Tag Archives: Gay/Bisexual Fiction

My Best Novel?

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When I’m asked which of my novels is my favorite, I’m hard pressed to give an answer.  In one way or another, I’m attached to all of them.  I’m sure most writers are.  I can, however, talk about the one I think is best.  Though it sells the fewest copies, it’s The Strange Haunting of Johnny Feelwater.

There are a number of reasons for this; primarily it’s the unconventional way this story is told.  Like countless men in the world today, Johnny Feelwater comes to a point in his life he has to face the powerful laws of genetics, the laws that concern his sexuality.  The reason I use the term unconventional is because of the catalyst involved that puts him in this predicament, i.e. his so-called haunting; which I think may be the reason this novel doesn’t sell as well as the others.  Readers looking for an emotional human drama might, based on the title, pass on this story thinking it is more typical of books written in the supernatural genre.  Setting the record straight, though a supernatural element does exist in this novel, it merely exists to serve the aforementioned catalyst.  And, I might add, an intriguing twist.

The story deals with the complexities of human sexuality, the internal struggle a man faces in a society that tries to block the path he may have taken had he known it should have been open to him.  An inexplicable event in Johnny’s life exposes him to the most basic carnal instincts inherent in all of us, which point him toward the direction his sexuality would have led him had that door been open.  How all of this can affect a man’s life is the gristle and marrow of the story.

So if you’re looking for something to read, something about the drama of human emotion and sexuality, I hope you consider The Strange Haunting of Johnny Feelwater.  It’s a tale you won’t soon forget.

A Song in the Park

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Review from Kevin in Kentucky:

Hello, Martin… I have just spent the last 8 hours (over two days) reading your amazing novel A SONG IN THE PARK… I couldn’t put it down… the characters are all so fully fleshed out and the narrative so rich I feel like I’ve just spend time with old friends in a place I want to visit… I hope you are planning a follow-up book about where all their lives have gone… Shannon and Michael and the clinic, Jody and Brian and their life together in Houston and Justin with the new state park… and, of course, Justin and Michael, the new puppy and the finishing of the new wing on the house… if the rest of your work is as good as this book I’m a new fan to be sure… thanks so much for sharing these people with us…

Kevin

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Available in paperback at Amazon

or Ebook at:

Barnes & Noble

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Apple, Kobo, Diesel, Sony Reader and Smashwords

Five Married Men…Reviewed by Amos Lassen

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Acting on Desire

By Amos Lassen

“Five Married Men” is a deep look at bisexuality. A married man confesses that he is sexually attracted to his best friend who shares his feelings. They find three other men like themselves and the five meet for an occasional orgy. We begin to understand about acting on desires and the results of doing so and we face the question of much one is willing to lose in order to gain a bit of pleasure after years of denial.

The characters are well developed and likable and the plot is interesting. Martin Brant uses experience, research and imagination to give us a fictional story that reads like reality.

Bisexuals are a marginalized group in society–not really fitting into either the gay or the straight communities. Brant’s book gives us insight into the bisexual lifestyle. This is not a depressing look at the issue. Sure, there are some feelings of betrayal but there are also some provocative scenes as well. I flung myself feeling empathy for the characters.

David, a contractor, has feelings for James. a lawyer. They are both happily married men. David decides to tell James about the feelings he has and he learns that James shares these same feelings and their lives are changed forever. They give into their desires and then look to bring other men into their circle. During one summer, five masculine and attractive men, all happily married, build a secret life separate from their careers and their wives. They try to dismiss the guilt that they feel.

Regardless how one may feel about same sex relations, we see that love can take on many forms and it needs to be expressed. James and David love each other and through them we learn about aspects of the human condition. The two are honest and honorable and they do not want to betray their wives but they are not able to hide their feelings. Giving into the way they are the other three characters feel we see both suffering and emotional punishment on one hand and release on the other hand.

Brant writes openly and realistically and he raises important questions about the issues of bisexuality, monogamy, masculinity and sexuality. Brant writes well and the book is quite disturbing at times because it is so serious, The ending will really give you something to think about.

The Setting for “A Song in the Park”

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Almost as if it’s one of the characters, Big Bend country in far west Texas is the setting in my novel “A Song in the Park“.  I’ve been there many times. To me it’s one of the most romantic places on earth with its high-country fresh dry air, crystalline skies and captivating sunsets.  They say it’s where the desert and mountains meet the sky, not to mention the mysterious Rio Grande that flows through desert grasslands, breathtaking canyons and creates the  border between Mexico and the United States.

This (above) is Farm to Market Road 170, west of the park, which passes through some of the country’s most incredible scenery as it winds it’s way to Presidio.  Here you can see a glimpse of the Rio Grande to the left of the road.

It’s in country like this Michael Anderson, a California surgeon, and Justin Brooks, a park ranger, meet, form a friendship and ultimately build their future together.

This is the horizon (above), the view from behind Justin’s remote ranch house, where he and Michael spend many of their evenings sipping coffee and contemplating the small gifts in life.

This location (above) is similar to that just south of Justin’s house. The first day they spend skinny-dipping here is the day they realize there may be more than simple friendship between them.

