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OGEE ZAKAMORA PUBLICATIONS
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
AUTHOR PENS BOOK ABOUT SCHOOL SHOOTING IN GEORGIA
(THE SAD AND LIKE-WIKE WEEPY TALE OF WITTLE ELKIE SELPH)
Book available in paperback and e-book on Amazon.com and at selected bookstores. Audiobook is in production, soon available.
Elkin (Own) Selph is a normal fifteen-year-old boy living in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, in a fictitious town called Tocotano, Georgia. His story is absolutely ordinary. He plays football on the high school team, jokes around with his friends, has a girl friend named Idie. Elkie is a happy kid, enjoying his life. Then one day, in October, 2014, things go horribly wrong. Own flees his life, sets off on an odyssey that takes him into nearby South Carolina (Westminster, Seneca), and eventually returns to Tocotano, where tragedy of his own making awaits him.
The story is told in a jazzed-up teen slang by Own himself. His favorite novel and book is the rather violent A Clockwork Orange, and Own mixes the exotic slang of that work with Georgia dialect and his own invented language to create a unique new way of storytelling. Here’s the beginning of the novella:
Ole Own Itties Off
Start off with the ole ultra-cinema cam on a close-up of me face, brothers. Like Little Alex in the first scene of A Clockwork Orange. There sits me, ole Own, putting him on a mean ole sod-off litso-ditso for the camera. Holding up the handgun in the air. The music in the soundtrack is dobby fine ole Ray Charles, a-crooning out his pnin-bang song called “Georgie.” Ah, listen to him a-swanging and dook-zvook grooving. Puts a tear in me eye, O my brothers and sisters. Mighty smooth and mighty blinn-ding COOL, ole Ray. YAAAAAS.
Let him go on a-sanging and grinning big, playing the ole pianner and shaking his bod side to side, magnifi-likewike-cent Ray, while y’all pulls back the camera, real slow like, medlenny-ho, back, back, back, to show the sad and bloody thang in the ole lunch room where sets the PERP—that is, ole Own. Pull it back back back while the song sangs on. Show the dits-blitz carnage that’s scattered about the room. The dead bodies and all. Who would have thought the lot of them to have had so much blood in them? Then, as the camera goes on pulling back—out to where all the poeleasers and gendarmes is a-crouched behind their poe-lease cars—ole Ray’s song fades out and you hear that-there wah-plach whiny voice of the PERP. Here’s what he says
U.R. Bowie, who holds a Ph.D. in Russian literature, has been writing fiction for forty years. This is his seventh published book. Among his most recent publications are Anyway, Anyways (a collection of short stories) and Disambiguations: Three Novellas on Russian Themes. Bowie has an author page on Amazon.com. His blog is “U.R. Bowie on Russian Literature.”
For more information, or to set up an interview with the author, contact Bowie at this e-mail address: firstname.lastname@example.org Or call (352) 225-3533.
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