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Raising Awareness
Jackdaw Affliction follows Billy from a rough-edged 1980s English childhood into adulthood, where grief, love, and the advancing grip of ataxia turn survival, dignity, and endurance into the heart of the story. What drew you to tell Billy’s story across such a long emotional and physical arc?
My desire in writing this novel was to keep things real and plausible. I have lived experience of Ataxia and strong connections with peers across a wide range of disabilities. To stay truthful to what many folk experience, it was necessary to have an arc where Billy loses everything. Or at least perceives he loses everything.
The beginning of the novel – Youth – is about the growth and making of the man. The second half of the novel is about diminishing abilities and the effects on the mind. The frightening thing about ataxia and all degenerative conditions is that they slowly chip away at you until there is nothing left. Often, the mental health side of this is not explicitly discussed. I wanted to change that.
How did you balance the intimacy of Billy’s voice with the wider family-saga feel of the novel?
I wrote this book with the aim of raising awareness of a rare condition. But also, I wanted to give readers an insight into the mind of someone who slowly loses all that made them who they are. Mental health is a real and delicate thing. It is for me, and it is for many people with debilitating conditions.
The book was always about Billy’s story. Always predominantly his narration. After my first draft, it became apparent that I needed more structure and readability. This is when the vignettes from his family members came in. Both to tell the story from other perspectives, but also to offer some unquestionable truth and reliability to the manuscript. The family was always a vital cog in Billy’s wider story, even when they were no longer present in his life.
Music feels like a quiet current running through the book. What role did it play for you while writing?
Music helps set the theme, feel, and time stamp this story. Almost by chance, I had found myself listening to certain tracks whilst writing and developing the book. Each track helped me set the scenes and characters to a specific point in time. Whilst not a historical novel, it is set over 35 years, so being accurate on the recent past was a necessity.
Also, if you pay really close attention to each song in the book, you can almost see a story told by the track listings.
As important as music is, it was also important to have an absence of music during Billy’s darker times. For this reason, almost all of part 4 is devoid of music.
When writing Billy’s experience of ataxia, how did you approach portraying disability, humiliation, and endurance without slipping into sentimentality?
The aim from the outset was to portray a plausible, real character. Inspiration porn was not the goal. By this I mean it was important that all characters made mistakes, had flaws, and had mischievous thoughts, rather than paint them as some kind of saint or martyr. Hopefully, the book balances vulnerability with agency. The idea was not to have characters as symbols or lessons, but to present flawed, authentic human beings. As mentioned, it was great to draw on my experiences and those of my peers to keep the story feeling as genuine as possible.
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From bike rides through the suburbs of 1980s Hampshire to the claustrophobic grind of adulthood, Billy Cooper’s life is shaped by loss, fractured family ties, and the creeping onset of a degenerative disease. As his body betrays him and grief corrodes what remains, Billy turns inward—into recollections that blur, narratives that contradict, and personas that may never have existed.
Jackdaw Affliction is a descent into memory’s labyrinth, where trauma, illness, and longing distort the line between truth and invention. Told with brutal honesty, warped humour and hallucinatory edge, S. G. Hyde’s novel explores what it means to live when the ground of reality keeps shifting beneath your feet.
At once harrowing and tender, it is a story of survival through imagination, self-deception, and the desperate human need to stitch meaning out of chaos. A haunting meditation on identity, illness, and loss, sprinkled with dark comedy, this is fiction at its most unsettling and raw.
Where Reality Tips Into Wonder
Shinbone Lane follows a runaway teenager in 1974 San Francisco who finds refuge and a found family in a hidden street of artists, misfits, quiet magic, and a wisecracking pigeon. What first sparked the idea for Shinbone Lane as a hidden pocket of San Francisco?
When I moved from San Francisco to Sonoma County about 20 years ago, I was looking for additional freelance writing work. I answered a Craigslist ad and met a young man at a coffee shop for an interview. The ongoing work he had in mind would have required more time than I had, so it wasn’t a good fit. Still, we enjoyed talking and shared things about our backgrounds.
