By Harry Crews
A black jockey with a genius for horses and girls ... his white grasp, a slave to the corrupt wishes of his flesh ... an amoral Southern attractiveness queen, out to seduce and take advantage of them both.... From this twisted human triangle comes one of many sensational novels of our time—a revelation of ardour, perversity and unusual hungers.
"Absorbing and superb!"—Erskine Caldwell
“An unforgettable experience!”—Oregon Journal
“Macabre and slapstick, howiingly humorous and as unhappy as a zoo, ribald and wry, bare in backyard Hills lives as much as and past the shining promise of Mr. Crews' first novel, The Gospel Singer. it truly is southern Gothic at its top, a Hieronymus Bosch panorama in Dixie.” —Jean Stafford, within the big apple instances ebook evaluate
“The degree is determined with such minute perfection and fact that any one attempting to describe it will possibly simply be stuck in obscure inanities. backyard Hills is a carnival, a freak convey that echoes all of existence. it's a degree of Mr. Crews’ artwork that from this international unblemished fact emerges. Ruthless, merciless, blackly attractive ... as easy and inevitable as sin-brings-punishment and as advanced and extreme as human adventure ..."—Harper’s
“Fine and livid, bright and alive ... a big new voice!”—Los Angeles Times
From Kirkus Reviews
You may well keep in mind the underground hymn of The Gospel Singer (1968). Mr. Crews back offers an existential freakshow that's delicately crafted and seems asserting anything. . . no matter if you're by no means fairly convinced what it really is. He's form of the Ingmar Bergman of the quick novel offering right here backyard Hills, as soon as web site of the world's greatest phosphate mine, deserted now to 12 households and the "Fat Man," whose father by chance turned a millionaire. "Fat Man" is a 5 foot, pounder while first met eating crates of Metrecal and nonetheless taking pictures slowly outward. He's treated via 4 toes of perfection, one Jester who was once destined to be a jockey yet misplaced his race with worry. "Fat-Man" lives in his citadel, benign custodian to the twelve households who're confident that the phosphate king Jack O'Boylan goes to reactivate the mine so one can resume their most likely interrupted lifestyles trend. yet Dolly, again from manhattan, understands that O'Boylan isn't coming again and he or she has plans for turning backyard Hills into the main a ways out vacationer seize ever conjured up via a distorted brain. The plan comprises cross move cages and one really reliable one with trays of steaming foodstuff. Mr. Crews has one of many wildest imaginations round. . . you won't be capable to placed him down.
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A black jockey with a genius for horses and girls . .. his white grasp, a slave to the corrupt wishes of his flesh . .. an amoral Southern attractiveness queen, out to seduce and make the most them either. .. . From this twisted human triangle comes one of many sensational novels of our time—a revelation of ardour, perversity and weird hungers.
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Additional info for Naked in Garden Hills
They didn't get many calls. Mostly Duane's buddy looking for him to go drinking or strip a few cars that had broken down on the highway. Their Bud and Babe money they called it, and often right to her face. No, it was not Duane's boys calling this early. M. would find them three hours into the deep sleep of another drinking binge. After the third ring, for some reason, her hand had reached out and plucked up the phone. The man's voice was crisp and professional. He had sounded as though he were reading from a script and her sleep-clouded mind had pretty much reasoned that he was trying to sell her something.
He would make her see, convince her of the inescapable logic of joining with him. How it would change everything for her. More than she could ever imagine. More than she could ever hope for. How could she say no? It was an offer that simply no one could refuse. If she came. Jackson rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand, took a long, slow drag on the cigarette, and stared absently at a nail pop in the wall. But, truth be known, how could she not come? CHAPTER TWO The brisk wind sailed straight down the narrow dirt road between the compression of thick woods on either side.
The information was readily available, he had replied, so authoritatively that she instantly believed him. But she already had a job, she had told him. He asked what her salary was. She refused to answer at first and then, opening her eyes while Lisa suckled contentedly, she told him. She wasn't sure why. Later, she would think that it was a premonition of things to come. Because that's when he had mentioned the pay. One hundred dollars per weekday for a guaranteed two weeks. She had quickly done the arithmetic in her head.