“The third installment of Stephen Evans’ bittersweet love story, The Island of Always, mixes whimsy, grief, courtroom drama, and charm.”-Blueink Review
In this novel by Stephen Evans, the third act of the saga of Lena Grant and her (definitely) ex-law partner and (possibly) ex-husband Nick Ward, the illness of a beloved pet brings Lena home to Minneapolis in a panic, worried both about both the aging wolfhound and her mentally unstable ex-husband. But she is the one who falls into a deep depression, and this time Nick is the caregiver. His ingenious mind has envisioned a fitting tribute to Wolfram, and the entire entourage is drawn in to his scheme, one that could incite a revolution, or evolution, in thinking about animal sentience and legal rights.
All together, The Island of Always is a funny and endearing story of a partnership beyond law, beyond marriage, and possibly beyond reality.
Authors Note: This book deals with the loss of a pet as well as issues of mental health and depression. Please keep this in mind before purchasing.
ISBN: 978-1-953725-15-8
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Praise for My Winter World:
“The third installment of Stephen Evans’ bittersweet love story, The Island of Always, mixes whimsy, grief, courtroom drama, and charm.”
–Blueink Review
Praise for The Marriage of True Minds:
“Stephen Evans’ first novel, The Marriage of True Minds, is a funny, poignant, oddly beautiful book about three divergent life forms—animals, people, and lawyers. You will love it if you read it with a true mind.”
—Kinky Friedman
“Poignant and outrageous, moving and profound, Evans’ delectable debut novel thrums with zesty dialogue and a memorably zany cast of irresistible characters.”
—Booklist
“Evans demonstrates his playwright’s mastery of dialogue and tension in his accomplished and whimsical first novel about love and the bizarre behavior it ignites.”
—Publishers Weekly
Excerpt:
Lena took a sip of punch as they watched the sun descend. She had an impulse, as she often had, to reach out and stop it where it was.
“Did you have fun with Oscar today?”
“I did.”
“Did you tell a story?”
“I did.”
“An old one?”
“A new one. About butterflies.”
Lena reached out and took his hand. She was having lots of impulses these days.
“I love butterflies,” she continued.
“I know. Do they have them in Geneva?”
“Butterflies?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen one. But I would think so. Everyplace has butterflies. Everyplace that has flowers anyway.”
“Do they have flowers?”
“They have a botanical garden.”
“Then they probably have butterflies.”
“Probably.”
Why was the sun round? Lena wondered.
“What else do they have?”
“Mountains. Very nice mountains.”
“We don’t have any mountains here.”
“No.
Gravity probably.
“They have a lake.”
“Just the one.”
“It’s a big one.”
“Still. Only one lake. Hardly seems worth it.”
“Maybe you have to be there.”
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Have to be there.”
“Obviously not.”
“Are you going back?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Or something about spinning.
Do you think I should?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not there.”
She would look it up.
“That was sort of the point of going.”
“I know. And yet.”
“And yet what?”
“And yet here you are.”
She could ask Nick.
‘True. As far as it goes.”
“I have never understood that phrase. As far as what goes?”
But looking it up would take less time.
“The truth I suppose.”
“The truth doesn’t go anywhere.”
“It does when you tell it.”
“True. As far as it goes.”
Nick did not do simple answers. So she asked a different question instead.
“Where do stories come from?” Lena asked.
“Stories are what storks deliver instead of children.”
They went still. So did the sun.
“Do you still want a child?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
They don’t speak for a few moments.
“But it’s too late,” she announced.
She turned to him.
“It’s too late, right?”
It’s too late.
Nick did not answer.
“Too much has happened.”
Nick did not answer.
“And nothing has changed.”
“Everything has changed,” Nick said.
“True,” Lena answered. “Everything always changes. But nothing is different.”
She looked back at the sun.
Maybe I stopped it after all.
Lena relaxed into her chair.
“Why is the sun round?” she asked.
