Three Heads

Ride through an electric adventure of hip, postmodern discovery in the American southwest as Frank Bergman, professional thrill-seeker and consumer of narcotics, explores the vices that make us human. Rob Einsle's debut novel punishes the delicate craft of the Beat Generation by blending surrealism with mercilessly employed hard rhymes, em dashes, horrendous cliches, and random, cut-up words from a thesaurus to deliver a tale of greed, self-discovery, sex, friendship, drugs and murder. The saga either brilliantly mixes a beat stream of consciousness in a gonzo style with classic noir or thoroughly brutalizes the art of storytelling. Either way, it's a worthy experience that will have you deeply entranced and amused because of comedic situations--or heinous writing. It's an American story, one that all of us who have grown-up in this country can relate to on some level. But it is certainly not for the prude or faint of heart. Brace yourself as you visualize the waves sliding across the sands in a big bang fizzle, welding two very different worlds. Free yourself as you hallucinate in towering pines far up in the Sierra Nevada mountains. And, most of all, control yourself as you discover that you are, in fact, the hunted.