 am – LaGanga: The Beast is unforgiving. It moves to its own internal rhythm – at its own pace. It cares not whether those it claims as its passengers are early, or are late, or are precisely on time. To The Beast, it simply matters not.

No. It cares only for its own selfish, belching, rheuming, fuming journey along the Bara-Bara (main thoroughfare) of the Arusha Road from Usa River to Morogoro, Tanzania, East Africa.

The Servant of the Dust stood quietly at the bus station at LaGanga with his young Tanzanian friend MeHost who had driven him there. Together they patiently waited. And waited. Tanzanian Time, you know. Meanwhile a long line of small, local Dalla-Dalla buses – so called because they cost only a ‘Dalla!’ (dollar) – scurried frantically to and fro, spewing forth passengers and chaos like so many African fire ants.

But no Beast.

The Servant of the Dust chuckled in spite of himself. Though he was at that dark, reflective, intensely-introspective part of his present journey, he found he still had a small portion of lightness left within his being to share with MeHost. He felt there was something about the antics of the desperate little men, the hangers-on, who rode along with the Dalla-Dallas that was infinitely amusing.

They seemed to be an entire circus unto themselves. Part Ringmaster, a little bit Lion Tamer, a larger bit buffoonish Clown and a whole lot of Sideshow Barker calling out to those gathered at the bus stop – the children arrayed in the multi-hued styles of their respective school uniforms, gnawing on empty water bottles and sucking every last ounce of sustenance from soggy husks of corn, poking and prodding and pummeling each other noisily in the red dust of the bus station – and then there were the elders, bent and lame, moving with shuffling deliberation across a cruel landscape of age that hobbled their every footfall with wracks of silently-born pain.

And yet the Sideshow Barkers called on. “Dalla! Dalla!”

They beseeched groups of confident young men to join them on the bus. The Young men seemed to clump together in gregarious groups of threes or fours catcalling the pretty – and equally confident – young women promenading proudly on the other side of the street in their colorful Tanzanian finery, safe in the distance between to play along with their youthful game.

Finding no takers for their mobile Sideshows, the Barkers would ultimately concede defeat and then magically transform themselves into skillfully reckless Trapeze Artists, leaping, grabbing, swinging dangerously through the open doors of the accelerating Dalla-Dalla’s with graceful defiance as they sped off to their next Circus Stop.

For the Servant of the Dust, it was a welcome distraction from the slight trepidation of anticipation of the arrival of The Beast. He was self-aware to know that it was not in fact The Beast that troubled his fragile countenance but something else, something deeper, something darker at the core of his very essence.

Empathy. He was helpless to it here.

Something inside of him changed with every subsequent trip to Africa. Deepened. Heightened. Each time it seemed to transform him from the inside out. The ubiquitous choking dust of this raw and insistent place seemed to find its way to the very veins of his soul, lining them with ever-thickening layers of the ancient grit of blessed humanity itself.

Blissfully, just as the metaphysical sway of internal tumultuous discourse threatened to spiral completely out of control, The Beast rolled into sight – the large green BM of its visor visible clearly and not a little ominously from a distance. The Servant worked his way through the massing throng to the front of the line – past the multi-hued children, the hobbling elders – through the confident young men and away from the pull of the chortling Sideshow Barkers as the next wave of Dalla-Dallas arrived just ahead of The Beast with a screeching of tires and clamor of activity.

And then it was there.

With a flash of his ticket and a quick and earnest embrace for his friend MeHost, the Servant climbed the steep twisting staircase onto the bus that would take him to Morogoro by nightfall.

Into the belly of The Beast he went. And in that instant, he was consumed. He walked (or was carried) up the narrow aisle careering, veering, lunging, and plunging off of elbows and shoulders and God-knows-what as he found his designated spot and slumped heavily into his seat.

The Beast lurched forth, surging forward with full throaty throttle. It had claimed him.

The journey had begun.

"The Beast" is here...

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Sat, 16 Nov 2013 14:22:00 +0000

"The Beast" is here a few weeks earlier than predicted. Woohoo!

What an incredible process this has been for me. From the writing of "The Beast" while actually in the belly of The Beast - to the editing, proofing processes, to the release - and beyond... This has been one of my favorite writing experiences ever. Ever. Perhaps that is because it means so much to me. It cuts deep to who I am as a person, both in the writing and in the content.

You'll understand when you read this little gem that it may be small, but it says, well pretty much everything!

I would love to have this book take off a little and reach as many people as possible - not only because I think it is one of my best, if not THE best writing I can do... but because all royalties go toward building preschools in Tanzania. Namely The Linda School in Kaloleni.

There are various ways you can purchase this book, each with benefits for you and for Brick by Brick for Tanzania!, Inc. They are as follows:

Click on the Right. This little store gives Brick by Brick the largest donation (even if you have a Discount Code, it is the largest)
Amazon This is second highest donation value for us. The added plus of buying it through Amazon is that it will add to our ranking in the algorithm and will hence promote us to more people. Even if you don't use Amazon to buy, please consider LIKING the page, tweeting it, Giving it stars and reviewing it. That all helps push us out there.
Barnes & Noble, other websites - lowest donation value, but added convenience by being located near you. These will not have access for usually fourteen days or so.
Kindle - Quick, easy and done. Nice donation and you can share with friends. Don't forget that you can use the "Give to a friend" button to share an inexpensive treasure with others and donate to Brick at the same time.

Thanks so much for supporting my writing and the schools we build in Tanzania. Combined together in "The Beast" it is like a perfect storm for me.

Enjoy!

Stream of Consciousness...

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Thu, 14 Nov 2013 12:09:00 +0000

Or stream of undisciplined blather...?

That is the question.

When a writer writes a stream of consciousness piece, it can often be a self-indulgent work that meanders back and forth across the landscape of the page, and never really alights anywhere of note. There are notable exceptions of course, "On the Road", ostensibly feels to be written that way, and mostly was, but as crazy of a process as that may have been, it was edited by one of the great minds in literature on the fly and hence is coherent and cohesive.

My intent was to create a work not unlike that in its unity. Written without the strictures of acceptable-restraint, yet hopefully still imminently readable.

The children of Ndoombo arriving at the The Terry Berg School dedication.

My feeling as I sat down to write "The Beast" practically as the events were unfurling, was to let it flow freely, but also to advance it toward a clear and pre-defined end. I knew approximately how many chapters I would be writing ahead of time. I knew certain elements I would incorporate within the anecdotes - the dedication of the Terry Berg School at Ndoombo, the final days of my mother, my first trips to Tanzania, things like that. I didn't know how per se I was going to get there and the bus ride itself helped to define all that.

I knew before I even opened the noteboook on my lap that I would call the book, "The Beast" and that it would be akin to one of those metaphorical short works by William Faulkner ("The Bear"), or Glenway Wescott ("The Pilgrim Hawk") or even Norman Mailer ("Why we are in Vietnam"). I can't remember if I had discovered the twist at the end so much before boarding the bus or not. I think it was only vaguely broiling in the back of my mind at that point and came more fully alive later on as the writing progressed and took shape.

The structure of the book, I knew would be hourly. Not exactly. But close. I tended to write about the events of 7:30 at 8:30ish, but part of the time - namely when The Beast broke down and we were stranded in the middle of nowhere - I was not writing at all, so I had to catch up with those later.

In a way, there were four threads of storylines working at once:

One thread contained the events happening in almost real-time on the bus,
Another was a leap back to the prior few days from this present journey to Tanzania,
Another was a leap further back to prior events - backstory if you will to these two sets of events,
And the fourth was the metaphorical ethos that began winding its way through the story and leads up to the twist.

Hopefully, the storylines all remain clear and distinct and propel the story forward rather than slow it down. Truthfully, on a 9-hour bus ride, there was a lot of 'nothing' going down. Ennui. Boredom. Staring straight ahead with a limited view of a road that stretched forward but with very little landscape able to be seen clearly from that view. Because of that, any diversion served a very real purpose to keep things moving in the restless mind.

In a few weeks, you'll see for yourselves whether "The Beast" is a rambling mess, or a glimpse at a world in need of compassion. I hope that you find the latter!

You've been warned - "The Beast" is coming!

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Sat, 09 Nov 2013 00:30:00 +0000

What is The Beast?

On the morning of September 30th, 2013, I stood at the bus stop at LaGanga, Tanzania awaiting my transportation to arrive. My young friend, MeHost, did the best he could at taking my mind off of my anxieties by engaging me in a bit of small talk as we waited, but honestly he mostly just seemed to be happy that it was me who was going to be boarding soon and not he. My intent was to do site visits of two possible locations for the next preschools that the organization I founded, Brick by Brick for Tanzania!, Inc., was planning to build in Africa. Unfortunately they were in far off Morogoro and only one way to get there... on an extremely crowded bus.

Filled with trepidation at the eight hour ride looming before me, my mind filled with visions of every stereotypical African bus scene I had ever seen in movies, which I was later to discover, didn't even begin to depict the intense sensory overload of the reality. When the bus at last lumbered into the bus stop - squeaking its brakes and fuming furiously from its tailpipe - I said a quick good-bye to MeHost and boarded the bus carrying only a small knapsack with a change of shirt, some tin-foil wrapped samosas and an empty notebook.

It was this notebook that proved to be my balm...

Aboard the bus, hour after excruciating hour, I scribbled out my thoughts. I wrote not only of what was happening real-time on (and off) the bus, but also of my myriad experiences in the past in Tanzania, the influences who had helped shape that incredible journey, and of course the children. Oh, yes, the children!

The result of those frantic scribblings was a free-association ramble that ultimately formed the basis for a small book called "The Beast" which will be published Thanksgiving weekend. It is not pretty, but it is earnest and heartfelt. And it is of my voice.

"The Beast" will be available on www.amazon.com, and at a bookstore near you!

