Ode to Joy Boy, Book the First: On the Origins of Joy Boy's Chasm by Liam James Leaven

Book Description:

Books these days make all kinds of outlandish claims: how they are going to bring you riches, tone your abs, fix your marriage, save your soul, clean your car, fix your roof, brush your teeth, blah, blah, blah, blah. Blah. Typically, you will find it is non-fiction books that are making these claims, written by people who have TV shows. Because people who have TV shows know infinitely more about our lives than we do. Well, Liam James Leaven doesn't have a TV show and his book is not non-fiction. But his book nonetheless does have a claim, albeit nothing of the outlandish sort. The claim is this: After reading his book, you will have achieved, to put it simply, Total Enlightenment. Yes, that's right, you heard it here, folks. Total Enlightenment. The price is small, especially if you elect free super saver shipping, but the Enlightenment lasts a lifetime. Joy Boy is puzzled by the mysterious nature of women. This, coupled with what seems to be a life slated for nothingness, has him reeling. His consequent search for Dude, and all that he must know, begins a zany quest for something, anything, with more meaning and staying power than the 18-word sitcom descriptions he writes for his job at the TV Talon Times. So begins a hilarious series of events filled with a wildly diverse array of impassioned, lonely and restless searchers, culminating in an explosion of pastoral bliss Godspeed, faithful reader.

Author Bio:

Liam James Leaven was born the son of a Midwestern crop duster. He spent his childhood rustling about in the buffalo grass and flying around the Great Plains with his Pop in a red-baronesque biplane, a pastime that proved perilous one foggy, springtime morning when his Pop flew the plane too low and wound up wrapped around a couple of large oaks, the two that held the hammock in which Mother was napping. At the age of 17, orphaned and without funds, he began walking westward, with pad and pen in hand, and shortly thereafter set to work on his informational dream, which he had provisionally dubbed, The Country Wide Web. His young vision proven bereft of a global reach with the advent of the first Web browser for the World Wide Web in 1993, and his dreams thus dashed, he found himself lost, and in a slump. In search of inspiration, he thence traveled to the narrow, cobblestone streets of Western Europe, where he had a black, 1972 Delta 88 shipped over from the States. From there, he lumbered through the windy pathways, eating crêpes and drinking Coke, in search of Truth, Honor, Justice, and the occasional Lovely Thing, as everybody looked on in repulsed astonishment and curiosity from their Twingos. He has since returned and currently resides in New York, where he works diligently at his craft; a picture of his Pop’s red biplane always close by, and ever on the hunt for a perfect moment.

Amazon Link: http://www.amazon.com/Ode-Joy-Boy-Book-First/dp/1587219999

Author Website: http://www.liamjamesleaven.com/

Excerpt:

Joy Boy turned the corner of his aisle to see Charles tapping furiously at his keyboard. "Hey Charles," he asked, "got an early deadline today?" "Oh, hello there, Joy Boy," said Charles, spinning around in his chair. "In a certain regard, you might say that, yes, I have an early deadline. Or, more precisely, that I had a deadline. A deadline to stop enabling ugsome and ill-begotten, evil-walks-the-earth scoundrels and swindlers from taking all of the glory and profit from my hard work and talent. However, my dear friend," Charles continued, looking to the floor as he shook his head, "how I let it pass. How I let it pass by being roped into their mind-numbing, zombie-yielding tactics. A yearly review. A Christmas insult. That mollycoddling worry: What will I do without health benefits? 401k? Oh Joy Boy, dear Joy Boy, this smokescreen they've created in order to run our lives and thieve our labor. Our days, our years, our very lives, I say!" Charles leapt up suddenly, raising his hands in the air. "Management by fear: knocking us down and making us fear that we will be lost without them. And all the while keeping us baited with a little something, or a little nothing, which is always just around the corner. Like this putrid mug!" he said, grabbing the TV Talon mug from his desk. "And so we live our lives, or we continue to breath while our lives pass, spending each day washed away from reality in thoughts of what little treat awaits just around the corner -- ooh what is it? what is it?" he said, prancing around in front of his desk on his tippy-toes as Little Red Riding Hood with her basket, "is it a five-cent piece of bazooka? Or maybe a two-dollar gift certificate to the bookstore? -- and we keep waiting for what's around the corner, waiting for what's around the corner, until finally we round that corner and we get what we deserve for being such weak fools -- a coffin! That's it, it's over . . . hold these nails, will you please, and step in, chap? Yes, that's it, just lie down right there, you've got the idea. Yes, Joy Boy, but they are deft in what they do, and I must say I have to give them credit, as they've succeeded in duping me for four years to the day. And when I leave, this chair will be filled by another wide-eyed starling who will begin unwittingly tapping away his or her life into nothingness. Oh, do I have a deadline, you ask. I'll say I've got a deadline," Charles concluded, placing the mug back on his desk as he looked to Joy Boy. "But look at you!" he remarked, with a change of demeanor, "you're looking rather happy today, quite a turnaround from the sorry state you were in yesterday!" "Oh yeah," Joy Boy said, sitting down at his desk. "Had a little spat with Flyaway yesterday, but things are looking up again. I'm sure that by the end of today everything will be worked out." "Oh, those women," Charles began. "Their incongruous thoughts can ruin even the best of times. Marplots, really," he said. "Nothing but unbridled higgledy-piggledy running rampant inside of their heads. My experiences prove it. One pippy dame after another, each more hell-bent than the next on conjuring up drama and confrontation out of thin air, like some sort of black magic sorcery. The only thing you need to know about women," Charles continued, "is that each and every one of them refuses to log on to logicandreason.com. Yes, their thought patterns are the very model for efficiency-defiance. Oh, but they don't mean it, and once you know the magic phrase, you can look forward to a lifetime of serenity: Yes dear, you're right. It's a keeper, give it a whirl when you get a chance. The sun will shine brighter, the air will smell sweeter and your head will stop spinning. Yes, women," Charles said, "what a unique creature, indeed. I gave up on them long ago." "But, you're married," Joy Boy noted. "Exactly," Charles said. "That is to say, yes dear, you're right." Charles spun back around in his chair and began once more tapping furiously at his keyboard.

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