He then immediately tried to sell me P and it deflated the terror somewhat, but the moment really stuck with me. I was waiting for a bus to catch a red-eye one night, and a homeless man sat down next to me and said “you died once, I can tell: you’ve seen the big guy,” and it’s the scariest fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. How did the idea of death not sticking come to you? How did you weld the amalgam of thief and cop together to make the wonderful Yat? Q: The Dawnhounds is a trail of redemption, the way back, maybe about paying for past sins. You sometimes get people coming in asking to meet author x and that’s always a good time we pass these things on to each other, and it’s always buzzy to be the bearer of good news. Wellingtonians are a friendly lot to sell to. They’re affiliated with the Underground Bookstore, and they passed my name on as somebody whose book might be worth stocking. How did you come to be a part of that? What’s the best customer story you’ve got from it?Ī: We had some issues with our printers in the leadup to the launch and ended up going to YourBooks to get an emergency run of 100 copies printed off.
Q: You help an author co-op in our fair city. A team at Victoria University have stated it was in “remarkable condition”, and have passed it onto the experts at Unity Books for further study. His first novel, The Dawnhounds, was found in a small shrine made of sticks and castoff cans of VB. Every year, hunters gather at the top of Ohiro Road for “StronaChon” and sell plush animals and cheap beer before charging into the park, whereupon they spend a pleasant afternoon accidentally tranquilising each other. He is an exceptionally hairy hominid, believed to be a distant relative of mankind. Sascha Stronach is a creature of unknown origin, said to dwell somewhere in the forests of the Wellington region.
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