Leaving Montana


Review by Grady Harp

Long Island, New York author Thomas Whaley debuts with a novel that most assuredly will be considered among the best of the year. It is difficult to believe this is his first novel, though he has written many children’s books and poetry and short stories and scripts before pouncing into the literary public eye with LEAVING MONTANA. He obviously has an eye and an ear for the aspects of childhood that influence our adult selves, the true theme of this first novel. Long Island has always been his home and he apparently left work in the Big Apple to become an elementary school teacher in 1999. Of note, Whaley received the New York State Elementary Classroom Teachers Association Teacher of the year Award for 2014! He is a member of the SCBWI (Society of Children’s Books Writers and Illustrators), NAMW (National Association of Memoir Writers) and LIAWS (Long Island Authors and Writers Society). He also completes his life living in Shoreham, New York with his husband Carl, their two sons Andrew and Luke, and their loyal dog Jake. Continue reading

Smashed: The Life and Tweets of Drunk Hulk

The Brains behind the Bulk

Review by Joey Madia

I have to admit—although I knew of the Drunk Hulk Twitter account, and followed it—I am Luddite at heart who won’t use a Smart Phone and rarely uses Twitter, doesn’t see its purpose, and follows and is followed in the mid-100s.

Nevertheless, the Drunk Hulk phenomenon of the last 5 years (191,000 followers as of this writing) has been fascinating to me—and is now made even more so by the release of the collected Tweets and a rich variety of accompanying essays that both contextual and offer insight into both the writer and the writing. Continue reading

Street Waltzing

The wholly unique Faćo: Busking through the world with F.J. Nanic

Review by Grady Harp

Words said once, if not heard, bear repeating. After reading another of his books, this reviewer wrote, ‘Born in Sarajevo, lived and worked in France, America, New Zealand, and Australia. Following his teenage desire to busk his way around Europe, he winds up in Munich, Stuttgart, Aarhus, Amsterdam, Liege, Zurich, Lausanne… When the war in his country broke out, he was studying in Paris. In Laval, he worked with the ex-prisoners of the concentration camps in Omarska and Manjaca liberated by the Red Cross. After their integration, he joined his family in America. He continued on to Australia, as far as the east is from the west…’ How could we not be interested in what FJ Nanic has to say when he has had exposure to so many stations on the globe and the wild madness that peripatetic writers encounter.’ Continue reading

The Sun Singer

The Hero’s Journey par Excellence

review by Mel Mathews

Robert Adam’s has the good fortune of having a wily grandfather disguised as half-baked old man and parents who well understand the importance of allowing their son to suffer through the unknown as he comes to terms with life’s complexities and learns to listen to the only real truth—that which comes from within. Second Wind Publishing’s just released version of The Sun Singer by Malcolm Campbell is the Hero’s Journey par Excellence! Continue reading


Perhaps, possibly . . . probably

Review by Grady Harp

New York author Colin Dodds is an American author of note – and one whose novels continue to reveal that he is likely to become one of our premiere writers. His roots are in Massachusetts but he was educated and lives in New York – Brooklyn to be exact. He is a widely published poet and the author of screenplays and now four novels – ‘Another Broken Wizard’, ‘The Last Bad Job’, ‘What Smiled at Him’ and now ‘Windfall’. His topics are multifaceted, and attempting to label him with a genre is a complex task. And perhaps that is why he is so very fine at creating a new level of communication – dissecting contemporary political foibles, mystery, thrillers, paranormal aspects and autopsies of human behavior as though before a surgical theater of critical and disbelieving minds.

What happens in WINDFALL, Continue reading