Showing posts with label coming of age. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coming of age. Show all posts

Friday, January 24, 2020

"Haskell Himself" by Gary Seigel


EXCERPT and GIVEAWAY
Haskell Himself
by Gary Seigel

Haskell Himself by Gary Seigel

Haskell Himself by Gary Seigel is currently on tour with Xpresso Book Tours. The tour stops here today for an excerpt and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.


Description
Meet Haskell Hodge. At sixteen he’s already garnered some fame as a former child actor and star of a popular cereal commercial. But that doesn’t do much for him when he’s dumped at his aunt’s house in the suburbs of Los Angeles to face an assortment of neighborhood bullies.
He thinks he might be gay. In fact, he could be the only gay person in the valley, maybe on the entire planet. Even if he does manage to find a boyfriend, their relationship would have to be secret and invisible.
After all it’s 1966. And though Time Magazine claims the sexual revolution is in full swing, the freedoms straight people are enjoying don’t seem to apply to everyone. And as much as Haskell attempts to hide his true self, carefully navigating the tricky and risky terrain of being queer, he’s still taunted and teased relentlessly.
Rather than give in to the irrationality of this hate, Haskell fights back, eventually finding an unlikely outlet to vent his frustration and angst - playing a bully in a screen test for a major motion picture. If he plays his cards right, it could catapult him into Hollywood stardom.
Of course, like most things in life, it comes with a heavy price Haskell’s not certain he’s willing to pay.

Excerpt
Bonanza
That evening, Mom brought in meatballs, calzones, and a Caesar salad from Lombardi’s. I waited until we had devoured all the food before I reminded Mom of Hope’s ill-temper and childish behaviors.
“What bothers me is that Aunt Sheila hardly ever corrects her. Not even a slap on the wrist or a ‘Go to your room.’”
“Aunt Sheila does what she has to do.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “If Al Capone had been Sheila’s child, she would have sent him to bed early without his hot cocoa and biscotti and have come up with some lame excuse for his murder spree.”
“Oh, Haskell, parents may treat their children a little differently in California, and she’s not six any more. Hope is nearly nine years old. Wait and see. You’ve never had a sibling. It will be a healthy change.”
My anxiety worsened. What did I know about living with a nine-year-old? I hadn’t been with a nine-year-old since I was nine. And what would it be like living with an aunt and an uncle? I’d never lived with a “father” figure before. My dad called me periodically, like once a year, but I rarely ever saw him. Frankly, I wasn’t sure I’d get along with Uncle Ted, since all he ever talked about was baseball. What would we have in common?
I felt a headache coming on.
And then Mom did what she often did in her real estate negotiations: she sweetened the deal.
“So, you were saying that you just did an exercise where you played a villainous cowboy? Is that right?”
“Yes, and it went well.”
“I think I found you a screen test in Hollywood for a part in a TV Western.”
“Really?”
“You’d be playing a pioneer kid in the Old West who has been living alone most of his life. The Cartwrights find him wandering in the fields, and they invite him in.”
“Are we talking Bonanza?”
I was excited. This was TV’s number-one show.
“Could this lead to a regular part?” I asked eagerly.
“No, I don’t think so. Turns out the kid’s a bit twisted. Gets in fights all the time, and he ends up drowning at the end of the episode. Still, what a great way to start your adventures in Los Angeles!”
My father, Tony Pawlikowski, whom I had met a half a dozen times, had connections with the company that produced Bonanza. It was a Western about a three-time widower and his three adult sons living on a big ranch called The Ponderosa, and every week they’d face numerous challenges. Sometimes they were silly stories, such as the time when one of the sons, Hoss Cartwright, fights a tribe of leprechauns. Most often, though, the episodes were more serious. In this one, I’d be playing a maniacal orphan who apparently can’t swim.
My initial instincts? After six months in Miss Hogan’s class, I could tackle this role.
The only problem was the kid was supposed to be short and rather tough and extremely handsome. I was none of those things. I was tall, weighing less than 150 pounds. A real beanpole. I wasn’t exactly tough either, and with my big ears, I was certainly not handsome.
“Mom, I don’t think this will work out. My physical appearance is all wrong.” I pored over a description listed in the classified section of Variety. “He twirls a gun in the air?”
“We’ll get you a gun tutor.”
“There’s no such thing. Come on!”
“They have gun tutors all over Los Angeles. We’ll look them up in the Yellow Pages. An actor can transform himself into any role,” my mom said, her face gleaming, mimicking my acting coach. “If they like you, they’ll make adjustments.”
“No one is going to take me seriously as a handsome, rugged boy in town. I’m too scrawny.”
“Perfect! Your mom’s dead, remember? So, she’s not been around to feed you.”
Maybe she’s not dead. Maybe she just went to Antwerp, I thought.
“And I’d probably need to ride a horse, right? It even says here. ‘Horse riding experience necessary.’ You have to read the fine print, Mom. I’ve never ridden a horse. I’ve never even ridden a bike! I don’t even roller skate!”
“They’d probably bring in a stunt double for those scenes,” she said, dismissing my concern with a wave of her hand. “Well, if you don’t want to try out for that part, that’s fine. I have another great idea for you.”
“What’s that?”
“Sheila is good friends with the mother of a boy about your age who is also into acting. He attends the same high school you’ll be attending, so he’s someone you can hang around with when you arrive in Encino. He’s quite the talent, apparently.”
“What’s his name?”
“Her last name is Stoneman.” She grabbed a piece of paper from her purse. “And his name is Henry.”
“I never heard of him.”
Yes, I lied to my own mother. I had, in fact, seen his name mentioned in Variety. He had won a small part recently in a Disney film.
“We’ll arrange for you boys to meet, and you can take it from there. You two have so much in common. It will be wonderful.”
That night, I dug through my latest copies of Screen Magazine and spotted a photograph of Henry Stoneman. Quite handsome, wearing black jeans and black shirt with rhinestone buttons and a cowboy hat. He was in John Wayne’s last movie, so he could probably ride a horse, use a gun, and speak fluent Apache. He had eighteen film and TV credits. Eighteen!
I fell into a deep, angry, solid funk, desperately hoping my mom might change her mind and this California nightmare would dissipate into dust.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]