Don't say I didn't warn you!

- John D. Kenworthy

Opening chapter - The Death of O'Ryan Ross!

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Mon, 03 Dec 2012 12:14:00 +0000

For your reading pleasure, the opening chapter of "The Death of O'Ryan Ross!" available now on Amazon in paperback ($6.99) or Kindle ($1.99) formats. Enjoy! As you read, consider this question - why do we as readers like dark work? What is it about the writing of Sylvia Plath, JD Salinger, and me that touches a chord within you. Send me your comments and I'll post a few of those responses as my next blog entry - the role of literary darkness.

Chapter One:

During a break in classes at Daybreak College in the theater wing of the Schall Performing Arts Center a group of Theater majors lounged casually in the green room, where their discussions revolved around the recent production of Tennessee Williams’ one-act play “The Confessional.”

Antony Fedora coldly bemoaned that he found it to be too symbolic and contrived for his taste, Isaac Gore argued precisely the contrary, while Peter Ivanovich, having acted the role of bartender in the play felt obliged to remain aloof from the discussion even though he agreed with Antony’s position and instead was thumbing through the campus newspaper, the Daybreak Sunrise, which he had just retrieved from his mailbox in the student center.

"Holy shit," he called out, "O’Ryan Ross is dead!"

"Are you serious? My God!"

"Look! It’s right here," Peter replied, handing Antony Fedora the newspaper opened to a center spread just before the sports’ pages. Melodramatically bordered by a huge black frame it read: "Jadwin Ross (sophomore, Poli Sci) with great sadness confirmed to this Sunrise reporter the death of his brother O’Ryan Ivan Ross (Senior, Theater) which happened last Saturday, November 21^st at River Bend County Park. A memorial service will take place this Friday at three o’clock in the afternoon. An official investigation is underway as to the cause of death. Jadwin Ross, brother of the deceased, states that the family does not suspect foul play." It further listed a visitation at the downtown funeral home for that very evening.

O’Ryan Ross had been a classmate of the other Theater majors and was liked – if not exactly, beloved – by them all, at least at first. He had been away from school for several weeks to deal with what was rumored to have been some unknown personal problem – which usually was code for drinking or drug problems of some unresolved form. He had recently been cast as the title character in N. Richard Nash’s “The Rainmaker” and the role was ostensibly held open for him, but there had been rampant speculation among the Theater majors that if he was unable to return Alex Verant would most certainly take his part as a drought-era conman, and that either Vinnie Kovac or Brian Sabel would take Verant’s previous role as the patriarch of the Curry family, HC. With the news of O’Ryan Ross’s untimely passing, the first thought of the thespians gathered in the greenroom was of what Ross’s death might mean for each of them and their classmates in a purely personal way.

"If Sabel gets HC, I’ll take his part as Noah Curry. And if Vinnie gets it, I’ll be Jimmy Curry. Either way I’m getting a speaking part," said Antony Fedora. "I mean, I understudy them both already, and that would just make sense, you know. Somebody’s got to do it."

“I better tell my sister that O’Ryan is gone so she could look into getting his work-study in the stageshop,” thought Peter Ivanovich. “She’ll be really excited. Ross has had the work-study sewn up for a couple of years and now maybe somebody else can build sets and do lights for a change.”

“You know, I just had a feeling he wouldn’t be back again,” said Ivanovich aloud. “Man, it’s so freaking sad.”

"But what happened to him?" Isaac Gore asked to no one in particular.

“Who knows? I mean, well someone probably knows, but I think we all saw a different aspect of him. When we saw him last week I knew he was in a bad way, but I didn’t know it was to this. I thought he looked more or less rotten, but in an O’Ryan sort of way.”

“I hadn’t seen him since early in the year.” Fedora added. “I thought he looked like hell, but we didn’t have any classes together so I had nothing to compare him to.”

“Did he have any family? I mean other than Yaddy,” Gore asked. O’Ryan’s friends knew his younger brother, Jadwin, by the family nickname but truly did not know him well. They all looked to Peter who seemed to know Ross the best.

“I think he had a sister somewhere in Wisconsin – and maybe a little brother too.”

“Do you think they’ll come down here? They live so far away.”

“Wisconsin’s not that far from Iowa, brother,” Antony Fedora teased. “You forget that some of us come from the coasts.”

“Yah, he never can quite forgive me for being a townie,” Peter said nodding playfully in Fedora’s direction but speaking to Gore. They chuckled, then resumed talking of the various distances they all traveled to attend school in southern Iowa and ultimately returned to the subject of whose acting career was going to benefit most from their friend’s demise.

Aside from these surface discussions as to each actor’s comparative strengths and weaknesses toward playing various present and future roles, the death of someone so very close to them stirred within them a specific set of uncomfortably self-driven thoughts.

Without acknowledging it aloud, each had felt a certain odd relief, “There but for the grace of God go I!” They thought – though each was sore ashamed as soon as the thought had crossed the transom of their troubled minds. Another thought equally self-serving and shameful began to eat at each of them from within as well. Now they would have to go through the agonizingly cruel ritual of making an awkward appearance at the memorial service to offer their condolences to Jadwin and any other family in attendance. Painful task that.

Antony Fedora and Peter Ivanovich had been his closest friends such as they were. Peter had actually roomed with him when O’Ryan transferred to Daybreak as a junior and had considered that to be an almost familial, lifelong bond between them. He had never imagined that the lifelong aspect would be so fleeting and temporary.

Having called his sister over supper of Ross’s death, and sharing his thought that it might now be possible for her to win the much-coveted, now-vacated work-study, Peter skipped his usual happy hour routine at the downtown bar frequented by Daybreak students and instead went back to his dorm room to put on a nice oxford shirt and a properly mournful tie before walking to the only funeral home in town to pay his respects.

Flanking the entrance to the funeral home were two gilt-covered statues of Chinese lions. Guarding the doorway as they did, they seemed to be anachronistically out of place as if purchased from an estate sale or perhaps bartered in lieu of payment for some unfunded invoice – which is, in fact, what had happened. Inside, a young man and a young woman both attired in somber shades of black ponderously took off their heavy overcoats and handed them to an attendant to hang on the long empty bars of an anteroom. Peter recognized the young man as being Jadwin “Yaddy” Ross, O’Ryan’s brother, but the young woman was a stranger to him – he was most certain he had seen her somewhere before on campus, but he couldn’t quite place her. She looked too old to be O’Ryan’s sister, but he wasn’t sure. It was obvious that whoever she was, her manner betrayed a young woman stricken with the devastation of a sort of all-encompassing sadness and grief.

His classmate Schwartz was just coming down the hallway, but upon seeing Peter enter he stopped and somewhat morosely winked at him, as if to say, “Ross fucked up good this time – thank goodness you and I are not so stupid.”

Schwartz’s countenance with his natty goatee beard, slicked back hair and with his slim figure bedecked in a freshly-ironed polo shirt, had an unusual air of gravity that was in stark contrast to his usual playfulness and joie de vivre and which added a decided layer of poignancy in this instance. It startled Peter to see his friend so severe.

Ivanovich paused for a moment pretending to search for something in his overcoat. He let Jadwin and the young woman go before him to the viewing room. He then took his time removing and hanging up his own coat before tentatively ambling after them down the long sober hallway. Schwartz did not follow him but instead sat on a low cloth-covered bench near the anteroom. Peter surmised immediately that he perhaps was waiting to discuss where they were to play poker later that evening. Priorities, you know. Jadwin Ross took the young woman gently by the elbow and disappeared from view, guiding her into the far room, and Schwartz with pursed lips and a raise of his eyebrows merely nodded in assent that the room they entered was indeed the destination which Peter sought.

Peter Ivanovich – like so many people when faced with loss – entered the viewing room with no little trepidation – not so much from his own grief, which felt moderated to him, but rather from the fear of the unrealistic expectations placed upon all those who mourn. He figured that the safest thing to do would be to look grievously saddened and to cross himself at every turn – even though he was not Catholic. He wasn’t quite sure how to do it, so he observed other mourners approaching the casket and mimicked the ritual of their gestures. As he observed the actions of the others, he found himself looking surreptitiously around the room. He crossed himself yet again.

Two young men, boys really – who could’ve passed for cousins or nephews had O’Ryan had any – were leaving the room, crossing themselves almost as awkwardly as Peter Ivanovich had done. An older woman he recognized from the coffee shop in town was standing emotionless as a bald man with an ill-fitting suit and tie whispered in her ear nervously. A tall, thin funeral director, or so Peter guessed, was speaking in a quiet voice to a clump of excited co-eds with an almost beatific calm culled from decades of experience in dealing with hysterical college girls in these situations. Yaddy Ross and the young woman sat stone-faced on opposite ends of an overstuffed sofa. Jadwin stared blankly off into nothingness but the woman scrolled with churning emotion through a hastily assembled scrapbook of photos.

A freshman Theater major, Gerry Simms, looking most cheerfully out of place, skittered around the room talking excitedly to anyone who would listen. Jadwin summarily ignored his nervous banter, the young woman merely nodded and Simms moved on. As the young man passed in front of him, Peter Ivanovich likewise nodded politely and instantly became aware that a strange smell that he had noticed permeating the room – Brut Aftershave intermingled with Ivory Soap, he figured – was wafting gaily from Gerry Simms herky-jerky movements. It seemed to follow the young man like an aromatic puppy dog – which was somehow fitting. That was how most of the upperclassmen viewed Simms, as a distasteful, adoring puppy dog.

The last time Peter Ivanovich had seen Ross – in O’Ryan’s dorm, he remembered that it was Gerry Simms who was then accompanying him. O’Ryan seemed strangely fond of the aromatic freshman who seemed to all the other upperclassmen to be one more in a long line of relentlessly fresh-faced sycophants – another freshman suck-up. They had all ignored him with vigor, but O’Ryan seemed to be oddly buoyed by the young man’s enthusiasm. Peter himself didn’t see it.

