Down to No Good
by Earl Javorsky
on Tour October 30, 2017 – January 6, 2018
Private investigator Charlie Miner, freshly revived from his own murder, gets a call from Homicide Detective Dave Putnam. Self-styled “psychic to the stars” Tamara Gale has given crucial information about three murders, and the brass thinks it makes the Department look bad. Dave wants Charlie to help figure out the angle, since he has first-hand experience with the inexplicable. Trouble is, Charlie, just weeks after his full-death experience, once again has severe cognitive problems and may get them both killed.
Read my review and enter the giveaway HERE
Earl Javorsky’s DOWN TO NO GOOD is wildly original, wildly energetic, wildly funny – it’s just straight up wild, and I mean that in the best possible way.
– Lou Berney, Edgar Award-winning author of THE LONG AND FARAWAY GONE
It’s a shame you missed Down Solo:
“Earl Javorsky’s bold and unusual Down Solo blends the mysterious and the supernatural boldly and successfully. The novel is strong and haunting, a wonderful debut.”
– T. Jefferson Parker, New York Times bestselling author of Full Measure and The Famous and the Dead
– James Frey, New York Times bestselling author
“Don’t miss Earl Javorsky’s Down Solo. It’s kick-ass, man. Excellent writing. This guy is the real deal.”
– Dan Fante, author of the memoir Fante and the novel Point Doom
“Javorksy’s writing reminded me of the Carl Hiaasen novels I’d read sprawled out on the deck on one sunny Florida vacation. Perfect entertainment, with the right amount of action to keep me alert (and to keep me from snoozing myself into a sunburned state). But there’s also a deeper layer in Down Solo, which left me thinking past the final page.”
“Javorsky’s dark and gritty prose is leavened with just enough humor to make Down Solo a compelling story that will take readers to the outer limits of noir.”
– San Diego City Beat
Published by: The Story Plant
Publication Date: October 31st 2017
Number of Pages: 224
ISBN: 1611882532 (ISBN13: 9781611882537)
Series: This is the sequel to DOWN SOLO.
Purchase Links: Amazon 🔗 | Barnes & Noble 🔗| Goodreads 🔗
Daniel Earl Javorsky was born in Berlin and immigrated to the US. He has been, among other things, a delivery boy, musician, product rep in the chemical entertainment industry, university music teacher, software salesman, copy editor, proofreader, and author of two previous novels, Down Solo and Trust Me.
He is the black sheep of a family of high artistic achievers.
Writing and Reading:
Do you draw from personal experiences and/or current events?
I am not a topical writer except to the extent that our national policy toward drug addiction is not only ineffective but also harmful in a number of ways—Down to No Good is a PI mystery, but it also serves as an allegory for the current addiction crisis and the failed and failing War on Drugs.
Do you start with the conclusion and plot in reverse or start from the beginning and see where the storyline brings you?
I start with a character and put him in a situation. My rendering of the character determines how he’ll react to a given circumstance, whether he resolves a problem or makes it worse. At some point, I have to decide where its all going and set the trajectory in that general direction.
Are any of your characters based on you or people that you know?
Yes. In Down to No Good, my principal character, Charlie Miner, is entirely an invention, but his partner is based on a friend of mine—a fine writer who was a cop for over thirty years. I even—with his permission, use his real name. In Trust Me, the last book I had published, the villain is based on a sex predator in the Los Angeles recovery community.
Your routine when writing? Any idiosyncrasies?
I am idiosyncratically devoid of routine.
Tell us why we should read this book.
Charlie Miner is a unique character, and I’m proud of his creation. He is a damaged person groping toward wellness while he stumbles through a murder investigation.
Who are some of your favorite authors?
Kem Nunn, James Lee Burke, Graham Greene, John Le Carre, Iain Pears, T. Jefferson Parker, and so many more.
What are you reading now?
A Simple Plan by Scott Smith. So far, it’s a perfect balance of characterization, description, and forward movement.
Are you working on your next novel? Can you tell us a little about it?
I’m working on a collaboration with an interesting writer who submitted a book to me for editing (my day job). I told her it wasn’t ready and returned her check, then gave her some books on writing and some reading suggestions. She then asked me to ghostwrite her book. We’re working on building a foundation for the project. After that (or during, I don’t know), I’ll be working on two new books that I already have sketched out.
Your novel will be a movie. Who would you cast?