Praise for the Book
“Haskell's endless neurotic uncertainty over who to be and what to do will captivate readers. An entertaining and perceptive YA take on the predicament of gay adolescence.” ~ Kirkus Reviews
“I have never rooted for any fictional character quite as much I did for Haskell Hodge, the hilarious, dorky, slightly histrionic protagonist and narrator of Gary Seigel's novel, Haskell Himself.” ~ Online Book Club Review
“A touching, coming of age story about a boy finding himself. The real joy of this story show is how relatable Haskell Himself is for all of us, young and old, straight or gay.” ~ Holly Kammier, international bestselling author of Kingston Court
“A must read YA novel that captures the angst, misery and frustration of being a teenager who doesn't fit in the mold. I couldn't put it down.” ~ Jessica Therrien, bestselling YA author of Children of the Gods
“A brilliant mix of hope, heart, and humor. Fans of David Levithan and Becky Albertalli will love Gary Seigel's debut novel. This wise and witty portrait of what it means to be different will have you in tears one moment and laughing the next. I wanted to reach through the pages and hug Haskell. You will too.” ~ Jill Rubalcaba, author of Every Bone Tells a Story

About the Author
Gary Seigel
Gary Seigel was raised in Encino, California, where his debut novel, Haskell Himself, takes place. After completing a PhD in English at Rutgers University, Gary taught at several colleges and universities, but his most memorable experience was a brief 12 week stint at the same high school he (and Haskell) graduated from, teaching side by side with some of the same teachers he once endured. Currently, Gary gives grammar and proofreading classes to business professionals eager to write error-free emails. He also has spent the past two decades helping employees control their inner jerk when texting or holding conversations with an impossible boss. His book The Mouth Trap: Strategies, Tips and Secrets for Keeping Your Feet out of Your Mouth, published in 2008, has been translated into over a dozen languages. He is the father of three sons and currently lives in South Pasadena with his partner.

Giveaway
Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card.

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Monday, July 1, 2019

"Boy Swallows Universe" by Trent Dalton


REVIEW and EXCERPT
Boy Swallows Universe
by Trent Dalton

Boy Swallows Universe by Trent Dalton

It’s that time again - book club! This month, we’re featuring Boy Swallows Universe by Trent Dalton. Each month you can read my review and the opinions of my fellow book clubbers. Please feel free to share your own thoughts in the comments section below.
Next month, we will be reading The Life to Come by Michelle de Kretser. Please join us on 29 July to discuss.

