Today is my stop on the blog tour for an intriguing book,Â The Wave by Lochlan Bloom. Due to my massively big TBR pile I didn’t have the time to review this, but instead I have an exclusive sneak peak of the book to share with you! I hope you enjoy it!
Title: The Wave
Author: Lochlan Bloom
Publication Date: 29th January 2016
Publisher: Dead Ink
WhenÂ Î¼ returns home to find a sinister screenplay has arrived from BrazilÂ it propels him on a quest to track down a character he believes to be calledÂ Ddunsel.
As Î¼’s search progresses it slowly becomes entangled with two parallel tales – the stories of DOWN, a troubledÂ publisher, and David Bohm, a real-life quantum theoretician in post-war SÃ£o Paulo.
Just how far is it from London to Gotham City? Or from Paul AusterÂ to Pierre Menard for that matter? Â Some people may think these sorts of questions are idle and ultimately meaningless but this book is not for them.
The WaveÂ combines multipleÂ narratives to blend metafiction, historical fictionÂ and screenplay asÂ each of the characters struggles to understand what is reality and what is fiction.
Exclusive Extract: “The Post Arrives”
Î¼ opened the front door and there it was. It struck him as unusual. There was never normally post for him – some bills perhaps – but even that was less now that he had moved flats.
He turned the envelope over, feeling its weight. The heavy-duty manila suggested its contents might be valuable. His name was written on the front in thick marker pen. Brightly coloured stamps and postmarks crowded together – wavy lines of red ink. One mark looked like it read: â€˜Brasil’ and another: â€˜Airmail’. Î¼ didn’t know anyone in Brazil.
He pulled at the thick glue that held the envelope shut. Inside lay a sheaf of typed sheets. Names and descriptions of locations were interspersed with clips of dialogue, as if someone had been following people, noting down their actions. It made no sense. Had some confidential dossier been sent to him by mistake? He looked closer.
It appeared to be some sort of film script. He didn’t read these sorts of things and he struggled to grasp the layout. Most of each page was white space, broken only by small regular clumps of text floating in the centre. Why had it been sent to him?
He leafed quickly through. Page after page was covered in light grey font reminiscent of old-fashioned manual typewriters. He ran his finger over one of the pages but it was smooth and appeared to have been printed rather than hand typed. Who would send him this? He checked the envelope again; it definitely looked like one of the stamps read â€˜Brasil’. There was no letter of explanation enclosed.