Nerve DamageBook - 2007
From the critics
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Roy read his obituary twice, his hands a little shaky the first time, steady the second. A tragic epic in scrap steel - he could live with that. That crazy juxtaposition made Roy laugh out loud; looking up, he saw Skippy staring at him.
"They have humour in the obituaries?" Skippy said.
"Maybe not intentionally," said Roy.
"That's what I though," said Luis. "But it's art anyway, huh?" He studied it for a moment. "Weird," he said.
"Weird how?" said Krishna
"Weird how?" said Luis. he thought. "It kind of reminds me..." He lapsed into silence
"Of?" said Krishna
"This one rush hour on the L.I.E."
"The L.I.E.?" said Krishna
"you know how it gets," said Luis, "But this was a few years ago, freezing rain. Everyone was going real slow, but it didn't do no good 'cause there was a big crack-up anyway - happened right in front of me - like in slow motion."
"A slow-motion crackup?" said Krishna. He gave Roy a significant look, as though he'd proved something.
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Sometimes the dead live on in your dreams... at least that's true for Roy Valois. His wife, Delia, died fifteen years earlier while working for a private think tank and he has never forgotten her. Roy is a well-known sculptor in the art world. his newest piece, a magnificent creation he calls 'Delia', has just been finished, a sign that he's found a little closure at last.
Then Roy gets some news of the grimmest kind. It's the kind of news that forces thoughts in unexpected directions, such as the contents of one's obituary. Roy and his lawyer, a close friend, find themselves wondering whether Roy's obituary will mention a big goal he scored in college hockey. Roy's friend suggests that they could probably find out. With some help, they hack into the morgue files of the New York Times. There's no mention of his goal, but something else about his obituary bothers Roy. According to the New York Times, his wife was working for the United Nations when she died - not the think tank.
At first, Roy thinks it's a simple mistake, but when a conversation with the writer of his obituary fails to clear things up, he suspects something more. The deeper he digs , the more confusing his wife's past becomes. Delia's former colleagues deny ever knowing her, the building that housed the think tank has supposedly served as the offices for another organization for decades, and Roy can't find any records of it's existence. Who was Delia? Who did she work for? How did she really die? Did she really die? With time running out, a desperate Roy won't stop until he knowns the truth about the woman he can't stop loving.
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