About the Author:
Poe Ballantine currently lives in Chadron, Nebraska. His work has appeared in The Atlantic Monthly, The Sun, Kenyon Review, and The Coal City Review. In addition to garnering numerous Pushcart and O. Henry nominations, Mr. Ballantine’s work has been included in the anthologies The Best American Short Stories 1998 and The Best American Essays 2006.
Review:
"It’s a downmarket version of Ben Kunkel’s Indecision, with less surety but real vibrancy." —PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
"No matter if you didn’t catch the first book. Or if fiction about young guys who drink themselves pie-eyed every night, and lust after each other’s girlfriends is not your favorite genre. Ballantine’s genial, reckless narrator is part Huck Finn, part Hunter S. Thompson. And in a few pages he’s charming you, more than any “pot-smoking, card-playing, music-loving, late night party hound” really should." —THE SEATTLE TIMES
"This second novel from Ballantine initially conjures images of Lord of the Flies, but then you would have to add about ten years to the protagonists’ ages and make them sex-crazed, gold-seeking alcoholics." —LIBRARY JOURNAL
"Poe Ballantine, in this sequel to God Clobbers Us All, reveals that he is a writer with a keen ear and a blistering wit ... it’s a prime opportunity to observe a writer’s joyful wallow in the decadence of words." —THE AUSTIN CHRONICLE
"Edgar’s supersize pal Mountain is the best of the author’s creations: He possesses a merry and absurd sweetness ... combined with a body mass that can block out the sun." —BOOKLIST
"Ballantine’s second novel is ... memorable ... funny and smart, and rarely boring." —PHILADELPHIA WEEKLY
"Decline of the Lawrence Welk Empire has the same amped tone and subtropical setting as Hunter S. Thompson’s The Rum Diary but less of the gonzo arrogance and more of that good ol’ American angst.
Fans will remember Edgar from Ballantine’s first novel, God Clobbers Us All, and will again be rewarded with the self-effacing character also visible in his inimitable essays in The Sun magazine. The prose is poised on the brink of perfection, and the plot twists into an unexpected yet perfect conclusion that makes scotch and roadkill seem almost palatable." —SAN FRANCISCO BAY GUARDIAN
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