Colin Farrell as Charlie Miner, in a heartbeat. Katherine Moennig (from Ray Donovan) as Z.
Favorite leisure activity/hobby?
I play a lot of basketball. I’ve surfed since I was a kid and still love it, but it’s damn crowded.
The chicken salad with orange currants, onions, mini-peppers, cherry tomatoes, basil, feta cheese, and a balsamic reduction/olive oil dressing my wife and I eat almost every day for lunch.
Thank you for stopping by CMash Reads and spending time with us.
Read an excerpt:
I wake up looking down at my body, naked on a gurney at the morgue.
That’s a memory.
This has happened to me before.
I was riding my bike, working a case, high as a meteorite that doesn’t yet know it’s about to crash and burn, still happily tooling along in space, at night, wrapped in a warm blanket of summer air, Jack Daniels, and a smidgen of heroin. Some creep shot me in the temple, and I woke up hovering above my own corpse.
This time is different.
Not a gurney. Not the morgue.
A bed. My body, eyes closed, on a bed. I’ve got a bird’s-eye view, hovering like a kite, still tethered, but barely, by an invisible string.
Let’s get clear on my condition. I don’t know what it is, but I know what it is not. I am not a vampire, or a zombie, or a ghost. I’m not a thousand years old, I have no superpowers, and I’ve never been a hero. What I do have is a broken life, a broken family, and, so far, an inexplicable inoculation against dying. And a daughter I would die for—or, in this case, return to life for.
The tether reels me in. I descend toward the body, a mirror image to it, my arms at my sides, my feet slightly apart. Three bullet holes in my face—and one in my gut—are going to need some repair. At contact, I am absorbed and no longer looking down at myself but looking up at the ceiling.
I stretch my fingers, curl them into fists, and stretch them again.
“Jesus holy fucking Christ!”
I know that voice.
I turn my head. It’s awkward, after the lightness of floating, to be in the body, to know its heaviness and vulnerability. There’s a man sitting in a chair next to the bed. He’s a cop, and the first thing I think is: He knows my secret. Now he really knows it. But it’s okay, because he’s also my friend and I trust him. I have to.
“Hey, Dave, how’s it going?” My voice sounds artificial—a forced process of pushing air, modulating vibrations with my vocal cords, shaping syllables with my mouth and tongue. I make my lips grin.
Dave sits there like a stuffed panda in his rumpled white shirt and cheap black sports coat. There’s blood on his clothes. It’s in his fingernails—my blood, dried and caked on his hands. His right hand is clasped around a Heineken, which he finally tilts to his mouth and drains.
I force the body up and into a sitting position, feet on the floor. I flex my fingers a few more times, roll my shoulders, and look at Dave. For a moment, I close my eyes and leave the body, just as an experiment, and roam around the room. From over Dave’s shoulder I watch it slump back into the pillows like a marionette whose strings have been cut. Dave stands and moves toward the bed, but I slip back into the body and work my mouth and tell him it’s okay.
I sit back up and ask Dave, “Why am I naked?”
“Because you were shot full of holes and clinically dead. I brought you back to my place and cleaned you up. I took off your clothes to see how many more bullets there might be in you. Your things are right over there.” He points to a chair in the corner.
“You’re taking this pretty well.”
He shrugs. “I feel like I’m in a bad movie, but hey . . .”
“I appreciate your bringing me here.”
“I knew if I called the paramedics you’d have been sliced and diced at the coroner’s.”
“How long have I been here?”
Dave looks at his watch. “It’s noon. Call it thirty-six hours.”
“What day is it? And date?”
“Wednesday. Last day in August.”
I stand and walk to the chair to get dressed. Roaming—moving freely out of the body—is easier than this, but I’ll adjust. I have before. The gorilla-suit quality of living in the body becomes commonplace, the intentional management of operating the system, beating the heart, making the blood run in the veins, the conscious act of breathing: all of it becomes second nature.
It’s almost like being alive.
Excerpt from Down to No Good by Earl Javorsky. Copyright © 2017 by Earl Javorsky. Reproduced with permission from The Story Plant. All rights reserved.
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This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Earl Javorsky and The Story Plant. There will be 1 winner of one (1) Amazon.com Gift Card and 2 winners of one (1) eBook copy of Down Solo by Earl Javorsky. The giveaway begins on October 30 and runs through January 8, 2018.
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