Broken Bulbs
by Eddie Wright Copyright: © 2008 $9.00 Paperback Free E-book 144 Pages As I write this essay, I’m listening to the Belgian rock band K’s Choice hit song “Not An Addict,” the first single from their 1996 album called Paradise in Me. The lines, “It’s not a habit, it’s cool. I feel alive. If you don’t have it your on the other side,” kept playing over and over in my mind as I read the short novella, Broken Bulbs, by Eddie Wright. This brilliantly twisted farce is the story of one man’s desperate journey for what Wright so aptly calls “somethingness.” The story is told from the point of view of Frank Fisher, and oh what a point of view it is. The first chapter alone is a nauseating churn of short choppy staccato sentences, random thoughts and actions, that read like beat poetry at a slam. I actually had a lot of fun going back and reading them out loud. The author does a magnificent job of putting you into the head of Frank Fisher, who is suffering from a strange addiction. You, the reader, will be drunk on words just after the first five pages. I loved the way Wright also uses a bit of poetic flare in his writing to strengthen his point, giving certain words beats and meters that force them to stick in the reader’s mind. Here’s an example… The mummy wrap ‘round my head is soaked with dirt and blood. It needs to be changed but I’m sick of it. Sick of this. It covers my eye. My right eye. Half the world is gone. Only the left side exists. I chew my nails again. Bite ‘em too low. Too short. They hurt. They bleed. They drip. I drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. RING RING RING RING RING RING RING The phone. Sure, an editor at a traditional publishing company would rip this story apart and use Wright’s syntax (Ha! What syntax??) for toilet paper. But a story like this really embraces the true art of self-publishing anyway.
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