From the author:
Let’s see. Eleven published novels, three produced movie scripts, two books of columns. Roughly forty entry level jobs in Jackson Hole, including trail inventory, elk skinner, egg roll roller, gardener for the Rockefellers, pizza parlor manager, dishwasher many times, and lots more I have trouble remembering. Frequent reviewer for the New York Times Sunday Book Review, until I got fired for excessive empathy. Thirty-something years as director of the Jackson Hole Writers Conference; twenty-something years working for Jackson Hole Center for the Arts. Columnist for Huffington Post Canada. Awards: Prism Award, for accurate depiction of drug, alcohol, or tobacco use and addiction in a television movie, miniseries or dramatic special (people who knew me thirty years ago may find a certain irony in that one); Wyoming Governor’s Arts Award. At the moment, I live in relative obscurity with my family in Redmond, Washington.
In a small town in the woods of northwest Wyoming, Kasey Cobb lives alone in a cabin, runs a drive-through coffee kiosk, and hangs out at the library, reading the classics. He’s the least-likely guy to become the center of a culture clash… and death. Yet that’s what happens when he strays past a book-bonfire, ignited by a pastor and his hapless followers, and inadvertently rescues a self-important (drunk) author from being burned with his obscure novel.
A wildly satirical look at the absurdities of modern life.
Tim Sandlin writes about falling down, screwing up, and climbing back to grace with more wit and heart than anyone writing today.
Sandlin understands that the best black comedy is only a tiny slip away from despair, and he handles this walk without a misstep.
Sandlin can see that there is a kind of gruesome comedy in what happens to us, but the humor is never mean, and he loves his people too much not to understand that their grief and nostalgia and frustration is real.