Featured: Nevermore by David Niall Wilson

Featured: Nevermore by David Niall Wilson Purchase:

Review: “the characters are well-drawn, and the settings are described vividly. Perhaps best of all, the premise is unique and very memorable—I’ve never read anything quite like it.”

Nevermore is a dark, historical fantasy filled with romance, southern charm, and all the trappings of a classic historical romance. Walking the line between the occult, the paranormal, and the reality of 1800s life in The Great Dismal Swamp,

Nevermore is also chock full of action and adventure. Follow Edgar Allan Poe and Lenore into The Great Dismal Swamp and experience one version of the birth of Poe’s famous poem, “The Raven.”

On the banks of Lake Drummond, on the edge of The Great Dismal Swamp, there is a tree in the shape of a woman.

One dark, moonlit night, two artists met at The Lake Drummond Hotel, built directly on the borderline of North Carolina and Virginia. One was a young woman with the ability to see spirits trapped in trees and stone, anchored to the earth beyond their years.

Her gift was to draw them, and then to set them free. The other was a dark man, haunted by dreams and visions that brought him stories of sadness and pain, and trapped in a life between the powers he sensed all around him, and a mundane existence attended by failure.

They were Eleanore MacReady, Lenore, to her friends, and a young poet named Edgar Allan Poe, who traveled with a crow that was his secret, and almost constant companion, a bird named Grimm for the talented brothers of fairy-tale fame.

Their meeting drew them together in vision, and legend, and pitted their strange powers and quick minds against the depths of the Dismal Swamp itself, ancient legends, and time.
Once, upon a shoreline dreary, there was a tree.

This is her story.

David Niall Wilson

Meet David Niall Wilson:

I was born in a very small town in Illinois. Clay County has fewer people in it than your average large city, and Flora , Illinois , is so tiny it barely hits the map. That’s where it happened, though. My grandparents lived there, and I spent a lot of happy times with them in my youth — particularly my grandfather, Merle Cornelius Smith, who was likely the most amazing man I’ll ever claim association with. But that’s another story, and this one is about me.

My first really clear memories start around my third year of life, when my father left. He took me out for a drive, let me sit on his lap, then went back out for milkshakes and never came back. Things blur quite a lot during that period, but after a period of living with my grandparents, my brother and I were whisked away to Charleston Illinois , where our mom had a job working in one of the cafeterias at Eastern Illinois University , and had married a barber named Robert Leland “Bob” Smith.

I could write volumes about good ol’ Bob, but I won’t. If you really want to meet him, look between the lines of the bits and pieces of Deep Blue where Brandt talks about his father. Think Seagram’s 7, Ballantine beer, cheap cigars, Hank Williams, Sr., and Archie Bunker and sort of squash it all together into a 6’4″ 270 or so pound frame — that was Bob. Formative? Yes. Important here? Nope.

I escaped Charleston , family, Bob, and a number of other things in 1977 when I left in June and joined the United States Navy. I headed for San Diego , where I went to boot camp, headed next to Groton CT for submarine school (which I dropped out of because my ears wouldn’t equalize) and ended up in North Chicago attending Electronics Technician “A” school. I learned guitar, got engaged, unengaged, taught Bible School , got excommunicated, and moved on to San Diego, California once again as part of the crew of the USS Paul F. Foster.

My time in the US Navy would fill a dozen books. In fact, parts of it can be found in almost everything I’ve written. Many of my novels were typed on US Navy computers (later on my own, but still on board) and the first two issues of my magazine, THE TOME, were printed and published on board the USS Guadalcanal (thank you Uncle Sam for supporting the arts).

I was stationed on a lot of ships, went on a lot of cruises, lived in Rota , Spain for three years, and wound up retired in Norfolk , Virginia . I’ve worked as a contractor with several companies, and am now the IT Manager and Facility Security Officer for a company in Elizabeth City, North Carolina.

We live in a nice, new house now where everything mostly works, but recently I lived in the historic William R. White house in a tiny place called Hertford , NC , where you buy your hardware from a man named Eerie Haste, and you can still get an ice-cream cone for fifty cents.

I have a woman who loves and supports me, Patricia Lee Macomber, three great sons, two of which are serving now in the US Navy, and the third of which will be there in June. I have a lovely, talented daughter about to graduate college, and another – nine years old and smarter than any nine year old ought to be who keeps me on my toes. She is also an author, both the girls are.

You can buy Stephanie’s “Tales of the Southern Hotel,” a collection of girls about a young girl named Mary Lou who has visions of the past, and two children’s books by Katie, our nine year old, Perilous Pink PcGee and Mars Need Pumpkins, available for Kindle.

I’ve sold a small pile of novels to date and published over 150 short stories, been in 32 or so anthologies, countless magazines, year’s best collections, won awards — notably The Bram Stoker Award for poetry, which I share with co-authors Mark McLaughlin and Rain Graves, and a second Stoker for my short story “The Gentle Brush of Wings,” from my Stoker nominated collection Defining Moments. I’ve been President of the Horror Writer’s Association, and I’m an active member of both SFWA and the newer International Thriller Writer’s Association.

These days, along with writing, I’m CEO of Crossroad Press, an ever growing print, digital and audio publishing company. Now, enough about me…let me tell you a story

Review by Birdie Tracy:

Lenore sits in a tavern on the edge of the Dismal Swamp sometime between 1830-1846 drawing intently while those around her drink. The tree she draws catches the attention of the serving girl who is shocked to see hidden faces nestled within its branches. She recognizes one of them as being a man killed a year before. Something…otherworldly is going on, and there are mysteries within mysteries.

Edgar Poe meets Lenore and is immediately captivated by this strange woman. In fact, it could be argued that the inherent strangeness in both of them drew the other in. Poe is devoted to his young wife who is at home dying of consumption, which seems to have followed him around. His mother and beloved wife both died of it and it has been speculated (but is not known for sure) that it also killed his adoptive mother. It certainly explains why he appeared to be a haunted and melancholy man.

Soon the two of them are ensnared in a fairy tale that has come to life. A forest witch, a powerful and extremely evil sorceress and a trapped princess, all come together in a deadly confrontation. Lenore, Edgar, the serving girl Anita, a young boy named Tom, and a truly magical bird named Grimm are pawns in a battle between good and evil. Of course pawns can become victims.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. From the very first page to the very last there was never a moment when I had to force myself to get through something that seemed slow. If anything, I can blame a long night with almost no sleep directly on this story. If it hadn’t been so engrossing, I wouldn’t have needed the four cups of coffee to wake up and consequently spent the morning jitterbugging.

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