Category Archives: Books
Copperas Cove … A Review on Amazon
***** – Copperas Cove – November 27, 2011
By R. A Rippy “rarippy” (Shelbyville, Tennessee United States)
This story takes place in 1954 during the segregated era. One man is on a journey to get away from his hometown and impending divorce to start a new life. His car breaks down near a small town in Mississippi (Copperas Cove) and he ends up staying there and his life takes a whole new turn. The racial divide is high and he ends up changing the way people think about Blacks by breaking down barriers and stereotypes that still lingered in the town despite it being the time of the demise of segregation. This book has it all that occurred during this era with lynching, beatings, murder and being falsely accused of a crime due to the color of your skin. There is romance and even a hint of homosexuality but as trademark of Martin Brant, it was tastefully done. I am Black and it hurt to read about the injustices done to my people during that time but it did happen and the sad part is that it is still happening today. Due to Martin’s outstanding writing style, while reading this book you will feel as if you are actually there while reading each page. Despite the subject matter, I really enjoyed this book and did not put it down until the last page. Some may be offended about the subject content of this book but it happened so it is what it is.
Available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and most E-book devices
A Review of Copperas Cove
Review by: Douglas Gellatly on Nov. 07, 2011, on SMASHWORDS:
Martin Brant sure knows how to put a good story together, and he’s done it again in Copperas Cove. With the main character, Jonathan Scott, challenging his inner urges, readers are also left with a few challenges…be they where we all stand in the full spectrum of human sexuality or our attitude to racial discrimination.
Set in the USA deep south in the mid-nineteen-fifties, the tale is gripping/surprising/enlightening, and a whole lot of other “ings” which all amount to fascinating, and damn good reading.
One hopes that Martin can keep going with more of his stories, and I for one wait with eager anticipation.
When Jonathon’s marriage crashes around his head, pictures in a travel magazine inspire him to leave Pittsburgh to start a new life on the Gulf coast. Followed by phantoms from the past, he sets out envisioning the bliss of solitude and long lazy Saturdays on warm southern beaches. Maybe he can find a drugstore in Biloxi that needs a pharmacist. Maybe, if he meets the right woman, he can get these misguided notions about men out of his head.
The generator on his ’48 Ford coupe goes out fifty miles south of Tupelo, a long hot three mile walk to the next town, an isolated hamlet called Copperas Cove. Temporarily stranded, he finds himself having a hamburger at Rexall soda fountain, unaware that his destiny is taking shape in the mind of a young woman three stools down. Betty Marie, the quixotic town flirt, has taken an interest in him. Jonathon soon learns, if he’s looking for a job as a pharmacist, he came to the right place. Old man Peterson, the Rexall’s ancient pharmacist, has been wanting to retire for years Betty Marie quickly points out, that other than a beach, they don’t have anything in Biloxi he can’t find right here in Copperas Cove.
Simpler times in another era. An exiled husband facing life-changing events. An age old dilemma. A small town in the deep south. A brutal rape and murder. The bigoted dramas of 1950’s Mississippi … Ingredients all for a witches brew of emotion, mystery and intrigue. Copperas Cove weaves an unpredictable thread through the lives of all concerned, a thread that changes Jonathon’s life forever.
ALSO available at AMAZON and BARNES & NOBLE
A Day on the River
“I was just thinking …” Justin said, grinning. “There’ll be no shortage of gossip around headquarters if they find out I got naked on the river with a gay man.”
Michael looked around. “Seems about as private here as it can get.”
“We’ll see some rafters is about all. I know most of the guides.”
“We don’t have to get naked,” Michael said, thinking about the rafters he had seen float past his campsite downstream.
“Yeah, we do.” Justin reached for the buttons on his shirt. He felt rebellious and intoxicated on the idea of getting naked with his new friend. It had been a long time since his blood ran warm with a new adventure. “I’m beyond giving a damn about what everyone else thinks.”
A moment later his shirt was off. He went for the jeans: the belt unbuckled, the zipper down, his thumbs hooked inside the waistband. He looked up just before pushing them down his legs. Michael was standing near the edge of the water, watching him. Then, with just a hint of reluctance, the jeans and underwear came down his long black legs and he kicked them aside.
Michael closed his eyes for a moment and smiled. As beautiful as I imagined. “Okay,” he said, opening his eyes. His heart quickened. Justin had decided to let go of his nettlesome inhibitions, and in Michael it had awakened some familiar chemistry. “You know I’m gay, so do you mind if I just look at you for a minute?”
