Lonesome Cowboy - Presented by Frank Lowe - Shares Romantic Drama and Inspirational Story...

He knew he should never have come back here. The fogged mirror in the dressing room reminded Cowboy Red of two things. They'll either arrest him for kidnapping, or they'll arrest him for murder. Red took a long drag on his cigarette, exhaled through his nostrils and stubbed the butt in the ashtray. He grabbed a towel, attacking the moisture on his neck and under his arms. The air conditioning was losing the battle against the late summer humidity.

The pressure of two strong hands on his shoulders caused him to jump. The young man's smile appeared in the mirror above Red's face. "You got two steel bars here. "What's going on? You been tense ever since we got here." Red tried to relax into the gentle massage, "Think about it, dad. I mean, aside from the money, there's all this publicity." The young man teased, "You ought to be happy I got us this gig..."

The Blue Ridge Boys opening act blasted over the dressing room speaker as Red pulled his jeans from the hanger and stepped into them..."Dad, I'm sorry I nagged you into taking this gig but it'll be over in a week...

That wasn't what bothered Red. It was this town and the ghosts of the past that could get raked up; a past Red hadn't had the courage to share with his son...

~~~

Lonesome Cowboy

By Frank Lowe

The lights on the stage went out. A spotlight speared a shaft of light on two microphones at the front of the stage. Out of the darkness Red and Kyle emerged, coming into sharper focus as they entered the brilliant pool of light. The volume of the applause startled them. It gradually grew louder as others congregated at the outdoor arent. They'd never played to an audience this size. Their act had none of the flash and fireworks of the bigger country-western acts. There was no backup band, no light show, no dancing Cowgirls. Red's ex-manager had suggested that Red ought to move around the stage more; put a little action into the act. Red told him he wanted people to listen, not watch him cuttin' up all over the place like he had worms.

They raised their guitars. With an imperceptible nod from Red they dove into their opening number, a fast, hard driving rendition of one of the old classics Red and Kyle did so well, but were rarely heard, "Wabash Cannonball."

...After their final number they bowed and turned to leave the stage. Kyle wasn't sure it would happen with this crowd. There was a smattering of applause which was overcome by the voices from the back of the crowd. Kyle relaxed. The chant was a familiar ritual, complicit between Red's fans and the performer; both knew the result. It started with a few voices and grew until male voices overwhelmed the feminent command, "Lonesome! Lonesome! Lonesome!"[Note that the song in the book is different from that song by Elvis, but just as beautiful...]

Kyle smiled at his father as he hung back at the edge of light. Red walked back to his microphone, nodded agreement and waited as the audience hushed in expectation. This was a song Red couldn't...wouldn't sing in this town. He had written it on the painful night twenty-five years ago; the night he had slipped away from her forever. He never thought it was much of a song. He never understood why people liked it so much, but the CD with "Lonesome Cowboy" on it outsold all their others. Kyle said it was the beautiful music, and way he sang it, like it was so personal.

Red turned, motioning Kyle to his microphone. Kyle shot him a quick, "What the hell?" glance as he obeyed. Red took off his Stetson and place it carefully on the back of Lyle's head. Kyle shot silent questions at his father. "Don't know how many times some of you have heard me sing that song, but none of you ever heard it this way. Go on, Kyle," Red backed into the darkness, leaving Kyle facing the hushed audience

Kyle had never sun this song in public, hardly ever done a solo. He took a deep breath, looked up in the light as he strummed the opening chords. It wasn't that he didn't know it. He had heard it every time they played a gig. In a firm voice, began the verse.

Been riding all night trying to forget

What we learned never could be.

He loved that moody, bluesy melody. As a kid Kyle had gone to every performance his mother would allow, singing along with Red as he watched.

Can't quit wonderin' where you are

Are you wanderin' a lonesome trail, too?

Red had taught him the guitar, encouraged him to wrong songs.

Lonesome Cowboy on a lonesome trail,

Without you, there's no home for me...

~~~

The first word  that comes to mind to describe this Drama is lovely...appealing to both men and women in sharing of deep love for both friends and loved ones. Although listed as a thriller--I would not consider it that, rather a family drama that has a number of fascinating characters, and two sets of cultural backgrounds that sets up a wall between two lovers. Can it be breached?