Nonetheless he continued to awkwardly cross himself, and to tilt his head this way and that way observing the visitation room. When it seemed as if he had done his due diligence in crossing, watching, crossing, and watching again, he made his way to the end of the room where he was dreading seeing the now-deceased face of his friend, O’Ryan, tucked into the faux comfort of a coffin bed.

The coffin was positioned, as coffins sometimes were, perpendicular to the room, feet toward the door, its length and a small array of flowers obscuring the view from the entryway of its formally attired contents. The robust reddish hue of the cedar coffin imbued with deep dark streaks of grain seemed to lead the eye down the top of the casket to where Peter Ivanovich was expecting to see O’Ryan’s waxen face at any moment. He assumed the casket would be of course open for proper mourning rituals and for saying goodbye. He steeled himself for the view. It was much to his amazement and curiosity then that he discovered the casket was in fact closed and would remain so.

A woman’s voice drifting in from some far off corner cut through his befuddlement. “Gun shot? Where’d O’Ryan ever get a gun?” She seemed incredulous.

As was he.

Peter spun his head but could not discern who had thus spoken. Was it the young woman? One of the co-eds? He couldn’t tell. That explained a lot didn’t it? Yet, it explained nothing. It somehow did not quite register with Peter Ivanovich at first. It made no sense. It was then he realized that he harbored no expectation nor wasted any time in consideration as to the cause of death. He had already assumed it was suicide. Or an accident. But probably suicide. But how? He had not allowed that question to even linger within his mind. Pills maybe. But a gun?

Alone he stood in front of the casket. He crossed himself again – now reflexively. It was almost worse with it being closed – with no visual closure. His imagination filled in the void of his reality with ghastly images of what degradation a gun could do to a face. Brutal thoughts painted pictures of the ugliness that lay beneath that beautifully appointed lid.

It almost seemed to be even more cruel and unseemly in a way – as if it was some dire warning to others that death was not only grotesquely inevitable but oh-so-final and that you weren’t even guaranteed to be accorded a proper curtain call. It seemed to be a crass warning that was not entirely lost on Peter Ivanovich, he recoiled against the futile symbolism of the warning, but crossed himself yet again anyway as he turned and bolted toward the door – he knew he was moving far too quickly and regardless of the sensitivity of the other mourners to his revulsion, but he was helpless to stop it.

Schwartz was still sitting on the low bench in the hallway with his back slumped against the wall and both hands unceremoniously playing with a belt buckle that seemed a tad too large for his slacks. The mere sight of that sprightly, elegant and well-dressed figure seemed to rejuvenate Peter’s energy and spirit. Somehow it seemed as if Schwartz was above all these gloomy events and refused to let himself be brought down by any external sadness. His appearance seemed to imply that despite the horror of what had happened to O’Ryan Ross, and Peter’s reaction it, it was certainly no rationale for not carrying through with his appointed purpose – that is, it would not stop him from passing out chips, opening a deck of cards and dealing them face down to his buddies over a few beers: and in fact, it should not preclude them from getting rip-roaringly drunk and spending the evening quite agreeably at all! He whispered as much as Peter passed by his seat, suggesting they meet at Antony Fedora’s off-campus apartment within the hour. Somehow, Peter Ivanovich feared he was not going to be playing any poker that evening.

Jadwin ‘Yaddy’ Ross (a shortish, not-unattractive young man who despite all his efforts to the contrary in dress and style seemed to look more and more like his older brother every year and who seemed to most of O’Ryan’s friends to fulfill that comparison based primarily upon the stunning similarity of their identically piercing blue eyes), dressed from head to toe in ill-fitting black attire, his face marked with exhaustion, came out of the room alone and seeing Schwartz suggested: “There’s a preacher or somebody going to say a few words in a minute. Why don’t you go on in.”

Schwartz, nodding courteously, did not move toward the visitation room, seeming to ignore with a modicum of diffident grace the invitation.

Jadwin seeing Peter Ivanovich, exhaled deeply, walked to him, took him by the elbow in the same way he had taken the young woman, and said: “Peter, I know you were friends with O’Ryan…” and gazed for a long instant into his eyes as if waiting some appropriate response. And Peter sensed that, just as he had sensed it was appropriate to cross himself repeatedly inside the visitation room, so he impulsively and somewhat clumsily hugged his friend’s brother and said in a halting voice, “Yes. I am. Was. Am…” His voice trailed off, and he felt despite the fumbled reply that he had done his duty. He then crossed himself for good measure.

“Do you have a moment? I want to talk with you before you leave,” said Jadwin. “Outside?”

Peter Ivanovich allowed himself to be lead outside, not stopping to retrieve an overcoat, passing Schwartz who shrugged with mock resignation.

“There goes poker!” His expression seemed to say. “Don’t you worry about us. We’ll find another player with deeper pockets than yours. Maybe you can catch up later, but I doubt it,”

Peter Ivanovich sighed a bit despondently as Jadwin Ross guided him outside and around the corner of the building. When they had reached a small plaza, appointed as it was with white wrought iron furniture, large empty pots (which during the summer months contained over-flowing flowering plants), and with winter-streaked trellises lining the perimeter twisted as they were with the skeletal remains of dead or dormant vines – Jadwin sat on a low iron chair and Peter on a double-glider, the springs of which squealed noisily against the unseasonable movement. Jadwin recoiled against the noise visibly and almost suggested that Peter find another seat, but then thought about it and instead said nothing. As he sat down on the glider, Peter recalled how O’Ryan and some of the other Theater majors used to go to the River Bend Park and swing on the childrens’ playset there – and how those too had their own unique and noisome creaks.

The plaza was owned by the funeral parlor for just such get-away-for-moments such as this, and it was normally kept in beautiful repair during the more temperate times of year. Now however it seemed to mirror the dismal gray moods of the two souls who shared its space. As Jadwin was sitting down on the chair, a sheaf of papers – contracts and funeral home ephemera – caught on one of the scrolled arms of the chair and were blown free from his hand. Peter rose instantly to help retrieve the blowing papers and the springs of the glider swung free and full of voice. Jadwin gratefully accepted the rogue paperwork, shuffling it into seeming order, and Peter sat down again, carefully maneuvering onto the glider to minimize the squeal. Jadwin made a comment as to how he was missing one document from his stack and Peter stood again to help look for it. The glider squeaked plaintively yet again rebelling against the constant up and down. When the last fugitive piece of paper was pulled from a brown, dead shrub, they returned to their seats.

For a moment, the two sat staring at each other with slight dumbfounded looks flickering across both faces that seemed to ask if they even recalled why they had taken this outdoors respite in the first place. Just as Jadwin seemed to be ready to finally kick off the conversation, the tall, thin man from the visitation room whom Peter had assumed to be the funeral director abruptly interrupted the lull in a conversation that had yet to begin. His name was Mr. Sokol, and he was indeed the funeral director come to talk about the memorial service details and more importantly how they were going to transport the body of O’Ryan Ross back to his hometown of Newtonville, Wisconsin for burial. The initial pricing options seemed to be somewhat outrageous and Jadwin looked over at Peter with an upraised eyebrow expression of total helplessness. He then shrugged resignedly and arose from his seat, gesturing to Sokol they should step aside to avoid the embarrassment of talking financials in front of poor Peter who could probably care less. Peter acknowledged this gesture with an appreciative nod and leaned slowly back on the glider.

Jadwin chuckled for a moment at the tender machinations of his brother’s friend and stepped towards the glider. “Smoke?” He asked, extending an opened box of Camel filter-less cigarettes and a plastic lighter, and then stepping away deferentially to talk details with the undertaker about what options were available for transporting a body across state lines.

Peter Ivanovich took the cigarette with a nod of thanks, tapped it and lit it, cupping his hand against the chill breeze’s disruption. All of the Theater majors smoked, partly because a cigarette was a great dramatic prop, partly because they told themselves it kept their weight down, and partly because they felt it calmed their seemingly always high-strung nerves.

While drawing deeply the calming smoke into his lungs, Peter heard Jadwin and Sokol discussing the various options available to them for transporting O’Ryan to a cemetery in Wisconsin and deciding ultimately on hiring a low-cost third-party trucking firm that sometimes specialized in just such a means of cut-rate transport. When that was all decided upon agreeably and a price tentatively noted – pending a confirming phone call from his parents – Jadwin summarily shook Sokol’s hand and patted him on the back as the undertaker turned away against the cold and went back inside.

“Mom and dad can’t handle this right now,” Jadwin explained, taking a cigarette for himself and lighting it off of Peter’s smoldering ash. “It’s not like I can’t handle it. Au contraire, this paperwork crap is just not that big a deal and frankly it’s a nice distraction from… well, from everything.” Ross plucked a neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket, and for a moment Peter thought that the brother of his friend was on the verge of breaking down, but Jadwin simply dabbed idly at his nose now dripping against the winter wind. His emotions remained in tact. “But there is something about that I want to talk about. I think you should know – what with you being his friend and all.”

Peter Ivanovich nodded slightly, shifting slightly on the rocker but trying to keep from setting off yet another round of intrusive squeaking.

“These last three days at the hospital were awful.”

“Three days? I thought he died at the park.”

“Oh, it was horrible, Peter! No. He shot himself in the park, right in the face, but he didn’t die! Not then. Three days they had him on a vent! They brought him in, wrapped him like a mummy and crammed a great big tube into a hole where his face used to be. His jaw, mouth and nose were totally blown away. Don’t know what they were thinking. His goddam eyes were open, Peter. Can you freaking imagine? And with that tube shoved in there it looked for all the world like he was screaming incessantly. ‘Oooooooo’ a big open gaping ‘Ooooo’ Three days of ‘Oooooo”! Christ, I couldn’t even look at him. I’m not even sure how I made it through. It was like watching a horror movie – a really bad horror movie. Friday the 13^th only real. And the sound, holy fuck. The sound was, was… it was that god-awful noise of air rushing in and gurgling through whatever the fuck shot-up junk was left inside there. Oh, it was awful, Peter! He put me through so much. So much.”