Suddenly feeling a little numb with modesty, Justin tilted his head forward and rubbed his eyes with his finger and thumb. The tight curls across his chest narrowed between two pronounced, almost feminine nipples and trailed down over his belly, joining a thick tangle of pubic hair. His penis, the color of tar, lay over his testicles the length of a man’s finger, the pliant sac drawn tight to his body, the dark pink glans a provocative contrast to the black sheath. His legs, sparsely covered with the same dark curls as his chest, were muscular and thick for a man of his thin stature. The image in part and in whole, the shadows and patterns of hair, the nuances that were decidedly male, had come together in Michael’s mind in the form of a most exquisite man.
Justin had not anticipated Michael’s overt request. Knowing they had planned to disrobe, he had assumed, as the day wore on, they might snatch discreet glimpses of each other; but nothing so openly sensual. As he stood awkwardly in Michael’s gaze, his heart pounded faster and the sensation of gooseflesh flared across his folded arms. Awash in self-conscious reticence, unaware of his own masculine beauty, he stood feeling somewhat light-headed; though clearly the unexpected sensations were oddly pleasant. As Michael’s gaze lingered, Justin pondered the man standing near the river in the late morning sun, the man that was taking visual pleasure in his body with a gaze he could feel on his skin. His toes curled tight in the soft warm sand and his lungs filled with deep breaths of air fragrant with the smell of the river; and it dawned on him that no one had ever looked at him this way before.
My First Murder Mystery
What does Jonathon Scott do when his wife kicks him out of his home after catching him in the shower with another man?
Humiliated, yearning for answers … if only he could meet the right woman, he could get these misguided notions about men out of his head.
He remembers those wonderful pictures of the Gulf coast he saw in a travel magazine. Why not leave Pittsburgh? Why not leave behind the dreary life he has led for the last ten years, and start a new life in the warmer climes of the
balmy South? Why not be free to spend his weekends sipping cold beer on a sunny beach?
Heading south on the narrow two-lanes of 1954 America, there is no reason to believe his destiny awaits him in a small town in rural Mississippi, no way to know that the brutal rape and murder of a popular college girl is going to turn his life upside down and set his stride in an unexpected direction.
Available at Amazon or Barnes & Noble.
An Excerpt from Copperas Cove
To stretch my legs, I get up from behind the desk to check on Corley. He doesn’t hear me walk in, immersed the way he is in his writing. Plugged into the wall in the linen room, the extension cord lays on the floor across the aisle and into his cell. He now has a small lamp on his table, along with a pitcher of water and empty glass. Since he has no windows, I’ve left the fan back here. Nevertheless, these hot summer days are unbearable; he has taken to leaving his shirt on the wall hook and going shirtless. His shoes remain under the cot, which he leaves unmade.
For a moment I stand there and watch him, his broad sinewy back tapering gracefully toward his impossibly narrow waist, his mind totally absorbed in the work before him. I find myself wondering why a young man like him doesn’t have a girlfriend.
“You hungry yet?”
He turns with a start.
“Uh, Tommy Lee’s suppose to be back around noon with your lunch. I put him in charge of your meals. Any complaints about food are his department.”
I see the hint of a smile in his eyes.
“Anything you need?”
“Haven’t had a shower in three days.” he says.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” I say, reaching for the cell key.
He leaves his jeans crumpled on the floor outside the shower room. I sit down on the bench across the aisle and lean back against the wall facing the door to the front office. Almost as if I’m compelled, my head turns toward him. He’s standing beside the spray, adjusting the water temperature. I find myself staring, wondering if all men secretly compare their penises to other men’s. That’s something men don’t talk about, but I can’t think of a really good reason we shouldn’t. Seems like it would be fun to walk over there, drop my pants and the two of us compare, maybe see which one stretches further. There are some obvious differences. For one thing the color: his is so much darker than mine, and it seems to hang a bit lower, probably compliments of this heat. But there are also similarities. Like mine, his is darker than the rest of his body, almost tar black, where mine’s kinda ruddy brown, not to mention they serve the same purpose. Wonder he’s compared mine to his—he’s seen it enough times out at the lake, what little there is to see once it hits that cool water. His doesn’t recede into his body like mine, it just hangs gloriously between his legs.
Cassandra Mott’s Mysterious World of Debauchery
From the third chapter . . .
“The ninth gate? I … “ Johnny stopped mid-sentence, frustrated. He felt gullible, like an innocent boy. Cassandra Mott, obviously a woman of the world, was saying things that flew right over his head.
