What The Homeless Are Reading

Publishers Weekly asked a homeless man ("homeless by choice," he says)  in San Francisco about the books he reads.  David Cook, aka Alley Cat, 52, is currently reading CRADLE OF SATURN by James Hogan ("I like the descriptions and the political critiques"). The last book he read was A PUZZLE IN A PEAR TREE by Parnell Hall.  The magazine asked him what he plans to read next.

"The next book I get. I receive donations by the crateful."

Now, after this tidbit in PW, he’ll probably start getting ARCs, too… and blurb requests from  PublishAmerica authors.

8 thoughts on “What The Homeless Are Reading”

  1. What stupid comments. You jerks don’t know your way out of a toilet paper conundrum. My first novel, POP, chronicles the life and death of my best friend, a homeless man who lived in Golden Gate Park and died there of exposure, a man circle jackoffs couldn’t stand a stick with. Publish America sucks and I turned them down. So what is the point? You anonymous calumnists have no cajones, much less a prolific literary output, etc., otherwise you’d be touting your wares, instead of your insipid fake name character assaults, cryptic, and your uncreative jests at you presume my expense.
    Not one of you individuals have offered to send me a free book or an album or ask me to view your extensive collection of fine art paintings — your just spending your precious time denigrating those of us that actually do the work of producing art — not commercial pabulum, for the masses, work not dictated by greed or need but out of love.
    There are those of us that have the courage of our artistic convictions and will not be swayed by commercial considerations because the corporations don’t tell us what to write nor does the government nor do suck ass journalists and opportunistic writers that pretend to know art when they only know “arts and crafts.”
    Todd Goldberg is a sellout LA pimp and his cousin is a me too journalist internet wannabe, nothing too original in that, anymore so than my being the living embodiment of a tradition, a literary musical artistic one. But my work is for the people, to the people, about the people, and I have rarely gotten any monetary remuneration for theses labors and these expenses of time and energy.
    And that really sticks in the craws of these husksters of crappy books that people in suits come and pay them money for.
    That I might do it for the cultural uplifting of my compadres.

  2. Finally, an absurd and incongruent comment from the nerd you really are. I like that moniker too, but you can’t have it because you didn’t think of it first. Nor little else, I imagine . . . though you haven’t in anyway convinced me to spend my precious time reading your books.
    Hopi Fourth of You Lie.


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