“But he was out of it though, right? O’Ryan, I mean. He wasn’t really ever awake after that was he? He didn’t suffer much?”

“I don’t know. I think so. No, that’s a lie. Yes, he did. I told you, his eyes were open,” Jadwin whispered softly. “To the very end they were open. He even seemed like he was trying to talk once but all that came out was that choking, damn gurgle of air and fluids percolating in there – scared the hell out of my little brother. Al was here from Wisconsin. That was maybe fifteen minutes before he died. Thank God. He was trying to say something. Maybe it was nothing. It sound like…” His voice trailed off and his eyes looked away. “Well, it didn’t sound – good.”

The mere thought of his friend and former roommate suffering so troubled Peter immensely. He wasn’t sure why Jadwin had felt so compelled to tell him this. Maybe he just had to tell someone. But why him? They weren’t that close really. No, not really at all. The horror of the thought shook through his body sending a shiver careening up his spine. He again had visions of O’Ryan dead and disfigured in that closed casket and felt his own self-consciousness take hold yet again.

“Three days! Three days he suffered – a living rotting stinking death! What if that was me?” His thoughts raced in upon him and suddenly he felt the air dreadful cold and wicked damp hit his body hard and unyielding and all at once. “I’m not that kind of guy, but if I was? No. I’m not. O’Ryan was. Not me. I’m not like him. Not like that at all. No. He could not even let himself hazard a stray thought like that at all for fear that even thinking such madness could indeed make it so. No he was above all that. Better than that. Better than O’Ryan.”

The selfishness and egoism of that last thought resonated within him and he felt ashamed to have had it cross his mind, but it was truth. He began to ask all manner of questions regarding the particular details of O’Ryan’s death, and with each answer that Jadwin painstakingly shared, Peter felt reassured even more that death was a singular event unique to O’Ryan Ross but certainly not to himself. No. Not to himself.

As the details came out of the horrific suffering that O’Ryan Ross had endured (and whether it was a scant glimmer of insight into how deeply those sufferings had affected Yaddy’s nerves or the bitter temperature that seemed to be dropping further with every passing moment or the relentless banality of the inquiries) the younger brother suddenly found it necessary to excuse himself and return inside.

“Peter, you have no idea…” Jadwin’s voice broke as he rose and struggled to stifle the choke that was then forming in his throat and the tears that were ready to burst forth from his already-dampened eyes.

Peter laboriously exhaled a long blue stream of smoke into the chill air and watched it dissipate into the early evening breeze. His pause punctuated the silence and allowed Jadwin to regain his control. When he had sufficiently done so, Peter said simply, “I know. I know.” But in truth, he knew not. Jadwin was correct, he truly had no idea. No idea what Jadwin had gone through, no idea really what had caused O’Ryan to do what he had done. He only knew that it was not him – that he yet lived.

Peter took a few more long draws of his cigarette allowing Jadwin respectful time to get inside without appearing to stalk behind. Shivering now against the elements, he at the last pressed out his cigarette, rose from the squeaking glider and walked around the corner into the funeral parlor again.

Down the hallway where Schwartz had previously been seated, the low bench was now empty. Standing next to it was a small group of mourners, townspeople, students, and amongst them Peter recognized the young woman who had accompanied Jadwin earlier. She was attired in a short black dress that would have been borderline distasteful had she not worn it so elegantly. The black somehow seemed to make her slim, shapely figure that much more slim and that much more shapely. She was far more attractive than she had appeared previously when Peter had first noticed her. Through the small group of mourners her stunning green eyes, cradled by crisply chiseled cheekbones and silhouetted by delicate stray strands of jet black hair, caught Peter’s attention and he recognized far too late that he was staring at her and that she was staring right back at him.

She had a sad, curious, yet almost defiant expression playing upon her full, moist lips and with a mere glance she unleashed some of her immense inner pain in Peter’s direction as if he were somehow involved in instigating that hurt simply by being friends, acquaintances really, with O’Ryan Ross. He held her gaze for a brutally long moment uncomfortably and simultaneously attracted and repulsed by her beauty only to let his gaze fall abruptly away when Jadwin suddenly reappeared at her elbow. She looked first at Jadwin and then smiled quixotically, enigmatically back at Peter. As if she knew what he was thinking – and how could she when he himself was not sure – she reached up and with long graceful fingers stroked Jadwin’s cheek with the back of her hand, which she then followed by pulling him to her and sharing a quick kiss full on the lips. Her actions seemed choreographed solely to elicit some reaction from Peter.

Damned if he knew what all that was about. Sarah. That was her name. Jadwin’s girlfriend. He remembered her from the dance. Yes. Sarah. That must be she.

More mourners entered from behind him, opening the doorway to the cold wind, which seemed to clear the hallway as everyone moved again to the far visitation room. Just that quickly, Sarah and Jadwin were gone.

Peter, shaken but not exactly sure why, nodded deferentially to the arriving mourners, some of whom he knew, and was trying to bolster his nerve to follow them into the visitation room again. He had walked halfway down the hall, (past the cloak room, past the bench) when he caught a glimpse in his peripheral vision of a fragile looking boy sitting all alone on a couch in a side room. The boy seemed to resemble a younger, more frail version of the O’Ryan Ross that Peter remembered fondly from the previous year. This incarnation however was distinguished by a pair of sensitive blue eyes now rimmed in vales of red, marked as they were from too many tears shed at far too young an age. Alwyn Ross it must have been, the youngest Ross brother. Peter recalled vaguely that Alwyn had some sort of strange ailment – an autism or Asperger’s or something – but it was difficult to discern anything unusual about the lad beyond his complete and utter sadness. When Alwyn saw Peter Ivanovich he cringed visibly at being thrust into the center of attention and nervously pretended to become immersed in a Beagle Boy comic book he held in his small hands. Peter thought this was a bit juvenile for a boy his age, but nonetheless raised a hand and offered a small wave of condolence before crossing himself out of sheer force of habit.

Down the hallway, inside the visitation room, the service had begun: the low reassuring voice of a preacher intoned gently over waves of muffled sobs. Peter stood at the entry and looked down at his feet. He thought for a moment of rejoining the mourners inside the godforsaken death chamber but could not bring himself to actually do it. He did not want to yield yet again to the all-encompassing grief of that depressing entourage. He knew that all the tears and speeches and wails and oppressive hand-wringing would be repeated again and again the next day at the formal service. And truth be told, he did not really want to be in the same room as Sarah and hazard those eyes again. He didn’t know precisely why, but no. Not tonight. He turned to hasten a retreat.

The cloak room had been left unattended, so Peter stood seemingly lost in the doorway wondering if he should maybe just leave his coat and retrieve it at a later date – it wasn’t that cold outside, but suddenly the scent of Brut Aftershave mixed with Ivory Soap wafted in upon him as Gerry Simms dashed ahead of him into the room, dug through the various overcoats and miraculously returned with Peter’s well-worn London Fog, helping him into it.

“Thank you, Gerry,” said Peter at last, making small talk. “It’s sad isn’t it?”

“I suppose so. But it’s what he wanted. Obviously. We’ll all get there soon enough I guess,” said Simms, smiling feebly – the crooked toothed grin of a young man not wealthy enough to afford much-needed orthodonture – and, like the faithful manservant that he seemed to be, held the door to the funeral parlor open graciously.

Peter Ivanovich felt the cool late-autumn air strike him briskly in the face. It was colder now than earlier and he was glad he had his overcoat but he found the freshness to be absolutely revitalizing after the stale funeral parlor air with its own unique smells mixed with Gerry Simms’ even more unique aromatic offerings.

"So, where you going, Petie?" asked Gerry suddenly energized, unmindful of using a non-existent nickname.

"Well, it's not too late... I think I’ll head over to Antony’s place for some poker."

Cursing himself for not telling a white lie and without waiting for Gerry Simms to invite himself along, Peter Ivanovich quickly turned and walked at a fast clip’s pace straight to Antony Fedora’s efficiency apartment two short blocks away where he found the poker game was just beginning to ramp up both in excitement and in larger-sized pots. With neither comment nor condolence he walked in, tossed his jacket on a couch, pulled up a chair and joined the game already in progress.

“I’m in,” Peter Ivanovich said, and he lost himself in the game.

How animation legend Chuck Jones influenced "The Death of O'Ryan Ross!"

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Mon, 26 Nov 2012 03:48:00 +0000

I've spoken before about the rules legendary animator Chuck Jones established for his Roadrunner cartoons. He insisted that the roadrunner not speak - only Meep; the roadrunner had to stay on the road; the coyote would always fall the same number of frames. To Chuck those strictures freed the creativity of the artists within that context. It was very structured.

Some would say rigid.

But it worked. The Roadrunner - (And Pepe Le Pew, which was similar) is extremely popular. When I interviewed him for "The Hand Behind the Mouse" he reaffirmed those rules as a creativity-enhancing device. For me, that's what my little experiment with Tolstoy was all about - working within a structure.

Each line for me was like one of Chuck's rules. It may have limited my options, but it also forced all of my thought processes to be concentrated on the content and the story - instead of rhythms, parts of speech or anything of the sort. All of that was already done for me. The process was enabled in some ways by the choice I made to have O'Ryan be integral to every chapter. With the exception of the opening chapter at his funeral - and the final scene in the hospital - the viewpoint is limited omniscient. I write from his perspective, feeling his pain.

