Wednesday, 17 December 2014

I TRULY LAMENT: WORKING THROUGH THE HOLOCAUST BOOK TOUR


https://fireandicebooktours.wordpress.com/2014/11/07/holocaust-fiction-book-tour-giveaway-i-truly-lament-by-mathias-b-freese-12314-123114/







Virtual Book Tour Dates: 12/3/14 – 12/31/14


Genres: Literary Fiction, Holocaust Fiction, Short Stories

























Blurb:


“…Freese’s

haunting lament might best be explained (at least to me) by something

Nathaniel Hawthorn wrote about Herman Melville’s endless search for

answers to questions that perplexed him all his adult life. Melville was

incessantly obsessed with what one might call the why of it all — life,

death, metaphysical mysteries. Similar to Freese, Melville was

repeatedly afflicted with a dark and depressive state of mind.”
–Duff Brenna, Professor Emeritus, CSU, San Marcos





Praise for I Truly Lament:


I have read many books about the Holocaust as I

find the subject very interesting from a psychological standpoint. I

have to say though, that Mr. Freese has placed an entirely new twist on

the subject. I will admit to being perplexed at first, having expected

something a bit different. As the collection unfolded, I was drawn into

the raw emotion. I particularly enjoyed the story, “Cantor Matyas

Balogh.” Matyas found love so late in life, only to have it ripped from

him. Freese does not just tell a tale, he creates a basis for

reflection. I believe that he is completely correct when he states that

someone can never truly understand the Holocaust. We can write about it,

but the lasting impact on the people that survived can never be put

into words. I Truly Lament is a remarkable collection that will leave

the reader speechless. –
Heather Osborne for Readers’ Favorite







Excerpt:


At a social distance from me now, as exact and


regulatory as a geometric theorem, I see the Jew as a


thing rather than entity. He is foreign to me.





The Disenchanted Golem





IN MY LATEST INCARNATION I was a golem for a few months in


Poland. Invoked by the mumbo-jumbo Kabalistic rites of a

Hasidic



tzaddik, I was raised from nothing. Of course, Jews have no idea where


I come from or how I exist when not on call. They know nothing


of the fabric of my being. They believe, or at least this Hasid did,


that prayer—and demands—bring me forth. Rubbish! My directive


comes from a different source and one that’s not accountable to me.


I cannot explain my existence. I’m in the dark much like the rabbi.


And when I wake to a call and go about my tasks, which are often to


tear out legs and arms of Poles, in this instance, I find it a necessary


evil of which I’m a significant part. I’d rather rest in soil from which


I come, or at least that is the matter that forms my lumpish shape.


Going way back to 1492, Señor Torquemada, the Grand Inquisitor


who was of Jewish descent, cursed me for dismembering a fellow


priest whom I’d beaten with a candelabrum until he curled up in a ball


and died. Spry Torquemada fled from my presence and I lumbered


after him, finally grabbing the wily old bastard by his caftan. I can’t


speak, which is problematic, for I’ve seen or experienced so much


about death and dying that I’ve a lot to say. Sometimes I would like


interrogate the victim to see how he responds not only to his imminent


death but to my physical presence: which is more terrifying?


Anyway, I scared the shit out of the Grand Inquisitor but let him


live. I really don’t know why. Before I left his home I peed in his


private chapel, the piss laced with mud and twigs, an earthy aroma


to it, like asparagus, essentially all the parts of my makeup. Basically


I am mud.


I like to do a good job. Different golems act differently. We’re

all



of the same construction. Quite simply, as a golem I need no compass


for finding a malicious Gentile. I just know his whereabouts and I


intuitively seek him out—unnerving, if you’re a Gentile. Jews mistakenly


think I act for them; well, yes and no, basically more no than yes.


I’m an independent slayer, like the angel of death. I definitely don’t


act out of religious reasons or because Jews need me at this time or


another. It’s all so complicated as to my origins and purposes.




Buy Links:


Amazon Kindle


Amazon Paperback


Wheatmark











About the Author:


MATHIAS B. FREESE is a writer, teacher, and psychotherapist. His recent collection of essays, This Mobius Strip of Ifs,

was the winner of the National Indie Excellence Award of 2012 in

general non-fiction and a 2012 Global Ebook Award finalist. His
I Truly Lament: Working Through the Holocaust was one of three finalists chosen in the 2012 Leapfrog Press Fiction Contest out of 424 submissions.





Connect With The Author:


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