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Gay Fiction
Condition: Very Good Cover: slight wear to edges, particularly corners. Spine dented but unbroken. Short pencil note on half-title page. Pages otherwise clean. 
click on pics for larger image Plot / Content: "In The Jackal Awakens, the self-contained sequel to [Beavers' first novel] Jackal in the Dark, Beavers has written a gritty contemporary love story, the action of which is set in the early 80s, a decade after that of the earlier novel. The anonymous hero has moved from Los Angeles to New York, kicked his drug habit and joined Alcoholics Anonymous. Yet although the externals of his life have been smoothed into almost conformity, he is deeply dissatisfied. When he meets and invites home a straight model called Jeremy, his life changes once again - not necessarily for the better. Vividly evoking a stiflingly hot New York summer, this is a compelling and erotically charged novel about the relationships of lovers and the relationships of friends - and the dangerous sexual precipices over which either may all too easily fall." (from the cover) Background / Biography: "David Patrick Beavers was born on 30th January 1959, in a tiny California town in coastal Santa Cruz County. He earned his BA in drama from the University of Southern California and his MFA in scriptwriting from New York University. While he currently lives in Los Angeles where he works on projects for film and theatre, he entertains notions of chucking it all and escaping to the timeless streets of New Orleans." (from the pre-title page) Reviews: Clicking on advertiser links on this site may allow these companies to gather and use information about your visit to this and other websites to provide you with advertisements about goods and services presumed to be of interest to you. |
Quote from this book "The humidity clung to the concrete of the sidewalk and the brick work of the buildings around me, transforming the city into a vast, stinging haze. Blacktop oozed tar. Petroleum derivatives perfumed the body by way of diesel fumes and untended cars. Living in the impressionist's nightmare, I thought, as I made my way down the narrow walk, careful to avoid excretions and vomit and the worst of all - gum. All forms of flypaper to snare the unaware worker ants called pedestrians. An open spigot of salty sweat cascaded down from the crest of my head, down, stinging eyes, down, to bathe the razor blade abrasion on my chin, still on down these tributaries of sweat ran to soak my shirt through. Sweat poured freely. I hoped to God this wouldn't bring on another case of jock itch. It was 101 degrees with a hundred percent humidity. I itch in the heat. I'm rabid in humidity. My ears buzzed like a power line, drowning out the horns of the cars that bleated like sheep caught in quicksand." opening sentences Secondhand booksellers |
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