So knowing the subject was O'Ryan, and the sentence structure I needed, I merely had to fill in action verbs and pretty it up with the filigree of adjectives and adverbs as prescribed by Tolstoy's word choices.

"Merely," the man said. "Merely!" Hah! Darned hard work actually. But that hard work was between the lines. Not external. Everything that suffered my restless nights was what was truly important - the story itself.

Not that I would do it again. But it was certainly an interesting process.

Creating the Unexpected when so much is Known...

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Sat, 24 Nov 2012 14:43:00 +0000

One of the immense challenges with writing "The Death of O'Ryan Ross!" - aside from the Tolstoy sentence structure - was in creating a narrative that was somehow interesting when so much was known from the start. Heavens, the very title tells you all you need to know, doesn't it?

Or does it?

If that were the case, why write the story at all? Indeed. O'Ryan Ross lived; then he died. Big surprise.

But it is that journey from A to B that is revelatory. How and (more importantly) why did he die? Part of that is explained away in the opening scene which takes place at O'Ryan's funeral. We know he committed suicide, we know he used a gun, we know he's dead. Done, done, and done...!

But despite that fore-knowledge, there is much we don't know as well. We are given some hints in that opening scene, and the stage is certainly set, but with a work that is so dogmatic as is this - it is so very important to add surprises where possible, just to maintain the reader interest. Even up to the final line, I have tried to do that.

One thing I have attempted to do is to slightly skew events by having unreliable narrators at times. It is more fun if even I don't know precisely what is happening and when. By having characters be self-delusional (O'Ryan Ross, Jadwin Ross) or simply mistaken (Peter Ivanovich, Alwyn Ross, Professor Hays), we are able to keep that suspense evident along the way.

Or so I hope.

By writing with this in mind, I feel I have veered a couple of times from where I thought the story was going. Several of the twists were un-explored when I began and only revealed themselves with the writing of each scene. What made this interesting was that I did not write "The Death of O'Ryan Ross!" in sequence - but rather, I wrote Chapter One, Twelve, Nine, Two, Three, Eleven, Four, Five, Ten, Six, Seven, Eight. So surprises had to be consistent with the continuity without mucking up something already written. Fortunately there were few instances where I had to rewrite an existing section of an existing chapter.

Adding to this continuity challenge was that at about Chapter Six in my writing, I began to work on "silent words..." which added a layer. That companion book didn't really alter the original concepts of "The Death of O'Ryan Ross!" which is a much more vital book in my mind (right up there with "The Missionary and the Brute" for me) - but it did add some nuance and a sense of symbiosis. In a way, "silent words..." is a parasite-pecking bird on the back of the crusty-backed rhinoceros that is "The Death of O'Ryan Ross!", but the relationship hopefully benefits both works.

Coming soon: How animation legend Chuck Jones influenced "The Death of O'Ryan Ross!"

Tolstoy

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Wed, 21 Nov 2012 04:21:00 +0000

With "The Death of O'Ryan Ross!" set to be published this week (I expect to see it on Amazon by Friday, and it can be pre-ordered here directly more quickly) I have been thinking a lot about the source material of this little work. As I have said, it is based on a sentence-by-sentence exploration of Tolstoy's novella, "The Death of Ivan Ilych."

Now I've never really been a Russian Literature buff, bigger on American Lit actually. But there are a lot of folks whom I admire that rave over Dostoevsky, Chekhov, Turgenev and of course - Leo Tolstoy. So I figured that I had to read me some Tolstoy. My cocky, confident side thought I should tackle "War and Peace," but good common sense prevailed and I chose "Ivan Ilych" instead. It was the smallest Tolstoy in the bookstore!

Even though it was small, I found the concepts and the writing to be quite large. Ambitious, dense, huge. The sentence structure was amazing to me - and I wasn't certain if it was the translator or Leo that had made it so. I tend to give Tolstoy the credit.

No writing I have ever encountered has featured such convoluted run-on sentences within sentences within parenthetical phrases within asides and lists and more lists. Being almost dialogue-free, it practically scared me off. I was tentative of digging in, but it was ultimately well worth it. I felt it was almost precisely opposite of my usual way of writing. I tend to truncate. Eliminate articles, subjects, predicates.

So I started dissecting it clinically. Then it hit me. To take that structure, but me-ify it. It was some of the most tedious writing that I've yet encountered. But still I feel that I found my voice within it, and began to feel that rhythm strike me. It fit the tone of the story I wanted to tell, and it fit me. Fantastic exercise, and an incredible experience all the way around.

It isn't a perfect mirror of the original by any means, but then again it was never meant to be. Ultimately, it was meant to be book that I hope you will all want to read. I know it is the book I wanted to write.

The Ross Chronology... as it stands...

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Fri, 16 Nov 2012 00:59:00 +0000

Did you miss them? The Rosses, I mean. The last we saw, Jadwin Ross was flying back from Africa in "The Missionary and The Brute" and Alwyn Ross was interviewing animators in "Animated Lives!" but O'Ryan Ross? Who in the name of William Faulkner is that?

Before we go too far, perhaps we should lay out the chronology we are encountering here. There are four Ross siblings (as far as we know). In descending order of age they are: O'Ryan, Jadwin, Dottie, Alwyn... When I was writing "The Missionary and the Brute" I quite deliberately avoided any semblance of backstory. I wanted the novel to be set in the universal NOW with no encumbrances of time or history to intercede on the reader's interpretation.

Now however, I have discovered that all of my books are inter-linked, and they ARE the backstory to one another. Jadwin Ross is a character in the upcoming "The Death of O'Ryan Ross" as is Alwyn. But 30 years or so before the events that take place in Missionary and Animated Lives!

Placed upon a rather shaky chronology and always subject to change, the Saga looks something like this:

"Ira, the Seeker and the Kid" - 2017
Timeframe: 1800s
Primary character(s): Ira Haseltine
Secondary character(s): Alwyn Ross, Ethan Ross
Minor/Mentions: None

"The Death of O'Ryan Ross" - 2012
Timeframe: Mostly O'Ryan and Jadwin's college years.
Primary character(s): O'Ryan Ross
Secondary character(s): Jadwin Ross, Sarah B., Professor Hays
Minor/Mentions: Alwyn Ross, Dottie Ross

"silent words..." - 2012
Timeframe: O'Ryan's college years as viewed from Alwyn today.
Primary character(s): O'Ryan Ross, Alwyn Ross, Sarah B.
Secondary character(s): None
Minor/Mentions: Jadwin Ross, Dottie Ross

"Man-soldier" - 2017
Timeframe: O'Ryan's college years
Primary character(s): Man-soldier, Slade
Secondary character(s): O'Ryan Ross, Jadwin Ross, Sarah B.
Minor/Mentions: Alwyn Ross, Dottie Ross

"Reject from Retard School" - 2013
Timeframe: Mostly Alwyn's Middle School and High School years.
Primary character(s): Alwyn Ross, GranPap Ross
Secondary character(s): Dottie Ross
Minor/Mentions: O'Ryan Ross, Jadwin Ross

"Straw Man" - 2014
Timeframe: Mid 2005
Primary character(s): Dottie Ross, Professor Hays
Secondary character(s): None
Minor/Mentions: None

"Animated Lives!"- 2011
Timeframe: 2009
Primary character(s): Alwyn Ross
Secondary character(s): None
Minor/Mentions: Dottie Ross

"The Missionary and the Brute" - 2011
Timeframe: 2010
Primary character(s): Jadwin Ross
Secondary character(s): Rev. Kweka, Godsend
Minor/Mentions: None

"The Blue Man" -2013
Timeframe: 2012 and 1930s (Alwyn's research)
Primary character(s): Alwyn Ross
Secondary character(s): Karen Wilcox
Minor/Mentions: Dottie Ross

"A Harlot's Diary" - 2015
Timeframe: 2013
Primary character(s): Sarah B.
Secondary character(s): Alwyn Ross
Minor/Mentions: O'Ryan Ross, Jadwin Ross, Professor Hays

"Chiaroscuro Bums" - 2014
Timeframe: 2013
Primary character(s): Jadwin Ross
Secondary character(s): Not telling
Minor/Mentions: None

"Believer" - 2015
Timeframe: 2014
Primary character(s): Alwyn Ross, Sarah B.
Secondary character(s): Dottie Ross
Minor/Mentions: None

"Lifecycle" - 2016
Timeframe: 2015
Primary character(s): None
Secondary character(s): Alwyn Ross
Minor/Mentions: None

"Shorts" - 2013
Timeframe: Multiple
Primary character(s): Alwyn Ross, Dottie Ross, Jadwin Ross
Secondary character(s): Godsend
Minor/Mentions: None

The Reviews Are In!

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Tue, 27 Mar 2012 13:05:00 +0000

Here are a few of the reviews written on Amazon, GoodReads and the Boston Globe for "The Missionary and the Brute"! Great fun for me to see that folks get it! Enjoy!

Boston Globe

(in an interview of Author Suzzy Roche - "Wayward Saints")
"[Kenworthy’s] written such a page-turner."