He was a Gen Xer; I’m a baby boomer. I told him about arriving in San Francisco in the 1970s with about $200 in my pocket. I thought I’d visit for a couple of weeks and wound up living there for almost 30 years. He said my early adventures in San Francisco sounded like a fairytale to him—something a young person couldn’t replicate so easily anymore. Housing had already become so much more expensive.
That conversation stayed with me. The idea of writing about that time sat on the back burner for years, gradually taking shape as I returned to it from time to time, until Shinbone Lane emerged.
San Francisco does have many real hidden pockets—places so beautiful they seem magical, and people so inventive and intriguing they seem magical too. I just followed my imagination where it wanted to go. As a storyteller, I’m drawn to spaces where reality tips into wonder. This is true for both my written work and for stories I tell live in performance.
Shinbone Lane almost feels alive. Did you think of the lane as a character?
Yes, I did. The area where I situated the lane is one I’m very familiar with. I lived near the corner of 29th and Sanchez streets for eighteen years, so I walked our dog up the 29th Street hill and drove up to Diamond Heights to shop routinely. That steep hill feels like a part of me now.
Shinbone Lane, an imagined side street easy to miss when driving by, became a living, breathing presence with its own rhythms and moods.
Place has always been important in my work, and Northern California continues to shape my imagination. It was a great amount of fun bringing the lane to life and letting it influence the characters who find their way there.
Found family is central to the story. Why is that theme important to you, and why was it important that the community be imperfect, messy, and sometimes conflicted?
I think almost all of us have some issues to work out with our families when we grow independent as young adults. For some, the issues are minor and family support is a constant. For others, too much trauma stands in the way of family ties being anything but harmful at the time. And there are many shades in between.
It’s a blessing that people can find each other and build a supportive base that becomes a different kind of family. How lucky we are to be able to do that for one another.
As for the community being imperfect, messy, and sometimes conflicted, that reflects both life in this world of ours and my approach to storytelling. And while I want love to be the most powerful force in the end, I don’t shy away from the complications that come with being human.
I lost both of my parents by the time I was eleven, so there’s an undercurrent of loss and darkness that finds its way into my work. At the same time, I am optimistic and delight in my connections with loved ones, as well as the beauty in the world. That tension between light and shadow, hope and hurt is something I return to often, and I hope it resonates with readers.
What is the next book that you are working on, and when will it be available?
I’m at work on another magical realism novel, Ripplewood, set in an out-of-the-way town of that name in Sonoma County, California. The town was named for a forest of ripplewood trees that once existed, though now only one remains, deep in the woods. It’s the same kind of tree that appears in front of Ted’s home on Shinbone Lane, but this book is not a sequel.
The story begins with Emlyn Grady driving home. She was raised in Ripplewood and has been attending San Francisco State University for six years, changing majors along the way and still not quite finding her footing. When she receives a text from her father urging her to come home immediately because of a crisis, she drops everything—including an important meeting her boyfriend has arranged with investors interested in his startup—and heads directly to Ripplewood.
There she finds out her mother is missing, but she’s gone missing before. So what could have happened is a mystery in a town where family roots and history are imperfect, complicated, messy, conflicted and unresolved (of course). There is folklore unique to Ripplewood, but how much is real, how much is fiction and what effect it has had on the town is a topic debated without resolution by the locals. In this setting, the story begins to unfold. And like Shinbone Lane, the story’s layers reveal themselves over time.
I’m interested in how place, memory, and inherited stories shape us, and how we decide what to carry forward. I’m still in the process of writing and discovering the full shape of the book, which is one of the things I love most about the work. I hope to finish the book this year and publish it in 2027.
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San Francisco, 1974. Sixteen-year-old runaway Maddy is escaping the blame for a crime she didn’t commit. Miles from home, she is taken under the wing of the elderly Clara and her neighbor Ted, and soon finds a place among the kaleidoscope of personalities on the oddly named Shinbone Lane.
