Gene & Toots: A Story of Love…and Recovery
by Marilea C. Rabasa and gene Dunne
Gene and Toots: A Story of Love…and Recovery, is a poignant and uplifting account of one couple’s nearly thirty-year love affair. Two divorced adults with five teenagers between them, Marilea and Gene weren’t looking for love. They were content to lay back and enjoy their freedom. But then love found them. At mid-life. When men and women often start dreaming about second chances.
Energized by hope, attracted by desire, Gene and Toots is a memoir about the power of love, how two people with plenty of baggage came together and took that second chance they’d not dared hope for. No one was more surprised than Marilea to be so smitten with Gene from the very start.
Gene and Toots is the third and last in a series of memoirs, all of them about recovery from substance use disorder. The first two books are unflinchingly honest and raw, leaving little to the imagination. Gene and Toots is a fitting conclusion to Marilea’s recovery story, painting a detailed picture of the power of love in seeking one’s own redemption and transformation.
by Jack Remick
Man Alone is set in and around a complex Seattle where Rat City meets the Billionaires’ Club. Zene, a man alone, lives in a chaotic, sexually disruptive and violence-wrecked world. His life ruined after a chain of disappointments and falls—the fruits of his violent nature—Zene runs into Karizma, a love-creature from his past, and he’s smitten again, knowing all the while that for him, there’s no future in love. Not your basic romance, for sure.
From its opening scene on a bar stool, to Zene’s denouement, walking into the tunnel of darkness, the novel beguiles the reader with images that arrest, unmask, and reflect Everyman’s fated existential dialogue with self. Man Alone’s stripped-down cadence—peeling away the veneer of words—achieves an apotheosis of carnal sensuality where two bodies combine into one . . . this author’s luminous reveal.
—Dennis Must, author of MacLeish Sq. et al
Jack Remick has invented a new genre—Pulp Literature. In Man Alone, Remick delivers lines with the deadpan of a pulp detective on the crime-trail . . . Remick’s characters engaged in the base pursuit of their own ends, burn up in the fire of their own kindling . . . Remick builds on a theory of masks and unmasking, and, in the stunningly poetic images that run in Zene’s observations, you see a writer as observer whose characters have depth as well as a fatal blind spot. In Man Alone Remick has come into some kind of new literary superpower.
—Christine Runyon, poet