Amazon.com
****
Steev Baker
"Equal parts travelogue, thriller, and theological treatise, Mr. Kenworthy's first book-length work of fiction is a genre-bending tale of sin and redemption. "The Missionary and the Brute" pulls no punches but moves breathlessly between gorgeous descriptions of Tanzinian landscape and customs, a tense story about a serial killer, and the faith-driven, internal dialog of a tormented man. The story is fairly straightforward: 4 days in the life of a man as he assists a visiting American missions team building a school in Tanzinia. Along the way, they encounter everything from fermented bananas to a bushfire to a funeral for a child. Jadwin Ross (also called simply The Missionary) is as flawed a protagonist as you would want, and although the story is largely told from his point of view, there are rarely any times you feel sympathy for him. And that's ok; this book is read best as a psychological horror novel akin to Robert Bloch's "Psycho" or Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness." Kudos to Mr. Kenworthy for tackling a difficult subject and complicated character development. I look forward to reading his next novel(s) and watching him grow as a novelist. "

Amazon.com

*****
Shawmemory
"I'm into my second read through this new work. I missed so many nuances the first time because I just wanted to keep reading through to the end! Surprises throughout, fascinating twists and turns ... one of those smile-one-moment-cringe-the-next stories. I've already purchased three - one for myself and two as library donations for my community. This is a thought-provoking and entertaining read. Highly recommended!THE MISSIONARY AND THE BRUTE "

Amazon.com
*****
Sheila Pierson
"Mr. Kenworthy is one of my new favorite authors. With The Missionary and the Brute I was immediately captured by the author's exceptional ability to lead me into a world he's obviously very familiar with, a world of beauty and darkness, mystery and intrigue, heartbreak and triumph. His descriptions of Tanzania, Africa, made me feel as though I'd been transported there. His descriptions of the people make it obvious he is speaking from first-hand experience even though this is a work of fiction. By the end, you are glad it is. By the end, you will be catapulted to a place you never saw coming, never anticipated and will be left positively breathless. I actually needed a moment to recuperate from the shock. Read The Missionary and the Brute for yourself and find a new favorite author in John Kenworthy. "

Goodreads.com

****
Bobby J.
"What started as a lazy read becomes an overwhelmingly intriguing novel taking place in the daytime darkness of Tanzania. Jadwin Ross, the missionary, is the perfect character to keep you guessing throughout as to his innocence or guilt. Be aware, the on-going battle between good and evil (and in this case predator or prey) is descriptive and violent. This tale is a journey to be taken with a seat belt and maybe a lifeline. It took me 2 days to read the first 50 pages and 1 afternoon to read the last 250. It WILL hook you. Mr. Kenworthy has produced an African horror story that will bring you face-to-face with a beast that is undeniably believable and late-night-in-the-dark frightening. I won this book in a Goodread's giveaway and have added myself to John Kenworthy's reading list."

Goodreads.com

***
Cee Martinez
"The opening of this strange, cold tale set in the heart of sweltering Tanzania is a good one. Missionary Jadwin Ross is being pummeled in a creaky interrogation room, accused of a murder he did not commit. There is hardly a better way to open a book, and it hooked me instantly. Ross, as a character, is very clearly defined. Lusty, apathetic at times, and even mean-spirited, Ross is not your garden variety missionary.

He is in charge of a small village in Tanzania, and a flock of American visitors who range from the stereotypical dress-alike married couple, the mother with a problem goth-daughter, and a beautiful guest named Leah. Ross's peers also include a fellow minister, his beautiful bespectacled daughter Imura, and a misogynistic tour guide named Daud.

Imura and Leah are the best defined of the side characters, and both at times objects of Ross's lust. Daud is also well done, a vicious, sharp tongued sulker who becomes a thorn in Ross's side.

In between the day to day goings on of the characters, the story jumps forward to Ross's ordeal in interrogation. The story shines best with all the little details throughout. The Missionary work, Africa, traditions, local colloquialisms, scents, sounds, heat, sweat, smells, all of it shines through from an author who clearly has mastery of his setting and subject. I found it a personal joy to experience this detailed world I'd never previously put much thought to.

Ross himself, however, is a tricky fellow. A man of God, to be sure, and one dedicated to his work. This is outlined with a constant inner monologue, that, to be honest, got old fast for me. The florid quoting of scripture and lofty sentiments muttered over and over, comparing himself to martyrs and to righteous suffering became quite redundant for me to read.

The man of God lapses and quite often, I might add, into another man, an Earthy lusty fellow at that. A disturbing glimpse of his character is shown in a graphic sex scene where the woman in question is degraded to nothing more than a pliable sex toy to satiate Ross's lust.

The center of this novel is sprinkled with mystery and the specter of death. Nevertheless, it did sag somewhat for me. Although I did appreciate the flash-forward format, I still sometimes felt stifled by some of the pacing and befuddled by Ross's increasingly callous nature. I wanted a character to bond with, and Ross remained fiercely resistant to that, no matter how intriguing I found the plot.

A violent, surreal world spills across the pages in the third act however. Bloody, heart pounding, and heartbreaking, with just the right amount of twist, and with no regard at all for expectations, I found myself nodding and smiling at this brilliant final act. A few of the more "infuriating" points I found in the first two acts were actually cleared up for me with the final act and I am so glad to have stuck with it. "The Missionary and the Brute" is an offbeat, uneven thriller but the mastery Mr. Kenworthy has over his setting and the brutal confidence he has in presenting Jadwin Ross to the reader makes this a bizarre, deadly little read"

Free Kindle Day!

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Sat, 24 Mar 2012 13:02:00 +0000

For two days "Animated Lives!" will be free on Kindle for whomever of ya'all want it. Already it has zoomed up the charts and is #1 in free animation books being offered this weekend (Okay, so it's the ONLY animation book being offered free this weekend - but don't burst my bubble....)

So enjoy this special freebie. If you like it maybe you can toss up a good word two on a review somewhere. If you don't like it - hey, it's free!

Happy Weekend!

Get your Free Kindle Book Here

Reviews, news, free books, cool movie and more...

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Fri, 23 Mar 2012 11:40:00 +0000

A lot of great things all happening at once.

The first is that I got a really insightful review of "The Missionary and the Brute" on Amazon. The description and understanding of the novel are really dead on for me. Way cool. Read the review here.

The next is that my friend Floyd Norman (animation legend from Disney/Pixar/Tom Carter, etc.) did a mini-interview for my next novel, "The Blue Man". Floyd is sometimes referenced as the first African American animator in the industry and he did an awesome job answering questions from a fictional character (faux animation historian, Alwyn Ross). When Leslie Iwerks and I did a booksigning at Disneyland in 2001 for "The Hand Behind the Mouse", Floyd drove down and stood behind my chair the entire time telling me tales and keeping me company. It was so ironic that all these hardcore Disney fans were eating up Leslie and my signatures but it was FLOYD's they should really have sought. It was such a cool thing to have him there. I get choked up thinking about the kindness of that gesture to this day.

The next cool thing is that "Animated Lives!" is now available for Kindle! To celebrate that release, I am offering free downloads for Saturday and Sunday so get yours this weekend. If you like it please consider writing a review or ranking it or liking it or whathaveyou. It is much appreciated. Or if you can't wait, get it now!

"Animated Lives!" is a strange hybrid. Just as Floyd Norman was interviewed for a small section of "The Blue Man", real animators are interviewed by Alwyn Ross in separate chapters of this quirky little book. Each chapter features an animator working in short film. Some are famous, some are infamous, some are quiet little geniuses working alone for their art.

Gitanjali Rao was one of my favorites of these interviews. Her work, "Painted Rainbow" is a sensitive and sensitively-rendered work that embodies a visceral sense of loneliness and joy. Ostensibly it is the story of us all - escaping our pain through imaginations that set us free. Here is the film upon which her chapter is based.

I empathize with mine-goblins in underwear. So what?

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 11:35:00 +0000

For my latest book, "Animated Lives!" I had the leeway to interview whomever the heck I chose. My main criteria for selection was that the animator had to have created work that I found enjoyable, interesting, challenging, important or hopefully all of the above. The first chapter kicks off with Slovenian interviewee, Dusan Kastelic who single-handedly made a strange little CGi film called "Perk" which can best be described as 'An out of work mine-goblin dances around his cave in his underwear to accordion-laced punk rock.'

I can't say honestly that it's all that important of a film. Nor is it really challenging. It wasn't meant to be. I suppose it's interesting, but that's not the word that comes to mind when most folks view it. Mostly it's just pure quirky, blissfully joyous entertainment.

Enjoyable? Heck, yeah! Unabashedly so.

Other chapters feature famed animators such as Suzie Templeton talking about her Academy Award-winning film "Peter and the Wolf", Andrew Jimenez of Pixar talking about "One Man Band" Disney's famed Ward Kimball walking us through "Stop that Tank"... but this little film by Kastelic may strangely be the most representative of the quirky films encountered in this little book.

And yes, strangely is the operative word.

Enjoy! Lord knows I do!

Animated Lives! now on Amazon!

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Sun, 18 Mar 2012 12:35:00 +0000

Just in time to eradicate those post St. Patrick's Day Blues - a lively fun book that embraces the lighter side of my writing. Now on Amazon - "Animated Lives!" It is always really fun for me to watch the roll-out of one of my books. It goes live on the publisher site first, then it gets its barebones look on Amazon. Then it gets a description, a LOOK-INSIDE and the beginning rankings. Shortly after that it starts appearing on Powells, Barnes & Nobles, etc. in a very skeletal form. Months later those will fill in with details as well.

But for now Animated Lives! is live and well and available on Amazon. Enjoy!

Well frankly do more than enjoy - LIKE it, RATE it, REVIEW it, and BUY it! Not necessarily in that order... and then yes, ENJOY it!!!!

Special request...

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Sat, 17 Mar 2012 15:48:00 +0000

Good morning!
My friend, author Sam Kirshaw (The Cushion Effect) has asked if I'd help bring awareness to Somoto Canyon Tours of Nicaragua. It is a cause that is very dear to her and I am happy to veer away from my talk of writing and my books for a moment.

As in so many impoverished regions of the world, the middleman is the scourge of all scourges. I know that to be so in Tanzania and Sam knows that be so from Nicaragua as well. For every well intended effort, there is someone with his hand out winnowing away part of the proceeds so the full benefit does not truly get to those who need it most. There is still benefit, but much less than might have been.