Description
Brisbane, 1983: A lost father, a mute brother, a mum in jail, a heroin dealer for a stepfather and a notorious crim for a babysitter. It's not as if Eli's life isn't complicated enough already. He's just trying to follow his heart, learning what it takes to be a good man, but life just keeps throwing obstacles in the way - not least of which is Tytus Broz, legendary Brisbane drug dealer.
But Eli's life is about to get a whole lot more serious. He's about to fall in love. And, oh yeah, he has to break into Boggo Road Gaol on Christmas Day, to save his mum.
A story of brotherhood, true love, and the most unlikely of friendships, Boy Swallows Universe will be the most heartbreaking, joyous and exhilarating novel you will read all year.

Book Video
Author Trent Dalton speaks about his inspiration for writing Boy Swallows Universe.


Excerpt
Your end is a dead blue wren.
‘Did you see that, Slim?’
‘See what?’
‘Nothing.’
Your end is a dead blue wren. No doubt about it. Your. End. No doubt about it. Is. A. Dead. Blue. Wren.
***
The crack in Slim’s windscreen looks like a tall and armless stickman bowing to royalty. The crack in Slim’s windscreen looks like Slim. His windscreen wipers have smeared a rainbow of old dirt over to my passenger side. Slim says a good way for me to remember the small details of my life is to associate moments and visions with things on my person or things in my regular waking life that I see and smell and touch often. Body things, bedroom things, kitchen things. This way I will have two reminders of any given detail for the price of one.
That’s how Slim beat Black Peter. That’s how Slim survived the hole. Everything had two meanings, one for here, here being where he was then, cell D9, 2 Division, Boggo Road Gaol, and another for there, that boundless and unlocked universe expanding in his head and his heart. Nothing in the here but four green concrete walls and darkness upon darkness and his lone and stationary body. An angle iron and steel mesh bed welded to a wall. A toothbrush and a pair of cloth prison slippers. But a cup of old milk slid through a cell door slot by a silent screw took him there, to Ferny Grove in the 1930s, the lanky young farmhand milking cows on the outskirts of Brisbane. A forearm scar became a portal to a boyhood bike ride. A shoulder sunspot was a wormhole to the beaches of the Sunshine Coast. One rub and he was gone. An escaped prisoner here in D9. Pretend free but never on the run, which was as good as how he’d been before they threw him in the hole, real free but always on the run.
He’d thumb the peaks and valleys of his knuckles and they would take him there, to the hills of the Gold Coast hinterland, take him all the way to Springbrook Falls, and the cold steel prison bed frame of cell D9 would become a water-worn limestone rock, and the prison hole’s cold concrete floor beneath his bare feet summer-warm water to dip his toes into, and he would touch his cracked lips and remember how it felt when something as soft and as perfect as Irene’s lips reached his, how she took all his sins and all his pain away with her quenching kiss, washed him clean like Springbrook Falls washed him clean with all that white water bucketing on his head.
I’m more than a little concerned that Slim’s prison fantasies are becoming mine. Irene resting on that wet and mossy emerald boulder, naked and blonde, giggling like Marilyn Monroe, head back and loose and powerful, master of any man’s universe, keeper of dreams, a vision there to stick around for here, to let the anytime blade of a smuggled shiv wait another day.
‘I had an adult mind,’ Slim always says. That’s how he beat Black Peter, Boggo Road’s underground isolation cell. They threw him in that medieval box for fourteen days during a Queensland summer heatwave. They gave him half a loaf of bread to eat across two weeks. They gave him four, maybe five cups of water.
Slim says half of his Boggo Road prison mates would have died after a week in Black Peter because half of any prison population, and any major city of the world for that matter, is filled with adult men with child minds. But an adult mind can take an adult man anywhere he wants to go.
Black Peter had a scratchy coconut fibre mat that he slept on, the size of a doormat, or the length of one of Slim’s long shinbones. Every day, Slim says, he lay on his side on the coir mat and pulled those long shinbones into his chest and closed his eyes and opened the door to Irene’s bedroom and he slipped under Irene’s white bedsheet and he spooned his body gently against hers and he wrapped his right arm around Irene’s naked porcelain belly and there he stayed for fourteen days. ‘Curled up like a bear and hibernated,’ he says. ‘Got so cosy down there in hell I never wanted to climb back up.’
Slim says I have an adult mind in a child’s body. I’m only twelve years old but Slim reckons I can take the hard stories. Slim reckons I should hear all the prison stories of male rape and men who broke their necks on knotted bedsheets and swallowed sharp pieces of metal designed to tear through their insides and guarantee themselves a week-long vacation in the sunny Royal Brisbane Hospital. I think he goes too far sometimes with the details, blood spitting from raped arseholes and the like. ‘Light and shade, kid,’ Slim says. ‘No escaping the light and no escaping the shade.’ I need to hear the stories about disease and death inside so I can understand the impact of those memories of Irene. Slim says I can take the hard stories because the age of my body matters nothing compared to the age of my soul, which he has gradually narrowed down to somewhere between the early seventies and dementia. Some months ago, sitting in this very car, Slim said he would gladly share a prison cell with me because I listen and I remember what I listen to. A single tear rolled down my face when he paid me this great roommate honour.
‘Tears don’t go so well inside,’ he said.
I didn’t know if he meant inside a prison cell or inside one’s body. Half out of pride I cried, half out of shame, because I’m not worthy, if worthy’s a word for a bloke to share a lag with.
‘Sorry,’ I said, apologising for the tear. He shrugged.
‘There’s more where that came from,’ he said.
Your end is a dead blue wren. Your end is a dead blue wren.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]


