[T]he book navigates its way uncertainly — here a murder mystery, there a late-blooming coming-of-age tale, suddenly a political thriller, intermittently a romance. The opening scenes — the discovery of the body and its immediate aftermath — stretch chapter by chapter for nearly half the book, slowed by digressions and explanations: why Huger calls his father Unc, how Huger and his mom came to live among the blue bloods, languorous descriptions of history and geography, plus a boatload of back story from Lott’s 1999 novel The Hunt Club (featuring these same characters). Only occasionally does the new book seem to remember the corpse, flashing images of “those teeth, that flesh, and whatever had happened — whatever had been done to — her face, and the glow and glisten of water runneling off a body.”

Check out the full review here. — Art Taylor

Each strand of Michael Connelly’s latest thriller moves the novel’s title, “Drop,” in a fresh direction. LAPD Detective Harry Bosch, now on his second tour of duty with the Open-Unsolved Unit, begins investigating a 1989 murder after new tests on old evidence — a small drop of blood — reveal a match with a convicted predator. Before he can pursue that lead, however, Bosch finds himself pulled onto a higher-profile case: A city councilman’s son jumped, fell or was dropped from a seventh-floor hotel balcony. And back in the office, Bosch receives disappointing news about his Deferred Retirement Option Plan (DROP). That imperiled plan has kept him in the field and maintained the income he desperately needs as a newly single parent to a 15-year-old daughter (a relationship that really blossoms in this book).

Read the full review here.

Additionally, I’m a little belated in announcing here another of my own stories that was recently published: “Locked Out” in the October issue of the online magazine Plots With Guns. The story itself was inspired by something that my wife and I happened across at an all-day country music concert a couple of years back—a troubling encounter still, as you might imagine after seeing where the story goes. I’m pleased to have been published amongst an impressive rosters of stories by writers including Patti Abbott, Matthew C. Funk, Stephen Graham Jones, and Charles Dodd White, among others. Check out the full issue here. — Art Taylor

Set in post-Katrina New Orleans, Laura Ellen Scott’s debut novel, Death Wishing, is also set in a delightful alternate reality in which the dying wishes of some of the populace are magically fulfilled—though often with unexpected results. The book follows Victor Swaim, a cape and corset maker trying to recover from a divorce in carefree New Orleans. After a series of those deathbed wishes come true—including the curing of cancer, the elimination of cats, the return of Elvis (1967 vintage), the clouds turning orange, mothers growing third eyes, and cups of coffee becoming bottomless—the hysteria that grows around “Death Wishing” forces Victor into action. He is forced to consider: What would he wish for the world without him in it?

Scott teaches fiction writing at George Mason University. Her work has been selected for The Wigleaf Top Fifty of 2009 and Barrelhouse magazine’s “Futures” issue. She has twice been nominated for Dzanc’s Best of the Web 2010 anthology. She will be reading from Death Wishing at various locations in November; find out just where on her website here. Additionally, you can also email her through her Wish Tank website and tell her what your own dying wish would be. Even if she can’t make it come true, your wish might be chosen for publication on the web.

In the meantime, Scott helped our wishes to come true by answering a few questions about the new book.

Tara Laskowski: Where did the idea for this novel come from?

Laura Ellen Scott: This Army PR guy died and left a statement that there were aliens at Roswell in 1947, so my husband and I were joking around with the old saying: “wishing doesn’t make it so.” I was already writing in the narrator’s voice, having him struggle with weight loss in New Orleans when I thought, why not introduce an element of the fantastic, see what happens? I’d written some ghost stories before, but nothing with this sort of altered reality. I guess my fantasy-obsessed students finally got to me. But basically, I had all the different ideas cooking in small pots before I realized how well they all went together (sidesteps gumbo reference).

Were there any death wishes that you had happen in earlier drafts of this book that never made it in the final cut? Or are there any that you wish you’d put in?

All the wishes made it in, but some were modified along the way. At one point I thought Elvis was too obvious, so I tried to write about Conway Twitty instead. That idea never made it out of a single paragraph.

How does it feel to be on a book tour?

Odd. The effort-to-sales ratio is hard to believe in, but otherwise this is what I’ve been working towards my whole life—to be the person behind the book. I am writing these answers while on the New Orleans/Baton Rouge leg of the tour. I’ve been many times before, but never like this. I’ll tell you more when I get back.

Say that you and I have just one day and night in New Orleans. Where are we going, what are we eating, and what’s the weirdest thing we are going to encounter?

Let’s start with weird, which might not be the right term. Fortune and confluence are more accurate. Last night my friends and I were having curry fries and smoked beer (tasted like bacon) in a bar where a woman was playing piano and singing “Summertime” in a heavy Japanese accent when the actor David Morse (Treme, House, St. Elsewhere) sort of leaned in to check out the scene. Outside, vampire kid buskers had set up on almost every corner of Frenchmen Street.

