Neil Griffin

Neil Griffin is a recluse. He doesn't give interviews, do readings, or play the New York literary game: he is no Truman Capote. There is only one known photograph of him, which you can see on this author page. Legend has it that he was in a ghastly horse accident (he is a champion horse racer, you see) and is now terribly disfigured, living like an old Howard Hughes, stockpiling bottles of urine and letting his nails grow...forever. Others believe he has moved to a cabin in the mountains of Chile, biding his time until the revolution while his beard grows long, dignified, and white. Some people disagree. They say he's on a never-ending quest to find the Life Tree, where he shall hang himself for nine days and nine nights until all the secrets of eternity are whispered into his ear and he can awake, renewed, refreshed, and ready...for life. Which one is the truth? Are none of them? Paradoxically, could all of them together hold the truth? Only one thing's certain: we will never know...