I rarely revisit my older works, as I tend to dislike them intensely.
When one of my books is released on audio, I usually listen to a portion of it
to get a feel for the narrator, and that’s about it.
I wrote
The Monarchs
in 2007–2008, and Crossroad Press published it in 2012. I reckon it's
my most messed-up book — by that, I mean it’s the novel that, when they
read it, my friends either quietly drift away or send me their
recommendations for getting therapy.
Recently, I realized I had listened to only a wee sample of The Monarchs upon its release, so, on a lark, I decided to listen to the whole damned thing. The incomparable Chet Williamson narrates it. He excels at grabbing and holding one’s attention, and turning the despicable into the respectable. Well, maybe. Sort of.
I reckon I owe Chet a debt.