A view like this (above) is typical of many seen when crossing through the park’s southern terrain on a rutted, sixty mile long goat-path called the River Road. It’s this road Justin patrols when he’s wearing his park service uniform.

Stanta Elena Canyon, (above) 2000 foot cliffs cut from the limestone over eons by the Rio Grande. Can you imagine what’s it like to canoe through here?

One of many cliffs along the Rio Grande (above).

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A Song in the Park

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Here’s a recent email I received from a reader in Toronto:

Hello Martin,

Just wanted to drop a note to let you know that I enjoyed your novel tremendously over the last couple of days. The novel was like a rollercoaster – an emotional rollercoaster – at times I had to laugh, at times cried. Really got into the book and the characters. Would love to have gone on and on reading more.  A sequel would be nice, don’t you agree?

Thanks again for many hours of great entertainment. I won’t forget this book.

Signed J–

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Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 20. The setting: Justin’s small stone ranch house on a remote desert ranch. Everyone is sitting around the breakfast table, talking about his primitive outdoor shower.

A few minutes later all five were melting butter on their pancakes.

“I was just thinking,” Shannon said, glancing at the others with a slight hint of apprehension, “… maybe we could put a screen of some kind around the shower.”

Justin looked at her with a grin.

“That’d take all the fun out it,” Michael said, stuffing in another bite.

“Just something temporary,” Shannon added.  She woke up that morning feeling gritty, thinking about the unlikely notion of two weeks without a shower.

Michael glanced at Brian. “What do you think, Brian.  Think we need a screen, or do you plan to tough out the next two weeks without a shower?”

Brian looked around at the faces smiling back at him, discomfited.  He lifted his elbow to sniff his armpit.

Jody looked at Michael with suspicion.  “You’re goading him just to get him naked.”

“I doubt that,” Brian said, swallowing a mouthful of pancakes.  “Just be a disappointment.”

“Hardly!” Jody shot back.

Justin joined in.  “You ought to go for it, Brian.  I’d be happy to refill the jug.”

He looked at Shannon, the only one besides himself harboring reservations about outdoor showers.

“Don’t look at her,” said Michael.  “You might have the courage to give it a try, but we’re not gonna see Shannon out there stripping down.  She plans to wait until she gets back to civilization, some two weeks from now.”

“I didn’t exactly say that, Michael.  I can’t go two weeks without a shower.  I thought a screen might …”

“You’d have us stop the stonework to build a screen?” said Michael.

“What a shame,” said Justin.  “And such a lovely creature you are, to deny this barren land such a delightful image.”

“I don’t know why any of you would want to see me nude,” said Shannon.  “You two are gay, Jody’s a woman, and Brian’s obsessed with her body.  I don’t know if anyone’s noticed, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off her.”

“Are you kidding?” said Justin.  “Of course he’d like to see you naked.  So would Jody.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jody retorted.

He looked at her, grinning.  “You wouldn’t admit it if you did.”

“I would, too!” she protested.

“Well then, given the opportunity, would you look at a naked woman or not?  Yes or no.”

She hesitated, then said: “Okay, I admit it, yes.  I think all women secretly compare themselves to other women.”

“What about you, Shannon?”  Justin asked.  “Wouldn’t you snatch a glimpse of a naked women?”

“Good Lord!”  Shannon couldn’t believe they were talking about this.

Justin didn’t let up.  “Come on, girl.  Would you … go ahead and admit it.”

“Fine!  I admit it.  Jody’s right.  So we’re curious about other women.  Doesn’t mean anything.”

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A Song in the Park

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Two men, haunted by their past, cross paths where the desert meets the sky in Big Bend National Park …

He turned and watched Michael pull the sleeping bag from behind the chair and fumble with the knot that held it rolled tight.  He wanted to invite Michael to share his bed, which he had been thinking about most of the day.  The proposal caught in his throat as the ramifications of sleeping with another man took hold of him.  Make the suggestion, or keep going, get in bed alone, then likely face a night of regret, wondering what it would be like.  He drew a breath … “It’s warmer in the bedroom.”  Then a dry swallow: “I mean … well, the electric heater in there doesn’t do much good all the way out here.”

Michael looked up from the knotted string.

“There’s plenty of room for both of us.”

“You want me to sleep with you?”

“That’s not how I put it.  Share the bed is what I had in mind.”

“Yeah.  That’s what I meant.  I just wasn’t expecting …”

Justin felt like a man about to cross a rickety bridge.  “You won’t get so cold in there.”

“Okay.”  Somewhat astonished, Michael tossed the sleeping bag on the couch.

They walked together into the bedroom.  Justin turned on the small table lamp next to the bed, then the small electric heater.  He sat on the edge of the bed and watched Michael pull off his jeans.  “I remember you saying you don’t like wearing underwear.”

“No.  Too confining,” Michael said, standing nude in the soft light.

Justin stood and stepped out of his jeans, leaving on the cotton briefs.  “I usually sleep nude.”

“Me, too,” Michael replied.

