Three Left Turns to Nowhere by Jeffrey Ricker, J. Marshall Freeman and ‘Nathan Burgoine – A Book Review

Hopewell Ontario is a place where magic exist.

It’s a place where one person can see ghosts, where the town knows what direction you really need to go in to find your hearts desire or where you’ll find what you’ve been searching for all along. In three interconnected novellas, we’re shown that magic can happen in many ways, all you have to do is let it happen, whether you like it or not.

When three different cars get stuck in Hopewell, we’re introduced to three different men who are about to find what happens when magic gives things a helping push to help them along the right path.

In Roadside Assistance by Jeffrey Ricker, we’re introduced to Ed. He’s travelling with his friends Siobhan and Curtis, and they are heading to Toronto so that they can attend SciCon when their car breaks down in Hopewell. Ed isn’t hopeful, but even less so when they meet the town mechanic, Lyn. Sparks fly, but not the good kind, not right away. Sometimes attraction takes time. It complicates things a little when Ed realizes that Lyn can see ghosts, or one ghost, really. Whose ghost is it and what does it want from him?

In The Scavenger Hunt by J. Marshall Freeman, we’re given Rome’s story. He’s focused on working on the scavenger hunt for SciCon and he won’t let a little thing like a fallen tree in the road blocking the road to the convention stop him either. It’s not like he doesn’t have a lot on his mind. His grandmother is recovering after having a stroke. To take his mind off of that and the tree, he begins to look for a prize for his SciCon scavenger hunt. He is searching for the perfect prize when he sees meets Darcy, an artist who appears to be just as lost in the world as Rome feels. The two men come together and find a little of what was missing in each other.

In Hope Echoes, we meet Fielding. He is on his way to SciCon and he is also stopped by the tree in the path of the road. With nothing left to do, he decides to wander the town of Hopewell. He leaves the echo of his cousin in the car. He’s always seen ghosts, or echoes, but Hopewell seems to be full of them. In the local antique store, he sees an echo of a woman leave a note inside a book and disappear. He pulls the book off the shelf and finds it’s a copy of Sense and Sensibility. Inside the book, he finds the note still inside but it’s not one he can read. It’s written in some kind of code or cypher. This will lead Fielding on a hunt of his own and help him find a piece of himself he didn’t know he was missing.  

I have to admit that I got Three Left Turns to Nowhere because I love the work by one of the authors. I heart anything written by ‘Nathan Burgoine so I knew that I had to get this book, simply so that I could read his novella. I’ve never read anything by Jeffrey Ricker or J. Marshall Freeman.

Sometimes, a collection of novella’s set in the same place can be disastrous. When I read one, I usually only pick it up for that one author. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I picked this book up, but I was hoping for a little bit of magic. I wasn’t expecting to be completely enchanted.

Each story stands on its own but has secondary characters or elements that tie all three novellas together. Hopewell feels less like a set piece and more like an actual town that I found myself wishing I could to there to experience my own bit of magic.

I loved how each of the three stories wasn’t about lust. More than that, they focused on the possibilities of love or romance and though each story does have a solid ending, I’m left wondering if the characters are still in Hopewell, celebrating their magic in some way. The characters were all written so well and the emotions that filled each of the stories was real and true.

You never know what you’re going to get in a book of novellas, but each of the stories contained in Three Left Turns to Nowhere do away with LGBTQIA+ stereotypes. Instead, I felt like I was reading real stories, with the occasional bit of magic thrown in; but no one can convince me that magic isn’t real, especially after reading this book.

My Art in the Art Gallery of Ontario!

Phoenix Rising, Acrylic on Canvas 18X36

A few months ago, I submitted one of my pieces of art to the Art Gallery of Ontario. They were running an online exhibition called Portraits of Resilience. I called my piece Phoenix Rising because I knew that I would need to rely on the power of my spirit to see myself through the Covid pandemic. I really wanted to capture the brightness of my spirit and the fire I contained within. I also knew that we would rise above this, that we would find a way to begin again.

