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HOME >> Product 0539 >> Prometheus Rebound>>

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Prometheus Rebound

James Trivers

Prometheus Rebound is a three-pronged narrative. Henri Vanderveer, a struggling gossip columnist, forges his way through the mid-Seventies celebrity culture in search of the scoop that will make his career-only to find that the story he was looking for will expose his own family.

Paul Manship, the renown Art Deco sculptor, searches for a vision that will be the focus of Rockefeller Center. In the hunt for his inspiration he discovers the intricacies of his psychosexual underbelly.

$2.50

And then there is Prometheus, the punished and chained Titan who daily has his liver eaten out by vultures because he stole the fire from the heavens and brought it to earth. This is the price he pays so that we mortals can live in a civilized manner.

 

eBOOK STATS:

   

Length:

27561 Words

Price:

$4.99

Sale Price:

$2.50

Published:

10-2020

Cover Art:

T.L. Davison

Editor:

W. Richard St. James

Copyright:

James Trivers

ISBN Number:

978-1-77217-144-0

Available Formats:

PDF; Microsoft Reader(LIT); Palm (PDB); Nook, Iphone, Ipad, Android (EPUB); Older Kindle (MOBI); Newer Kindle (AZW3);

 

EXCERPT

   

IT WAS DRIZZLING softly like a lingering depression. Henri Vanderveer had no idea why he was crossing Rockefeller Center at five A.M. That insipid Rolling Stone song “Moonlight Mile” was bouncing relentlessly in his head. Especially the refrain of “with a headful of snow.” The words were appropriate to the moment, as Henri had been partying again with Lauren Hutton, who still was insistent that Henri track down some Dexedrine because her livelihood was dependent on staying trim. Her thinking was that Henri could procure her the drugs because Henri knew everybody. After all, his livelihood was dependent on that he knew everybody. After all, he was the gossip columnist for the glossy monthly Purview magazine.

Henri’s clenched teeth characterized who he was. His hands clutched the latest and smallest Sony tape recorder in his pants pocket. The machine was instrumental to his work, for he could secretly record conversations as well as record a commentary of his insights and observations. Back at his loft, he could listen and transcribe it himself and then take the best bits of the delirious flotsam and write the column.

The evening had started with a seven-thirty industry screening at 666 Fifth Avenue, where Henri rendezvoused with Lauren and then went out for dinner and drinks with her and their group to discuss whether the movie they had just seen would find an audience and if it did, would it have “legs.” Fortunately, the producer picked up the three-hundred-dollar dinner tab. The money that Henri saved there allowed him and Lauren to buy some drugs, and with that, they were energized to go to Studio 54, which was both exciting and a bore. Because it was a Wednesday night\Thursday morning, the top, top people weren’t there because they had to work the next day, but it was still okay. Pale Diane Keaton was there with a surprisingly flat and round face, maintaining a controlled wispy air, but like everyone who was there on Wednesday night, she wondered why she was there. Truman wandered around the dance floor in desultory circle eights. He didn’t question why he was there; he didn’t even know that it was Wednesday. All that decadence on a Wednesday night did not sit well on the puritanical souls of the indigenous patrons. Henri knew he was an active participant in what he had rebuked as “Prosperity’s Puke.” Yes, the sexual revolution had already happened, but it had merely left everyone with the memory of an abortion or an empty jar of lube.

Henri snickered. He took out his recorder and snorted that last thought into the mic.

A gold glimmer caught the corner of Henri’s eye. He turned and noticed the Prometheus statue mounted over the Rockefeller Center reflecting pool, the Titan’s grinning expression indicating detachment, delighting in his gleeful destruction as he carried the flame to earth. The myth was that Prometheus stole fire from the gods and brought it down to benefit man. Because of this, he was chained to a rock in a purgatory-like environment where eagles came daily to eat out his liver, which grew back again for the eagles to feast on eternally. That sounded very much like dialysis to Henri. Henri had earlier noticed the statue’s alluring and round buttocks. He was the idealized call boy crashing right in front of 30 Rock.

To Henri, the statue was half Prometheus and half Narcissus because, after all, it was surely catching its own reflection in the reflecting pools.

 

REVIEWS

   

“Myth meets mischief in this tale sizzling with wit, insight and irony! You will read this in a flash. And mull it in the darkness.” – Betsy Nowrasteh.

“The three narratives backdrop each other, frame the characters in unexpected ways, and give the story a remarkable coherence.” – Colin Thomson

“The fluid shape-changing narrative slyly and skillfully navigates between New York from the 1930's and New York in the 1970's, juxtaposing the pernicious truth that pervaded both eras. Throughout, the ever-tormented Prometheus oversees it all, putting the book's themes in perspective.” – Erica Heller

"James Trivers excels his mastery with this new work, PROMETHEUS REBOUND. The nuance, unexpected turns, and deep characters make it a romp that you can't put down. Run don't walk to get this, his newest and best work yet!! – Natalija Nogulich, Author, Actress

To submit a review for this book click here

 

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 speculative fiction, gossip columnist, scoop, career, sculptor, Rockefeller Center, art deco, vultures, titan

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