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Beginning With The End In Mind
The Last Altar Boy follows a deeply wounded man traveling through the American heartland to scatter his daughter’s ashes and make peace with his past. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
I’m an ardent believer in beginning with the end in mind.
In September 2014, I had a dream, unlike any dream I ever experienced. (If readers wish to know more about that dream, they’ll find the link to an essay I wrote in 2023, before launching “Charlie”: https://carlreinelt.com/blogs/blog/the-story-behind-the-story-of-charlie )
When I took to the road in June 2015 to begin writing what would become an epic quest for redemption, I wasn’t thinking at all about a series. I was merely responding to a calling to write a story that paralleled the sins of my own dysfunctional life. I wasn’t even sure why, but I was acting on faith. Prior to that road trip, three years of intensive psychotherapy had opened my eyes to many aspects about the nature of childhood trauma, drug addiction, and the terrible cost they exact on families, friendships and the human spirit. Bundle all that with other family tragedies of abuse, neglect, and loss, and you’ve got a character named Charlie Houden.
Reflecting, two years later, on the surreal nature of that 2015 road trip, I realized that any true healing arc for Charlie Houden must begin with psychological healing, culminating in the intense desire to traverse the bridge into spiritual healing. Thus, the realization that “Charlies Ladder” was merely the beginning. Surprisingly, I had already acquired the material necessary for the sequel from that original road trip.
Revision upon revision over the next four years brought me to a Roman Catholic priest, who validated the assumption that true healing must occur in this order. (That priest, by the way, has a Ph.D. in clinical psychotherapy.)
It seemed like you took your time in building the characters and the story to great emotional effect. How did you manage the pacing of the story while keeping readers engaged?
What a perceptive question! Pacing and plot management, indeed, were major challenges. Realizing I needed an ultimate antagonist, such a figure had to lurk and operate in the shadows for a time, to introduce an itch the reader couldn’t scratch. Using the theme of a demon Charlie couldn’t exorcise from his psyche, and amplifying the mischief that demon could cause — “through the prudent use of humans” — kept me thinking about ways to continually “up the ante” by painting Houden ever more tightly into the demon’s trap. Doing so without Houden’s knowledge made for some delicious options and detours into dramatic irony.
Given Houden’s early grounding in Catholic doctrine and theology, which informed his choices, I had to become quite familiar with the spiritual teachings of the “father of western philosophy,” Saint Augustine. Providing the reader with enough data — to help their understanding of Charlie’s actions — had to be carefully balanced with the need for ever-faster pacing.
However, the biggest challenge was bringing all the lethal forces together at once — in a sequence that felt logical — while approaching a frenzied pace. Scene changes had to be swift and creative, yet revealing. Tightening the narrative prose with constant rewrites over time helped “tighten the noose,” amplifying the sense of dread.
What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?
There were several themes that kept presenting themselves. Part of the value of the rewrites was sharpening the focus on the most salient themes to the story arc. Seven themes emerged:
- Trauma, and its dark impact across generations.
- Apophenia — and its challenges as a result of trauma.
- Human capacity for good and evil.
- The power of faith and our relationship to God.
- Conversely, the loss of that faith, and how it blinds us to truth.
- Agape love and self-sacrifice.
- The vital role of self-forgiveness in healing.
Where do you see your characters after the book ends?
Generally speaking, none of the characters are unaffected. No one who was there on the seventh day could remain indifferent. Without indulging spoilers…I think the three characters who most inspire imagination concerning the direction of their lives are:
- The papergirl
- The Police chief
- The priest
However, all who witnessed the climactic confluence of good vs evil are forever changed. And that truly IS the point: in the end, Charlie Houden is each of us; and we ARE Charlie…struggling to bring order from chaos, thereby finding our ultimate purpose.
A Life Lived on the Edge
Charlie’s Ladder follows a middle-aged man crushed under the weight of trauma, guilt, and unrelenting grief who, after the death of his daughter, begins therapy, taking a journey through his repressed suffering, searching for meaning and redemption amid despair. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
The inspiration for “Charlie’s Ladder” was a life lived on the edge, much like Charlie’s. His experiences were my experiences. “Charlie’s Ladder” is, in fact, a memoir wrapped in a novel.
