Book Reviews by Elizabeth A. White

It’s very appropriate that Dan O’Shea’s first collection is called Old School, because Dan is definitely an old school kind of guy. You know, the kind of old school where the approach to life is that you shut up, nut up, and just get on with it.

And from boys on the cusp of manhood to hardened criminals on a mission to fathers willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to provide for their families to a tougher than nails septuagenarian granny, there’s a lot of old school attitude flying around in the fourteen stories that make up this take no prisoners collection.

Sometimes the ‘getting on with it’ is poignant and noble (“Shackleton’s Hootch,” “Exit Interview”), other times it’s nefarious (“Pink Cadillac,” “Thin Mints,” “Two Phones”), and still others it’s just downright necessary (“The Summer of Fishing,” “Absalom,” “Purl Two”). In every instance, however, it’s absolutely pitch-perfect.

For a man that claims he initially found the concept of writing a 1,000 word story impossible (“I’m pretty sure I’ve written sentences that long.”), O’Shea nevertheless proves himself to be a master of the genre, with not a single beat out of place or word wasted. The people in O’Shea’s Old School world are as blunt and brutal as O’Shea’s writing, doing exactly what is required of them with grim acceptance and without a second thought. The result is a collection of stories which demands to be paid attention to, stories whose visceral starkness resonate undeniable truths about the world. And even though that world is often ugly, O’Shea’s writing is always sublime. (more…)

I’m very pleased to welcome Dan O’Shea back to the blog. He’s been here before, back when I reviewed his book The Gravity of Mammon, and since he was relatively well-behaved last time I invited him back in honor of the release of his new collection, Old School, out now from Snubnose Press. Tomorrow I’ll share my thoughts on Old School, but today Dan has the floor.

It’s funny that my first officially published work is a collection of short stories. I know that’s how it goes with a lot of writers – they start short and work their way up. You got Frank Bill, who’s critically acclaimed collection Crimes in Southern Indiana precedes his soon to be critically acclaimed novel Donnybrook. I know that Lou Berney, whose debut novel Gutshot Straight is one of my favorite reads of the past few years, he first published a collection of short fiction. Of course, his stories were nominated for Pushcarts and such, so I got no business comparing myself to him.

But intuitively, it makes sense. A novel is the writing equivalent of running a marathon. You might want to build up to it, at least stretch some.

Nobody ever accused me of making sense, though.

I’ve always had the fiction writing bug, toyed with it here and there, but I was cursed with making a good living from writing pretty early on. Strange curse, I know, but the thing was I developed a pretty good freelance business writing for professional service firms, mostly accounting firms, accidently drifting into my niche as a tax writer.

In terms of compensation, it was a great gig. I usually got paid a dollar a word or so, COD. No waiting for sales, praying the next book gets picked up, just cash the check and move on.

But I let the paychecks supplant my dreams. (more…)

He was pushing 50, and, after almost 20 years schlepping around the Sahel, 50 was pushing back. It was time for an exit strategy. – Nick Hardin

With 8 years in the Marines as a sniper, including two tours in Gulf War I, and 10 years with the French Foreign Legion under his belt, Nick Hardin is a genuine badass. Unfortunately, even badasses have a sell-by date, and given all the mileage he’s racked up in conflict zones Hardin is fast approaching his.

Working as a “fixer” in Darfur – someone who escorts foreign journalists into conflict areas, making sure they and their gear get in and out safely – Hardin somehow finds himself tasked with ensuring the safety of a Hollywood feel good charity event, Dollars for Darfur. And he almost pulls it off.

Until, that is, hotshot actor Shamus Fenn feels the need to try and out badass Hardin, a move that earns Fenn a broken nose and a video clip of his humiliation endlessly playing on the internet and late night talk shows. Exercising what little clout he has left, Fenn gets Hardin blackballed by the networks, effectively drying up Hardin’s source of income. Time for that exit strategy. (more…)

I am giddy about having author Dan O’Shea here today, and those who know me will attest that “giddy” is not a word that applies to me often, if ever. In addition to numerous short stories you can find at his website, Dan has written two novels, The Gravity of Mammon and Unto Caesar, both of which are with an agent and looking for a publishing home. In addition to being a very talented author, Dan is blessed with a silky smooth voice that he puts to good use making recordings of his short stories. (I highly recommend “Thin Mints” to start.) So awesome are his dulcet tones, he’s become the official voice of Steve Weddle’s Oscar Martello character. In fact, my only regret about having Dan here today is that I didn’t think to ask him to do his guest post as a recording. Well, that and the piss everywhere.

Dan in 1977…

This guest blogging gig is weird. I’ve been writing for a living one way or another all of my adult life, but I always had a topic. Granted, a lot of the topics sucked – topics like, say, give us 3,000 words on the ramifications of pending international tax treaties on transfer pricing for US-based multinationals. That topic sucked. But I knew where to start. Besides, what do you think drove me to write about killing people in the first place?

But this guest blog thing? Ms. White dropped me a line saying she’d like to review my online novel experiment, The Gravity of Mammon, and, as part of that exercise, could I send her a guest blog post. Of course, I said, sure. I mean, I’m as narcissistic as the next guy. Somebody wants to talk about me, but wants me to talk about myself first? Hell yeah, I’m all over that. It’s like a threesome – me, myself, and somebody else talking about me and myself.

But then I ask her what she wants me to cover, and she says whatever I want. That she likes to let writers off their leashes. Which tells me that Ms. White must like the smell of writer urine everywhere, because, as a group, we’re really not housebroken and we do like to piss all over everything. But that still doesn’t give me a topic. (more…)