Ted’s three-story Italianate Victorian house overflows with travelers, free spirits, and artists. His backyard is a haven for all who are willing to see its magic. But burdened dancer Eloise Watkins can’t tolerate the transient “riffraff” in her neighborhood. Their frivolity flies in the face of her grief over friendship lost and her daughter who’s missing. And nobody — nobody— understands.
But like all who tread on it, Shinbone Lane has secrets of its own. And like all secrets, they lie uneasily in the dark, until the truth emerges to lay the past to rest.
At the intersection of magic and reality lies Shinbone Lane and its lively cast of characters who intertwine in the mesmerizing brew of life.
Click ‘buy now’ to step into Shinbone Lane today!
Come Dance With Me
Come Dance With Me opens as a late-career detective, Butch Jacs, is called out to what should be a routine suicide involving a businessman tied to the mayor; instead, one small object at the scene, an old business card reading “Come Dance With Me,” pulls him into a strange chain of deaths, vanished records, political rot, and a dread-soaked mystery that seems to be stalking him across decades. The novel begins like a police procedural and gradually lets a spectral chill seep through the seams, using Jacs’s forced retirement, frayed solitude, and distrust of the modern world as part of the plot’s pressure system.
I liked this book most when it lingered in Jacs’s head. He is not a glamorous detective; he is tired, mildly crabby, perceptive in an unshowy way, and haunted less by melodrama than by attrition. That gives the novel a worn texture I found persuasive. The author has a real affection for municipal spaces, bad fluorescent light, empty offices, old neighborhoods, and the spiritual bleakness of public institutions after midnight. Even when the prose grows a little shaggy, it often lands on an image that sticks, something rusted, wind-buffeted, or quietly funereal. I also appreciated the book’s refusal to rush its unease. It doesn’t sprint toward horror; it sidles there, which is harder to do and, here, more effective.
What I really liked was the book’s mood rather than its neatness. The mystery matters, but the stronger current is existential: Jacs is investigating not just a pattern of deaths, but his own obsolescence. The novel understands how retirement, bureaucracy, loneliness, and memory can make a person porous to dread. I did feel the pacing sometimes wanders and the repetition can accumulate, yet even that repetitiousness started to feel oddly thematic, as if Jacs were walking the same mental corridor over and over while the lights flicker. In that sense, the book’s rough edges are part of its atmosphere; it feels less polished than weathered, and weathered suits it.
I’d recommend Come Dance With Me to readers who like supernatural mystery, detective fiction, occult suspense, and small-city noir with a melancholic bend. Readers who enjoy Stephen King when he turns toward aging, memory, and ordinary American dread, or fans of John Connolly’s more haunted detective work, will likely find familiar pleasures here, though Bates is scruffier and more Midwestern in temperament. Come Dance With Me is an intriguing detective novel that knows the scariest thing in the room may be time itself.
Pages: 352 | ASIN : B097NMBL25
Shinbone Lane
Shinbone Lane is a work of magical realism set in 1970s San Francisco, following sixteen-year-old runaway Maddy as she stumbles into a pocket of the city that feels almost hidden from time. Taken in by warm-hearted Clara and her neighbor Ted at 346 Shinbone Lane, Maddy finds herself surrounded by artists, misfits, and dreamers, watched over by Captain, a vividly colored, opinionated pigeon with a spring for a foot. As she settles into this found family, the lane’s history starts to surface: a bitter neighbor whose daughter vanished, a house that seems to reconfigure itself, a ripple tree that hums and shimmers, and secrets that tie the past and present together until they converge at the annual Shinbone Fair, where healing and reckoning arrive side by side.
