By Stevend D. Vivian

"Prelude to Hemlock" is a black comedy that follows the fortunes of the younger narrator, Jeffrey Edwards. A contrarian via nature and libertine by means of selection, Jeff is captivating, caustic, fiercely intelligent...and fiercely self-destructive. Jeff writes lyrics for his sister Kim, a talented rock musician, and as Kim's musical famous person rises, the siblings turn into entangled in occasions either comedian and appalling. alongside the way in which, Jeff contends together with his pill-popping mom; his breezy and scheming father; and his dope-smoking female friend, Tall Patty. As those characters intertwine and collide, Kim's occupation techniques the brilliant verge of collapse of success--even as she and Jeff strategy the darkest breaking point of catastrophe. Jeff is aware that "what the righteous quite dread is an international without sinners", yet he and Kim can't really seize the price of really residing as they please. "A witch's brew, half J.D. Salinger, half Nabokov, with a dose of Poe. for those who ever puzzled what sort of tradition created Kurt Cobain--and killed him--buckle up." -- Phillip Gardner "Prelude to Hemlock is a distrubing and darkly humorous novel instructed in a pitch ideal voice." Olga G. Galvin

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He nodded toward a corner, which was occupied by a fake fern. Kim passed us and quickly moved the fern away, then tossed a few throw pillows into the corner. “Prop him up a little,” she instructed as we freed ourselves from his suddenly flailing arms. ” “Uncle Art and Aunt Jo will be so proud of their Robbie,” I laughed, catching my breath. 31 Prelude to Hemlock “They left an hour ago,” Kim remarked. ” “It’s okay,” Dad mumbled. He was suddenly exhausted, face drawn with fatigue lines and swill sag.

I called off work that next night, contriving a raw throat and dribbling nose. Franco was briefly peeved, but then thinking aloud, conceded that an infectious set-up man was of no help. He wished me a speedy recovery, reminding me that he needed me early in three days because of a catering gig. Duty avoided, I sat at the kitchen table eating cereal as Kim came skipping down the steps. ” “You know, equipment. ” “That’s great. ” 50 Prelude to Hemlock I sighed. She paused from the peeling of her orange.

I pulled hard on the joint and nodded approvingly at the query of her raised eyebrows. The weed was wonderful, I said. And it really was, with aromatic hearty buds. ” “The usual. ” Narrow eyes on the snaking road, she lovingly worked over the joint. ” An oncoming car’s headlights flashed across her face, which was dreamy with dope and—I hoped, oh how I hoped—a hankering for me. She drove with expert aimlessness, taking lazy long turns into subdivisions, pointing out houses she liked, flowers she liked, and ambitions she’d discarded: she’d been an aspiring stage actress (rehearsing bored her), a botanist (memorizing bored her), and an elementary school teacher (children bored her).

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