OUT NOW: New Edition Of Arthur Byron Cover's AN EAST WIND COMING

DIGITAL PARCHMENT SERVICES
Is Proud To Announce The Republication Of Arthur Byron Cover's Second Book in his Great Mystery Trilogy
AN EAST WIND COMING
For Immediate Release
Digital Parchment Services, through its Strange Particle Press science fiction imprint, and Arthur Byron Cover are extremely thrilled to announce the publication of an enhanced edition of Cover's follow-up to his Nebula-nominated Autumn Angels, book two in his Great Mystery Trilogy, An East Wind Coming.
"An East Wind Coming is a decadent smorgasbord oozing sex and nihilism, peppered with the thrills of various pulp fictions and comic-book universes. In a far future the iconic characters of nineteenth- and twentieth-century pop culture have been reborn, all of them referring to themselves coyly as "the consulting detective," "the good doctor," "the Big Red Cheese," etc. Imagine Moorcock's Dancers at the End of Time reinvented by a chimera of Kim Newman, Philip José Farmer, and Belgian nihilist surrealist Jacques Sternberg, and you'll get an idea of the strange atmosphere of this dense and mindwarping novel. Cosmic concepts, depressing sex, horrific crimes, and pulp heroes ... what more could you want?"
–The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction
Arthur Byron Cover’s work is filled with "...agile inventiveness ... extraordinary salience and outlandishness ... astonishing imagination ... grotesque and hilarious ... honest and often truly beautiful ... shocking and exultant ... nothing like the usual SF fare."
–A.A. Attanasio, author of Radix
"The book is excellent. I recommend this one very highly, with the proviso that the reader will only enjoy it if they happen to like a great number of different types of writing; from great literature to comic books, pulp magazines, penny dreadfuls, etc."
–Casebook: Jack the Ripper
The ebook edition of An East Wind Coming is available now – with a trade paperback edition arriving June 2016.
Coming soon, also from the Digital Parchment Services, will be Arthur Byron Cover's Platypus Of Doom, The Sound Of Winter, and a collection of Arthur Byron Cover's short stories.
"It takes the materials of everyday entertainments—pulp heroes, movies, comics, detective stories—and transforms them ... into a gestalt that is fresh ... the lawyer is modeled after Doc Savage's sidekick, 'Ham,' Brig. Gen. Theodore Marley Brooks; the fat man is Sidney Greenstreet; the gunsel is Elisha Cook, Jr. in The Maltese Falcon; the Big Red Cheese is Captain Marvel; the Insidious Oriental Doctor is Fu Manchu; the Queen of England who calls herself a virgin is Elizabeth I; the ace reporter is Lois Lane; the zanny imp from the Fifth Dimension is Mr. Mxyzptlk, and both the imp and Lois are, of course, from the Superman comics; the godlike man with no name is Clint Eastwood in the Sergio Leone-directed spaghetti westerns; the galactic hero with two right arms is Harry Harrison's Bill, the Galactic Hero; the fuzzy (but boring) little green balls of Sharkosh are Star Trek scenarist David Gerrold's tribbles; and you can figure out for yourself the true identities or esoteric references for The Ebony Kings, the poet, the shrink, the bems, the other fat man and his witty leg man, and on and on."
–Harlan Ellison, on Autumn Angels
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An East Wind Coming
(The Great Mystery Trilogy Book 2)
FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED
Introductory price: $2.99
ISBN:

Autumn Angels
(The Great Mystery Trilogy Book 1)
FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED
Introductory price: $2.99
ISBN: 9781615085811
Arthur Byron Cover's Site
Distributed by Futures-Past Editions
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For Review Copies Contact:
M.Christian, Publisher
Digital Parchment Services
Digital Parchment Services is a complete ebook and print service for literary estates and literary agents. The founders of Digital Parchment Services are pioneers in digital publishing who have collectively published over 2,500 ebooks and PoD paperbacks since 1998.

DPS clients include the estates of multiple Hugo winning author William Rotsler, and science fiction legend Jody Scott; authors such as Locus Award finalist Ernest Hogan, Hugo and Nebula nominee Arthur Byron Cover, prize winning mystery author Jerry Oster, psychologist John Tamiazzo, Ph.D., award winning nutritionist Ann Tyndall; and Best of Collections from Fate Magazine and Amazing Stories.
Twitter: @DigiParchment
Facebook: Digital-Parchment-Services

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The Original Cover Of Arthur Byron Cover's An East Wind Coming - New Edition Coming Soon!

Take a look at this first edition cover of Art's An East Wind Coming - a new edition is coming soon from Digital Parchment Services!


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Arthur Byron Cover - And Buffy, The Vampire Slayer!

