New Adult Literary Fiction
Word Count:  110,000
Pitch: An Algerian painter lures a 22-year-old art scholar to the
Parisian catacombs, plunging him into a black market for ancient art, a
haunting infatuation, and the schemes of a genteel megalomaniac.
Before the devil led him to the
Aegean Sea, and long before the soaring visions of his old age, he fell in love
with an artist by the Seine. On that evening she knelt at the western point of the
Île de la Cité, touching a shaft of charcoal – dark as her complexion – to an
easel. If the Parisian winter could take form as a woman, he’d found her there,
nestled beneath the March wind that lifted her hair and brushed away the
residue of her drawing. He was young then, Gerald Syzygy, an oversized coil of
wanderlust and infatuation, studying abroad for his senior year; and he
couldn’t look away from the artist as she recreated the Pont des Arts, its
trelliswork and pedestrian kiosks, the streams of people mingling there.
When she shifted to her hip and dared
him with her eyes, holy shit, he thought, and missed a note on his
harmonica. The other buskers broke off laughing and covered for him.
He hardly knew them during those
eight weeks but he often joined their circles at the Vert-Galant or by the
steps of Sacré Coeur, adding his harmonica to their guitars, flutes, and
concertinas, their woolen hats and frumpy clothes of that year, 1996. The best
place of all, for him at least, was the muted still point on the rim of the
island, where the air compressed their random melodies, never quite repeatable,
but often with an idée fixe of Dylan tunes.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s