The One Inside

From the Pulitzer Prize-winning writer: his first work of long fiction—a novel of memory, mystery, death, and life, following a man from the landscapes of California to the deserts of Santa Fe to a film set in Oklahoma, from childhood to the present, encountering the people, the moments of art and violence, that have shaped him. The One Inside is a searing, extraordinarily evocative narrative in which an actor/writer explores and revisits key moments and people from his life—all the while attempting to negotiate with a young woman who threatens to publish recordings of their darkly revealing phone conversations. In his dreams and in visions he sees his late father, sometimes in miniature, sometimes flying planes, sometimes at war. In his childhood memories he sees his father's young girlfriend, with whom the narrator also became involved, setting into motion a tragedy that continues to haunt him. His complex interiority is filtered through beautiful... The first work of long fiction from the Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright?a novel of memory, mystery, death, and life. This searing, extraordinarily evocative narrative opens with a man in his house at dawn, surrounded by aspens, coyotes cackling in the distance as he quietly navigates the distance between present and past. More and more, memory is overtaking him: in his mind he sees himself in a movie-set trailer, his young face staring back at him in a mirror surrounded by light bulbs. In his dreams and in visions he sees his late father?sometimes in miniature, sometimes flying planes, sometimes at war. By turns, he sees the bygone America of his childhood: the farmland and the feedlots, the railyards and the diners?and, most hauntingly, his father's young girlfriend, with whom he also became involved, setting into motion a tragedy that has stayed with him. His complex interiority is filtered through views of mountains and deserts as he drives across the country, propelled by jazz, benzedrine, rock and roll, and a restlessness born out of exile. The rhythms of theater, the language of poetry, and a flinty humor combine in this stunning meditation on the nature of experience, at once celebratory, surreal, poignant, and unforgettable. From the Hardcover edition The first work of long fiction from the Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright—a tour de force of memory, mystery, death, and life. This searing, extraordinarily evocative narrative opens with a man in his house at dawn, surrounded by aspens, coyotes cackling in the distance as he quietly navigates the distance between present and past. More and more, memory is overtaking him: in his mind he sees himself in a movie-set trailer, his young face staring back at him in a mirror surrounded by light bulbs. In his dreams and in visions he sees his late father—sometimes in miniature, sometimes flying planes, sometimes at war. By turns, he sees the bygone America of his childhood: the farmland and the feedlots, the railyards and the diners—and, most hauntingly, his father's young girlfriend, with whom he also became involved, setting into motion a tragedy that has stayed with him. His complex interiority is filtered through views of mountains and deserts as he drives across the country, propelled by jazz, benzedrine, rock and roll, and a restlessness born out of exile. The rhythms of theater, the language of poetry, and a flinty humor combine in this stunning meditation on the nature of experience, at once celebratory, surreal, poignant, and unforgettable. An extraordinary work of long fiction from the Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright a tour de force of memory, mystery, death, and life. Sam Shepard's searing, evocative narrative opens with a man in his house at dawn, surrounded by aspens and by coyotes cackling far away as he quietly navigates the distance between present and past. More and more, memory is overtaking him: in his mind he sees himself in a movie-set trailer, his young face staring back at him in a mirror surrounded by lightbulbs. In his dreams and in visions he sees his late father sometimes in miniature, sometimes flying planes, sometimes at war. By turns, he sees the bygone America of his childhood the farmland and the feedlots, the rail yards and the diners and, most hauntingly, his father's young girlfriend, with whom he also became involved, setting into motion a tragedy that has stayed with him. His complex interiority is filtered through views of mountains and deserts as he drives across the country, propelled by jazz, Benzedrine, rock and roll, and a restlessness born out of exile. The rhythms of theater, the language of poetry, and a flinty humor combine in this stunning meditation on the nature of experience, at once celebratory, surreal, poignant, and unforgettable. This searing, extraordinarily evocative narrative opens with a man in his house at dawn, surrounded by aspens, coyotes cackling in the distance as he quietly navigates the distance between present and past. More and more, memory is overtaking him: in his mind he sees himself in a movie-set trailer, his young face staring back at him in a mirror surrounded by light bulbs. In his dreams and in visions he sees his late father--sometimes in miniature, sometimes flying planes, sometimes at war. By turns, he sees the bygone America of his childhood: the farmland and the feedlots, the railyards and the diners--and, most hauntingly, his father's young girlfriend, with whom he also became involved, setting into motion a tragedy that has stayed with him. His complex inferiority is filtered through views of mountains and deserts as he drives across the country, propelled by jazz, benzedrine, rock and roll, and a restlessness born out of exile. The rhythms of theater, the language of poetry, and a flinty humor combine in this stunning meditation on the nature of experience, at once celebratory, surreal, poignant, and unforgettable This searing, extraordinarily evocative narrative opens with a man in his house at dawn, surrounded by aspens, coyotes cackling in the distance as he quietly navigates the distance between present and past. More and more, memory is overtaking him: in his mind he sees himself in a movie-set trailer, his young face staring back at him in a mirror surrounded by light bulbs. In his dreams and in visions he sees his late father sometimes in miniature, sometimes flying planes, sometimes at war. By turns, he sees the bygone America of his childhood: the farmland and the feedlots, the railyards and the diners and, most hauntingly, his father's young girlfriend, with whom he also became involved, setting into motion a tragedy that has stayed with him. His complex interiority is filtered through views of mountains and deserts as he drives across the country, propelled by jazz, benzedrine, rock and roll, and a restlessness born out of exile. The rhythms of theater, the language of poetry, and a flinty humor combine in this stunning meditation on the nature of experience, at once celebratory, surreal, poignant, and unforgettable." Shepard's Novel Opens With A Man In His House At Dawn, Surrounded By Aspens, Coyotes Cackling In The Distance As He Quietly Navigates The Distance Between Present And Past. More And More, Memory Is Overtaking Him: In His Mind He Sees Himself In A Movie-set Trailer, His Young Face Staring Back At Him In A Mirror Surrounded By Light Bulbs. In His Dreams And In Visions He Sees His Late Father--sometimes In Miniature, Sometimes Flying Planes, Sometimes At War. By Turns, He Sees The Bygone America Of His Childhood: The Farmland And The Feedlots, The Rail Yards And The Diners--and, Most Hauntingly, His Father's Young Girlfriend, With Whom He Also Became Involved, Setting Into Motion A Tragedy That Has Stayed With Him-- Sam Shepard ; Foreword By Patti Smith. Shepard's novel "opens with a man in his house at dawn, surrounded by aspens, coyotes cackling in the distance as he quietly navigates the distance between present and past. More and more, memory is overtaking him: in his mind he sees himself in a movie-set trailer, his young face staring back at him in a mirror surrounded by light bulbs. In his dreams and in visions he sees his late father--sometimes in miniature, sometimes flying planes, sometimes at war. By turns, he sees the bygone America of his childhood: the farmland and the feedlots, the rail yards and the diners--and, most hauntingly, his father's young girlfriend, with whom he also became involved, setting into motion a tragedy that has stayed with him"-- From publisher