Kyle, the son of a country singer, becomes the primary character. He has admired and been best friends with his father since he was young and had quickly begun to learn guitar and sing with him. Then he had become their manager. Without knowing it, Kyle had scheduled them to play in Red's home town! With that, it brought not only an unexpected welcome for Red's return, but also many surprises for Kyle, one of which

was that they had been using an alias name!

Kyle was finding details out as old friends came to talk to Red and became more and more anxious about what had happened many years ago in this town...

Red had chosen not to sing Lonesome Cowboy for his own loss, but in having Kyle sing solo that first night, it started a following and subsequent movie career that may have fulfilled Kyle's long-term goals, but certainly made him realize that things were moving too fast... But there wasn't a choice now, for Red had a stroke and was rushed to the hospital, with the later recommendation that he give up working. Now Kyle was the only bread winner for the two of them...

Readers will like Kyle. While he's comfortable as his father's sidekick, he was not anxious to be on his own. Yet, because of his quiet, relaxed performances that complemented his beautiful voice and his good looks, his following of fans grew and grew. When he was offered a film, he felt he had to accept to keep money coming in. But even then, his warmth and kindness, plus his ability to speak Spanish, soon made he and the director friends. With his help, they were able to salvage a movie that really had less than a great story.

In the meantime, with the acceptance of Red's return, except by a few people who weren't well liked by the community, Kyle was able to continue their gig and the two men decided to make their stay permanent...

Which led to meeting Miranda and her wealthy family from Mexico. Kyle fell in love with Miranda at first sight. Without going into details, however, a tragedy occurred which resulted in the family's return to Mexico. He and Miranda kept in touch, but Miranda early had told Kyle that she would never be able to marry someone who was not Mexican... But Kyle was not willing to accept that decision...

The book has two sub-plots about love between men. This is the second book I've read with a similar theme where confusion has arisen, apparently because of the changes in homosexuality laws, that seems to have denigrated or sullied the potential of close friendships between men that has nothing to do with sex. How sad. Fortunately, the author has shown both the positive and negative sides so that readers realize that philia (friendship) love between men is quite natural and does not lead to eros (sexual) interaction. Kudos to the author for spotlighting this important matter.

Lowe's descriptive talent for the two primary settings, peopled with appropriate complementary characters moves this story forward in a gripping fashion to attract readers' immediate attention. The intrigue of the hidden as well as the continued movement by Kyle into new challenges kept my interest piqued and anxious. I'm not a fan of the usual soap opera drama common to television, so I do want to point out that the book is definitely family friendly and will reveal deep loves, family loyalty and dedication. A heartbreaking as well as heartwarming story well worth your consideration.


GABixlerReviews


Frank Lowe is an actor, and published and produced playwright who lives in Brooklyn, New York.


Note: Branson was substituted for the fictional Wonderland because of the description in the book. The Hacienda is located in Mexico...

Letty's Story - Could you Present Your Life in Fiction? Follow Leticia From Age of 5 Through Married Life...

