The popularity of last night’s Budweiser commercial only proves what members of the media and advertisers have known for a long time: that cuddly puppies always sell. Team one up with Clydesdale horses, and you have what equates to marketing gold. Just forget the inconvenient fact that this ad has nothing at all to do with drinking beer.
My novel, A Plot for Pridemore, is scheduled to be published next year by Mercer University Press. With that in mind, I’ve asked a few people I know to read my manuscript and, if they feel inclined, write a few kind words that I can include on the book jacket and in promotional materials.
Below is a review by Alarie Tennille, a friend and former colleague of mine at Hallmark Cards. Alarie was a prolific writer at Hallmark for many years–there’s a good chance that, at some point, you have read her work in a Hallmark greeting card or book. Her poetry has appeared in numerous journals over the years, and she recently published a collection, Spiraling into Control.
I couldn’t be more thrilled with what Alarie wrote about A Plot for Pridemore. Her review makes me want to read the book again, and I’ve read it about a hundred times already:
Get ready for a madcap romp, not at all what you’d expect from a trip to Pridemore, Missouri. Roth has the Southern storyteller’s knack for creating quirky but believable characters who will charm and alarm you and keep you glued to your chair. The action is so quickly paced, risky, and hilarious that it is easy to picture A Plot for Pridemore on the movie screen.
Ever since Highway 54 was redirected in 1991, eighty-eight-year-old Mayor Roe Tolliver has been watching his town’s “long, slow crawl to oblivion.” Shops on Main Street are boarded up. Only one decent restaurant remains. The Cub Scouts’ annual pinewood derby
is the biggest action in town, but that’s all about to change.
The mayor has most of the city council in his back pocket, which is a good thing. He needs a lot of help pulling off his ambitious and dangerous scheme to focus world attention on his tiny town. Even his fifty years in power might not be enough to sway his four partners in crime. When he unveils the plot, they “stared at him as if he’d announced that Horton Hears a Who held the key to the cosmos.” What could possibly go wrong, except EVERYTHING? Let us count the ways…