Understanding this, Somoto Canyon Tours aims to keep the benefit in the local region. As Sam explains, "It is a community project in a very poor part of Nicaragua with all profits staying in the community. No middlemen or big tour operators." The money stays with the people not siphoned away to some FatCat.

She continues, "These are hard-working people and need to capitalise on the opportunity they have." If only all people had the opportunity to positively impact their own self-destiny.

The blog detailing the tours and their mission has gone live at http://somotocanyontours.blogspot.com. If you have a chance check them out. And if you have a vacation coming soon - please add this to your consideration list.

I'll get back to writing about writing and my latest release "Animated Lives!" with my next post. Thanks for listening!

Surprise! "Animated Lives!" Available Now!

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 05:06:00 +0000

Originally I had intended for "Animated Lives!" to come out in May 2012. However, the proofing process moved far more rapidly than I had anticipated and it is now ready for purchase. This book is a bit of a paradox. It is part short story collection/part non-fiction and all fun, fun, fun.

The premise of "Animated Lives!" is that Alwyn Ross is a fictional animation historian who interviewed 20 different real-life animators working in short animated film. In actuality, I conducted the interviews starting in 2005 on the heels of the success of "The Hand Behind the Mouse: an intimate biography of Ub Iwerks" (Disney Editions, winner of the E.G.Lutz Award for best book about animation). It was thrilling to be able to talk with so many brilliant filmmakers working at such a high level of artistry.

If the name Alwyn Ross seems familiar to you, it is because he is the younger brother to Jadwin Ross, the Missionary from "The Missionary and the Brute". While the siblings are vastly different in temperament and personality, they together with their sister Dottie comprise the core of the Ross Family Saga - a sprawling fictional opus that shall eventually span at least eight novels.

I hope you enjoy this unique new book that offers an in-depth inside view of the wonderful art of animation and an interesting new character in Alwyn Ross.

Barnes & Noble lowers price!

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 11:16:00 +0000

It is interesting to watch booksellers manipulate prices up and down to serve their own purposes. It is possible to find "The Missionary and the Brute" at many prices from many different vendors. It all depends on what the individual bookseller wants to make in profit above their cost. Royalties for all non-Amazon purchases are the same so I'm happy to point you to the best values.

With that in mind, Barnes & Noble has lowered the price of "The Missionary and the Brute" to $10.76. This is a substantial savings for you bargain hunters out there and you still get the same great book! Just passing on the great news! Get your copy today! Or maybe two...

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-missionary-and-the-brute-john-kenworthy/1036936009?ean=9781442148413&itm=1&usri=john+kenworthy

Oh, and after you read it - go back and give it a rating and a review if you would be so kind. Much appreciated. The only rating up there is mine and I inadvertantly gave it a 4-star instead of what I truly believe is a 5-star read...LOL

Back Home Again! (Blog Tour Recap)

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Mon, 12 Mar 2012 12:47:00 +0000

What a wonderful thing! It's always lovely to go on the road to talk about writing, my books and other people's books, but it is also great to be back home again in the comfort of one's own blog. It was a whirlwind tour to be sure - and what I've pulled out of it is pure amazement and joy at the diversity of great writers supporting one another in a loving sense of community and sharing.

I hope that my constant readers have enjoyed going on other blogs and that you have joined, followed, liked and bookmarked those blogs to continue following these great and special authors and readers. Such incredible people they are. Our format ran from interviews of me to interviews of others - from my pontifications on various subjects such as how to handle bad reviews to several pieces of fiction either excerpted from my work or new prequel pieces written specifically for the tour.

I think for me personally I enjoyed writing the prequel pieces the best - the process of doing those was an eye-opener for me about structure. Some - like "Raven's Reviews" even pushed the form a bit in ways that I absolutely loved doing and will lead to similarly playful manipulation of form for future works.

The other thing I loved was reading all the blog postings before and after mine on those individual sites. What fun! Just great beautiful minds out there doing lovely things. Buy their books! Revisit their sites! Literature is alive and well on the great blogosphere!

Some subtle things happened along the way - not the least of which was the announcement of my next book - "Animated Lives!" being published on May 20th! This odd little tome is one of those combination pieces - wherein fictional character - Alwyn Ross (Jadwin's brother!) interviews real-life animators working in the realm of short fiction. These interviews cover the gamut of animation excellence - international, domestic, drawn, stop-motion, digital, pixellation, 3-D, paper cutouts, first-time animators, award nominees, OSCAR winners!, and historical personages. Very funky little project this.

And it all continues the ongoing saga of the Ross family and their lives in Newtonville, Wisconsin and beyond. Also - it sets up the next novel in the series "The Blue Man" for release in Fall 2012! (I have chosen to release the books in an every six month schedule for as long as my stamina holds).

Thanks again for sharing this journey with me! If what you have read has whetted your interest - please consider buying a book or two at the John D. Kenworthy Store on Amazon. (http://www.amazon.com/John-D.-Kenworthy/e/B001K8PWE0/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_8?qid=1331556275&sr=1-8)

Happy reading! And thank you thank you thank you to all of my wondrous blog hosts!
J.

Day 12

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Sun, 11 Mar 2012 07:57:00 +0000

It is always interesting to see what authors choose to excerpt as a means of enticing more readers. For "The Missionary and the Brute" that was a bit challenging for me because there are so many twists and turns that I don't want to spoil for the readers. The chapter on my friend Jamie's site is one wherein the Missionary Jadwin Ross is picked up at the airport and he learns (as do we) about the other Americans who have already arrived. This is a good opportunity to get a taste of Tanzania and the characterizations in our tale.

Enjoy!

Today:

Sunday March 11th

"An Excerpt from 'The Missionary and the Brute'"

http://jbcultureshock.wordpress.com/2012/03/11/book-excerpt-the-missionary-and-the-brute/

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Complete Schedule:

Wednesday February 29th

"Interview with John Kenworthy"

http://inkdropinterviews.com/2012/02/29/john-kenworthy/

Thursday March 1st

"Mrs. Starr's EZ Peasy Spinach Surprise"

http://sheilapierson.wordpress.com/2012/03/01/john-d-kenworthy-blog-tour/

Friday March 2nd

"Stunt Double"

http://honiebriggs.com/2012/03/02/stunt-double-2/

Saturday March 3rd

"Educating Tanzania"

http://www.raychelle-writes.blogspot.com/2012/03/guest-blogger-john-d-kenworthy-talks.html

Sunday March 4th

"Kenworthy interviews Author Raychelle Muhammad"

http://www.raychelle-writes.blogspot.com/2012/03/kenworthy-interviews-author-raychelle.html

Monday March 5th

"Kenworthy interviews the Missionary Jadwin Ross"

http://www.catherinenoble.com/2012/03/john-kenworthy-interviews-missionary.html

Tuesday March 6th

"Interview with John Kenworthy"

http://mefrancoauthor.blogspot.com/2012/03/interview-with-john-kenworthy.html

Wednesday March 7th

"Alwyn Ross writes: Visions of Bakshi" (NSFW)

http://maxloved.wordpress.com/2012/03/07/special-short-story-with-guest-blogger-john-kenworthy/

Thursday March 8th

"Raven's Reviews"

http://sheilapierson.wordpress.com/2012/03/08/john-kenworthys-genius-is-showing-join-in-on-this-fun-read/

Friday March 9th

"How to get a bad review (without slitting your wrists)"

http://themanicheans.wordpress.com/2012/03/09/guest-post-how-to-deal-with-negative-reviews/

Saturday March 10th

"Kenworthy interviews author Sam Kirshaw" at

http://www.samkirshaw.blogspot.com/2012/03/kenworthy-interview.html

Sunday March 11th

"Free Excerpt of The Missionary and the Brute" at

http://jbcultureshock.wordpress.com/2012/03/11/book-excerpt-the-missionary-and-the-brute/

Monday March 12th

"Back Home Again!"

Day 11 - Kenworthy interviews Sam Kirshaw

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Sat, 10 Mar 2012 08:54:00 +0000

I have gone on record before and will go on record again and yet again with my belief that novelist Sam Kirshaw is simply (or not so simply) a fantastic writer. Erudite, intellectual and wickedly iconoclastic, her debut novel, "The Cushion Effect" is subtle, wise and brilliantly realized. Her next effort "American Daughters" takes the next step in proving that she is not merely on the cusp of greatness, but is already in fact there.

It is my distinct honor to be able to interview Sam regarding her technique and her books. I'm not truly qualified to do so - you know it, I know it, she knows it. But if it lifts up her art - then it is well worth it. Read the interview and then rush over to Amazon to get your own copy of "The Cushion Effect" on Kindle. Discover an exciting new voice as I have.

Enjoy!

Kenworthy Interviews Sam Kirshaw
(Now live!)
http://www.samkirshaw.blogspot.com/

How to Get a Bad Review (without slitting your wrists)

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Fri, 09 Mar 2012 06:12:00 +0000

Day 10 leads us over to writer Johanna Pitcairn's website for an upbeat discussion of how to turn a bad review into a positive learning experience. Not an easy accomplishment!

While you are on Johanna's page, please bookmark the site so that you can return for information on her YA novel, "Death by Chocolate" to be serialized soon by Curiosity Quills.

Enjoy!