It was nighttime and a little girl about five years old was sleeping peacefully in her bed, with gentle breezes from an open window caressing her smiling, angelic face. The night was warm, and all was quiet, giving way only to the chirping sounds of a tropical night, with myriads of birds and insects cavorting in their usual manner of mating.
The little girl lay in a deep, untroubled slumber, hugging a cherished old rag doll with a repaired tear in its head where the family dog had once tried to wrestle it from her arms. All seemed well on this quiet night on December 7, 1941, for an innocent little girl so unaware of the unstoppable events into which she would soon be plunged, sleeping away the last peace seconds of her young life...
Closer and closer the sounds came, growing ever louder and determined, causing the little girl in peaceful repose to begin tossing and turning in bed.
Suddenly, the constant droning sound gave way, mingling with many high-pitched whistles that began to scream as they got even louder.
The startled little girl abruptly awoke and almost immediately was forcefully thrown from her bed as if by a huge unseen malevolent hand that entered her life with a loud- thunderous crash, followed by another and another, each violently shaking her house as the cool blackness and soft melodies of a serene night suddenly gave way to a deafening cacophony of sounds, accompanied by bright flashes that lit up her small room as brightly as daytime.
She froze in terror being unable to move--casting a wide-eyed state out the open window fixated on the flashes now engulfing the homes of her neighbors and friends.
"My dolly, where's my dolly" she cried, frantically looking for the little cloth ragamuffin she loved. Finding the doll amid some debris now coming in through her window, she clutched the doll to her chest and began to cry.
The noises got still louder, the shaking of her house more violent making it impossible for her to stand, and amid her uncontrollable tears and sobbing, she pitifully cried, "Mama, make it stop! Please, Mama, make it stop! Stop it! Stop it! Please!"
But it didn't stop...

~~~

Letty's Story:

Hell to Heaven

By Leticia

Leticia has written her story in a fictional third-person format that makes it so much easier for readers to enter her world. For instance, Leticia is a beautiful woman, but with the story written as it is, Letty is just the main character and is described as any character would be. She is able to share her pain, inner turmoil and feelings in an open, more realistic fashion. Readers will learn that this is a true story, written under a pseudonym for protection of the real people involved...

I found the novel very believable, so much so that I had/have a question for the author. Why did she subjugate her own story under her husband's in the second half of the book? Perhaps as a single woman, this was much more apparent to me, but since we are about the same age, it immediately struck me that her life was lived much more traditionally than my own. While I was troubled that Letty did not continue her wonderful work as a nurse after marriage, or if she did, it was not covered, I realized that in the role she was then in, it was, perhaps, entirely appropriate... Still, readers should be aware that the second half, in my opinion, which, of course, is not an appropriate way to evaluate the book, is really the story of Letty's husband, Ron. While her husband led a extremely challenging life, I personally would have like to have seen the entire story from Letty's perspective. Perhaps since my life has never been merged into one, it does make a difference...LOL??? Still, for many professionally involved women who are leaders and innovators, this is pointed out for their benefit as well... And, it makes the third-person choice a brilliant alternative to a true biography.

Another thought that crosses my mind in thinking about the book is that the title is probably not the best choice. Leticia was never a Letty-type of person and you will quickly ascertain that. She's intelligent, ambitious, street-smart--a survivor, and a very determined woman of God...

She was just 5 when her home was bombed by the Japanese and her world changed completely. At first she was all alone as the building was struck and it was only later, after the bombing stopped, the planes left, that help came to rescue her from her room...

She had endured everything alone, hurt, until the loud sounds left, so that what she now heard was bells, sirens, and...never-ending screams! Innocently as she went looking for her lost doll, she found herself right in the midst of those that we walking the streets, looking for love ones, and more...

...as if awakened from a dreamlike state,
she said, "Where's my dolly?"
...She slipped out of auntie's house and started to walk home but was able to only walk slowly, partly because her legs hurt and partly because there was scattered debris and crumbled houses everywhere and that smell that now was mixed with smells of ask and charred wood.
There were many of her neighbors milling around, some of whom had their faced locked in blank expressionless stares and who just gently pushed her aside when she asked if they had seen her dolly, and still others who
were crying and either didn't answer her or became angry with her when she asked...
Then, she saw something shining through the haphazardly strewn boards and debris, the bright sun glittering in all directions off it...She moved the wood away and saw a beautiful golden bracelet on a woman's wrist that did not move. Somebody was in this large pile of wood! If she could get the woman out, maybe she would help her find her doll. Excited, she began to dig and move the debris, and then she grabbed the woman's hand--it was stiff and did not respond to her touch. She pulled harder, and suddenly the hand and bracelet were free, coming straight to the little girl and landing in her lap as she fell backward...The little girl screamed incessantly, panic-
stricken. There was no one attached to the hand! Her sobs were uncontrollable...
~~~

It was after it was announced that MacArthur was leaving Manila, that Leticia's story changed again...

First, the Japanese came and school became a place to learn the culture, and demands, of that country. Bartering was the only way to keep alive and Leticia quickly became adept at both making bargains and then, as she called it, "taxing" the Japanese for what food they were taking from the family... Soon, though, her father decided they needed to leave and go to their parents' farm. But then, Leticia was left alone and both parents had left to go back to the city.

The only thing that saved that time for Leticia was that she had discovered the desire and power in reading... As well as a grandmother who loved her...

There were family issues that kept coming up and Leticia found herself being shipped around to the homes of various relatives. She was able to pick up some knowledge of nursing, which was to lead to her future career...but, even that, had a tragic incident to overcome. She was only 11 when her aunt started sending her out to homes needing health assistance--the need was too great for just one person. But she was told to first visit a family with a very ill child. It had died while she tried to save it...and the parents knowing how hard she had tried, asked her to baptize the baby! Even then she was wise enough to know that it was more important that it be done than who was saying the words, so she repeated what she'd remembered from the one baptism she'd attended...

