A Review of My Soon-to-be Published Novel

John Coltrane

I began writing CONFESSIONS OF AN HONEST MAN thirty years ago.  I acquired a high profile literary agent named Scott Meredith, thanks to the sale of a short story to Playboy Magazine.  The story won Playboy's Best Story Award for the year.  It seemed that I was shot out of a rocket; my career was launched and I had editors at Meredith's agency helping me with CONFESSIONS etc. In spite of this stroke of amazing fortune, that was not my best year.  It was almost my worst.  I had big problems, personal problems.  The editor helped me with the book, but I was not yet mature as a writer.  The book required that I trace the lives of characters across fifty years.  I was barely over twenty years old. Then Scott Meredith passed away and so did my opportunity.

I continued writing and finished CONFESSIONS and other projects.  When I started passing CONFESSIONS around to literary agents the landscape of publishing had changed.  The era of vampires and tycoon-erotica had taken hold.  I heard this phrase hundreds of times: "While your writing is excellent, I find that I haven't fallen in love with your book and I'm afraid I'll have to pass."

There are so many people writing so many books these days that it's difficult to get ANYONE to read my manuscript.  I don't blame people for giving me the swish n' pass treatment.  In spite of so many obstacles, I'm stubborn and I believe in what I'm doing.  Now, thanks to my "excellent writing", there are people willing to read me, and not only read me but fall in love with my work.

Lin Ross is an email acquaintance.  I don't know the gentleman; he's  a fine novelist and we have a good online rapport. I decided to send him the manuscript of CONFESSIONS.  Yesterday I received this review of CONFESSIONS OF AN HONEST MAN, written by novelist/poet/musician/artist Lin Ross. I thank Lin from the depths of my heart.  He is nurturing and unselfish, a rare bird indeed.  To read the first two chapters, click this link:Confessions Of An Honest Man

"Confessions of An Honest Man"  a Novel by Art Rosch

 Reviewed by Lin Ross

What happens when the desires we think we want for the majority of our lives dangle there, within our grasp?   What happens when those special almost golden people who loomed as heroes prove to be not gods, but flawed and human?   "Confessions of an Honest Man," by Art Rosch , answers those intriguing questions, and sheds new light upon an era, a cultural explosion and an art-form too often romanticized, but rarely given the life, breath, and rhythms it truly deserves.  I speak here of the world of jazz and its players.  

Author Art Rosch masterfully takes our hand and leads us through the life of  his protagonist, Aaron Kantro from the  age of nine into adulthood where he meets his idol, the jazz legend "Zoot Prestige." In Rosch's world there is black and white (in the complexion of his characters, in society, and in metaphor), but there are also sweeping portions and broad strokes of gray. That gray is far more fascinating for it is there that the realities of these often harsh and sometimes painfully beautiful dualities exist.  

Is this the story a lost boy seeking a father figure? Yes... to a degree, perhaps. Between the pages, lurking there inside the lines, this is so much more. This is about life and how, in a moment, it can show us its most dazzlingly wonderful face, and then in the blink of an eye, its most hideous, ass-ugly underside.

There is a certain genius in the storytelling and when young Aaron makes it to 1960s New York City, the sound, fury and poignancy of jazz embraces you like a cool cerulean blue spot of neon. You are lost and found inside the grooves of these talented musicians: you are a blues traveler walking beside the cool bop of their struts and frets.  

Any young person reading this impressively inclusive novel might want to leave the warm yet stifling cocoon of home to venture out into the vast unknown, join a band, be hungry, and then be fed by the art of of creation. However, be forewarned, there are cautionary tales around almost every bend, and sometimes getting what we THINK we want might end up breaking our hearts in the process.  

This is one of those rare books filled with the liveliness of characters, dialogue, lessons, and such lushly vivid storytelling that the reader is haunted long after the final page is closed. Such is the poignancy and the precision of Rosch's pen.  

I look forward to more work from this author, because Art Rosch is a singular and deeply unique presence in the writing world: a truth-teller, an intrepid reporter of the streets and a chronicler of the human heart. This is an Artist who truly understands The Blues Condition and it is reflected so intriguingly here. 

BRAVO, Mr. Rosch! BRAVO!

Is This Story Worth Reading?

November, 2013



When I go to the library I check out five or six books at a time.  I hope that one or two will be worth reading.  I know in advance the rest won't grab my interest.  I like fiction and non fiction, I'm a reader as omnivorous as The Monster That Devoured Cleveland, except that I'm the Monster That Devoured The Cleveland Library.
I tend to avoid any fiction that features government security acronyms.
CIA, FBI, NSA, etc etc.  Those are red flags for potboilers.  Those are the books about plots to assassinate the President, the Vice President, blow up the White House or nuke Los Angeles.  I'm categorically against nuking anything, even Los Angeles.
In  spite of this common sense injunction I picked up a novel that screamed
"rogue operative", a Bourne Conspiracy-style suspense story.  I read 140 pages of the stuff before I came to a screeching  halt and asked myself the simple question: Is this story worth reading?  Was it worth writing?  It was probably worth writing because it was making its author a bit of money but I would have been embarrassed to put my name on it, much less a full page picture of myself on the back jacket cover, all dressed up in a suit and tie and looking like a Yale Law School graduate.
The nerve of the guy!
In my mind, this question is at the heart of every writing project: is this story worth telling?  If it's not, then don't tell it.
What makes a story worth telling?  I look for three elements in narrative.  I look for entertainment, information and inspiration.  If it isn't entertaining the story will belly flop like a fat clown jumping into a sandbox.  The question, then, is what makes a story a page-turner?  We have to insert the standard elements of story , i.e. a hero or heroine.  We need a villain to obstruct the hero and raise the emotional temperature of a story.  And we need a stake.  What's at stake? What does the hero want?  To save the world?  To win someone's love?  To prevent the conquest of his country? The annals of story telling are saturated with causes and quests and their corollary threats and jeopardies.  A good writer doesn't wait long before getting his hero into trouble. Stories are about trouble, about overcoming long odds, about persisting beyond the normal limits of endurance.