What are some things that you find interesting about the human condition that you think make for great fiction?
Great Question! In my experience, people are mostly nuanced…generous and stingy, grudge-holding and forgiving, loving and hating, good and evil. Eventually Charlie, himself, acknowledges that even his mother “wasn’t all one thing.” We — all of us — have within us the capacity for great things…even while living lives of “quiet desperation.” Capturing and accurately portraying such nuance is not easy; but it’s absolutely essential to making the characters approachable…for good storytelling AND great fiction.
I find that, while writing, you sometimes ask questions and have the characters answer them. Do you find that to be true?
In the case of this book, I do. I wrote “Charlie’s Ladder” as both a commentary on the human condition, and a reflection on the fact that behind closed doors, many families still struggle with abuse of monstrous proportion. I deliberately put those questions out there for the characters themselves to grapple with. I chose this style as a way of permitting the reader to first witness, then respond to, these questions for themselves…giving them permission to put down the book and reflect for a time.
What questions did you ask yourself while writing this story?
Oh, boy! I had to laugh when I first read this question…not because it’s silly, but because it’s so perceptive of my writing process! Look, it took me ten years to complete both bookends of the “Charlie Series.” (“The Last Altar Boy” is the sequel) I spent an enormous percentage of that time questioning…
Who am I…really? Who are each of us, in relation to our own traumas?
How have I possibly survived this long? How do any of us?
Why does God allow so many good people, of such deep faith and conviction, to suffer so? For what greater purpose, if any?
Will I ever become “unbroken?” Can any of us?
Am I simply a victim…even a survivor? (as Charlie observes to Dina.) Or, am I a “warrior?” (as Dina replies) There’s a quotation often attributed to Plato…goes like this: “Be kind to everyone you meet, for everyone is fighting a mighty battle.” I am constantly aware of that perspective when meeting people, as I’ve found it to be true in most cases.
These are the questions that most torture Charlie’s psyche. Thus, when Charlie howls, “WHY DID HE LET MY DAUGHTER DIE?!” its a primitive howl of existential pain that we all eventually face.
As Charlie learns, there are no easy answers.
When will The Last Altar Boy be available?
“The Last Altar Boy” was released in November 2024.
Can you give us an idea of where that book will take readers?
It’s been referred to many times as a “road trip into hell.” Whereas “Charlie’s Ladder” transpires over the course of three years, “The Last Altar Boy” transpires over the course of seven days. As you might imagine, the pacing is frenzied and frantic, as Houden leaves with his daughter’s ashes — and a secret plan — to confront God and recover the soul of his daughter.
This “road trip” takes Charlie to the land of his origin. However, Charlie is not the only one with plans. He will be confronted by a former lover, a resistant priest, and the darkest of his many demons. Born into the Roman Catholic faith, inculcated with its dogma and traditions, Charlie will have to reach deep inside to answer each of those questions (above) that were raised in the first book. In doing so, Houden comes face to face with true evil. Part police procedural, part murder conspiracy, part ancient spiritual quest, the pace continually increases until the frenzy and conflation of evil intentions compel Charlie to make an existential choice. His choice takes him on a timeless journey, where he will face his deepest fears and his greatest joy on this “road trip from hell,” taken by the last altar boy.
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Last Altar Boy
Carl Reinelt’s The Last Altar Boy is a genre-blending novel that weaves together grief, addiction, spirituality, and historical memory. The story follows Charlie Houden, a man on a haunting road trip from Texas to Michigan to carry out a mysterious plan involving the ashes of his daughter. Along the way, he confronts demons both real and imagined, relives past traumas, and finds unexpected moments of grace. The narrative slips seamlessly between timelines, voices, and even the spiritual realm, grounding Charlie’s personal journey within a broader meditation on generational pain and redemption. We get glimpses of American history, the harrowing account of the 1881 Michigan fire and the forced relocation of Native peoples, all echoing the central theme: what do we do with the suffering we inherit?
