Epilogue comes from the Greek “epi” meaning “in addition,” and “logos,” meaning “word.” Related to the calque “afterword” but not, in my opinion, identical; an epilogue is part of a fiction manuscript and continues the story, while an afterword allows the author a chance to have a word after the book has finished. My fellow author Felicia Davin already talked about epilogues within recent memory, so I won’t belabor any of their points, but say instead: for me, an epilogue is a chance to take a breath after the main story has come to an end. Like “Her Majesty” after the drama of Abbey Road, an epilogue lets the reader relax. It puts distance between the characters and the end of the story. It offers a a little closure.
Here is something that happened to me recently. I was driving my 5yo to preschool. We were going along a fairly quiet residential road we drive down every day, going up a hill while some bicyclists came down in the opposite direction. I forget what the 5yo and I were talking about—music, maybe. And then, suddenly, one of the bikers fell.
I don’t know why they fell. It wasn’t clear, as I slammed on my brakes and jumped out of the car, what I had actually seen. It still isn’t clear in my mind. I know that their bike kept going when they hit the ground. The bike crossed the center line of the road and hit the side of my car. I moved the bike to the parkway and ran over to where the biker’s friend was already crouched beside their unmoving body. Had the impact knocked them out, or had they lost consciousness before they fell? (Luckily, they were wearing a helmet.) As I knelt next to them, their breathing was very heavy and rough, almost agonal, and I worried I was about to have to use my somewhat rusty CPR skills. Their friend called an ambulance. I tried to take their pulse. My fingers were shaking.
They came around gradually. First they tried to sit up. We gently pushed them back down and they passed out again. Some other passersby and I carried them to the parkway, because lying in the middle of the road was probably not very safe, and then we talked to them and held their hand until the ambulance arrived. They were waking up then for real. They were able to speak to the EMTs and answer questions. When I went back to my car, they were getting loaded into the ambulance, but it wasn’t in a huge hurry to speed away, which seems like a good sign. They were fine. They were going to be, anyway.
I assume they were fine. I don’t really know. I dropped the 5yo off at preschool and went home to sit in my office and feel things. The 5yo was fine, by the way—a police officer came by and gave him a sticker.
Real life so rarely comes with any sense of closure. There’s no epilogue. There’s just stuff that happens, and then you deal with it in some way. In this sense, an epilogue is also a metatextual reminder that books, like (many? most?) other forms of art, are constructed. They mirror life, but they aren’t the same.
I suppose this is why people like telling stories, or one of the reasons. By telling you all this, I gain some amount of perspective on it. Since I’m not likely to meet the biker again or find out what actually happened to them, this is basically what I have left to hold on to—this thing happened. I did what I could.
Perhaps relatedly, I wrote this second epilogue to Renaissance back when I was working on the manuscript. I don’t remember why, exactly—possibly I had just finished editing Lazarus, Home from the War and wanted to keep writing in that point of view. Possibly I just wanted to traumatize Eli a little. It didn’t make the final cut for a few reasons: The first epilogue felt like enough of a deep breath. It was strange to shift into Eli’s voice just for this scene. I think it was at least originally longer than the first epilogue, too, which didn’t make sense given that the book was really about Sam and Ulysses. But I still really like it. I like poor, traumatized Eli trying to make sense of his experience. We didn’t really get to see that at the end of Lazarus, Home from the War. So here it is instead. It’s called “Telamones.” A telamon (a Latin adoption of the Greek word telamon, meaning bearer or support) is a male figure used as a support column. They are also called atlantes or atlantids. The female equivalent (which I think is better known) is caryatid. You can find it here in epub and here in pdf. I also added it to the collected file of shorts, Toward a Consolidated Philosophy of Ghosts. You can grab them all here in epub or here in pdf. (For the curious, I’ve also updated the series roadmap.)
Side note: the strip of grass between the sidewalk and the curb turns out to be somewhat linguistically interesting in that it is highly regional. Other terms include road verge, grass strip, tree lawn, park or parking strip, berm, easement, boulevard, and devil strip. “Parkway,” which I’ve used here, seems to be the common term in Chicago, my ancestral homeland.
Announcements
If you are up for some activism, there are several bills you should call your senators and congress people about. Authors Against Book Bans had a nice graphic explaining them. Check out 5 Calls if you need help thinking of what to say.
Not my announcement exactly, but Andie James, an author of historical romances with whom I am acquainted, is about to start a Kickstarter for a press called Besotted Books that would specialize in historical romance novels! With the historical romance genre increasingly abandoned by the “big 5” (i.e. big traditional publishers), this is a great time for small indie presses to step up and provide high quality historical romance! But small presses need big help to get off the ground. Check out Andie’s website here or follow her on Instagram here so you’ll be ready when she launches her Kickstarter.
Upcoming Events
I’ll be at the Well-Red Damsel’s Read with Pride pop-up event on June 13 at the Baird Center in Milwaukee, selling and signing books from 10am–3pm. We’ll also have little felt guys and tarot readings! Event announcement here.
I’ll be at the Big Gay Market on Sunday, June 21 from 10am–2pm at the Alliant Energy Center. This is a mask-only market, but if you forget your mask I believe they have them available. We’ll have little felt guys and tarot here too! Additional event details here.
Finally, on June 30th I’ll be at Tropes and Trifles in Minneapolis from 7–9pm for a Q&A + book signing. Tickets cost $12.51 and you can get them here. Bring your books to sign, or pick some up at the store. (I think they’ll appreciate preorders if there’s a book you really, really want.) Please come and bring your Wisconsin Gothic questions.
Wow, that’s a lot of events. We just passed the three-year publishiversary of Dionysus in Wisconsin and I feel very popular.
Book Reviews
The Bell and the Fog, by Lev AC Rosen. I have to admit that although I ultimately enjoyed the first book in this series (Lavender House), I felt like there was a lot of self-loading in the main character, and a lot of homophobic violence directed at him as well, in addition to not feeling extremely grounded in its (excellent) choice of setting, San Francisco in the early 1950s. But other readers assured me that the series improved, and they were right. This installment finds our detective, Evander “Andy” Mills, doing the run-down noir detective thing of living above a nightclub and scraping by on unpleasant “is my partner secretly married” cases. (I think Philip Marlowe would call them “matrimonials,” even though none of the parties are actually married.) Then Andy’s ex-boyfriend arrives to ask him to find some photographs and away we go. I was really pleased by the greater variety of characters Andy encountered during the course of the investigation, and the way that San Francisco sort of wells up into the narrative, huge and beautiful and a little bit heartless. The audiobook was also really good, although the narration was so noir it verged on humor.
I read books 2 and 3 in the Lady Sherlock series, A Conspiracy in Belgravia and The Hollow of Fear, by Sherry Thomas. Look, if you like Sherlock Holmes-type historical mysteries, where everyone is extremely competent, even intelligent, and people don’t make mistakes, these are top notch and you will love them. Support women’s rights! Support women’s wrongs! Let’s go.
The Casefile of Jay Moriarty, by Kit Walker (cis M/trans M). Includes the novellas Jay Moriarty Violates the Official Secrets Act, Sebastian Moran Gets Mauled by a Tiger, Jay Moriarty Ruins Everybody’s Childhood, Jay Moriarty Has Seen You Naked, and Sebastian Moran Inflicts Six Traumatic Brain Injuries, plus three short interstitial scenes. I read the first novella a while back and loved it. I apparently finished it the day after the paperback collecting Walker’s first five novellas in the series came out, so I bought that immediately. I’m delighted to report that all of these are as great as the first one—interesting mysteries, great capers, and a fun relationship. And apparently there are six more novellas for me to read!








