Hello everyone! Today we have another book spotlight. A book spotlight is an interview done about an author’s current or soon-to-be-released book. It includes information about the book, its genre, where to buy it, and more. Now without further ado, let’s get to the Book Spotlight!
Will’s Surreal Period
William, a San Francisco artist who has struggled for years in obscurity, suddenly and inexplicably finds himself painting in a startlingly new surreal style that is embraced by the art world. But the onset of persistent headaches and the inability to recall words lead him to a neurologist, where William discovers that his new artistic style is the result of a brain tumor, now threatening his life. He must decide whether to have surgery to remove it, which would relegate him to painting in the drab style that defined his years of anonymity, or take his chances, and allow the tumor to grow, and most likely kill him.
To make matters worse, William and his wife Rosemary are struggling financially, having been disowned by William’s father Arthur, a cantankerous and homophobic old widower, who uses his money to assert power. Arthur is cared for by his younger son, Bertram, in a big house in Scarsdale, New York. But, when Bertram—a gay man, in the closet due to his fear of being disinherited, finally comes out—Arthur decides to switch allegiance to Will, and move to California. A mess ensues. The only question is whether Laurel, a portly California real estate agent who takes an improbable liking to Arthur, will make the situation better or worse.
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Snippet from the book:
Arthur Wozniak insisted that his house in Scarsdale be impeccably maintained. Its old outer walls were built of a solid red brick that contrasted artfully with the property’s green lawn and boxwood hedges in spring and summer, and with the white snow that blanketed the front yard in winter. In autumn, when the two large maple trees shed their gold and crimson leaves, Arthur had his son Bertram sweep them off the paved paths onto the lawn, where they crackled under Arthur’s feet if he walked on them.
“Bertram!” Arthur yelled from the brown leather recliner in his study.
He heard no response.
“Bertram!” Arthur screamed once more, just a few moments later—louder this time, and with exaggerated irritation. “Bertram! Where the hell are you?”
His son was slightly out of breath when he finally reached the study.
“Goddamn it, Bertram! Where were you? I’ve been calling you for ten minutes.”
“You haven’t been calling me for ten minutes,” he said, grimacing. “That’s ridiculous. It’s probably been a minute and a half, if that. Just calm down, for God’s sake.”
“Well, what were you doing?” Arthur demanded.
“I was in the middle of putting together a pot roast for dinner tonight, damn it. I had to shut the burner off and wash my hands when I heard you call. Jesus!”
“Why the hell are you out of breath? You’re not even forty years old. A man your age should be able to run up that staircase without a problem. I could do it at your age. You’re not taking care of yourself. If you’re not around, where the hell is that going to leave me?”
“Don’t worry about my health,” Bertram said. “I’ll be here for a long time after you’re gone.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“And speaking of health”—Bertram shook his head—“why the hell aren’t you doing those exercises the physical therapist gave you? You had a goddamn hip replacement. You need to do ’em. You wouldn’t have to scream for me to come running every time you drop something if you could move better.”
With that, he bent down and picked up a pad and pencil that had fallen from Arthur’s desk onto the rug beneath it.
“I move just fine. I didn’t call you here to pick that up. I can pick that up myself. I just didn’t get to it yet.”
“You’d move better if you did the exercises.”
“I get enough damn exercise. Those physical therapists are out of their minds. No sane person is going to do all those things. It’s idiocy.”
“So? What’s so urgent that you called me up here?”
“I want to see a copy of the will. Where the hell did you put it?”
“I didn’t put it anywhere,” Bertram said, his voice shrill with exasperation. “You put it somewhere. You must have filed it in one of the drawers here in the study. Did you look?”
“I looked . . . I didn’t see it,” Arthur mumbled sheepishly, turning away…
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