Reading it, I kept feeling like the lane itself was the main character. The magical realism sits lightly on the story, but it is everywhere, from the impossible backyard at 346 to the soft chiming of the ripple tree’s heart-shaped leaves and the way Captain quietly nudges people toward wiser choices. Laura McHale Holland writes San Francisco with such affection that I could almost smell the mix of diesel, ocean air, and bakery sweets, especially when the scent of those famous Star Bakery scones with their butterscotch maple glaze drifts up the hill. The choice to juggle many points of view, not just Maddy’s but also people like Clara, Lark, Eloise, and others, gives the book that classic ensemble feel you often get in community-centered magical realism.
What stuck with me most were the emotional currents under the whimsy. This is magical realism, but the magic never erases how hard it is to be human. You feel Maddy’s hunger for safety after months on the road, Lark’s bruised self-image as she compares herself to every woman who passes beneath her window, and Eloise’s grief curdling into control and cruelty as she clings to the idea that her missing daughter must be close by. The book does not shy away from darker turns, including violence and betrayal, or from the way people can exploit each other while insisting they are acting out of love. At the same time, there is a steady thread of resilience that feels very much in line with women’s fiction: characters keep getting knocked down, then choosing, sometimes shakily, to reach for connection again. I appreciated that the magic, whether it is a talking pigeon or a mysterious flute sending shimmering mist across the hillside, mostly amplifies what is already in the characters instead of fixing their problems for them.
By the end, I felt like I had been invited to a long, slightly chaotic block party where people sing show tunes off key, argue about renaming the street, fall in and out of love, and still manage to show up for one another when it really counts. The book sits comfortably in the genre of magical realism with a strong blend of historical and women’s fiction, and I think it will land best with readers who enjoy character-driven stories, found family, and a city setting that feels almost like a living spell. If you are up for wandering a strange little lane in 1974 San Francisco, listening to a wisecracking pigeon and a singing old house while a group of wounded people figure out how to be kinder to themselves and each other, Shinbone Lane is a very satisfying place to spend some time.
Pages: 324 | ASIN : B0F5N6Y2X4
My Twelve-Year-Old Wife: Erased Memories
My Twelve-Year-Old Wife: Erased Memories drops the reader straight into a world where time folds, grief bites hard, and reality keeps shifting under the characters’ feet. The book follows Dan, a man who loses his wife brutally, then hurls himself backward through time to save her. He lands in 2003 and discovers a teenage version of Celia, a younger and sharper incarnation of the woman he loved, and a chilling truth about Lang, the man who killed her. As Dan struggles to protect her, time glitches, memories warp, and past and future versions of Lang collide. The story moves fast, and the stakes sit right at the throat from the opening chapter.
I kept feeling the tension coil in my chest whenever Dan slipped between timelines. His heartbreak is loud. His fear is louder. I found myself rooting for him even when he made choices that scared me. The writing surprised me with small, quiet moments tucked between scenes of dread. A breakfast. A joke. A breath of calm before the ground cracked open. They made the danger feel personal instead of mechanical, and I loved that steady tug between ordinary life and cosmic consequences. There were times when the dialogue carried more weight than the action itself, and those were the moments that resonated with me.
Time travel is usually all rules and logic, but here it felt messy and emotional, which I liked. Time behaves like a living thing. It twitches when Dan pushes it. It punishes him when he presses too hard. I also appreciated how the author handled trauma. Nothing is graphic, but the emotional fallout hit real. Celia’s distrust, Dan’s guilt, the thin places in the world that react to their fear, all of it landed with a strange mix of warmth and dread. I kept forgetting to breathe during the scenes under the bleachers, especially when the masked figure flickered in and out of sight. The writing there felt sharp and cold in the best way.
I would recommend this book to readers who enjoy psychological thrillers with a strong emotional core, and to anyone who likes their time travel tangled with heartbreak instead of gadgets. If you want a story that creeps under your skin and sits there long after the last page, this is a good one. Author Dan Uselton turns time itself into a monster, and the result is unforgettable.