Check it out: the cover to Arthur Byron Cover's Buffyverse novel: Night Of The Living Rerun!

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Arthur Byron Cover's Movie-Tie In For The 1980 Flash Gordon Movie!


Check out this fun pic of Arthur Bryon Cover's movie tie-in book for the 1980 Flash Gordon Film!



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Great Review of Arthur Byron Cover's Autumn Angels By Dude He's The Stallion

Here's a great review of Autumn Angels by Dude He's The Stallion (no, we don't make these things up).



Buying a copy of Autumn Angels has reawakened my mind to the pleasures of a good science fiction story.

Autumn Angels is a story set millions of years in the future where man has been turned into godlike man. Every being on the planet has powers that border on being all-powerful. As the people are so changed, their names have been changed to aspects. Example: our main characters, the demon, the fat man, the lawyer. The aforementioned characters decide that life if too boring with the godlike man and that godlike man should learn depression. With depression godlike man could learn to have hopes and dreams to counteract the depression. The book concerns the character’s attempts to make their plan work. The quest for depression takes them far across the universe, introducing a myriad of interesting characters.

I found the mental gymnastics engaging. All the characters in the book are fictional characters from another source. Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse are characters, but they aren’t called that. The Big Red Cheese is a character and not everyone will know that is Captain Marvel. The flip side of this is that I don’t know who all the characters are and I miss some of the jokes. There is a lot of humor in the book. I would classify it as a comedy.

The concept is explored to it’s logical (and comedic) end, with a peek at characters that have nothing to do with the main plot. My favorite section was the Donald Duck section. The book is filled with inventive characters, my favorite being the Crawling Bird. The poster child for depression, the Crawling Bird could star in his own book and I would read it. The scene where the Crawling Bird is unveiled to godlike man at a fair was one of my favorite passages in the book.
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Publisher's Weekly On Arthur Byron Cover's Wild Scifi Ride Autumn Angels!

Here's a real treat: a review of the new edition (from Digital Parchment Service's Strange Particle Press imprint) of Arthur Byron Cover's fantastic scifi novel, Autumn Angels from Publisher's Weekly:



"This strange novel-parable launched Cover’s long SF career in 1975. A repulsive demon, a black-derbyed lawyer, and a white-suited fat man plot to bring morbid depression to their race of godlike men, giving them purpose to master the universe. Their instrument is a pathetic crawling bird, whose heart-aching song of lament at its inability to fly causes listeners to feel anger and disappointment. Out of this quirky start, Cover swirls a phantasmagoric slew of allusions, quasi-references, and escapist "sampling" into something Harlan Ellison’s introduction calls "entertainingly meaningful."
- Publisher's Weekly


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Brand New, Never-Before-Published Story From Nebula Nominee Arthur Byron Cover!


Here's a spectacular treat: a never-before-published story from Nebula Finalist Arthur Byron Cover (and author of the newly re-released Autumn Angels): "His (Beloved) Revolutionary Sweetheart" up right now on Amazing Stories.

Here's a taste:

His (Beloved) Revolutionary Sweetheart
By 
Arthur Byron Cover

The assassin strides through a residential neighborhood of mixed sentients. The condition of the houses varies – some are well maintained, while others appear to have rotted from the inside. They tend to be close together and tall, with railed porches and never less than six gables, front, back, or side.

The place isn’t exactly quiet; syrupy music emanates from a window – the music is sanctioned but the assassin could swear the resident inside is wearing headphones, and can easily be listening to something else entirely. Children laugh and a male can be easily heard from an open kitchen window – seems his toast is inappropriately puffed; there is much derision from the rest of the family.

The residents are mostly humanoid, their pigmentation usually dark brown or green. His goose yellow skin stands out slightly, but it’s still common enough in the neighborhood as to not be unusual.

Up ahead, kids play street hockey, while adolescents slack atop a retaining wall. A couple of winged inflator kids bounce across the street, oblivious to traffic. Their mother, with her greater lift, crosses in two efficient bounces and corrals them.

The assassin ignores the police vehicle passing by on patrol. The driver, a reptilian, holds the hot dog he’s eating in his tail.

He arrives at the target’s home, a multi-gabled abode with an unadorned yard and a transparent fence. Early in his career he’d attempted to climb a fence not unlike this one. His efforts attracted the notice of the neighborhood watch and he was nearly lynched.

He finds it ironic that a being whose recklessness had ignited so many fuses would reside in such a humble dwelling, in a typical neighborhood on an average world, smack in the middle of a less important grouping on the edge of the civilized worlds.

In times past, the target had purportedly lived underground, but in truth he’d lived publicly and large. Amours warranted top coverage in the ether. His personal intrigues were scrutinized. His out of control children had been scandals.

