Amos the Amazing Press Release <– Click to Download PDF
|Release Date:||October 31, 2022|
|Solarpunk Sci-Fi||Dark Fantasy & Fairy Tales|
|YA Fantasy||Witches & Wizards|
|Chapters-Indigo||AZ 6″x9″ Trade Paperback|
|Barnes & Noble||Apple Books|
|Baker & Taylor||Borrow Box|
|Google Play||Independent Bookstores|
|Universal Booklink||Continually Updated|
Amos the Amazing (Novel, Release Date: October 31, 2022, More Publishing) Chinese Version To Be Released in 2023
Solar Punk Science Fiction, Fantasy, Children’s Literature, Young Adult
From the author of a tweet that Mark Hamill liked
comes a book which R.A. Salvatore wished ‘Congratulations‘ on finishing,
& Brandon Sanderson sent his ‘deep apologies for being unable to provide a jacket quote at this time because his work schedule is busier than ever, making it extremely difficult to find the time he would want to dedicate to your book.’
Finding time can be difficult in today’s hypermodern world.
Making time, however, can be magick.
The world might be going to hell in a handbasket, but it isn’t always going to be that way. In 2038, in the SOLARPUNK futuristic city of Chongqing, things are looking almost rosy. That is until a story gets told that sets off a chain reaction that threatens not only our world but the entire multiverse.
This is the story of that story.
The world’s spiciest ice cream,
a trip to Chongqing’s rural countryside,
& a strange collection of curious belongings begin this unforgettable tale
that mixes Solar Punk science fiction and high fantasy for a thrilling modern fairytale.
About a boy who mistakenly believes he has all the time in the world and must risk his soul to chase a 9-tail fox into the dreamlands for the adventure of a lifetime and the chance to save his family.
Amos, a puckish 12-year-old boy who hides his insecurities behind a mask of mischief, dons strange artifacts he uncovers from his father’s childhood bedroom. A strange power pulses through his body as he slips into a world of magic and monsters, where the dangerous-amber-eyed kitsune—a nine-tailed fox—draws him out, steals his soul and poisons his grandpa.
Against all odds, Amos chases the fox into the dreamland, where he meets friends and foes along the way on a perilous and fantastic journey to recover his soul before all is lost. A spine-tingling adventure full of imaginative characters and dazzling creatures, Amos the Amazing will delight adults, teens, and anyone who dares peer beyond the shadows.
SOLARPUNK literature envisions how the future will look when we succeed in solving major contemporary challenges by focusing on sustainability, a harmonious relationship between humans and the natural world, tackling and solving issues of climate change and pollution with green solutions, and community-driven efforts. Punk is a rebel’s cause, and what could be more rebellious in 2022 than being optimistic?
The Invisible War (Kai’s Diary)
Kai’s Diary (The Invisible War: I, Narrative Nonfiction Novel, 2020)
Non-Fiction, Memoir, Disaster Comedy, Pandemic Diary
1E Published by New World Media 2020, 2E Royal Collins 2021
Chinese Edition is available on Taobao, etc.
A feverish fear …
what began as a memoir, and a goodbye,
became a story of triumph against the virus,
and a lighthouse in the storm.
“Although not a traditional authority of any kind Kai proved to be an essential source of sanity and safety during the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic. He truly is a warrior poet.” – Dylan Lane (ill Gates), bass music superstar
“A fantastic piece of writing. As a virus fanatic, I find this a fascinating and horrifying breakdown that is as gripping as the best mystery novel and scary as the worst-case apocalyptic sci-fi thriller. My curious hunger fuelled by burning interest and chilling horror cannot stop reading every word, turning every page.” – Rhett Morita, actor, director and virus fanatic
“Jorah Kai is the canary in the coal mine. His notes from beyond the start of this pandemic should serve as a roadmap for how to survive what it looks like we are all, sadly, going to go through.” – Andrew ‘Myagi’ Mavor, legendary dance music producer
“Kai’s writing is very interesting. Both the setting, a dystopian (yet nonfiction) future, and how the western world is watching (it) and reacting poorly. I like the pollution decreases, the contemplation on who wins in things like this, and who loses. There’s a hysteria – meritable or not, but the insight is thought-provoking.” – Ky-Lee Hanson, Author, and Publisher, Golden Brick Road Publishing House
My name is Jorah Kai, and I was born in the year of the earth goat. I’ve traveled around, spreading mirth and revelry since I was a wee lad, a merry bard. My band, The Root Sellers, headlined festivals, played Olympics, and produced albums around the world, breathing fire and breaking hearts for two decades. I was a full-time detective in a mythical part-time city, solving existential mysteries for lost and weary travelers. You may have heard of me.