As for out day & night: The best thing to do is grab a refreshment and a bench for people watching, but DC area folks aren’t constitutionally suited to that, so the only other option is the Tourist Death March. We need protein for breakfast. Not those damned beignets at Café du Monde; that’s drunk food as far as I’m concerned. We take the St. Charles Streetcar out to the Camellia Grill, even though they have a new location in the Quarter, so you can see the Garden District. Then we go to St. Louis Cemetery #1 on a paid tour. This is where Marie Laveau’s grave is, and our tour guide, a trained/licensed historian, will not be charmed by your voodoo jokes or your sense of humor in general. The tour will probably conclude at a voodoo shop, where you will be so taken by the incense and romance that you will spend a lot of money on offensive trinkets.

We’re not hungry, so we go to The Napolean House for lunch (good luck getting any) and our first alcohol of the day: Pimm’s Cup. Then we futz around Jackson Square and the Moonwalk, roam the shops on Royal and Chartres, take in a beer flight at Crescent City Brewery, and get into an argument about where to go for dinner, which is the signal to stop for a NAP. Dinner and a sazerac at Antoine’s, but if we muffed the reservation, anything at Snug Harbor before we hit the eight-o’clock show would be very satisfying. After that, we bounce around Frenchmen Street clubs till those beignets start making sense.

We might stop at Sidney’s Wine to get an unneeded bottle to take back to the hotel. If you choose something interesting the staff there will get pretty excited and tell you stories.

Notice we didn’t go to Bourbon Street. I’m sending you there on your own. I don’t like watching Nicolas Cage make out with my Grandma.

You are also a very successful writer of very short fiction. How hard was it to switch between the two forms? Which do you like better?

When I was deep into Death Wishing, I found extracting bits for very short stories was a pressure release, but I can’t imagine writing a conventional short story any time soon. Very short fiction still appeals, but right now I really want to dive back into a new novel project. It’s just so fun. They don’t tell you that in school.

What’s your favorite Elvis song?

“Little Sister.” [Editor's note: I'm curious why!]

In your book, some people are death wishers and some are not. Do you have a feeling you would be a death wisher? Why or why not?

Nah. I’ve never won anything, so it’s unlikely I’d be a wisher. I’ll just look out for the folks who are.

What’s the best compliment/feedback you’ve gotten about this book so far? And to follow up and keep you humble, what’s the weirdest/worst comment you’ve gotten?

The best feedback came from the publishers at Ig, Robert Lasner and Elizabeth Clementson. They read a draft of the book which had a very different, more Hollywood-boom!boom! ending, and they said, “It was too over the top, after the book had been very subtle and specific to that point. While I understand what you were trying to do, it didn’t feel right—it was like being woken up in the middle of a pleasant dream by someone screaming in front of your house.” That was exactly the right kind of guidance to give me for the re-write.

So far the harshest responses have been from folks who couldn’t get past the first ten pages. I got a few 1-star reviews out of them, but I understand their frustration. From a certain angle, this book appears as if the fantastic element of Death Wishing is more central than it is. But in fact, the wishing is a catalyst for the drama of Victor’s growth as a father, lover, and reluctant hero.

After six years, fans of Steve Almond are pleased to hear that he has a new collection of short stories out. God Bless America, Almond’s third story collection after The Evil B.B. Chow and My Life in Heavy Metal, offers up 13 new glimpses into the lives, hopes and dreams of Americans.

Packed with humor, tragedy, sadness and hope, the collection is written, as the New York Times Book Review says, by a “gifted storyteller” who delivers “always enjoyable, often hysterical stories.”

Almond is an opinionated guy, and his stories don’t shy away from politics either—the effects of war, terrorism, the economy, big business, religion. As Karen Russell, author of Swamplandia!, says, “Almond’s characters are sons and fathers, inveterate gamblers, thwarted dreamers, the mothers of children gone astray, and God Bless America teach us how to love every one of them.”

I had an opportunity to ask Almond a few questions about the collection, current and future projects, and his thoughts on the state of the country he so carefully paints a vivid portrait of.

Tara Laskowski: You capture here some very distinct portraits of Americans. How did this collection come about? Did you sit down to write about America, or did you find later as you were writing these pieces that this was the common thread throughout?

Steve Almond

Steve Almond: This is going to be disappointing. I basically just chose what I took to be my strongest stories and put together a manuscript. I wanted to be in the world of short fiction again. I didn’t consciously set out to write about America. But like every other sane person in this country, I’ve watched in a kind of horror as our country has descended further and further into moral ruin. So obviously, that concern crops up in the work. But I’m mostly interested in particular Americans, and the way in which people seek to cope with their loneliness and regrets.

What’s your favorite story in the collection and why? (Oh no…is that like asking someone who their favorite child is?)

“What the Bird Says.” I don’t expect other people will like it much, but it feels to me like the most emotionally ambitious story, the one that says, nakedly: these are the most crucial moments in the lives of this father and son.

