Journey to Bom Goody

Karen Heuler


Karen Heuler’s new novel, Journey to Bom Goody, takes us to the Amazon River where a retired electronics store owner conducts a “social experiment” by delivering VCR’s and portable electric generators to increasingly isolated natives along the riverbank. The fantastical results are as telling about America’s Entertainment-Tonight civilization as they are about native South Americans.

ISBN, trade paper: 978-1-931982-54-2, $14.95      Sale $7.50

ISBN, library edition:978-1-931982-53-5, $25.00   Sale $12.50


About the Author: 

Karen Heuler has published extensively in literary and commercial periodicals ranging from Ms magazine to TriQuarterly Review. In 1995 the University of Missouri published The Other Door, her first short story collection. The New York Times praised these stories, saying they were "haunting and quirky … the line between reason and reverie is dissolved; here even the most fantastic seems possible." She won an O. Henry prize in 1998, and in 2002 and 2003 won awards from Night Train magazine and Serpentine, an online periodical. Her stories have been short-listed for the O. Henry awards in 2001, received special mention in the Pushcart Awards 2000, and reached the ranks of finalist in the Iowa Short Fiction Awards and semifinalist for the Nelson Algren Award. She lives and writes in New York.

 Excerpt from the Book:

   The boat looked like something out of African Queen, even though it was on the wrong river. It was small and battered and doomed to a bad end.        
     Nevertheless it chugged on, with its sole passenger, a Mr. Forbes, and his mysterious cargo.
    Mr. Forbes was dressed in a beige polyester suit and a Panama hat, and he sat in the rear of the boat among his wealth of crates and boxes, looking at the trees, at the water, at the canoes they passed, with silent, meditative vigilance. He was bony and white-haired and he moved as if he had to conserve himself.
    “What do you suppose he’s doing, Joachim?” the owner of the boat asked his son, who shrugged elaborately. “He’s American. Maybe a vacation. Something to do with a vacation. With Americans, it’s always vacation.”
    The owner nodded wisely. “And those boxes must be machines, maybe air conditioning. But me, I like this heat.”
    Joachim shrugged again, and then bent down to get a bottle of warm Coca-Cola. He studied Forbes as he sipped it.
    The gringo looked hungrily at the trees, as if they might fatten him up, Joachim thought, but then his gaze would slip and he’d end up looking at his hands. His hands were empty.
    “If it’s air conditioning,” his father continued, “he’s crazy. He may be crazy anyway, they often are. But why would he bring air conditioning to Lago Vendrida? It’s primitive there, not even one electric light. Unless they’re building something.”