One day I disappeared and wandered until I found misty mountains that shrouded the ancient Chinese city of Ba with a civilization along the mighty Jialiang and Yangtze rivers that stretches back 15,000 years. Today, it is called Chongqing. I am a married man, a teacher, and a humble writer, happily obscure, until a virus smaller than a . stopped the world in its tracks.
On the first day of the year of the metal rat, the beginning of a novel 60-year cycle, everything changed. Wuhan, a city the size of New York or London, was locked down in a failed attempt to control the spread of a deadly virus. The quarantine grew, but the virus, full of creeping, cosmic horror escaped and spread across the world. It used us as carriers for an invisible alien attack.
This is the story of the first two months of COVID-19, as I learned, day by day, what it was and what it could do. I tried to warn you it was coming, and some prepared, but many did not. This is the story of how Chongqing stood tall when other cities fell.
This is not how the story ends, but this is how it began.
Where the Wicked Rest (Paranormal/Mystery/Thriller Novel, 2023)
Thriller, Suspense, Fantasy
Synopsis: When a Chinese college student goes missing abroad, no one seems to notice except her Chinese family and adopted father, a foreign teacher with a mysterious past. When the trail goes cold, with scant hope to recover her from the grasp of highly dangerous human traffickers, her family must embrace his complicated past to save her from a fate arguably worse than death.
YEAR OF THE RAT (The Invisible War: II, To Be Released 2023)
Non-Fiction, Memoir, Comedy
A long reflection of the pandemic that crippled our world and the great inequities and issues it magnified, our challenges to meet climate catastrophe, and the agility we will require to triumph against our laundry list of self-made woes.
Gutter Oil / Water Under the Fridge (Short Story Collection, 2023)
Non-Fiction, Memoir, Comedy
A humorous collection of short stories about a life spent frivolously, making enemies with the grace of a trained vaudevillian.
Solarpunk: An optimist’s guide to the apocalypse (Non-Fiction, 2025)
Non-Fiction, Memoir, Comedy
A history of how we got to the brink of climate collapse and how we might fix it and live to explore the stars.
Amor Fati, Illuminaughti, and The Legend of the Crystal Skull (Novel, TBD)
A stout text, at 88 chapters this is the unabridged and unapologetic tale of a boy who fell from the frying pan into the fire and then managed to make something rather interesting of his circumstances thereafter.
The Kindness of Idiots (Novel, TBD)
Comedy, Science Fiction, Fantasy
The Wisdom of Fools (Novel, TBD)
Comedy, Science Fiction, Fantasy
The Luck of the Dead (Novel, TBD)
Comedy, Science Fiction, Fantasy
Lobster Revolution (Collection, 2010, revisited, 2017)
A collection of absurdities and barbs towards a culture obsessed with pop culture and media.
If these poems have offended, avert your eyes and all is mended.
El arbuso en el Fuego (Haiku)
las paredes encierran en mí.
We Can Know Bliss (Meditation on a Sichuan Mountain)
At the edge of a small village
hot sun stews dirt road. Hon-Hon-Hon!
A gaggle of grey geese greet me.
Bent women tend lush stalks of green,
each golden seed contains their heart.
I inhale deep fresh country air,
a lazy wind gusts sweet perfume from fragrant flowers.
The countryside life, simple joy and hard working folk.
Girls in white dresses and red boots skip
in puddles they laugh and blow bubbles.
Bright ribbons in their dark hair shimmer,
and my shoulders loosen and I smile.
They see me and freeze, their eyes hazel pools,
curious stranger, a foreigner,
inspires curiosity and they wear their books down
Tonight they’ll burn candles for far away places.
On a paved street in the village
black and grey shoes hang from a pole.
What children would leave them behind
in this ageless rustic hamlet?
One day outgrown, left to pass on,
their small comfort and protection.
Left behind for a reason, the truth becomes clear
we can always get what we want (when we want less).
When we can share rice with our family
we will never feel poor.
Nor can we pave the world in leather,
but we can cherish the shoes on our feet.
Red eyes weep openly, noses sniffle
for parents gone all year to work
still children feel a simple joy in the moment.
We can practice gratitude and know bliss.