Today:
Friday March 9th

"How to get a bad review
(without slitting your wrists)"
http://themanicheans.wordpress.com

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Complete Schedule:

Wednesday February 29th
"Interview with John Kenworthy"
http://inkdropinterviews.com/2012/02/29/john-kenworthy/

Thursday March 1st
"Mrs. Starr's EZ Peasy Spinach Surprise"
http://sheilapierson.wordpress.com/2012/03/01/john-d-kenworthy-blog-tour/

Friday March 2nd
"Stunt Double"
http://honiebriggs.com/2012/03/02/stunt-double-2/

Saturday March 3rd
"Educating Tanzania"
http://www.raychelle-writes.blogspot.com/2012/03/guest-blogger-john-d-kenworthy-talks.html

Sunday March 4th
"Kenworthy interviews Author Raychelle Muhammad"
http://www.raychelle-writes.blogspot.com/2012/03/kenworthy-interviews-author-raychelle.html

Monday March 5th
"Kenworthy interviews the Missionary Jadwin Ross"
http://www.catherinenoble.com/2012/03/john-kenworthy-interviews-missionary.html

Tuesday March 6th
"Interview with John Kenworthy"
http://mefrancoauthor.blogspot.com/2012/03/interview-with-john-kenworthy.html

Wednesday March 7th
"Alwyn Ross writes: Visions of Bakshi" (NSFW)
http://maxloved.wordpress.com/2012/03/07/special-short-story-with-guest-blogger-john-kenworthy/

Thursday March 8th
"Raven's Reviews"
http://sheilapierson.wordpress.com/2012/03/08/john-kenworthys-genius-is-showing-join-in-on-this-fun-read/

Friday March 9th
"How to get a bad review (without slitting your wrists)"
http://themanicheans.wordpress.com

Saturday March 10th
"Kenworthy interviews author Sam Kirshaw" at
http://samkirshaw.blogspot.com/

Sunday March 11th
"Free Excerpt of The Missionary and the Brute" at
http://www.jamiebmusings.webs.com/

Monday March 12th
"Travel Tips with Jadwin Ross"

Tuesday March 13th
"Interview with John Kenworthy"

Enjoy!!!

Day 9: Raven's Reviews

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Thu, 08 Mar 2012 06:26:00 +0000

One of the great joys of doing this Book Blog Tour is revisiting favorite characters from "The Missionary and the Brute" with backstories and prequel shorts that are not necesary for understanding the book itself but are fun nonetheless for me. Raven Starr had a small but integral role in the novel, but is really fun to write about outside of that tale. This is one of my favorite pieces - a web log review she supposedly did for a class project of a Steam Punk novel. It is replete with strikeouts and suggestions and comments from her AP English teacher. (It also let's me talk about "Flash Gold" by Lindsay Buroker!) So much fun - and I get to write about Steam Punk too. Thanks to Brenda Drake for turning me on to this genre - I look forward to her own contribution to Steam Punk literature in time!

And thanks again to Sheila Pierson for so graciously opening up her blog to my little words. It is amazing the generosity of fellow writers. I'm always amazed and thrilled by that. It's really heartening to feel that support!

Thank you thank you thank you!

And someday maybe, Raven might, just might join that hallowed coterie of authors. You never know...
(well, I do maybe but not you...lol)

Enjoy!

Today:

Thursday March 8th

"Raven's Reviews"
http://sheilapierson.wordpress.com/

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Complete Schedule:

Wednesday February 29th

"Interview with John Kenworthy"

http://inkdropinterviews.com/2012/02/29/john-kenworthy/

Thursday March 1st

"Mrs. Starr's EZ Peasy Spinach Surprise"

http://sheilapierson.wordpress.com/2012/03/01/john-d-kenworthy-blog-tour/

Friday March 2nd

"Stunt Double"

http://honiebriggs.com/2012/03/02/stunt-double-2/

Saturday March 3rd

"Educating Tanzania"

http://www.raychelle-writes.blogspot.com/2012/03/guest-blogger-john-d-kenworthy-talks.html

Sunday March 4th

"Kenworthy interviews Author Raychelle Muhammad"

http://www.raychelle-writes.blogspot.com/2012/03/kenworthy-interviews-author-raychelle.html

Monday March 5th

"Kenworthy interviews the Missionary Jadwin Ross"

http://www.catherinenoble.com/2012/03/john-kenworthy-interviews-missionary.html

Tuesday March 6th

"Interview with John Kenworthy"

http://mefrancoauthor.blogspot.com/2012/03/interview-with-john-kenworthy.html

Wednesday March 7th

"Alwyn Ross writes: Visions of Bakshi" (NSFW)
http://maxloved.wordpress.com/2012/03/07/special-short-story-with-guest-blogger-john-kenworthy/

Thursday March 8th

"Raven's Reviews"

http://sheilapierson.wordpress.com/

Friday March 9th
"How to get a bad review without slitting your wrists" at

http://themanicheans.wordpress.com

Saturday March 10th

"Kenworthy interviews author Sam Kirshaw" at
http://samkirshaw.blogspot.com/

Sunday March 11th

"Free Excerpt of The Missionary and the Brute"

Monday March 12th

"Travel Tips with Jadwin Ross"

Tuesday March 13th

"Interview with John Kenworthy"

Enjoy!!!

Day 8: Alwyn Ross writes "Visions of Bakshi"

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Wed, 07 Mar 2012 07:35:00 +0000

Day 8 and the road is a little bumpy today. Those weak of heart should probably turn around and wait for smoother paving tomorrow. Today the Missionary Jadwin Ross's younger brother, the animation historian Alwyn Ross, writes about animation legend, Ralph Bakshi. To much of the world, Bakshi is known primarily for directing the X-rated Fritz the Cat, but to animation historians he is known simply as a brilliant animator. The subject matter and context are not the point - the man is a genius at what he does. It is therefore fitting that today's blog stop lands at writer Max Loved's erotica website. Be warned this is a NSFW (not safe for work) site because of content. However, also be warned that the key word is 'writer'. She is simply a brilliantly elegant writer working in a unique genre niche - not unlike how some scribes work in niche markets - paranormal romance, steampunk, westerns. Each has a unique content and vocabulary and yet each requires a deft writer's touch to be successful.

Tis a fitting stop then for a story about Ralph Bakshi - and Alwyn Ross...

Today:

Wednesday March 7th

"Alwyn Ross writes: Visions of Bakshi" (NSFW)

http://maxloved.wordpress.com/

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Complete Schedule:

Wednesday February 29th

"Interview with John Kenworthy"

http://inkdropinterviews.com/2012/02/29/john-kenworthy/

Thursday March 1st

"Mrs. Starr's EZ Peasy Spinach Surprise"

http://sheilapierson.wordpress.com/2012/03/01/john-d-kenworthy-blog-tour/Friday March 2nd

"Stunt Double"

http://honiebriggs.com/2012/03/02/stunt-double-2/

Saturday March 3rd
"Educating Tanzania"
http://www.raychelle-writes.blogspot.com/2012/03/guest-blogger-john-d-kenworthy-talks.html

Sunday March 4th
"Kenworthy interviews Author Raychelle Muhammad"
http://www.raychelle-writes.blogspot.com/2012/03/kenworthy-interviews-author-raychelle.html

Monday March 5th
"Kenworthy interviews the Missionary Jadwin Ross"

http://www.catherinenoble.com/2012/03/john-kenworthy-interviews-missionary.html

Tuesday March 6th

"Interview with John Kenworthy"

http://mefrancoauthor.blogspot.com/2012/03/interview-with-john-kenworthy.html

Wednesday March 7th

"Alwyn Ross writes: Visions of Bakshi" (NSFW)
http://maxloved.wordpress.com/

Thursday March 8th

"Raven's Reviews" at

http://sheilapierson.tumblr.com/

Friday March 9th

"How to get a bad review without slitting your wrists" at

http://themanicheans.wordpress.com

Saturday March 10th

"Kenworthy interviews author Sam Kirshaw"

Sunday March 11th

"Free Excerpt of The Missionary and the Brute"

Monday March 12th

"Travel Tips with Jadwin Ross"

Tuesday March 13th

"Interview with John Kenworthy"

Enjoy!!!

Day 7 - Author ME Franco interviews John Kenworthy

noreply@blogger.com (John D. Kenworthy) — Tue, 06 Mar 2012 05:21:00 +0000

After an unexpected detour on Day 6 of our Book Blog Tour we are back on track on Day 7 with ME Franco's interview of me. It's always fun to have new and exciting questions taking us further into the backstage workings of writing "The Missionary and the Brute" and more. Please join me today on Michelle's site and check out not only my own interview but also her great novel - "Where Will You Run?" available on Amazon and multiple outlets.

Today:
Tuesday March 6th

"Interview with John Kenworthy"
http://mefrancoauthor.blogspot.com/

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Complete Schedule:

Wednesday February 29th
"Interview with John Kenworthy"
http://inkdropinterviews.com/2012/02/29/john-kenworthy/

Thursday March 1st
"Mrs. Starr's EZ Peasy Spinach Surprise"
http://sheilapierson.tumblr.com/post/18538794489/john-d-kenworthy-blog-tour

Friday March 2nd
"Stunt Double"
http://honiebriggs.com/2012/03/02/stunt-double-2/

Saturday March 3rd
"Educating Tanzania"
http://www.raychelle-writes.blogspot.com/2012/03/guest-blogger-john-d-kenworthy-talks.html

Sunday March 4th
"Kenworthy interviews Author Raychelle Muhammad"
http://www.raychelle-writes.blogspot.com/2012/03/kenworthy-interviews-author-raychelle.html

Monday March 5th
"Kenworthy interviews the Missionary Jadwin Ross"
http://www.catherinenoble.com/2012/03/john-kenworthy-interviews-missionary.html

Tuesday March 6th
"Interview with John Kenworthy"
http://mefrancoauthor.blogspot.com/

Wednesday March 7th
"Special Short Story" at
http://maxloved.wordpress.com/

Thursday March 8th
"Raven's Reviews" at
http://sheilapierson.tumblr.com/

Friday March 9th
"How to get a bad review without slitting your wrists"

Saturday March 10th
"Kenworthy interviews author Sam Kirshaw"

Sunday March 11th
"Free Excerpt of The Missionary and the Brute"

Monday March 12th
"Travel Tips with Jadwin Ross"

Tuesday March 13th
"Interview with John Kenworthy"

Enjoy!!!