Justin looked down at his briefs, debating, wondering what difference it would make since they had been naked together all day, hooking his thumbs in the waistband.

Michael watched him slide the briefs down his legs, then step out of them and walk to the other side of the bed, intrigued by his companion’s conflicts.

Lifting the crumpled sheet, Justin got in the bed and pulled the sheet up to his belly.  Michael reclined on the other side of the bed.  They laid on their backs staring at the aged wooden ceiling.  The electric heater provided just enough heat to take the chill out of the room.

“Beats the couch, doesn’t it?”

Available at Amazon.

The Passion of Johnny Feelwater

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Okay…so I’m trying to tempt you to read this book.  What can I say, I’m a writer.  If you like passion, read this excerpt and see if you can resist.

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He stood and looked down at her.  Her legs drew together, squeezing the sensations within her thighs up into her body.  Chills raced across her forearms when he reached down to touch the side of her face.  She took a long account of his masculinity, another stride toward recognizing the wonders of her own body, to see him nude in the sunlight, to be this close, to see his penis swollen with need.  When she came to her feet, his hands closed on the sides of her face and he drew her head closer to his.

Their lips came together, their mouths open, a kiss as warm as the sun-warmed room, a lingering reaffirmation of their bond, evolving finally into a fury of tongues and wet lips.  He found the buttons of her blouse and in seconds it fell to the floor, joined seconds later by her bra.  On his knees, breathing the scent of her belly, he unfastened her jeans.  Down her legs they went, along with her panties, her legs warm on his palms, her scent bewitching.  She stepped out of what had become a jumble of denim and nylon encircling her feet.  He took up her panties, fresh as they were with the bouquet between her legs, pressed them to his face and drew the scent into his nose.

Marilee heard men did such things—she had held such acts in contempt; but seeing her husband’s face buried in the panties she had been wearing inflamed her even more.  Then his hands came up the back of her legs, a firm grasp of her buttocks, and he pulled her close enough to bury his tongue.

Together they went to the floor, a tight embrace on the soft oval rug, bodies joined by virtue of instincts that refused to abide further delay.  Engulfed in heat and sweat and motion, confirming their desire had finally escaped nine years of prison, they locked themselves together as if this were to be their last coupling.  Marilee tossed her head from side-to-side, her neck taut, and from her came a scream, eliminating her husband’s ability to hold back.  He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close as their bodies shuddered and pulsed.  Then, their passion spent, they melted into a useless heap, their arms and legs entwined.  Their love, weighted and put to the test, expanded and filled the room.

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The Strange Haunting of Johnny Feelwater

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The Strange Haunting Of Johnny Feelwater

An excerpt from chapter 19 . . .

Johnny was aware that Brian was looking at him.

“Shame you’re not bisexual,” said Brian, a sudden and unexpected whispering of his thoughts.

Johnny turned his head and their eyes met.

“Forgive me, my friend, but I’m no longer inclined toward the fairer sex, even to these frequently available young girls.  I would consider myself inappropriate for them anyway.  But now I’m in bed next to a man, quite an attractive man I might add, and it occurred to me that a little mutual affection is nourishing for the soul.”  Brian shifted to his side and faced Johnny, bracing himself up on an elbow.

Caught off guard, Johnny glanced down at his companion’s torso, a candlelit display of shoulders and a chest thick with muscle, of dark hairs mixed with gray that curled about a pair of nipples and ran a wide path toward a sunken navel.  The glance ventured downward, over strong hairy legs, then upward, fixing on genitals flaccid in the warm air, dropping with generous weight from a dense swath of salted pubic hair, fleshy and splayed atop a muscular thigh.  It was no more than a glance, the entirety of which lasted the bat of an eye, though it sparked the fires of adrenaline.

Oh, the power of such a visual to set one’s imagination stirring, Johnny realized, not much to his surprise as he twisted his head upward and returned his gaze to the shadows.  It all came rushing back as if the image had opened a floodgate of memories from his confused youth.  Those fleshy organs—were they not an anomaly of the male form, peculiar in shape and so much darker than the rest of the body?  Were they not an inconsistency in the fluid contours of muscle and limb, hanging from the body at the apex of one’s legs like something alien by virtue of their odd design?  Perhaps it might seem, but for that inborn consciousness of their purpose, and in being male with the same fragile effects, accompanied always with that sublime awareness of their ever changing weight.  Oh, those daunting colors, dark and purposeful, like magnets drawing one’s eyes, like streaking meteors that suddenly exclude all other thoughts.  And those masculine odors lingering in the air with his own, born of errant drops of urine and yesterday’s sweat and last night’s involuntary seepages from that tiny hole, mingled with those living with aromatic vibrancy between damp gluteal cheeks.  He was thinking about all of this as he stared at the ceiling, his face fixed with a dreamlike gaze, thinking there was even more to resist: the warmth of a man lying so close, the warmth he could feel on his face, the feel of that same man’s breath on his ear.  What was it, but a universe of two men, a symphony of maleness within the parameters of a small space, offensive perhaps to some, though more akin to euphoria for two certain men on a warm Kenyan night.

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