Bloodlines

Bloodlines

A multicharacter novel that illuminates one dysfunctional family in contemporary society where “the norm” remains, undoubtedly, mostly in the minds of idealists still rooted in the conservative fifties. Bloodlines are Blood Lies until family members face the truth of responsibility at the heart of their bonds. A family saga that traces the lives of an American family. The alternating chapters by the House and the luminous notes from the family ghost are a hoot and brilliantly prophetic.

Reviewed by Susan Sheppard Reflections (Fort Myers, FL “06) Intricate personal decisions are offered in this poemnovel (the author’s unique invention) to emphasize and dissect psyche as family members separately search for wholeness by unchaining their lives from lies that bind them through blood.


…a masterpiece about one family’s journey through life.
Five siblings, a mother, the ghost of a father, and their House
(with primal knowledge of its inhabitants), are entangled
in a maze of emotions that detach them from each other…
Intricate personal decisions are offered in this poemnovel
(the author’s unique invention) to emphasize and dissect
psyche as family members separately search for
wholeness by unchaining lives from lies that bind them through
blood.  Brilliant!
–Lili Bita author of Sisters of Darkness (MA: Somerset Hall Press “06)


Excerpt from Bloodli(n)es

Original Sampler

Enter blue fog tiptoes through echo reborn with dawn.

That’s probably what I’d whisper to each and all of them if ever they’d gathered for a reunion other than Ross’ passing. Now, my skin almost matches the peeling red wood of the ancient glider that overlooks the in-ground swimming pool in the backyard whose had a face-lift, ironically. The pool was totally redone last summer, three years following the main swimmer’s demise. My bones creak mostly when ghosts return to haunt or taunt memories come alive for the aging survivor. Now, only one resides in my shell, alone on earth; without a doubt, she’s lonely too, until parts of her screaming progeny return to parade themselves in rare visitations or none, excluding Rose, of course, Ross, Sr.’s first namesake. I discovered “Original Sampler” in a shoebox underneath the shiny ornaments no longer used because Ross Jr. bought a miniature artificial tree that first sad Christmas without father.

The home is deep grave of memories, more suited for portable brain’s compartmentalized pockets

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Cover design by Magdalena Maczuga (IN:Author House 05)