TALK:

A Novel in Dialogue

by

Corey Mesler

"Mesler has a sharp ear not only for how we say things, but, more importantly, for what the words realy mean.  A unique reading experience."   -- John Grisham

Corey Mesler’s novel is set completely in dialogue. And to steal the thunder from one of its blurbs, you’re going to be surprised at “just how sexy a novel made out of dialogue can be.” (Frederick Barthelme) You’re also going to be surprised at how mesmerizing such a novel can be as you fill in descriptive detail even as you read/hear the central character Jim, hip and bright owner of a metropolitan bookstore, quipping with his customers, philosophizing with his wife and artist friend, instructing and learning from his children—and heating afternoon stew pots of audacious linguistic sexiness with his erstwhile, almost lover. In the end, all the talk amounts to much more than talk: it builds meaning. Aristotle may have defined us as “political,” “featherless,” and “bi-pedal”; Mesler defines us as TALK. 

Excerpt from the book:

—Sit down and listen to me for a second.
            —All right.
            —I’m reviewing here.  Looking at my life with an objective eye.
            —Sounds dangerous.
            —Sarcasm to a minimum please.
            —Sorry.
            —So I’ve figured out, this is as good as it gets.
            —Really.
            —Really. 
            —As good as it gets.
            —Yes.  I mean, look at me, I never thought I’d have all this, you know?  Ok, the job is just right for me, a perfect fit, a match for my own personal mixture of ambition and desuetude.  I’m just lazy enough to want it good without working too hard and this seems about right, ok, selling books, I’m good at it, I mean, I have some small reputation for being good at it, you know?
            So money is ok, not great God knows, but I’ve got a house and I never thought I’d own a house, I mean, c’mon, when we were younger and floundering around and spending our Saturday nights with each other, feeling sorry for ourselves and gazing into our reflections in the rings under our glasses at the P&H, who thought we’d even do this, right?