As characters go, I like Billy Clamm a ton. He represents a certain hopefulness that captures America at its best. And I like the plot of “Donkey Greedy.” My plots always suck, so it’s nice to have a story with real shape to it.

I like the plot of “Donkey Greedy” a lot—and your plots don’t “suck,” by the way. I noticed a “get-rich-quick” theme running through that story with the gambling theme and also the title story of the collection. Even in “Tamalpais,” the waiter gets a hefty tip after serving a sad woman, though he is reluctant to have any part of it. “Easy money” is within reach in these pieces, yet it is not actually “easy” at all—and in most cases is the character’s downfall. Do you think that’s still the American Dream? Or are people more jaded now?

Easy money is the great myth of American life. It’s like our personal FUCK YOU to the Protestant Work Ethic. And it might work for a few people. But on the whole, any time you see easy money being racked up, there’s a whole set of people who are getting screwed over. Consider our most recent financial meltdown. I mean, look at Billy Clamm. When we leave him at the end of the title story, he’s heading off into the sunset with eight pounds of cocaine. But do you really expect his story to end well?

In pulling this collection together, were there any stories that you took out? Or are there any facets of American/Americans that you wished you wrote about?

Oh gosh. Ben and I argued furiously over the table of contents. We did a lot of horse trading, swapping stories in and out for months. He wanted the collection to be more serious, to show critics and readers that I wasn’t just a song and dance man. My feeling was that the collection needed more stories with levity. I had this one, “Divorcing Johnny Ponder,” that I loved. And another one, “The Idea of Sirloin,” in which a woman falls in love with a streak. In the end, we compromised. It’s a darker collection than I would have liked. But it’s also true that we’re living in a dark time.

I love the story “Shotgun Wedding” (and I have to say, being pregnant myself, after reading this story I REALLY wanted a cheesesteak). I was mad when it ended because I want to know what happened to Carrie and how she’s fairing now. Do you ever want to revisit your characters and write about them at a different point in their lives? Or is it that when you are done, you are done?

Mostly, I’m a story writer. So when the story ends, my relationship with the character is over. But I do have a few characters who I enjoy enough that I keep writing about them. Dr. Raymond Oss, who stars in “Donkey Greedy, Donkey Gets Punched,” is a good example. What I should be doing with him, or one my other characters, is letting them roam around some more, until I have a novel. That would be the smart move. But I’m kind of an idiot when it comes to planning. As for Carrie, my sense is that she’ll be just fine. We don’t know exactly what happens with her, but we do know that she’s decided she wants a kid, which (as you know) is a big deal.

I always admire writers who can blend humor into what is an inherently sad or tragic moment, and you do that well here. Should more people write funny? Why is it so hard to write humor?

To me, the comic impulse always arises from tragic circumstances. Comedy is how we survive our sorrow. I never set out to be funny. That doesn’t work. What I do is force my characters to confront some dark stuff, and allow them to have a sense of humor about it. I see a lot of writers, especially at the beginning of their careers, who shy from humor. They feel like they need to be “serious” writers, and serious writers don’t joke around. Kurt Vonnegut was like this. His early stories are often earnest and dreary. It took him years to realize that his sense of humor was a central part of his personality, and that his job as a writer was to get the full range of his personality onto the page. I went through the same process. I actually don’t think it’s that hard to write funny – if you’ll allow yourself. We all come equipped with a sense of humor.

And what about politics—another topic that people tend to shy away from in polite conversation? You’re not afraid of that. Do you think more people should be vocal in their opinions? Are we too apathetic? Or are we too thick-headed and stupid?

It’s not a matter of being stupid so much as frightened and overwhelmed. Americans know that our country is morally out of whack, that we’ve rewarded unfettered greed for decades and it has not brought us prosperity, but ruin. We know we should be more generous and humane. We just don’t know where to start. I do believe the Occupy Wall Street movement is changing that, or has the potential to change that, by showing that spontaneous activism—not the phony activism purchased by right-wing billionaires—can change the moral conditions of the country. So there’s hope there.

I’m granting you free reign for a week to do whatever the hell you want to fix America. What issues do you tackle first?

I’d raise the tax rate on the top one percent to 91 percent, the same rate it was during the boom years of the Eisenhower administration. I’d use the revenue to initiate a massive overhaul of our public transportation in every major city. I’d levy a gas tax of 25 percent, to force individuals and companies to kick the habit. I’d remove Clarence Thomas from the Supreme Court, because of his refusal to disclose financial records and recuse himself from cases where he has an obvious bias. And put in place a single payer system for medical care. And I’d go on TV to explain exactly why I’m doing this. That would be day one.

What’s next on your writing to-do list? Are you working on another long piece you want to talk about?

A novel. I’m slogging away right now (with some breaks to go read from God Bless America). It’s pretty stinky so far, but that’s part of the process. Hopefully, I’ll be able to destink it at some point.