It made it into the Portraits of Resilience, and I was so thrilled. It’s an honour to have my piece included along with thousands of other portraits and photographs that show how strong we are as a people. It was a thrill just to be part of such a diverse online experience. You can view all the Portraits of Resilience here: https://ago.ca/portraits-resilience

I got an email yesterday and I’m still gobsmacked. The email is from the AGO! The email says:

This spring, the Portraits of Resilience Project will be highlighted in the AGO exhibition, I AM HERE: Home Movies and Everyday Masterpieces. Featuring home movies from the Prelinger Archives, alongside celebrated artworks by the likes of David Hockney, Patti Smith, Claes Oldenburg, Annie Pootoogook, Arthur Jafa and Mary Pratt, as well as snapshots, photo albums, grocery lists, and social media, the exhibition brings together a broad range of personal records from different times and places to explore the shared human impulse to document life as it happens. As part of the exhibition, curators have assembled a digital tribute to the Portraits of Resilience Project, presenting a slide show of images featured in the online gallery.  Due to the overwhelming response, this tribute has a run time of more than five hours.

I’m going to get two complimentary tickets so that I can go and see the I AM HERE exhibit. It’s so amazing to have a piece of my art featured in the Art Gallery of Ontario. It doesn’t feel real yet.

One things for sure, I will celebrate this weekend.

FTZ (Forgotten Time Zone) – A Poem

We have all been

in a period of grieving

for two years.

Looking back at everything

that has taken place,

it’s a wonder that we

are somehow still human.

It began with that election

that took away the peace of the world.

We should have known

that it would be the beginning

of something, but there was no way

we could have foretold

what was coming.

It was like someone reached out

from the clouds above us,

pressed a finger to the earth

and put the world into a reboot.

At first, it was beautiful.

The world was quiet,

pollution went down,

the animals took back

what had been belonged to them.

I’ll always remember

when dolphins started to swim

in the canals of Venice,

making waves in absence of the boats.

When covid began

and we started to learn to live

within the confines of a pandemic,

I had hope that it would end.

The idea of a disease or virus

in my lifetime seemed impossible,

like something out a sci-fi novel,

yet here we were living it.

I thought that it would go away,

be gone within two weeks.

It has gone on for two years.

In that time, the world has become

a frightening place that I no longer

know or understand,

can’t comprehend,

one where there is evidence

of so much hatred:

Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, Daunte Wright, George Floyd,

I can’t breathe,

people taken from this earth

because of the colour of their skin.

When we couldn’t possibly take any more,

the bodies of indigenous children

were being found across our country,

thousands of bodies of children

that had their lives taken

because of what set them apart.

In my mind eye,

I could see them all wandering the land,

trying to find the home

that they had been taken from,

their spirits unsure of how to return

to the land that wanted to welcome them back.

It was the insurrection that lit the fire,

invoking something which had remained hidden,

lying in wait under the surface.

I watched the news that day

unsure if what I was seeing was real

of a figment of my imagination.

It was as if the madness

had been waiting all along

for the right opportunity

and now it had bubbled to the surface.

There were bright spots,

sun that peeked through the clouds

from time to time,

but underneath it all

there was the sense that

we were waiting.

When we had our own insurrection,

an occupation that took away

the breath of my city,

I watched as people began

to fight back, to find their voices again,

letting those that tried to take power

that they were no longer welcome.

Now, we watch as a country

on the other side of the earth

is at war.

The news brings us fresh horrors

every day, yet there are also spots of hope,

those that will not give up their lives,

that will not lie down and allow themselves

to be walked upon.

Though it might mean death,

they are choosing to use their voices.

They are choosing to fight.

Watching this, I wonder if the whole world

is just a powder keg and we will just watch

the whole thing explode,

scattering into the ether like so many stars.

