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I met June Seese in a class on writing fiction. As a teacher, one of my biggest kicks was that momentwhen the writers first read something they'd written. It was a nervous time-many writers shakinginside, for the first time showing their work to strangers, sympathetic, but nonetheless, strangers.June was remarkable. What has flowered since was already sturdy, strong distinct. She read with aconfidence that moved beyond the personal, a faith outside herself in the certainty of her work. Herewas a writer who had risen to that essential power where her work becomes necessary to her, a giftas sure and heedless as her pulse. She was right on track, and would move, beyond discouragement or criticism or even appreciation, into the strength, that difficult ease that's the mark of a writer who willcontinue regardless, achieving an undeniable, unmistakable voice.What makes a writer? Originality, a delighted care for language, a commitment to push words into new music and finally into pure emotion. June has these gifts-and her writing's strengths-toughness, speed, lyricism, observation acuity and, ultimately, a compassion that's never unsteady,never weak-make her the best kind of writer-impatient, hip, timely and transcending.-Paul Evans, Editor, Southline Press
June Akers Seese's second novel is about books and the people who read them: it's about a rare-book dealer and his mistress, set in that era when words like "mistress" were still used, and recalling the years when Lenny Bruce, Edith Piaf, and Freud might share the same paragraph in an after-hours night spot. Seese writes movingly, tightly, without recourse to adjectives, from the gut and to the gut.
What Waiting Really Means is about emergencies that never reach the emergency room. It's about a woman named Mary with no last name who rides buses and smokes cigars and watches the wind blow her bedroom curtains into a frenzy. It's about cities, Detroit, New York, and Atlanta, About older men. The kind who will hold you. And killers, And the boundaries they look for. The narrator is sure of one thing; "Men who wear Brooks Brothers suits and pretend to read books are a step backward, and not far enough back, at that, "She's better off with her cigars at the Majestic Grill waiting while the rain beats on the windows.
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