Praise for the Book
“Without exaggeration, the best Australian novel I have read in more than a decade.” ~ Sydney Morning Herald
Boy Swallows Universe is a wonderful surprise: sharp as a drawer full of knives in terms of subject matter; unrepentantly joyous in its child's-eye view of the world; the best literary debut in a month of Sundays.” ~ The Australian
Boy Swallows Universe hypnotizes you with wonder, and then hammers you with heartbreak.” ~ Washington Post
“Marvelously plot-rich ... filled with beautifully lyric prose ... At one point Eli wonders if he is good. The answer is ‘yes’, every bit as good as this exceptional novel.” ~ Booklist
“Dalton's splashy, stellar debut makes the typical coming-of-age novel look bland by comparison ... This is an outstanding debut.” ~ Publisher's Weekly
“Extraordinary and beautiful storytelling.” ~ Guardian


Book Clubbers’ Thoughts

Kerrie: “I started off reading the audiobook, but I was having trouble following it. I then read the hardcopy and loved it! Now I’m listening to it again.”
Kerry: “I got about a quarter of the way into it but wasn’t enjoying, so I gave up. I’ve got better things to do with my time than to read books I don’t enjoy.”
Maryann: “I really enjoyed it. I couldn’t put it down!”
Nerida: “Sorry, I didn’t read it. I just wanted to spend the evening with you all!”
Consensus: Don’t give up, and you’re sure to enjoy it.

My Review
I got this book on loan from the library.


