The Three Sunrises
ISBN 13: 978-0-9906020-2-6
Released in June 2015
Read an interview with Edward at Electric Literature.
Vol. 1 Brooklyn published “The Holy Colors: a Preface to The Three Sunrises,” an essay by Edward about how the book covers in the trilogy reflect on the writing.
Here’s a review at Entropy.
And, of course, read the comic extra at Real Pants, in which his beloved characters sit on the stoop, reading his book.
The first novella, Legion, is about a man who lives and works in a city during the time in his life when his mother dies.
The second novella, The Book of Numbers, is about two men who are lost in a desert and who are trying to make their way out of the desert.
The third, The Three Sunrises, is about a man who, walking one morning, sees his doppelganger, and who then follows this doppelganger around the city for three consecutive days.
Edward is also the author of the comic strip Rachel and Ben.
|Dimensions||8.25 × 5.5 × 1.5 in|
I have never read a book like this before. It is special and sad and calm and engaging and sometimes boring in a pleasant, but real way, and it is nightmarishly imaginative. It’s a little like Beckett’s Waiting for Godot but with much less companionship and subsequent discourse for the protagonists, and much more Carlos Casteneda-like treks into nightmarish human interiors and usually-invisible realms and dimensions; it’s a little like Auster’s New York Trilogy but with less noir-feel, more burning-hot-sun-over-a-barren-planet-sci-fi-feel; it’s a bit like Kafka (where the protagonist’s sense of duty to some social machine or stubborn sense of his own character keeps him moving onward despite the clear futility of this, the capital A Absurdity of this) but with more constant revising of the narration of the futile onwardness on the part of the speaker. Even the book’s title suggests that the writer is giving himself three tries to get it right, tell it right, even though getting it right might not make a shred of difference, ultimately. It’s still very dear to see that someone wants to try–that someone writing, foremostly, about isolation, alienation and exile is still trying to find listeners and to do well for them.