Her quick smile took on a hint of mischief and her eyes shifted to her brother. “Perhaps Julian would be willing to show you the ninth gate.”
Like a lost lamb cowering between them, Johnny turned his gaze to Julian. Their eyes locked. Unnerved, he felt as if he were being looked at caged and unclothed. Staring into the crystal blue eyes, he saw something he could not identify, not wicked, not threatening, but puzzling. He drew from them a premonition, a kinship on some obscure level, and the feeling it caused ran through him warmly. His curiosity ran wild. He recognized an urge to know more about him, to hear his thoughts.
Johnny watched him come to his feet. His eyes followed Julian’s hands to the buttons on the white linen shirt. When Julian lifted it from his shoulders and laid it on the sofa, Johnny realized that he intended to disrobe. He sat spellbound, his gaze fixed on the twitch and flex of a masculine chest. Mired in disbelief, he watched Julian’s hands move to the front of the white linen pants and unfasten the buttons one at a time, while Cassandra remained attentive to Johnny’s unsuspecting reaction.
A different kind of unease came over him. He tried to deny the sudden desire welling inside, a desire to see Julian’s body. Feeling stimulated by this was wrong. A man undressing should be perceived with indifference, though the promise of Julian’s nudity was unfolding before his eyes as a visual treasure. Facing the laws of right and wrong, he should be indifferent, yet, against his conscious will, he had become eager for it to happen, as if a long dormant urge had been lying in wait. He wanted to see Julian undressed, to see his body, his male form, all of him. But why? Why all of a sudden? Why these long forgotten urges between his legs and across the pores of his skin? Why this sharp desire that he had so easily denied all these years?
The pants slid fluidly down Julian’s legs. He stepped out of them, naked, his skin bronze, his forearms and legs and chest swept lightly with golden blond hair, his genitals inflamed and pendulous between muscular legs. Julian walked around the low table, looking down at his guest, the guest that had become a taut mass of anxiety and nerves.
Male Sexuality
Male Sexuality
What does male sexuality have to do with Martin Brant Novels?
Within the general brotherhood of man, concerning male sexuality, a significant percentage of men live with a closely guarded secret. More common than most people think, these men are dealing a same sex attraction. Most people, other than those they may have shared their secret with, don’t realize how many men have some degree of sexual attraction to other men. Contrary to most moral codes and various religious beliefs, these feelings are quite common and natural. They are feelings that number among the human emotions I deal with through the characters in my novels.
A writer’s first priority, mine included, is to tell a good story. Any writer worth his or her salt wants to create a thoughtfully written story and entertain those who read his or her work. It could be a murder mystery like my latest novel, Copperas Cove, where Jonathon Scott, recently divorced, leaves Pittsburg to start a new life and finds himself entangled in the bigoted dramas of 1950s Mississippi; or a WWII action/adventure like The Partisans, where two men on an important mission in France stumple upon a bright new future; or a tale of romance like A Song in the Park, where two men at odds with their past cross paths and start facing life’s challenges together. Good stories have characters and characters have personalities, personalities that are very much a part of the whole and make for a more intriguing book. Often the character’s personality can be a story within a story, or it can be the story itself, as in books such as Catcher in the Rye, or my first novel Five Married Men.
Why the element of same sex attraction?
For me it’s a fascination with the vast diversity of human nature. It’s a part of the human race that, for various reasons, many don’t understand. Many of us have been indoctrinated to belief there is something wrong with being attracted to a member of our own sex, which includes the majority of those who are. These are the men who keep secrets, who often feel guilty, who somehow believe there is something wrong with them. Though you may not feel attracted to members of your own sex, you know someone who does. It may be your bother or sister, your neighbor or a colleague at work, your cousin or best friend; it may even be your husband or wife. And chances are you don’t know their secret exists.
Considered a blessing or a curse, or both, the degree of same sex attraction varies from one man to the next; from a mild curiosity that leaves him feeling either guilty or warm inside, to a full blown and exclusive attraction to one’s own sex. Though the same holds true for both men and women, my focus and my novels are about men (and the women in their lives). And for some reason, same sex attractions seem more prevalent in men, though it is also considered by many as more unnatural and less acceptable.
So why would an author that wants to write a compelling mainstream tale include characters with a same sex attraction? Maybe I believe human sexuality in itself is compelling. Maybe, through my novels, I would like to help broaden human understanding. Maybe a part of me wants to say it’s okay.
