About the Author:
Jason Flores-Williams was born in Los Angeles, 1969. He graduated from City University of New York with an Honor's Degree in Philosophy in 1991. He then moved to Prague where he became the first pizza delivery boy in the history of Eastern Europe, and on to San Francisco where he wrote four novels in a basement and founded the Litstock literary festival in 1999. Since, he has wandered Europe - distilling his spirit for the battles ahead.
Review:
Jason Flores-Williams is a literary force of nature...A train wreck of genius. -- San Francisco Examiner
Jason Flores-Williams is an all-American outlaw and edgewalker in the tradition of Jack Kerouac, Charles Bukowski, and Biggie Smalls. The Last Stand of Mr. America cuts into our heart of darkness with no bullshit bedside manner and no anesthesia. -- David Gates, author of Preston Falls and Jernigan
Story has it that when young San Francisco author Jason Flores-Williams heard that the U.K. publisher that discovered Irvine Welsh and a slew of similarly gritty "outsider" writers was interested in his novel, The Last Stand of Mr. America, Flores-Williams moved to Scotland to stoke the imprint's interest personally. The brash tactic worked; Canongate/Rebel Inc. will rerelease his once self-published novel in November. In the meantime, the "Caligula of American letters" is returning to the scene of the crime to share his nihilistic views of sex, gender politics, American apathy, and the abyss in the very city that nourished his sadistic little work of (de)moralizing erotica. While Flores-Williams' grim, graphic, and heavy-handed style may appeal most to those purposefully bankrupt readers who thought Welsh's Filth was a frolicking good time, there is no denying Flores-Williams' gift for prodding shadows with a cold, unwavering Maglite. In his San Francisco, sex club sadists are reduced to overgrown Dungeons & Dragons fanatics; kind, unpretentious transvestites slip in the cracks between natural-born femaleness and tranny affectation; women chase their fear by chasing casual sex; men chase their fear with lists, fists, liquor, Nietzsche, and the perfect balance of muscle tone and beer gut; and none but the dead are redeemed. In the eyes of Mr. America, everyone is corrupt or corruptible. Even for the innocents heard whimpering behind the walls, it's only a matter of time before they too are besmirched. -- Silke Tudor, SF Weekly, August 14, 2001
The Last Stand of Mr. America has moments of dark, raw, sex-stained poetry, as well as ejaculations of sneering adolescent hatred. -- Michele Goldberg, MetroActive.com, 1998
"About this title" may belong to another edition of this title.