Amazingstoke

ISBN: 978-1-84747-211-3
Published: 2007
Pages: 320
Key Themes: manic depression, bi-polar disorder, psychosis, alcoholism, drug abuse, violence, crime

WARNING: CONTAINS EXPLICIT LANGUAGE AND THEMES WHICH SOME PEOPLE MAY FIND DISTURBING & OFFENSIVE

“The author has an amazing way with words” – Basingstoke Gazette

"Disturbing stuff, but frighteningly plausible - I think I was most worried by how similar Emmanuel's consumption of the media was to mine. Compelling, and a little uncanny how well Basingstoke made itself as the backdrop to the tale. - Pat Sissons, former DJ at Basingstoke's Kestrel FM

Description

Amazingstoke is the tragic tale of someone that is determined to be remembered irrespective of the consequences. It is far more than a tale of downwardly spiralling immorality, decadence, crime and drugs. Some novels take this as the beginning and purpose (if there is one) to retrieve the main character from the abyss to then go on to be President of the USA, etc. This is far more poignant, and therefore more relevant to today's society (as was illustrated dramatically in the news of a man that walked into a police station in Newcastle announcing that he had just executed four members of his family and also the Virginia Tech incident). This story takes the concept of manic depression, failure to conform to the recognised norms of society, anger management and vastly excessive quantities of alcohol and drugs to the extreme. The extreme being not a place of isolation inhabited by Emmanuel Cain, but by hundreds, possibly thousands of otherwise ordinary citizens in every city in this country. - John George, author of AARGH!!

About the Author

Samuel shares his birthday with hero, icon and idol Arnold Schwarzenegger, the individual whom the book hinges around. Samuel’s obsession with 1980s culture, music and movies creates a fascination for everything violent, bloody and extreme. His outer persona is largely one of control but his inner soul is revealed in this dark humoured work of depression and bipolar disorder. Like many of us manic depressives he struggles daily between reality and fiction and this book is a true expression of life thusly blurred.

Book Extract

None of this makes any sense whatsoever. I hate making judgements before all the facts are in but it looks like I messed up yesterday, for whatever reason, and sort of burnt part of Danny’s house down, and it’s probably mostly my fault. But I don’t just commit acts of violence for the sake of it. There is always something else, another part of the equation, some filthy underhand provocation that motivates me to do these things.

But what could have made me do such a thing? It could be anything. To make me nail a carcass to a cross, nail that to someone’s door and set everywhere on fire was not just a drunken Halloween stunt. No way. Whatever made me do that to my friend and dealer was more serious. This was a crime motivated by the forces of hate.

I imagine myself drinking to get drunk last night, lager and whisky chasers straight from the bottle, psyching myself up. But why drink for courage? Courage for what? I drink through boredom, and for pleasure. A hammer and some nails would have come from my kitchen cupboard, and there were some planks in the lean-to shed. I must have been having a right laugh doing that. The explosive would have been a firework. It’s bonfire night on Saturday. Newsagents all over the country are selling fireworks. But what about the carcass and the rope? God knows. Who saw me last night? Who spoke to me?

Scrolling down my text messages I happen to look at yesterday’s mail and, to my great surprise, see two messages from Danny. Danny sent the first text yesterday at eight o’clock. It read: “Trick or treat?” Looking through my sent message folder, I saw that I replied “Trick.” Danny’s response was sent at eight fifteen. It must have arrived when I was cycling to McCall’s. It reads: “Arnold Schwarzenegger is a gay.”

He shouldn’t have said that.
In a sober state of mind such slanderous commentary would throw me into a tantrum at worst. Drunk out of my skull, Danny’s words would have eaten away at me until I passed through the danger zone. From there on there are no boundaries. At least I now know why this happened, and at least the ignorant bastard thinks I’m connected to his stupid fire because of that stuff I said on our Ketamine excursion. He’s very wrong about that. That was to do with something much more important. Charlie was wrong when he said my words (none of which he heard) were the work of idle-mindedness and drugs. On the contrary, what I spoke of to Danny that day is of such grave importance, it means so much, yet at the time I couldn’t say exactly what. It was like a puzzle, a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces are here but the picture of the completed work is missing so I know I can make a whole but don’t know what that whole looks like yet.

Now I know what the final picture is. It’s a real horror show. Murder en mass. VIPs only