We’ve entered a forgotten time zone,

all of the hate that has filled the world

for two years feels endless and yet

it’s as if no time at all has passed,

each day is the same.

We’ve forgotten what day it is

and sometimes, we forget a bit of ourselves.

If we are to move forward,

it has to be done with love.

We can all choose to fight

though the choice is not an easy one.

There are all kinds of battles being fought

all over the world.

Our own battle need not be complicated.

and we can choose to fight

with love

so that we can reclaim the part

of our spirits that no longer knows

what time is.

Snakeskin and the Shadow Man – A Poem

Looking into the mirror,

I wonder how the glass

can warp itself into new and unusual

shapes? Or is it my body,

left to fend for itself

in front of my eyes that judge,

reflected back at me? I no longer know.

Looking at myself,

tracing my finger along the curves

of my skin that holds me

in an eternal embrace,

I try to pinpoint the moment

where I began to hate myself.

In talks with my therapist,

I’ve been trying to find out

when that moment was,

who took my joy from me

and left me with this loathing?

At night, I like to imagine a shadow

creeping into my bedroom,

slithering like oil along my skin

and taking everything, I love about myself

until I am left with the dregs

that deserve my hate.

When I wake and I look in the mirror,

I can see only the things I dislike

about myself. As I am choosing

what I dislike the most that day,

a flash goes off in my eyes.

In the brilliance of that light,

I’m able to travel back in time

to the moment where I didn’t care,

where what I looked like didn’t matter,

what did matter was being myself,

holding onto the sense of who I was

and just existing. I blink my eyes,

seeing the child that I was, his smile

still showing along my own mouth that

frowns at me as my eyes find me lacking.

I reach into my skin, digging my fingers

underneath the first layer, pulling it away slowly

so that this veneer of what

I think I’m supposed to look like

can be shed like a snakeskin.

When its done, I look at this pile of skin,

wondering what it means.

I do not look like anyone else, I’m perfect

in my way. Every line or perceived imperfection

upon that layer of skin tells a tale,

a story that unfolds itself

along my body. I hold the layer of snakeskin

out to the wind in hopes that it

will take it away from me.

I look at the new later that is growing

on my face, fresh and pink and I make

a promise to myself; I will love myself

as I am and stop wishing for something different.

I know that this will take time,

but I can feel the seed of light

growing within me. Looking into the mirror,

I can see the light in my eyes and I take

another look to see what

the light can see.

Covidly Speaking – AVAILABLE NOW!

My new book of poems is available now!

Here’s a bit about the book:

The poems written in this collection were written during the first two years of the covid pandemic.

They contain a range of emotions including confusion, anger, pain and upset, yet they also contain light, love, hope and laughter. Life during the covid pandemic has been about finding balance, despite the imbalance of the world.

Go on a journey and discover how hope and love can conquer even the darkest of times. Sometimes, even when we’re alone, we’re stronger together.

During the pandemic, and especially during the lockdowns, my words gave me somewhere to go. I wrote three novels and two novellas’ during the pandemic so far and I also wrote short stories and flash fiction and poems. My words gave me solace when it seemed bleak and it’s my hope that Covidly Speaking will provide you with solace and comfort.

I love poetry for its simplicity. It’s a deep dive into whatever I’m feeling at the moment. Writing a poem is like writing a memoir. It’s me on the page without the benefit of a fiction smokescreen. I love that I can work through issues I may be having and during the pandemic, I’ve had a lot of issues. Thankfully, I’ve also had a lot of people that have looked out for me.

These poems were a way for me to find solace during the tumultuous waves of emotions that the pandemic brought to all of us. They were a way for me to make sense of a world that no longer seemed possible.

Covidly Speaking is available in eBook from Amazon. This will be a staggered release. It will be available in paperback and other eBook formats coming soon.

You can get Covidly Speaking in ebook from Amazon HERE. You can also get it from Kobo HERE.

I hope this Covidly Speaking brings you solace and fills your world with a bit more light than it had before.