When I say that a story should inform, I don't refer to article-style content about a peculiar subject.  The informing is done by establishing a unique world-view.  A writer informs the reader by building a consistent milieu.  In science fiction or fantasy this Informing goes on all the time.  In conventional narrative the information flows from the slice-of-life view that the writer invents.                     Odd subcultures offer fertile ground for story telling.  The writer can be a subculture of one; he/she can be eccentric to the point of madness.  THAT information must flow through the story: the protagonist is nuts.  Inform the reader of this fact.  Achieve the alchemy of suspense by having the hero put his oddness to use in cracking the case, or neutralizing the enemy.
Inspiration is the most difficult thing to achieve in story telling.  If I finish reading a story and I'm inspired to write, I consider that a successful story.  "Inspire" is defined by one dictionary as "To fill with enlivening or exalting emotion."  That works well enough for me.  The original Greek word means "to fill with spirit," or even "To Breathe."
It's hard to bring these three crucial elements together to make a compelling story.  A writer might get two out of three.  The story may be entertaining and informative but lack inspiration.  My standards are high, I admit.  I want it all.  I want to feel lifted by a story.  I've loved reading since I was seven years old.  I'll love reading for the rest of my life.  All I need are writers to provide me with material that gives me pleasure.  I want to feel intellectual, emotional, psychological and spiritual joy in my contact with the written word.
          Nothing less will do.

Part Two: The Animal Companion Book Circle.

Part Two

The Animal Companion Book Circle

for the discussion of the works of Art Rosch

The Cats

            There are three cats in the Animal Companion Book Circle.  Our oldest cat is a big tabby named Obsidian.  Sometimes we call him The Ambassador because he likes to amble through the campground visiting and welcoming neighbors.  When he sees an RV with an open door or window and assures himself that no other animals are inside, Obsidian enters and makes himself at home.  People return from the showers or the laundry to discover a tomcat sitting on their furniture.  It's amazing that he's never been trapped in an RV and driven to Alaska or Maine.

            Obsidian is indifferent to hostile dogs, and willing to make territorial accommodations to neighborhood cats.  He doesn't want any trouble.  He just wants to hang out.  He wants to be part of things.

            His taste in literature runs to mysteries and historical novels.  He likes the sardonic style of Elmore Leonard.  This makes him a great asset in our Book Circle because some of my work falls into a sardonic mode.  Obsidian is capable of knowing when I'm mixing irony and comedy.

            Eight  years ago we bought our first RV, a 1979 Fleetwood Flair.  The front door's windows had parchment colored shades.  These are the type that roll up onto a spring-loaded dowel.  Pull the shade down and it stays in place.  To raise the shade, pull a bit outward to disengage the spring and hold the wooden pull-bar until it reaches the desired height.

            The RV was parked in our driveway.  Obsidian quickly took to exploring this gigantic new playhouse.  He was lying on the driver's side arm-rest, with the shade pulled all the way down.  The sun shone brightly over the roof of the house as it sank in the west.  The shade kept the RV's interior from becoming a furnace.  Obsidian was on his back and was flipping at the shade, watching it move.  He batted with his paws.

            I was sitting in the passenger's seat idly watching this play.  Fox was on the outside of the window, hosing off the tires.  The cat was using his hind feet to kick at the balsa wood bar at the bottom of the sash.

            Suddenly Obsidian kicked a little too hard.  The claws on each of his feet were fully engaged with the shade's canvas.  The spring unlocked and pulled the shade all the way up.  The cat was attached to the shade, upside down.  He rocketed towards the top, and hung there like a spitted game carcass.  He looked at me with an expression of such bewildered surprise that I burst out laughing.  Obsidian hung upside down from the shade for five or six seconds before getting his claws free and making a clumsy drop onto the driver's seat.  He bounced off my lap and flew out the passenger side window.  We didn't see him again for twelve hours.  He was thoroughly embarrassed.

            Fox and I laughed till our ribs ached.  We couldn't help it.

            We believe that animals experience complex emotions such as vanity and humiliation.  They care about their looks.  They may be less verbal, but the intensity of their feelings is not mediated by the constant chatter of the mind.  They aren't planning for the future, regretting the past, plotting to acquire things, angry about a careless comment.  They are alive to sun, wind, clouds, shadows and they can hear the whispers made by invisible spirits.