Mostly Dead Melvin

Mostly Dead Melvin

by Foinah Jameson

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780990823803
Publisher: Smoking Simian Scribbles
Publication date: 10/19/2014
Pages: 324
Sales rank: 1,115,595
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.68(d)

About the Author

Foinah Jameson lives in Portland, Oregon, the delightfully weird center of the Pacific Northwest, and spends her days with a fabulous husband, two Norse gods disguised as her daughters, and a menagerie of used animals. At night, Foinah sneaks out to her office on the back deck under an umbrella where she writes feverishly on a battered Mac laptop, typing away madly until the sun rises. Dark, comic, creepy tales come to life as she sips cold coffee and chain smokes aromatic cigars in the crisp night air.
She is the author of Marker of Faith -- a supernatural thriller, Weeku -- a soon-to-be-released graphic novel featuring the amazing art work of Michael O'Manion, and five short story collections. Her short stories and novels run the gamut of the supernatural to poignant vignettes of everyday life.
In a previous life Foinah was a musician, a publican, a fortune teller, a chef, a burgeoning astrophysicist, and an artist rep.
Now a domestic goddess and a mother by day/writer by night, Foinah enjoys her alter ego as the smoking monkey who gets to use a laptop.

"Writing is so much cheaper than therapy! And you can drink while you do it."

For more information and updates visit www.foinahjameson.com

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Mostly Dead Melvin 4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 1 reviews.
Callalily More than 1 year ago
I’ve seldom met a character who needed a hug and a beer and a life coach—in that order—as much as Melvin. Even Melvin’s death needs a do-over. Poor Melvin thought he was going to get lucky with the hot chick from the bar. Instead she chomped his neck and turned him into a vampire… mostly. Now Melvin’s stuck with blue skin, no fangs, and a miasma of rot. And then things get worse. Mostly Dead Melvin had me chuckling in sympathy throughout. I’ll admit that my chuckles were tinged with a bit of “glad this isn’t happening to me.” Melvin whines. To himself. On his blog. When the ghost of the first guy he kills—accidentally, of course—haunts him, he whines to him, too. And then Melvin gets a swift kick in his stinky blue butt in the shape of a super-helpful friend. A female friend on whom Melvin has crushed in silence since long before he was mostly dead. When this friend rolls up her sleeves it’s like Lucille Ball in vintage I Love Lucy piling chaos upon chaos. And then things get worse. Melvin’s misadventures make for a fun read. You’ll really want to poor sap to succeed. You’ll root for him to grow a spine. You’ll cheer when he’s up against some hard-core bad guys and doesn’t (always) trip over his own feet. Melvin’s the Everyman of the 21st century, if Everyman had blue skin and was mostly dead. Works for me.