Pages: 323 | ASIN : B0G2FLTQSP
Rhea’s Game: A Psychological Survival Thriller
I read Rhea’s Game by Dan Uselton, and at its core, it’s a dystopian psychological survival thriller about control, spectacle, and the quiet violence of systems that pretend to offer choice. The story follows Rhea and Ryker, two working-class teenagers caught inside a society where a brutal reality show, Chloroform Wars, has become ordinary background noise. Winning brings money and temporary safety. Losing brings public humiliation that lingers long after the cameras cut away. Told through alternating perspectives, the book traces what happens when survival, loyalty, and coercion grind against each other inside a machine designed to extract pain and call it entertainment.
What hit me first was how intentional the discomfort feels. Uselton doesn’t flinch or hurry through the hard parts. He lets them sprawl. Shame, fear, and moral compromise are given room to breathe, which makes them heavier. The dual perspectives work especially well here. Ryker’s chapters feel boxed in, crowded with guilt and second-guessing, his thoughts looping like a bad echo. Rhea’s sections are more restrained but sharper at the edges. Her resistance isn’t loud or theatrical. It’s refusal. It’s control reclaimed through stillness. That choice feels precise rather than poetic, and it carries real weight.
The handling of power is where the book excels. There are no cartoon villains, no dramatic speeches about evil. Instead, there are contracts, incentives, polished smiles, and people who insist this is simply how the world functions. The executives and politicians are unsettling because they’re calm, competent, and utterly unbothered. The prose stays mostly clean and unadorned, which makes the darker moments land harder. When figurative language shows up, it earns its place, often tied to breath, pressure, or physical limits. The pacing mirrors the story’s emotional rhythm, tightening under the gaze of the cameras and loosening just enough in private moments to remind you what’s at stake.
Rhea’s Game left me uneasy in a way that felt purposeful rather than gratuitous. It sits firmly in the dystopian psychological thriller genre, with a sharp streak of social satire running through it, especially in how it examines media consumption and our tolerance for cruelty when it’s framed as spectacle. I’d recommend it to readers who gravitate toward dark speculative fiction that asks hard ethical questions without rushing to comfort. If you like stories that explore agency, exploitation, and quiet defiance, then you’ll really enjoy this book. Rhea’s Game feels like a darker, more intimate cousin to The Hunger Games, trading large-scale rebellion and spectacle for a tighter psychological focus on coercion, consent, and what survival quietly erodes when the cameras never look away.
Pages: 268 | ASIN : B0G7VWM8QN
No Redemption, No Recovery
Because of His Heart centers around the strained marriage between a journalist and a doctor, and the psychological maze that tests their limits. Where did the idea for this novel come from?
It is not uncommon for an author to find inspiration in a dream. This was the case with Because of His Heart. The dream, quite a few years ago, provided the basic conflict, sexual abuse in marriage, but also the overwhelming uncertainties that attend when strong emotions are present. Much like “the fog of war” that is often described, there are several characters who know each other to varying degrees, but invariably make critical errors of judgment as well as indulge in half-truths in communicating. No single character understands the whole, and the reader must bring it all together.
What were some of the trials that you felt were important to highlight your characters’ development?
I believe that a thoughtful, competent, successful individual (in this case, Erica Seames) would suffer profoundly if all that she worked for, all that she created for herself, was to steadily fall away, beyond her control. So much that we believe of ourselves hinges on a feeling of agency, that our choices and actions are efficacious. If this sense collapses, the alienation and sadness may be overwhelming. In Because of His Heart, Erica Seames’ loss of trust in her husband, in her work as a physician, and finally in her own body, is her trial. Erica’s reason does not fail her, but she is led by a malign influence to depression and resignation. Her recovery is achieved by regaining her world. It is, finally, a joyous thing. In contrast, Nathan Milo chooses pain in love and deception in his progress, leading to further evil choices, including the destruction of others as he rationalizes. He too loses agency, but as it was his choice, there is no redemption, no recovery. Unreliable narratives compound uncertainties. Secondary characters, Constable John Deuter, student poet Dale Jeffer, and arts promoter Dorothea Lunnery, add to the density of the interwoven community, and the continuing uncertainty in moral choices of the main characters.
