Author: trofs$$$

It’s the new year (2023) and I have not landed on a new project. There are options. The elephant book is going to be published in China and Serbia, and will soon be released as an amazing audiobook. That’s the news about The Elephant on the Karluv Bridge. I look forward to seeing the covers for China and Serbia — usually a wild throw of the dice, but always amusing.

I have a new book on the market, looking for a good home. The Saudade is about a man named Bruce Flynn, who has an unruly and terrifying fear of death. His wife, Pilar, who wants to help her husband, decides that by telling him complicated and convoluted stories, perhaps they can disappear inside the digressions and Death will be unable to find them. In a cafe in Macon, France, on a vacation, Bruce’s wife tells him one of her complex stories and at the end of the story, he looks across the table at his wife, but she has vanished. She’s gone. In their hotel room, he finds that all her bags are gone – her clothing, her toiletries, everything is gone. He decides that, knowing his wife, he will follow the clues inside the story she was telling at the cafe. And this is the journey he begins the next morning.

The Saudade is sweeping tale that moves from Macon to Lyon, France; to Palm Springs, California; to Seattle; to Lake Louise; and to San Remo, Italy. It is set on cusp of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Note: Saudade is a Portuguese word that means “a vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist, for something other than the present – a turning towards the past or towards the future; not an active discontent or poignant sadness but an indolent dreaming wistfulness.”

Trofimuk is one of the most innovative authors writing today, and The Elephant on Karlův Bridge is a tour-de-force. Richly layered complex characters, whispering bridges, night bees and a pachyderm tracing the scent of the savannah in Prague. What more could you ask from a novel? The real elephant in the room—or on the bridge, I should say—is Trofimuk’s own imagination, let loose across the page. 

—Will Ferguson, author of The Shoe on the Roof and The Finder 

Look what arrived last week! Isn’t it a beautiful thing? I opened up a copy and flipped to a random page, and started to read — loved what I read. Flipped some more and read again. I never do this. I’m two books into the future already…I don’t linger or obsess about the newest published book. I move on. This one, I think I could read again right now. I love it that much. If you buy a copy of the Elephant novel and want it signed, I’ll go anywhere in Edmonton and sign it for you. I’ll be officially launching it October 1 at Audreys books in Edmonton at 3 p.m. More on this later.

There’s about one month to the release of The Elephant on Karlův Bridge. The link to Thistledown Press is here. You can order the book there, or at your local bookshop, or at all the usual online suspects. I will come to a book club in and around Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. I’ve been thinking a lot about how to talk about this book. I mean, I love the journey of it, and the characters have become friends, but having been on the other side of an interview with an author, I know I don’t have a lot of time to sell it. Why an elephant? Why did you set it in Prague and not your own city, or any other city? Where did the idea come from? A talking bridge? WTF?!?

Perhaps this:

A five tonne elephant escapes from the Prague Zoo around midnight and as it approaches the Vltava river it decides (for a bunch of reasons) to head toward the city instead of away from it. As the elephant wanders through the city and the night, it touches the lives of a group of characters who are all affected by this meeting. The elephant pushes a dancer toward acceptance, a struggling writer toward story openings, and a fallen soldier toward salvation. The elephant winds up on the Karlův Bridge early in the morning and is pushed into a corner, surrounded by people, and then it all goes sideways.

There’s so much to talk about. Even a conversation about what got cut, or about how the voice (character) of the Bridge grew into its final version. I’m so looking forward to the coming release!!!

“This novel bends us toward contemplating our own relationships and capabilities.“

AUGUST 15, 2022 is the release date for the The Elephant on the Karluv Bridge. It’s Thursday morning in Edmonton, and the sky is a wash of grey and I am 16 floors in the air, in an office tower. Because it’s raining and no one is leaving the building, Starbucks is a mess — with 30 people in line at any given moment. Taking a break from the money work right now, and yes, I need more coffee, after last night’s strange hockey game (Oilers/Flames second round Stanley Cup playoffs). I do not know how many people visit this site, and I’m not sure I want to know, but at the very least, there is information here about the latest book, and some ramblings. I hope you are well and fine in the world. That’s all I have today. More soon.

I am so pleased and excited to announce the sale of my novel, The Elephant on Karlův Bridge, to Thistledown Press, for publication in fall 2022. I like to think I write upmarket fiction but for me, this particular sub-genre is a slippery little sicker to grasp. People who know about such things, like my agent, say no, that’s not what I write. So, for now, let’s just call it a “complicated story puzzle” about an elephant that escapes the Prague Zoo around midnight, on July 9, 2018. For the record, an elephant did not actually escape the Prague Zoo on this night, but everything in this novel is true. It was a long journey to here and I am grateful to have arrived and to be in the hands of a brilliant editor. This is the beginning of a long line of self-promotion about this beautiful book that has an elephant named Sal.

I have news about The Elephant on Karlův Bridge. But it will have to wait until the dust has settled, “t’s” are crossed and “i’s” dotted, and I can properly make announcements. In the meantime, I continue to refine The Saudade novel — adding sections and taking away…asking: Does this move the plot forward? Does this reveal character? And if it doesn’t do either of these things, then, why is it there?