Leticia looked upward and raising her eyes to heaven said, "Please, God, forgive me for everything that I have ever done to displease you, and please allow me to help this little baby come to you without sin." Leticia then put her thumb in the water and with it, made the sign of the cross on the baby's forehead, saying at the same time, "I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. May God have mercy on your and receive you into His loving arms free of sin, amen."

Almost at the moment Leticia finished, a last breath was heard from the baby, its body went limp in her arms, and the tiny hands and arms that had so desperately clung to Leticia's white coat slowly fell away to dangle lifelessly toward the floor. The little baby was dead...

After she left the little cottage, Leticia began to walk faster and faster, and then she started to run, dropping her medical bag to run still faster. Eventually, she could run no more and just flopped down to sit on the roadside. With tears still streaming down her young face, she just sat there looking down in the dirt.

Then, she looked up into the sky, her eyes searching the clouds for the face of her God. Her own face slowly became contorted in anguish, her mouth hung wide open for many seconds without uttering a sound, and then letting out a long, pitiful cry of pain that came down from the very depths of her soul, she screamed, "Why-y-y" that seemed to hand onto the wind, echoing in the countryside forever.

~~~

Leticia pushed herself hard and finally made it through nursing school and quickly moved up until she was charge nurse...That's when Ron, her future husband entered her life... Her

reaction at that time was to call him an idiot... But he persevered and soon they were spending all of their time together, ultimately marrying. Ron's story becomes predominant at this point, with him going through years and years of schooling, each time completing everything successfully and gaining a professional reputation that was hard to match... But then his parents and his brother died from illnesses that he could not cure... What should have been many years of a successful practice and marriage changed into another world... When the stock exchange collapsed, the couple was faced with bankruptcy as others in the nation. It was clear that Ron was a brilliant man--Leticia was his greatest fan and supporter... The ideas came rapidly and continued...and some readers may benefit from some of this part of the story regarding "Money..."

Truly, this is an amazingly inspirational book that will touch individual readers in different ways, I am sure.  One thing that is undeniable was that this couple was totally committed to God, each other, and to having a loving successful life.

If you enjoy reading real life stories, biographies or memoirs, you should check this out right away... An unbelievable revelation of a woman who  tackled every obstacle that was thrown at her, and kept playing defense on behalf of her husband whenever he needed--and vice versa, as well! A truly romantic and heartwarming love story!

GABixlerReviews

Leticia is a registered nurse who was trained at Hahnemann, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and Martland Medical Center, Newark, New Jersey. Her current residence is Missouri. She has been married for 44 years.

The figures of Beauty - Tour with David Macfarlane in Cararra's Marble Quarries While Exploring Love and Happenstance... Excellent Drama!

I must admit for me the latest book by David Macfarlane was more educational than literary fiction. He introduces readers into a totally new world for many who have no knowledge of one of the most beautiful natural stones in the world. For the average person in the U.S., we may not even see marble... My one and only experience was, surprisingly for me at the time, to see it in a bathroom stall on a university campus... I remember I used to touch it, marveling that something, probably so expensive, would be used in bathrooms! LOL  Of course as I thought about it, it was in a building that housed the mineral industries program so it did make sense. But I still remember that every time I was in the room, I would touch it and love the feel of the smooth wonder of stone and the markings that made it that much more attractive to me. So, of course, having read the book, I had to see and know more about the town of Cararra where much of the story is set...

The book has historical information about how the marble was originally formed and provides much information about the use and the business of the quarries there in the town--a town that probably wouldn't have existed if not for the marble quarry. It was the only company that provided jobs for the town people, but we quickly learn that the people of the town are not rich, nor are they involved in a safe or satisfying environment in which to work... It is dangerous; the loss of life almost routine... And the owner might not even be told about an accident until a day or two later, when the supervisor meets for this routine session. There is almost a separation--those who work the quarries--and those who are the artists and artisans who touch and chip and mold the marble into "figures of beauty" that will outlast the lives of those who created them... This is a story about those people there in Cararra or those who visited and never lost the memories of that time...

The Figures of Beauty

By David Macfarlane

David Macfarlane indicated in an interview that he had once visited near the Cararra Quarries and decided to stay...and fell in love... It was the basis for his latest book, but I had to wonder what happened to his real love affair...LOL... which, of course, has no bearing on the book, right?

This certainly is not a happy-ending love story, yet readers will find that we still are drawn in hearing about a young couple who fell in love one summer. The intrigue really begins however when a daughter of that young man decides she wants to meet the father who never knew she existed... And she tracks him down in Canada and discovers that there is a real connection which he keeps up through writing letters. But, even then, that also does not end happily...

Macfarlane includes a number of other scenarios of relationships that developed in Cararra. One other caught my attention, almost as much as the lovers. It was a young boy who worked in the quarry, not yet old enough to be more than a gofer-type for the men, but they enjoyed having him around... until he watched as a block of marble landed on a picnic table where his three family members, and others, were instantly killed... Death was taken for granted so that the young boy immediately realized that he now would be the oldest and must become head of the family... For, him, alone, his story is somewhat better...but at the end of his hard life, working with marble...readers must question whether it was worth it... This is Macfarlane's demand--that we look inside, question, and, hopefully, make some right decisions... regarding love, family responsibility, and to...ourselves...

Anna was her name. She was a sculpture, but, more, a free spirit. When her lover left her that summer, she may or may not have already known she would soon have a child... It is her daughter, though, that tells the readers about their life:

My mother had many lovers over the years but she never
married. She plans on dying, she said, covered in marble
dust with a mallet and a chisel in her hand.
"Such beauty," she exclaimed at one point. And then, as if
she were more irritated than pleased with her own intensity
of feeling, she whisked the scene away and continued walking.
"It can be too much sometimes."
~~~

