When he wakes up naked by the side of the highway in the middle of the desert, twenty-two-year-old Bailey Quinn is only sure of a few things: He’s in a world of testicle pain. He’s tripping out of his head on peyote. And someone seems to have made a half-assed attempt at slashing his throat. As Bailey hits the road to track down his “friends” in Matthew Carnahan’s short novel, a black-edged, hilarious caper unfolds.
“The guys who were supposed to be my crew, my pals, my posse, had left me for dead, after I had gone above and beyond for them, after I had sussed out the perfect score, after I had done my homework, after I had overcome their stupidity, after I had sacrificed my near-virginity by having sex with the limbless lady.” When he wakes up naked by the side of the highway in the middle of the desert, twenty-two-year-old Bailey Quinn is only sure of a few things: He’s in a world of testicle pain. He’s tripping out of his head on peyote. And someone seems to have made a half-assed attempt at slashing his throat. He can’t for the life of him remember what happened. And then it all comes back: His boys screwed him over. Bailey, college dropout and carny, was working props and rigging for a touring tent circus and freak show. The Freaks were the nastiest, most tweaked-out group of misfits Bailey had ever come across. But the Freaks were doing some shady bookkeeping in addition to a boatload of veterinary Quaalude and crystal meth. So to get the inside dope on the circus payroll, Bailey took up with Eelie, the Serpent Girl, and began an unexpectedly erotic and dangerous odyssey. As Bailey hits the road to track down his “friends” and get his loot back, a black-edged, hilarious caper unfolds. From Tank Deerflower, the drug-dealing rodeo rider, and Arnold, the fire-eater with a temper as black as his charred throat, to Sissy, the beautiful ex-junkie/whore who steals Bailey’s heart, strange characters and stranger events converge in this fast, gritty, and unforgettable novel. Crafted with artistry and deftness, Serpent Girl is a voyage into the darkest depths of carny life–and, remarkably, a tender love story to boot.
DIV After a narrow escape, Bolt goes after the mobster who tried to blow him up As far as the record industry is concerned, Matteo DiPalma is a manager, a producer, and the hit-maker behind some of the decade’s biggest chart successes. To the federal government, he is a crucial link between drug-hungry musicians and the Rosetti crime family that keeps them supplied with heroin and cocaine. When federal agents nail DiPalma on a trafficking charge, John Bolt and six other cops go to California to escort him back east. The shotguns they carry aren’t to keep DiPalma from running, but to protect him from a Rosetti hit. The agents don’t count on death from above. The mafia helicopter appears too quickly for the cops to react. Bolt is just outside the blast radius when the grenade hits the roof, vaporizing DiPalma and his guards. When the smoke clears, Bolt is bloodied but not broken—and ready to even the score. /div
DIV When an undercover op goes wrong, John Bolt loses his partner—and his pants It’s cold in New York when federal narcotics agents Bolt and Kramer come to meet Angel Jarín, a dealer with a big mouth and a bigger supply. Masquerading as Detroit pushers, the agents are close to arranging a buy when Angel turns the tables on them. Three hoods dressed as cops ambush Bolt and Kramer in an alley, forcing them to strip naked and hand over their cash. Bolt realizes something’s wrong about the time his knees begin to freeze. Blowing their cover would mean death, so the narcs play along even when the thugs take Kramer. They leave Bolt shivering in the alley, with forty-eight hours to collect a $75,000 ransom. As his numb fingers pick up his overcoat, Bolt decides the hoods are right. Somebody’s gonna pay. /div
In a poignant memoir flush with humor and regret, the author looks back on the curious journey which brought him to a high school seminary on the University of Notre Dame campus in 1964 to study for the priesthood. There, in the boarding schools cloistered setting, each day was occupied by prayer, studies, silence, and labor, providing a straight and narrow path to ordination. Still, his better angels were unable to distance him from juvenile lapses, ranging from mindless mischief to egregious misconduct. Spotting the troublemaker, the priests bestowed absolution and encouragement, but after two years, the clerics had seen enough. Expulsion and banishment followed, pushing him into the cold embrace of secular society. Years later, he returned to the same campus to conclude his educational sojournthis time in the prestigious law school. With the benefit of maturity and hindsight, the author reflects on the failings of his past and the lessons learned.
