In just two weeks I’ve had a bunch of reactions to my book, Between Clubs, on amazon.com. Those reactions included the Publishers Weekly review, which messed up the basics in its rush to start swinging the hatchet.
Then a friend sent me this, which he hasn’t been able to post on Amazon because he doesn’t have a US or Canadian credit card. Here it is:
Speaking as a washed up barroom musician, I waste an awful lot of time.
John Ochwat’s novel about aspiring golf pros reminded me of what happens when you take what you do for pure joy and start to do it with money in mind:
Mike O’Hearn and Casey Blanton trying to out strut each other, Roberto Picarro in the unenviable position being the weakest player in the band and probably going to be dumped; the highly recognizable Paul Sloan, proof of the old adage that a player who becomes a band leader will turn into a prick; the calculating Stony who reminded me of one of those scum balls from the musician’s union; and the row caused by who bunks with Striver. Trying to maintain some equilibrium is the somewhat jaded Otis, whose mentality is obviously that of the rhythm section, the essential ingredient in any band.
Throw in some racial and cross border frisson – man!
I look forward to reading this novel while I scratch my ass between engagements.
Mr. Ochwat, he rocks.