* * *
Some men open the door to self-discovery, as Julian attests to here: he has experienced an enlightenment few men allow themselves to explore, a completeness. From Julian, in response to this piece.
I love this article. It does feel like a gift. So well put.
It comes to the heart of the matter and shines a light on ones own capacity to feel with intimacy the beauty in male and female and know it is wonderful. It is freeing.
Writing about it openly for you to share is cathartic and restorative at the same time.
Knowing and being bi-sexual that you who is reader this is are likely bi-sexual as well, with a similar understanding, we have much in common, we are alike kinfolk.
It is as if we could lay next to each other without reservation.
Recognizing bi-sexuality in oneself becomes a catalyst for putting down so many views about having to be this way or that way, rather be both ways and neither at the same time.
There are all those ideas with their genesis in school yards and bedtime fantasies, over the years evolving to prompt thoughts like ‘what if I am gay, oh my god’. Now when the mood takes I can feel it as positively yummy.
But hang on I love women, surely I must be heterosexual. What about the qualities in each I so enjoy, that I relate too.
So maybe am I transsexual or transgender. Do I even know what that means. But I love my male body. Then comes, but how can I be both? What if, what could that mean?
Then bing, the light goes on. I’m really not this, I’m really not that, I’m all of them and none of them.
I’m so definitely bi-sexual, with lots thrown in. It is so nice to say.
But its much deeper than the label might suggest. Its meaning so much more than first understood. As one investigates ones own sexuality and masculinity or femininity, dare I say as a male my femininity, it becomes so much more. It is wonderful.
I can love a man and be fully with him as I can love a woman and be fully with her.
It is also the special quality of monogamy, devotion to that person and relationship at the exclusion of all others, when no-one else exists.
Of women in my life, paraphrasing from the words of your article Martin, I recognize my overwhelming attraction to her, of her uniquely feminine perspective. Her softness, her exquisite shape and innate capacity, her strength, her insights and intuitions, her nurturing love, her playfulness with the toys of femininity, her laughter with others of her sex, she is simply gorgeous.
For the moment I am single, how positively enriching.
Enough. J-
Copperas Cove
So my sexy tall blonde wife is calling this my best work. From my point of view, it’s hard to say when a piece of me is attached to all my novels. It’s like choosing a favorite from among your children, impossible indeed. But you might enjoy a story about a guy whose wife caught him in the shower with another man, who is struggling with his sexuality while investigating a murder and searching for the right woman in a small town in 1950s Mississippi.
Jonathon’s marriage crashes around his head when his wife finds him in the shower with another man. Exiled to the streets, he leaves Pittsburgh to start a new life on the Mississippi Gulf coast. Followed by phantoms from the past, he sets out envisioning blissful solitude and long lazy Saturdays on warm southern beaches. Maybe he can find a drugstore in Biloxi that needs a pharmacist. Maybe, if he meets the right woman, he can get these misguided notions about men out of his head.
The generator on his ’48 Ford coupe goes out fifty miles south of Tupelo, a long hot three mile walk to the next town, an isolated hamlet called Copperas Cove. Temporarily stranded, he finds himself having a hamburger at Rexall soda fountain, unaware that his destiny is taking shape in the mind of a young woman three stools down. Betty Marie, the quixotic town flirt, has taken an interest in him. Jonathon soon learns, if he’s looking for a job as a pharmacist, he came to the right place. Old man Peterson, the Rexall’s ancient pharmacist, has been wanting to retire for years Betty Marie quickly points out, that other than a beach, they don’t have anything in Biloxi he can’t find right here in Copperas Cove.
Simpler times in another era. An age old dilemma. A small town in the deep south. A brutal rape and murder. An exiled husband facing life-changing events. The bigoted dramas of 1950’s Mississippi. Ingredients all for a witches brew of emotion, mystery and intrigue. Copperas Cove weaves an unpredictable thread through the lives of all concerned, a thread that leaves no one unchanged.
Bisexual Short Stories
An Egyptian princess gets an anatomy lesson from her lusty slaves. Former roommates reconnect in the way they had always dreamed. Revolutionaries discover erotic terrain in the battle for American independence. Gym buddies open up to the teachings of the Sex Guru. International diplomats forge a treaty of lustful longing. An orgy ensues backstage at a Shakespeare festival.
A collection of lusty bisexual short stories by Logunede Jones and available at Smashwords for only 1.99.