By Lynda Dickson
Boy Swallows Universe is set in the 1980s. At the time of reading, I thought this was a convenient way of plotting a story without mobile phones. However, author Trent Dalton estimates his story is “60 per cent fact and 40 per cent fantasy”. I wish I had known this before I started reading the book. The childish antics, choppy narrative, and confusing flashbacks - compounded with the drug dealing and gratuitous violence - nearly caused me to give up about a third of the way through. I persevered, and I’m so glad I did. Knowing now that most of the story was based on the author’s own experiences, makes it all the more harrowing.
Notwithstanding the serious subject matter, the book is full of dry humor, literary references, and astute observations on human behavior. It follows the childhood of Eli Bell between the ages of twelve and eighteen and introduces us to the key players in his life.
Arthur “Slim” Halliday was “the greatest prison escapee who ever lived”. The papers call him “the Taxi Driver Killer” but twelve-year-old Eli says, “I just call him my babysitter.” Slim teaches Eli that the way “to remember the small details of my life is to associate moments and visions with things on my person or things in my regular waking life that I see and smell and touch often.” And this is how Eli recounts his story, collecting rich details by which he will later remember the events that shape his life.
Eli’s thirteen-year-old brother August, who is mute after a traumatic childhood incident, writes in the air with prophetic flourish, “forever dipping his finger into his eternal glass well of invisible ink”.
Despite being a heroin dealer, his mother’s boyfriend Lyle is a loving stepfather and role model and the first man Eli ever loves. Everything Eli lives through will lead up to that one moment of truth, when his adult life collides with his childhood life, and he finally gets the chance to avenge Lyle.
Eli himself is wise beyond his years: “… the age of my body matters nothing compared to the age of my soul”. It’s no wonder he falls for the much older Caitlyn Spies, criminal reporter for the Courier Mail. His eye for detail and his childhood amongst criminals, make him want to become a journalist. “I’m not interested in crime as much as the people who commit crimes,” he says. He’s fascinated with the idea that one pivotal event can determine your destiny. “I’m interested in how they got to the point they got to. I’m interested in that moment when they decided to be bad instead of good.”
The book is full of such moments, when seemingly insignificant events and details come back into play: Slim telling Eli how he broke out of jail, the lucky freckle on Eli’s right index finger, his love of football, his visit to the clock tower, the first line of the book … “Your end is a dead blue wren,” is what August writes in the air at the beginning of the book. And, in the end, it all comes back to that beginning. “Forward to the beginning,” Eli says. “That’s all I’ve ever been doing. Moving forward to the start.”
Funny, heartbreaking, uplifting.
Warnings: coarse language, drug use, graphic violence, drug dealing, general grossness, sexual references, domestic violence, alcoholism.

Some of My Favorite Lines
“I read everything. Slim says reading is the greatest escape there is and he’s made some great escapes.”
“The downside is life is short and has to end. The upside is it comes with bread, wine and books.”
“These are your sunshine hours and you can make them last forever if you see all the details.”
“He said time was killing us slowly. ‘Time will do you in,’ he said. ‘So do your time before it does you.’”
“I realise now that the average street grunt suburban drug dealer is not too far removed from the common pizza delivery boy.”
“I’m a good man,’ Slim says. ‘But I’m a bad man too. And that’s like all men, kid. We all got a bit o’ good and a bit o’ bad in us. The tricky part is learnin’ how to be good all the time and bad none of the time. Some of us get that right. Most of us don’t.”
“Eli was born with the two qualities of any good storyteller – the ability to string a sentence together and the ability to bullshit”
“You don’t tell stories. You tell beginnings and middles and ends but you don’t tell stories. You and Dad have never told me a single complete story.”
“Maybe we’d all be much more effective communicators if we all shut up more.”
“The whole point of life is doing what’s right, not what’s easy.”
“You like all the little details. You don’t write news. You paint pretty pictures.”

About the Author
Trent Dalton
Trent Dalton was born in Ipswich on the outskirts of Brisbane, Australia, and raised by a suburban wingless angel and a tattooed bibliophile mud crab fisherman with a soft spot for drunks. He's a novelist, a two-time Walkley Award-winning journalist, a screenwriter and, coolest of all, the father of two girls. Author of By Sea and Stars: The Story of the First Fleet and Boy Swallows Universe, winner of the 2019 Indie Book Awards Book of the Year.





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Friday, June 7, 2019

"Well Below Heaven" by Idyllwild Eliot


REVIEW and EXCERPT
Well Below Heaven
by Idyllwild Eliot

Well Below Heaven by Idyllwild Eliot

Well Below Heaven is the debut novel by Idyllwild Eliot. The author stops by today to share an excerpt from the book. You can also read my review.

Description
Coming-of-age drama meets a Jack Reacher thriller in this daring YA epistolary debut.
Seventeen-year-old Kelly is in a spartan boarding school in northern Idaho, sent away for drugs - as planned. Her little brother Sammy is left home in Missouri, getting ready for high school. He is quirky, quick, writes dark poetry and longs to play football. He’s also got a nose for trouble, and Kelly has left a truckload. And it’s sordid and dangerous. Her sadistic ex is involved, so is one twisted teacher, and so is the object of Sammy’s crush. Kelly warns him away, to no avail. He’s in too deep, and the repercussions could shock the town, and cost him his life.


