The paperback edition releases tomorrow! Sorry, did you just spill your coffee while jumping with glee?
Today, blogger Maryann Miller, impressed with Louis Greenstein's work, praises his musical show, One Child Born, as well. It is a great show, and the performer, Kate Ferber, has a voice to die for.
To honor the paperback's debut, here's another excerpt from the novel. In this passage, Jason finds that (a) his girlfriend Sarah is getting a little too friendly with his best friend Skip and (b) the story they made up for Sarah's mother isn't going to work.
Outside, I heard Skip and Sarah laughing. I was glad they were getting along.... Before I joined Sarah and Skip in the backyard, I stood over the kitchen table, held the tequila bottle in my hands and inspected it. Maybe I'd try alcohol one day. I was afraid it would make me vomit like Skip did at my bar mitzvah. Not that I'd be uncomfortable vomiting in front of Sarah. If you can vomit in front of your girlfriend, it's true love. But not tonight when I had to drive.
I went back outside. Skip and Sarah had finished the joint. They looked wiped out. Sarah wobbled. Skip stared at the night clouds.
"What do you think of booze?" I asked Sarah.
"I love it," she said with a loopy grin. She poked my ribs with her finger and when I turned, she planted a sloppy kiss on my face.
"Cool," I said, wiping a trickle of her spit off my chin with the back of my hand. "As long as you can walk a straight line in a couple hours."
"Yes, Mom," she said sarcastically.
I raised an eyebrow. "You probably shouldn't drink any more tonight because you have to be home at eleven and you look kind of fucked up as it is."
"She can handle her drugs and booze," said Skip.
"Yeah!" Sarah chimed in loudly. "I can handle myself, thank you." She elbowed Skip in his ribs, a friendly gesture I didn't like. Now they were laughing at a joke I didn't get—something to do with tiptoeing past comatose mothers.
Meanwhile, over at the Brookline Family Movie Theater, where That's Entertainment II was playing at seven-thirty and ten o'clock, in the middle of a song and dance spectacular, Jeanette MacDonald looked into the camera, thrust out her arms and announced: "Your attention please, Sarah Gilquist, please report to the box office. Sarah Gilquist. You have a phone call."
We heard about Jeanette MacDonald from some kids at school who were at the show. If we'd been there, Sarah would have keeled over and died from embarrassment, and the theater manager would have gotten back on the phone and told Mrs. Gilquist, "She's not available. She's dead." Instead he said something like, "No one here by that name. Sorry."
Today, blogger Maryann Miller, impressed with Louis Greenstein's work, praises his musical show, One Child Born, as well. It is a great show, and the performer, Kate Ferber, has a voice to die for.
To honor the paperback's debut, here's another excerpt from the novel. In this passage, Jason finds that (a) his girlfriend Sarah is getting a little too friendly with his best friend Skip and (b) the story they made up for Sarah's mother isn't going to work.
Outside, I heard Skip and Sarah laughing. I was glad they were getting along.... Before I joined Sarah and Skip in the backyard, I stood over the kitchen table, held the tequila bottle in my hands and inspected it. Maybe I'd try alcohol one day. I was afraid it would make me vomit like Skip did at my bar mitzvah. Not that I'd be uncomfortable vomiting in front of Sarah. If you can vomit in front of your girlfriend, it's true love. But not tonight when I had to drive.
I went back outside. Skip and Sarah had finished the joint. They looked wiped out. Sarah wobbled. Skip stared at the night clouds.
"What do you think of booze?" I asked Sarah.
"I love it," she said with a loopy grin. She poked my ribs with her finger and when I turned, she planted a sloppy kiss on my face.
"Cool," I said, wiping a trickle of her spit off my chin with the back of my hand. "As long as you can walk a straight line in a couple hours."
"Yes, Mom," she said sarcastically.
I raised an eyebrow. "You probably shouldn't drink any more tonight because you have to be home at eleven and you look kind of fucked up as it is."
"She can handle her drugs and booze," said Skip.
"Yeah!" Sarah chimed in loudly. "I can handle myself, thank you." She elbowed Skip in his ribs, a friendly gesture I didn't like. Now they were laughing at a joke I didn't get—something to do with tiptoeing past comatose mothers.
Meanwhile, over at the Brookline Family Movie Theater, where That's Entertainment II was playing at seven-thirty and ten o'clock, in the middle of a song and dance spectacular, Jeanette MacDonald looked into the camera, thrust out her arms and announced: "Your attention please, Sarah Gilquist, please report to the box office. Sarah Gilquist. You have a phone call."
We heard about Jeanette MacDonald from some kids at school who were at the show. If we'd been there, Sarah would have keeled over and died from embarrassment, and the theater manager would have gotten back on the phone and told Mrs. Gilquist, "She's not available. She's dead." Instead he said something like, "No one here by that name. Sorry."
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