At the edge of the field that surrounds her house,
at a place in the corner of the property, just beyond
the overgrown hedge that protects my mother's 
near-total privacy from the occasional wandering dog and even more occasional passing tractor, there is a marble statue. Nobody knows who carved it. Nobody knows how old it it. By the time you get back to the early twentieth century its provenance already begins to get murky. It had been left to my mother by my father when he died. That wasn't exactly the plan. But that's what happened.
Intermittently, the marble figure is a fountain, but that seems to depend on the mysteries of the water table and the runoff from the hills. Sometimes the low, faraway gurgle of approaching water can be heard from the depths of old tile pipes long before any water actually reaches the poised, waiting figure. It is a three-quarter life-size, partially clad woman bending forward to pour water from the jug she is carrying.
My mother stopped, stared at it intently, and then walked toward it. It was about twenty metres off the path that led directly to her house. This was a detour she often made. She would have been no more attentive had she just encountered the piece in the Bargello.
"There," she said to me, "Look."
The figure's upper body is naked. My mother pointed to the crook of elbow and forearm, and then, with a sweep of her hand, she showed he how the folds of the long skirt echoed the same angle, and how this resonance draws the viewer's eye into the mass of the piece as a whole...
"She is beautiful," my mother continued, "because her beauty does not only echo with what was. The carving rhymes with the space around it. Now. Do you see?"
..."It doesn't matter what really happened," she said to me that day. "Tell the stories anyway. That's all we ever do."

~~~

Readers will no doubt capture that, given the time, and the surroundings, most of what occurred outside of working hours was to share stories... Even Charles Dickens wrote of Cararra...Over and over throughout the book we hear of Michelangelo's presence in the town and love of their marble. David, of course, being the most well-known... He was known to come and actually go to the quarries to select the marble he would use. On of the intriguing stories told was that he had planned to carve one mountain that would remain there.

That location, unfortunately, has now yielded way for other types of products...

To make the story even more complex in enveloping the area at the time, readers also find themselves learning what was happening with the war efforts, especially with the Germans in 1944 and on into Paris in 1948. Of course, this is where we meet Oliver Hughson, who has received a small scholarship for touring Europe,  but was not able to get his money before he happened to get involved in seeing a murder! Fortunately, the police investigator believed him but told him to leave Paris immediately or he could be sucked into something that could not be controlled. So did that make it the fateful event that brought him into the vicinity of Anna?

It was not until 2009, however, that a young woman traveled to Cathcart Ontario, to meet Oliver... He had left Teresa's mother Anna when there had been illness in the family. He had moved back home with his parents and stayed, never to marry. When Teresa found him, ironically, he was sitting by the pool... When she saw it, she realized that the pool and the entire area around it, was exactly like one found on the "terraced grounds of a villa in the northwest corner of Tuscany... And that was the lead-in for another venue to be added to the book but I'm not going to get into that particular story, except to mention that the young boy who had seen his family members killed wound up there!

As usual I am attracted to the personalities of the characters. Anna will be "discovered" during her time with Oliver and when Teresa is older and, somewhat forcefully, seeking information about her father. To Oliver, she was a total and, ultimately, very welcomed addition to his life...

There was something about the militant swing of the young woman's arms that led Oliver Hughson to believe she had been hurrying in his direction well before she came into view. She was wearing a print dress. She was striding fiercely up through the garden. Her quick steps seemed as if they were the last of a determined journey. He had no idea who she was.
It was a hot day. He ware barefoot, vacuuming the pool. It was well into the afternoon. Oliver was wearing the kind of loosely fitting, muddy-brown madras swim-trunks that men in their sixties tend, for some reason, to wear. He had already replenished his drink.
Her hair had a halo in sunshine. It was the henna she used. It wasn't orange, exactly, but the name of no other colour that Oliver could think of came closer to describing it.
She marched resolutely toward the pool. She strode up the stone steps from the garden without hesitation. He guessed her age to be thirty==an underestimation, he would later learn, of exactly ten years...
The pool was a surprise. The pool was a surprise for everyone, the first time they saw it.
But she was not going to be distracted... Because that wasn't why she was here. Because now she was walking toward him.
Had Oliver been given time to make several dozen guesses, and had he been given a lot of hints, he might eventually have been able to figure out who she was. Her eyes were very much her mother's. So was her penchant for drama. She could have warned him.
"I believe I am your daughter," she said.
He was looking into the pretty face of a woman he'd never seen in his life. He'd never considered the possibility of her existence.
"My name is Teresa."
"My daughter?" Oliver's voice rose precipitously...

