May 2015 News

BCB had a good month in May with the launch of Nick Green's King of New Beginnings and continued sales of the Kindle ebooks.

May's bestsellers were:

Joint 1st; Notes from Overground by Tiresias, and My Forever Heartache by Bernard Horton
2nd: Three Journeys to Patagonia by Nick Green
3rd: Yellow Dress by Nick Green

Thank you for the continued support and keep following us, sharing links etc. and stay posted for more new book news in the form of Tezcatlipoca's Mask...

Pulp Fiction Friday...

Juan had bought the bar in 1976 with his last hundred pesos. He knew that the door had been in need of fixing for the past fifteen years but his third wife had drained any desire left in him to do anything let alone DIY – he just floated along in a kind of limbo waiting for the day that…in fact he didn’t know what he was waiting for any more. He’d once thought about taking a motorcycle to ride the length of the Panamerican highway but his bike hadn’t started for…since he couldn’t even remember when, and it wasn’t really big enough – the engine – for that kind of long distance. Besides, Toluca wasn’t the sort of place where things happened. Dreams were buried here along with their owners. A black cat chased a gecko from the shade to the brightness of the street.

Without warning the door was kicked off its remaining hinges – somewhat unnecessarily Juan thought – and two strangers loomed up at the bar their silhouettes blocking the light from the doorway.

‘Are you the owner of this fucking joint?’ One of the black shapes addressed Juan.

Juan didn’t say anything and continued to chew on his toothpick, but he was thinking ‘Are you fucking retarded?’

To be continued…

Introducing The Long Straight Road of Life and Death

The long straight (snaking) road becomes the long snaking (straight) road of life and death. In God we trust emblazoned quietly across the windshield of the old blue Ford without wheels. Judging by the length of the grass it may have been saying that for quite a long time. Afterwards she says it’s like two people fighting. Apparently it’s the first time in over 100 years that there has been a lunar eclipse and a full moon on New Year’s Eve. Her whole body, below the neck, carries the scars of a serious car-crash. It’s these scars that I watch and feel in the darkness as we make love. The child-bearing belly is small but visible none-the-less plus there’s a caesarian scar or is it evidence of an appendix removal? Her breasts are small with long black nipples that have been sucked by babies but they still retain some of their youthfulness. Her legs and back bear scars like a child’s drawing of train tracks where pins have been inserted and removed. She pulls me towards her with a longing that borders on the violent, a long, sucking kiss like she is thirsty for water. She is so skinny that even her panties are not figure hugging, but that’s partly from being washed too many times by hand. It’s hot and we fuck each other like rabbits, banging hard on the soft mattress and when it’s over she tells me in English that sex is like two people fighting. She is right, I think. In the hot night, in the poverty shack with no electric light or running water. With the moon. How in hell have I ended up here? And what are we both fighting? I’ve just driven five hundred miles and I haven’t even been home yet.

The long straight road of life, becomes the long straight road of life and death. In a town that relies on the ebb and flow of its three rivers, where women traditionally leave unwanted babies in the reed beds, it’s this long, straight road which provides the incessant certainty of death. The river meanders, it dries up, it floods, it deviates. Not the road. It flies fast and straight.

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So you’ve written a fifth book, so what, fuck you

Who gives a shit?

Ten years of your life shared

Your soul bared

You needn’t have bothered

We’re not going to buy it

Did you really think after the first four flopped

That this was the one to rise to the top

I mean it’s not like you need the money or anything

Not working while you try to create art

Chasing your dreams while your life fell apart

You can live on jeers and sneers can’t you?

When you climbed naked through the spring flower hills

Weren’t rejection letters paying the bills?

Otters swim at dawn with us

After a cold sleepless night on the bus

Leaving behind Kasane

Zambia beckoning through a lens of red mist

An unknown land to charm me

Want to crush the King of New Beginnings?

You and whose army?