I have the fine Kicking Horse coffee this morning, and the temperature is hovering around 3C. It hesitates. Spent a few days in the mountains, at Miette Hot Springs, celebrating a 16th anniversary by climbing up to Sulphur Ridge and then horseback riding. The climb up to the ridge was not too bad for these old legs, however, the hike down almost killed me. My legs!!!! Ahhhhhh!!!! Muscles back there I was neglecting, apparently. Anyway, a near perfect amount of champagne, and wine, and whisky was consumed. It was a fantastic couple days.

More later…

September is here and it’s a beautiful morning out there. I have to go back to working in an office next week and I am, honestly, not looking forward to this. I have enjoyed working from home these past months. And of course, going back to work while COVID is raging through my province, does not thrill me. I don’t know who has been vaccinated, or unvaccinated. I know a guy who is unvaccinated and he will not be complying anytime soon. He’s worried it will make him infertile. Or, down the road, all those who are vaccinated will suddenly die. He’s done his research on YouTube and is unwavering. He’d rather find a good counterfeit vaccine passport than get a shot, so he can go to a hockey game. This behaviour is reprehensible. Yes. I am pissed off at him. I find this behaviour to be selfish, egotistical, and beyond stupid. But, it is of course, impossible to argue with stupid. This guy hasn’t gotten sick, yet. And I do not wish that on anyone, but I can see it happening. I did not mean for this to be a rant. This morning, my province’s government is offering $100 to any unvaccinated or single-vaccinated person who gets a first shot, or second shot. Enough. I’m tired of this. I never stopped wearing a mask all summer. And I won’t now.

“Never argue with stupid people they’ll drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.” –Mark Twain

I know I am late to the party, but I will sometimes shun something that is universally popular until I’m ready. I waited ten years to watch the movie Ghandi. I never watched Friends, either; though, I get the gist and have watched a few full episodes. This is the case with The Sopranos. It was so popular I just wasn’t interested. But I recently started watching it, and five minutes into episode 1, season 1, I was hooked. Here’s the thing: the other night at dinner I was talking about how fascinating it was that when Tony, exasperated, mentioned to his therapist that his uncle and mother were like little children, she said it’s a good thing to let children have the illusion of control every now and then – and Tony did just that with his uncle. There was a young man at the dinner table, and he’d watched the entire Sopranos series at least six times. He said he’d never noticed that detail before. “I remember that detail but I never put it together,” he said. The next day, I began to wonder why. 

It’s not because I think I’m some sort of genius. I am not. Not even close. There’s something else going on. Keep in mind this is only a theory, but I think it’s because I read. I read novels, literary novels, written by writers who are interested in a conversation about the human condition — not just a snappy plot, and this young man does not. I like novels that will make these kinds of connections because the writer is a curious bastard (“bastard” in the most flattering, complimentary way) who can make subtle connections between unrelated things. She has that kind of devious, clever mind. She would see that conversation between Tony and his therapist as more than just an expression of Tony’s exasperation with his mom and uncle — she would see the possibility of it reverberating further into the show. So, this is quiet argument for reading literary novels. Not only will you become more empathetic, this activity can develop comprehension skills that will enrich your viewing of movies, television and so on. I fear there’s a generation of young humans out there who are being raised on YouTube, social media, and gaming, many of whom who will go forth into the world dumbed-down and shallow. Like I said, this is just a theory. But for me it would have been impossible for me to not see that connection in The Sopranos. For my young non-reading friend, it was never going to happen, and I think that’s sad. 

“Never start a book with the weather.” That’s one of the writing rules from Elmore Leonard. Do you think he meant website posts too? Because it’s December 3 today and it’s going to be PLUS 7C here on the high plains boreal forest. December 3 is more likely to be -25C than anything above zero. So, it’s extraordinary weather, in an extraordinary time. It’s been a while since I’ve written here. My attention has been on a new book, with a working title: “Death will Follow the Blonde in Red High Heels.” I know it’s a little long but I can’t worry about that right now. It has a nice beat to it. That’s important. And it’s got a great hook. Does it do what novels are supposed to do? I think so. It offers up a mystery, and an exploration of the human condition, and it entertains. Ya, I think all great novels are mysteries. And they shine a light on what it is to be human. And they must entertain.

I think novelists will always say their favourite book is the one they’re working on right now — and in this case, I would not disagree. I love the feel of this book. It sits in a sweet spot.

This is another example of a Sorbet. I love the prompt of “Imagine this,” because that is what writing is about. We imagine this and then a story comes to life. It is a joyous way to enter story.

 the Albatross  

Imagine this: When she Bernice Upton announces she would like to tell Robert Janes a story, he is intrigued. 
      “What kind of story? A story with a happy ending? Love? Romance? Adventure? Will there be swords?”
      “No, I expect it will be like asking the waitress in your favourite café about her life and finding out her great-grandmother slept with Ernest Hemingway, and that this great-grandmother had a sister who posed as a man to get into the army in the Second World War, and this woman’s son became a speechwriter for one of the presidents of the United States – one of the good ones, not the horror they have now – and that the speechwriter’s daughter is a dancer with the New York City Ballet and that she worked on a cruise ship for a year before she auditioned for the ballet; and that ship came close to hitting a massive iceberg off the coast of Hawaii. And on that night in August, when the iceberg – all 200,000 tonnes of it – was a few metres off the starboard hull of the Albatross, the dancer – who was standing on deck, on the port side looking out into the warm tropical night, despondent because two married men had hit on her that night and this must be a sign her dance career was going nowhere – felt suddenly cold.” Bernice Upton stopped. Cleared her throat. “It will be something like that.”