~~~

Teresa was so anxious to learn about his time and feelings for Anna and his thoughts about Italy and why he left and never came back. In fact, Oliver had learned very little about any of Europe during that "traveling tour"... Forced to leave Paris, he made him way into Anna's life and never left there until he returned home. Nevertheless Teresa was relentless in learning about him and when she finally had to return home, demanded he write to her. He wrote such wonderful letters to her, readers will discover...

"There are idiots who define my work as
abstract," the handsome, grey-bearded Romanian
once said. Brancusi spoke with characteristic
disinterest in diplomacy. In pronouncement, as
in sculpture, him imagination was free of any
obligation to the unnecessary. This was a quality
my mother adored.

And then there is Anna...she is so passionate about so much, but I couldn't quite get a feel for her work. It was her own comparison of herself to who she considered to be gods in the arts that left her still humble, but she seemed to compare herself more to Brancusi but checking out his work was not totally helpful... These were

perhaps somewhat like Anna might have done... Myself, I'm not totally into abstract and then when I found these two which I found beautifully realistic--

Sleep

Brusco's Version of Rodin's The Kiss...

So I wound up still being confused about what her art might have been like...But then, again, while Anna knew much about the world of art, she really didn't know much about her lover, Oliver, often calling him stupido... Not a way to "Play nice" but she seemed to not consider that their breakup was due to anyone but Oliver... I felt sorry for Anna never really looking closely at more than her own artistic endeavors...

As you can see, there is no way readers will not have a learning experience with this book. The Figures of Beauty is not only sharing about these figures literally, but perhaps also metaphorically as we follow the paths of individuals who meet and share some part of another's life, then moves on, only to discover what beauty in their own lives may have been lost. I have no way to know whether my thoughts have any validity in what I saw in this book. But I do know that the romantic and familial drama is well worth recommending even if my absorption of the use of marble to create such figures is purely my own response...

Highly recommended to those interested in literary family and romantic drama...


GABixlerReviews

David Macfarlane's memoir, The Danger Tree, was originally published in the United States under the title Come from Away. Christopher Hitchens described it as "intense and beautiful." Simon Winchester called it "a true masterpiece." His novel Summer Gone was a finalist for Canada's most prestigious literary award, the Giller Prize. The Figures of Beauty is his third book. He lives in Toronto.




http://www.thestar.com/entertainment/books/2013/12/30/the_figures_of_beauty_by_david_macfarlane_review.html

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/books-and-media/the-figures-of-beauty-david-macfarlanes-tragic-tale-asks-us-to-consider-a-life-of-responsiblity-or-impulse/article15073628/

http://www.bookclubgirl.com/book_club_girl/2014/10/guest-post-david-mcfarlane-author-of-figures-of-beauty.html