The Story of Anger Bill
Anger’s only sixteen but likes to pass for twenty at the watering hole by the ranch where Trouble serves up ice-cold’s and watered-down’s on a hot summer night while he tempts Regret with his roguish charms. Anger is taller than his older brother Fear, but that’s mostly because Fear is slouched, bent to breaking, his blue-black bangs hiding his eyes while Anger sports impeccable posture and a short clean cut. Anger stands proud in a felted beaver topper and his best vest, quick to stand to any insult, with the machismo of a Venetian noble and feet like canoes. His tight, muscled body is forged in pain and quick as a whip and swims in tattoos of monsters of legend – he swears the ink lends an edge.
When Patience steps out from wiping tables to sneak a kiss with Kindness behind the old brown barn Anger cranks the ol’ thermostat and grins down the barrel of a gun when the first temper breaks. Anger is quick to the punch and always shoots first: be it lip, fist or clip. Anger always lets his sisters Patience and Remorse clean up after him.
Anger used to carry Michael Ondaatje’s The Collected Works of Billy the Kid with him but a stranger once made fun of him, said Ondaatje sounded Foreign and called Anger a book fag. Anger was so embarrassed he cut that stranger’s face up and now Anger listens to Stephen King audiobooks and he believes Donald Trump has a lot of good ideas and wishes he could vote already. Anger has already burnt down bridges that have lasted centuries with his trusty silver zippo. Anger won’t grow up, he’ll just got old, and he’ll destroy in a flash of rage the gardens Patience will make her life’s work.
A Supermarket in Nova Scotia
Umbrella spun backwards out of control exoskeleton strains awkward, yearning. A chalice, what will we fill it with?
we wear the bell down
the pouring rain rips through the darkness race around back to try that door
about ready to quit, back around to see
a school boy with an old soul in the doorway, his tag reads “Walt” and he eyes us intently. I smile and nod
I hear a voice from the side howling into the wind. Any way in would have been just fine.
We enter and I am bathed in fluorescent glow,
the alarm whines in frustration but we pay it no heed I have been pretending to work here for months,
I push a mop, deep under cover
while Allan and Walt stock produce
they don’t question me or why
my sushi tastes like rubber.
The pickled ginger is a sickly yellow.
How low some things can go.
And I skim the news
glance sardonically at the trashy mags capitalism is sleeping now,
but I still pocket the 11 cents,
one dime and one pretty penny
that I find under a cashier’s till.
I brush my lunch under the rug.
Capitalism is sleeping now and I am the law.
I look for inspiration, and the lobsters are busy. some prowl with apparent purpose,
stomping over their fellows
running amuck, in circles, in place
hands tied and stacked high
they do not seem to notice me
some are still, in contemplation or droned out stoned out bored, maybe mad
only one hangs from the walls, near the surface. separate from the rest
he is unable to go any farther
but unwilling to go back.
from “Lobster Revolution and the Rot of Pop Culture (self published)” also published in Fathom Magazine 2011
Jazzy Skin (lyrics)
I meant to love you.
I never meant to lie.
I meant to make it up to you but somehow the day goes by
I don’t know why you broke all my fingers baby. It hurts me so much to play you this song.
I loved you in the evening,
loved you ’til dawn.
I never meant to do you wrong.
Some days I wake up
I can taste you baby.
Those days I crawl and I crawl and I crawl right back into bed. Sometimes when I wake up I can still feel you near me.
I can’t get you out of my head.
I don’t know why you broke all of my fingers baby.
It hurts too much to let you go.
I saw you and I knew right then you were gonna be mine, girl, and then I said I told you so.
At first I was as cool as a cucumber baby.
I didn’t know all those tricks that you do. Before long you had me twisted around your pretty little fingers.
You stole my heart right out of the blue.
I don’t know why you broke all my fingers baby. You told me that you’d do me no wrong.
But late at night I lie awake thinking of kisses that keep me from moving along…
I don’t know, I don’t know why…
We hide our dreams inside safe places.
We edit ourselves into corners
and then, with needle and thread
resurrect the pieces of our shattered brilliance.
I buried my ego in a pet cemetery.
My genius came back knocking, haunted, from the maddening horrors of the other side hungry for brains.
I’m chasing that one great line
and there’s definitely an accompanying line.
I’ve taken to publishing work inside dead animals I think it’s my failure to commit holding me back.
What dreams may rise from the toil of our never ending optimism? Can we bring it to a boil,
or shall we let it simmer down… into Kipple, in dust we trust.
From the depths of the glassy eyes,
I communicate a longing.
In the frozen roar of the open maw
there’s a tenderness that cries out for attention.
Last night before I fell asleep,
or maybe it was while I dreamt of sheep, I found the perfect line or two
and they made me think of you.
Published in the 2008, 2009 and 2010 editions (Canada).
Published in the 2006 edition (Canada).