Truth to Power Interview airs 4/5 @ 9 am
An interview with me, talking about A Perfect Blindness, how and why I wrote it, Chicago back in the day, and other assorted ideas related to writing, novels, and the nature of truth will air on Radio Free Brooklyn, Thursday, April 5th. Vijay Ramanathan is with W Lance Hunt at Radio Free Brooklyn. 19 hrs · Brooklyn, New York Author of […]
Squinting like Blondie
“Of course,” Scott says. “Your life as performance art.” The night only gets worse. Sean walks out as soon as he closed up his bass’s case and picked up its stand. Marsha demands we drop of her drum kit at her house and won’t stay. Breaking down with only two of us is a […]
Some of the Venues, Pt. 1
As more than one reviewer has commented that the level of description and attention to detail in A Perfect Blindness makes it stand apart. […] Hunt successfully conjures the story’s time and a place in masterful detail. An expansive historical novel that ably evokes its time and place. —Kirkus Reviews […] packed with references to the streets […]
The Sounds of A Perfect Blindness
In A Perfect Blindness, it’s always the late 1980s-early 90s In Chicago with short trips to Columbus, Ohio, including visits to a mix of bars long gone, invented clubs, and a few establishments that have survived the decades. The music is synthpop and industrial, usually danceable, a blend of bands you’ll remember, other maybe not, and glimpses […]
Relentlessly Helping People Who Would Enjoy *A Perfect Blindness* Find It
There is a lot of advice for new authors. Books. Blogs. Newsletters. All overflowing with advice. A riot of tips, strategies, and essential to-dos. One of the most common is to blog. To be relentlessly helpful. To offer tips, strategies, and best practice to-dos for the potential audience for your book. To give it away […]
The lastest review of A Perfect Blindness (1/16/18)
Sometimes your eyes see what they want and there is a veil of darkness covering them as both Scott and Jon hear what they want but often get blindsided by their own fears and the need to not be alone.
Better Living Through Chemistry: Epilogue (One Step Up From Witchcraft)
Unless someone is familiar with the ideas from Thomas Khun’s The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, calling psychology “one step up from witchcraft” sounds like the first shot from someone planning a war on psychology. That reading takes the angry words of a disillusioned 22-year-old too literally, even if it was how he had meant them in 1984—long before he understood how science was born, or how disciplines grow and change.
Better Living Through Chemistry: Notes from Chemically Induced Depression Part 5 of 6 (A Fall leading to a Second Face of Depression: Vimpat™.)
Having escaped the world of the damned and back on a clumsy, but effective seizure prophylactic, I waited until my brain healed from the neurosurgeon’s saw and scalpels. Once the swelling receded and the scaring was set, I was given an EEG that, if clear, would let me say goodbye to phenytoin, be drug-free once again. As I had been for seventeen years before the rude growth under my temporal lobe slapped the epileptic label back on me.
In the neurologist’s office, electrodes were pasted to my scalp. Read More
Better Living Through Chemistry: Notes from Chemically Induced Depression Part 2 of 4 (The Choices We Make)
So, life hands my new wife and me a choice between three options, each involving some chance of me dying sooner rather than later and in some more or less gruesome way:
- either develop ever worsening double vision and stroking out in the next decade;
- or give myself brain cancer to get rid of a benign tumor;
- or have someone cut a 6 square inch flap of my skull out with a small saw, poke his fingers and sharp metal instruments between my cerebrum and cerebellum, cut out 2 cm diameter chunk of flesh out, and hope that doesn’t turn my new wife into the star of a Lifetime channel movie—woman finally meets the man she wants to marry, marries, gives birth to their son, and then finds herself a single mother and widow, all within two years.
The odds on that last one were stacked heavily in our favor with 98% chance I’d avoid becoming a sad movie cliché.