Reinelt has a gift for capturing the internal disarray of someone at the end of their rope, yet his prose remains grounded and sharp. Charlie is messy, stubborn, and endearing in that deeply flawed way that real people are. The dialogue is snappy and real, the dreams are terrifying and surreal, and the flashbacks carry the weight of memory like bruises. There’s a scene in a decrepit Arkansas motel that plays out like something from a psychological horror film, and I found myself tensing up like I was watching it on screen. And then, in the next chapter, he’ll drop you into a quiet sunrise on Lake Huron and let the stillness do its work. The book is honest, reflective, and aching. It meanders in places, sure, but so does grief. And Charlie’s road trip is less about a destination and more about the slow crawl toward any kind of peace.
What surprised me most was how the book balances pain and beauty without flinching from either. There’s trauma here, lots of it. Loss of a child, addiction, estrangement, inherited guilt. But Reinelt doesn’t drown in it. He gives Charlie these tender moments of human contact: the kindness of a stranger, a well-timed joke with his partner Mia, a newspaper from a girl who might not be entirely of this world. Those moments hit harder than any grand revelation. Reinelt also doesn’t force a neat ending, and I appreciate that. Life rarely gives us one. Instead, Charlie’s journey offers something quieter: the chance to keep walking, even when your legs are shaking. That resonated with me more than I expected it to.
The Last Altar Boy is for anyone who’s ever carried around guilt like a stone in their pocket. It’s for people grappling with grief that doesn’t go away just because the world keeps spinning. I’d recommend it to fans of Cormac McCarthy, T.S. Eliot, or even folks who enjoy quiet, lyrical indie films. But more than anything, I’d recommend it to people who are trying to make sense of their pain.
Pages: 320 | ISBN: 978-1-7362149-5-4
Charlie’s Ladder
Charlie’s Ladder is a haunting novel that follows Charlie Houden, a middle-aged man crushed under the weight of trauma, guilt, and unrelenting grief. Structured around therapy sessions, fragmented memories, and painful flashbacks, the book chronicles his inner collapse following the death of his daughter and a lifetime of emotional wounds that trace back to childhood. As Charlie begins therapy with Dr. Dina Epstein, we journey with him through layers of repressed suffering—his tormented Catholic upbringing, abusive family dynamics, and disintegrating marriage—culminating in a search for meaning and redemption amid despair.
Reading this book was like cracking open a chest that had been sealed too long. The writing is raw, vivid, and fearless. It’s not just storytelling—it’s bleeding on the page. Carl Reinelt doesn’t hold back. His prose punches you in the gut, then leaves you stunned with a tender line. The nonlinear structure works beautifully. It mimics the way trauma actually feels. Unpredictable, fragmented, cyclical. I found myself wincing at some scenes and nodding solemnly at others, especially those involving Charlie’s disillusionment with faith and his grief-ridden memories of Lizzie.
That said, the book doesn’t let you get comfortable. And that’s the point. It drags you into the trenches of mental anguish and spiritual crisis without offering any neat resolutions. There’s beauty in that, but also a heaviness that lingers. Some parts felt intentionally disjointed, which could frustrate readers looking for a clear plot arc or redemption arc. But what made me stay was Charlie himself—broken, cynical, yet deeply relatable. His voice, despite its sarcasm and self-loathing, rang true. His banter with Dina Epstein crackled with tension and dark humor. And his painful unraveling felt not only believable, but necessary.
Charlie’s Ladder is not for the faint of heart. It’s for readers who are willing to sit in discomfort, to face the messiness of trauma and mental illness without flinching. I’d recommend this to anyone who’s lost someone, struggled with depression, or felt estranged from religion or family. It’s heavy, yes, but it’s also a deeply personal exhale.
Pages: 319 | ISBN: 978-1-7362149-6-1
LITERARY TITAN 