The assassin was of the opinion the target deserved to live in a monastery, where he’d pour gas on his conscience and light it up after every meal.

But he wasn’t here to judge. Merely to execute. He has no idea he has already been spotted – by his target no less, from the midway gable.

The target’s name is Edward Everett Laszlo, and for nearly a century he has been either a savior or a toxic influence, depending on who you talked to.

Ed has survived numerous assassin attempts, a dozen accidental overdoses, showers of firebombs, and more STDs than can be obtained during a thousand orgies. He has vacationed in warzones, slummed with degenerates, and, in the opinion of some, deliberately provoked the doubt and resistance that are at the heart of the wave of insurrections currently sweeping the empire.

Ed’s life has been long and fruitful, but right now he’s fracking tired. Exhausted. His mind is going, while his body feels like it’s already got up and went. He views the presence of this latest intrusion on his continued life with resignation. Maybe the time has come to get his ticket punched – let history have its say.

Even so, his favorite soaps start new episodes next week. They just might be enough to live for.

#

The assassin walks through the gate with the intention of starting with whoever answers. Suddenly the front door slams open with a thunderclap, and through the egress zooms a stooped, emasculated figure, so old he looks mummified. Laszlo. His arms are thrown open as if he was greeting an old friend, but unfortunately so is his bathrobe.

The assassin is not the only one to notice. A few yards down a little girl shrieks. She has blonde pigtails and blue skin. She holds her raggedly doll by the neck, shakes it in Edward’s general direction, and denounces him in terms so profane the assassin fears his ears will burn.

Edward is unperturbed. “Nita, how many times has your mother told you not to play in Timmy’s yard? Go home!”

Nita sticks out a forked tongue. She turns but just before leaving, wiggles her pinky at them.

Damn it!” Edward is horrified and contritely ties his robe. “Sorry, babe, it won’t happen again, I promise you!”

The kid laughs.

Edward takes the assassin by the elbow with inappropriate familiarity and whispers conspiratorially, “The girl has problems. I’ve recommended counseling, but her parents seem to think it’s not necessary. But trust me, that girl’s destined to have her face showcased in the crime section. Who knows? She might be a future customer.

Can I offer you a cup of coffee? I know what you’re here for – a determinedly set jaw doesn’t work with your features, by the way – and I can’t stop you. But why the rush? I got nothing but time and it’s nearing rush hour. I’ve learned from bitter personal experience the species don’t mix well on crowded streetcars. Besides, you’ve got an aura blacker than a cosmic radio source. The empaths are going to look on you like a bonfire in reverse.”

Ed guides the reluctant gentleman through the front door. “So you might as well sit back and relax a spell, till traffic’s not so crowded. Furthermore, you might want to consider how much more pleasant it is chatting with someone than sitting around alone.”

The foyer extends several yards through the center of the house. Sitting and entertainment rooms lay on either side. Plastic plants abound. So do 3Ds – montages of Edward at various stages of his life: Ed receiving an honorary knighthood from a rebel queen; Ed on stage at a massive intra-species festival concert (attendance: half a million); Ed smoking a joint in a war zone (dead bodies lying everywhere); Ed surrounded by a bevy of naked babes, at least three of whom have tails (in a hot tub filled with a suspicious looking liquid).

Let’s talk in the kitchen, which is where the coffee is anyway,” says Ed. “Don’t worry; I’m not going to try anything. I couldn’t whup you in a rigged fight and the last mollusk I saw still moved faster than me. Nor, alas, am I permitted weaponry, be it activated verbally or sonically. The Home Owner’s Association won’t permit it. They actually send people around to inspect the premises for unauthorized weaponry, like we lived in the middle of a civilized cluster, can you believe it?”

Once in the kitchen, Ed, ever the dutiful host, pulls out a chair for his guest. “If you sit here, you’ll always have a good view of what I’m doing. I apologize for the silent ambience. I used to listen to music all the time, but I must have hit a fuddy-duddy stage, because all the modern stuff strikes me as derivative, in a bad way, and all the old stuff has become like time markers. Doesn’t matter. I always have these tunes bubbling up in my head anyway – hot lava in the brain! Know what I mean? Didn’t think so.

Hmm. Come to think of it, that’s tragic. In my experience, it doesn’t matter if you’re a leader or a grunt, a zealot or a drone, you never really discover yourself until you’ve immersed yourself body and soul in a first-rate piece of music. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve discovered myself in plenty of the most pleasurable second-rate ways imaginable, but music is still the best. For one thing, it helps you keep in touch with your emotions without ever having to actually to use them, which right there is something I think would appeal to you.

So sit back. Relax. Take a load off and return with me to those thrilling days of yesteryear.”

The assassin gazes out the window. It’s becoming dark. He sighs and switches on the outdoor lights.
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