Synopsis: As God Looked On
is a dark comedic narrative with threads that begin on a bus
ride to Daytona and along a mountainside in southern Mexico: one
young woman running from a murder and away from her young son; a
young Mexican boy and his aunt heading to America after being
kidnapped by drug lords. The threads knot in Tennessee and again
. . . somewhere else. Along the way to that somewhere:
a female serial killer
in an Irish Punk Band; a badly deformed man obsessed with the
movie, Remember the Alamo; a Gulf War vet suffering from
PTSD; and . . . four cheerleaders and an iPod.
Available June 2016
ISBN:978-1-60489-163-8
Cloth cover $30.00
Sale: $13.00
ISBN:978-1-60489-164-5
Trade paper $19.95
Sale: $7.00
About
the Author:
Jim Harris
holds a master’s from Southern Illinois in Creative Writing. He
currently works in computer technology. He and his wife Amy have
two children, Mollie and Sadie. They currently live in The St.
Louis area.
"There on the east side of a
wraparound wooden porch Seymour sat looking at the white bark of a
catalpa tree and then on through the leaves of the tree to the rolling
wheat field that had a lone anvil-shaped little oil well pumping
away in the middle of it. The anvil-shaped oil well was bright blue
except for the heavy rust around its edges.That little oil well pumped
out 5 gallons a month. Roger said he kept the equivalent of two of the barrels
a month and the rest went back into Seymour’s account at the Ridgway
Bank. It wasn’t much and back in the 70’s when his Uncle Bud put that
oil well in it produced upwards of 15 barrels a month. “It might never stop though,”
Roger had said. Roger had left now. He had work to do. Seymour decided to spend some
time with Renoir. He had a book on Renoir that was at the top of a box
full of art and history books and the one thing about Renoir was that
his impressionism was accidental and he really wanted to be a realist
but when he tried to be a realist it didn’t work out. Renoir’s
painting, Bal du moulin de la Galette, was Seymour’s favorite painting. He
had a replica of it boxed up somewhere. “When I tried to be a teacher
it didn’t work out either,” Seymour said. He looked around. There was
nothing but a breeze to hear him. Renoir, for a brief time,
from about 1865-1886, tried to paint in a more structured classical style that
had less color, more definition, and was ultimately not a very good
period for him. Then, in 1890, the same year Groucho Marx and Ho Chi
Minh were born, and the same year Vincent Van Gogh shot and killed
himself, Renoir returned to lighter colors and vague outlines around the
edges of his figures and, focused on nudes (young women exclusively)
and domestic scenes. Seymour nodded. Him too. At
the height of his teaching, when he was leading long legged young women to
High School volleyball sectionals, he would very carefully pull off
Stephanie’s panties in a hotel room on Michigan Avenue, and, starting at
that area just above her belly button, he would slowly work his way
down until her thighs trembled as they clung sweatlocked to his neck…"
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