Excerpt
November 27
Dear Kelly,
I asked Dad if we were going to go visit, since you’re going to miss Christmas, and so we could see the mountains and ride horses and maybe hike, even if it’s snowing. It looks cool in the pictures, and Mom said it was pretty. The forests at least, where they haven’t burned. But Dad said,
—It’s rugged up there, Sammy. You might not survive.
I’d survive though. Easy. Even with the bears. They’re probably all sleeping now anyway, particularly up in the skinny part, but if you see one, like in a cave or something, tell me.
The river’s way high here, up to the levees in some places. No snow yet, just rain. It’s rained like everyday since Thanksgiving, which was no big deal. I folded the napkins wrong and put the glasses on the wrong side, but Mom and Dad weren’t loud since it was a holiday and only me. And dinner was the same. Except Mom didn’t make the sweet potatoes and she charred the turkey so the house stunk and the cranberries came out of a can. Everything was pretty bad actually. You didn’t miss anything.
You’re in the snow, anyway. You can go out and throw snowballs and stomp around through the trees if you want. I can’t. I’m in my room. Grounded. For nothing, too. All I did was come home late and not call. I would’ve called, but I couldn’t because I didn’t have my phone, and I got home as fast as I could. It was raining and I was wet and it was starting to get cold, because it’s a lot colder when your clothes are wet. So I ran. I got home and right off Mom grounded me. Just for being late. Not for accidentally slicing a kid or for breaking anything even. If I’d broken something then maybe, but not for just being late.
Sammy 
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]



Praise for the Book
“Idyllwild Eliot’s Well Below Heaven is a dark novel of sibling loyalty ... rich with the joys and miseries of teenage life ... that will warrant comparisons to the work of Laurie Halse Anderson or Walter Dean Myers, relating stories of adolescent challenges without condescending or moralizing.” ~ Foreword Reviews
“Idyllwild Eliot’s edgy, epistolary YA novel takes readers on an absorbing emotional roller coaster ... language and content that includes references to sex, child/teen pornography (which figures large in the plot), abortion and drugs make the novel best suited for older teens. This content, however, never feels prurient or gratuitous, and Eliot’s skillful writing and deft characterization create a story adults may savor as well. Readers will surely find themselves thinking about Well Below Heaven long after turning the last page.” ~ BlueInk Review
“... leading to a series of shocking incidents ... That these events don’t feel gratuitous is due to Eliot’s skill in building up to them and to the achingly realistic voices revealed through Kelly’s and Sammy’s letters, reflecting the teens’ angst, anger, betrayals, triumphs, new insights, and the subtle changes that take place with the passage of time and their life experiences.” ~ Kirkus Reviews
“Idyllwild Eliot presents this as her debut novel, which gives her credit as a creative author who views adolescent years differently, maybe more accurately than others. This novel is refreshing as it hits problems some teenagers face though seldom written about.” ~ JoJo Maxson
“Bravo, Ms. Eliot! Your debut novel is intensely felt and the characters' insights wonderfully documented. Definitely inspired a second reading.” ~ Camile Fontaine


My Review
I received this book in return for an honest review.


By Lynda Dickson
Brother and sister Sammy and Kelly are separated when Kelly is sent away to a boarding school for troubled youth. From afar, will Kelly be able to prevent her younger brother from making the same mistakes she made?
The story is told by Sammy and Kelly via the letters and emails they send each other during their separation. From their correspondence, we need to piece together what happened. Because of this format, we sometimes feel a bit removed from the action. However, the short chapters (i.e., letters) keep us reading, and the tension ramps up and the suspense increases when one of the siblings doesn’t reply for a while. I love the relationship between Kelly and Sammy. They really care for each other and look out for each other, keeping secrets from their parents, as most kids do. I don’t know when the book is meant to be set, but it appears to be in the early 2000s. There are references to old television shows, watching television when shows are airing (not recorded or streamed), digital cameras but not smartphones with cameras, mobile phones but no texting, and Internet but no social media.
This book provides a confronting look at the secret lives of teenagers, which may be closer to reality than we would like to think.
Warnings: coarse language, drug use, underage drinking, sexual references, pedophilia, violence.


About the Author
Idyllwild Eliot
Idyllwild Eliot was born and raised in the Midwest. Her survival of adolescence was never a guarantee and, as a result, she developed a desire to understand people and how their environments can impact their actions. That desire took her on the road, through Texas and Arizona and California, through a number of jobs as well. Nothing stuck. After a couple of international stints, she bought herself a new laptop and started writing. Well Below Heaven is her debut novel. 


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