Does The Lamb Buy the Farm?

February 2, 2012 § 42 Comments

My friend Jennifer recently read an advance copy of my upcoming novel, Blue Asylum, while on vacation in Hawaii. She texted me anxiously about the fate of a lamb intended for dinner that one of the characters rescues and keeps hidden behind the insane asylum.

ME:  Don’t you care about the fate of Iris, the passionate anti-slavery feminist imprisoned unjustly, or gentle, tormented Ambrose, the flashback-ravaged Confederate soldier who can only comfort himself with thoughts of the color blue? Or that sweet lad, idealistic, private-fondling, guilt-ridden Wendell? Or the mysterious baby who inexplicably haunts Iris?

JENNIFER:  I don’t give a rat’s ass about Iris or Ambrose or that horny kid or that stupid baby.  In fact, as an animal lover I would give more of a rat’s ass about a rat’s ass than those people.

ME:  But they are the main characters!

JENNIFER:  I don’t care. I only care about whether the lamb bites it, because lambs are beautiful and innocent and humans are just a writhing mass of despicable replicating ecosystem-hosers like the escaped pythons of Florida.

I guess she has a point. I have never seen a lamb atop a tractor clearing a swath of rain-forest land for McDonald’s.

So does the adorable creature live or die?  I’ll only say this:  I am an animal-loving freak, in life and in literature.

And this:  The first and most shrill and insistent editor of every manuscript I write is squirrel-hating, raccoon-punting, meerkat-throttling, raised-on-a-farm-in-1808-and-totally-unsentimental-about-animals, Polly “First, Kill the Lambs” Hepinstall.

So I will offer you a deal. If you are interested in a signed advance copy of Blue Asylum, just give me your address and I’ll send you one. I know some of you have already read it, and some (ah, hi Bern) were promised one ages ago and I totally dropped the ball.

In return, I ask you to do two things:

  1. Tell two friends about Blue Asylum, especially if you hate it.
  2.  Kiss a lamb. Go kiss a lamb on its furry innocent head, you carbon-footprint-stomping, ozone-humping natural-balance-molester, and pray you come back as something so lovely.

§ 42 Responses to Does The Lamb Buy the Farm?

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