When you first sat down to write this story, did you know where you were going, or did the twists come as you were writing?
I began writing Because of His Heart with the core conflict in mind. (see above)
Honestly, I can’t remember how or when the other characters emerged, though I outlined each one as I wrote. Elements and characters from two other proto-novels entered the plot over time as the three-part structure settled in. Note: Because of His Heart took almost ten years to write, not because of uncertainties, but because I was working as a classical musician and had limited time for writing. I cut over 30,000 words from the final drafts because the length and focus became too broad over the years of writing. Some of this material may have value in itself. I am considering publishing some extra segments on my website if there is interest in the future.
What is the next book you are working on, and when will it be available?
I am an older fellow, so I may not work on another new novel. However, I have another novel complete right now. Its title is: Francis. It is quite different in design, an adventure in northern Kenya (where I have spent some time over the years). The character, Philip Stroud, who is an important figure in Because of His Heart, makes his appearance in Francis as a young man. We get the back story on Stroud and his fiancée, psychologist Jaye Stevens, in what might be considered a prequel novel. Francis is ready for publication, but my plan is to promote Because of His Heart, which I call my magnum opus, for at least a year before moving to publish Francis.
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Erica is losing her identity and purpose. How could she have been so wrong about her husband? Charles is shocked by this personal tragedy, but as a reporter who knows his beat, he is determined to understand. “I am not a bad man, I am not.” He had acted foolishly, even meanly, but as he considers his joyful marriage of eight years, he discovers that there is something vital he is missing.
As Erica flees New York for her childhood home in Toronto, an anonymous blog is her creation and refuge. She is never alone. Yet when Charles discovers Erica’s online diary, he no longer recognizes his wife or himself in her anguished assertions. To whom can he turn?
In this chilling psychological thriller, abuse, infidelity, psychological manipulation and calculated malice draw a group of near-strangers together to save Erica―in pursuit of elusive justice.
Because of His Heart
Because of His Heart tells a twisting story of strained love, private wounds, and the strange ways people hide from themselves. The book moves between Charles Portland, a journalist who stumbles through heartbreak and confusion, and Erica Seames, a doctor whose inner world spills into journals, therapy sessions, and dream-like reflections. Their marriage trembles under jealousy, grief, illness, and the pull of outside influences. Around them swirl detectives, therapists, academics, and a host of observers who add tension and mystery. What begins as a domestic rift grows into a psychological maze that pushes everyone toward breaking points and revelations. The story feels intimate and huge at the same time, like a whisper that somehow shakes the walls.
I felt pulled in by the writing right away. The style is rich, sometimes thick with emotion, sometimes floating in quiet sadness. I caught myself slowing down just to feel the rhythm of a paragraph. At other times, I sped ahead because the tension swelled and I needed to know what someone would say or remember or confess. The voices of the characters shift often, and that creates a strange, almost musical pattern. I enjoyed that. It felt risky and bold. When the book turns inward, especially through Erica’s journal passages, I felt a kind of ache, something tender and unsettling. The language is lush, sometimes a little wild, but it fits the turbulence inside her.
The book probes marriage. It pokes at the pride and fear that sit quietly between two people who love each other but stop speaking honestly. It also wanders into questions about identity, longing, projection, and the blurry line between truth and imagination. Some sections confused me in a way that felt intentional, almost like the author wanted me to experience the disorientation the characters felt. At times, I wished for clearer edges, yet the fog added to the emotional weight. I admired how the book balanced real-world problems with almost mythic undertones. Charles and Erica felt fragile but also alive, and their pain carried a beauty.
I would recommend Because of His Heart to readers who enjoy psychological fiction that digs deep into relationships and the hidden storms beneath daily life. It is perfect for someone who likes character-driven stories that wander through memory, longing, and emotional tension. If you want a straightforward plot, this may feel heavy. If you love getting lost in voices, feelings, and messy human truths, this will be a fantastic book for you.
Pages: 555 | ASIN : B0FS5BF8GD
