Danita Minnis

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Author Interview: M. Laszlo

Any weird things you do when you’re alone?

Sometimes I walk outside, look to the stars, and pray. Some people might find that weird.

What is your favorite quote and why?

“The facts of life are conservative.” Margaret Thatcher. It’s a beautiful quote because it’s obvious that she’s just trying to encourage people to make decisions carefully.

Who is your favorite author and why?

The haiku poets of the Shogun era would be among my favorites. Basho is one that definitely comes to mind. Not only is the art of haiku beautiful, it makes the reader think. Most important of all, the third line always suggests the immortality of the soul. This is because the first line always houses something of the eternal, and the second line always houses something ephemeral. The third line connects the two previous ones, in the same way that The Book of Shinto would have congregants believe that a soul connects an ephemeral thing to that which is everlasting.

What, in your opinion, are the most important elements of good writing?

Good writing requires a balance of both structure and significant imagery. In short, proper craft and structure enhance the emotive power and emotional universality of details and signifiers.

Where did you get the idea for this book?

The Phantom Glare of Day follows from a travel diary/idea book that I kept while doing my M.F.A. in poetry degree at Sarah Lawrence College in Westchester, New York. It was important to keep writing down my obsessions and ideas in journal/idea book form because even then I just knew that some things aren’t meant to be poems.

On the Threshold

by M. Laszlo

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GENRE: Historical Science Fiction

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BLURB:

Obsessed with learning the origins of the cosmos, the actual meaning of life, and the true purpose of civilization, a fine Scotsman named Fingal T. Smyth dedicates himself to the study of Plato’s most extraordinary ideas. Convinced of Plato’s belief that humankind possesses any and all innate knowledge deep within the collective unconscious mind, Fingal soon conducts a series of bold, pioneering occult-science experiments by which to resolve the riddle of the universe once and for all. However, Fingal forgets how violent and perilous the animal impulses that reside in the deepest recesses of the unconscious mind. And when Fingal unleashes a mysterious avatar of his innate knowledge, the entity appears as a burning man and immediately seeks to manipulate innocent and unsuspecting people everywhere into immolating themselves. Now, with little hope of returning the fiery figure into his being, Fingal must capture his nemesis before it destroys the world.

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Excerpt:

Fräulein Wunderwaffe did not return the smile. Hand on heart, the little girl drew a bit closer. Then, as the hot, animalistic presence undulated all across Fingal’s body, the little girl’s eyes grew wide. Until the little girl’s expression turned to that of a vacant stare.

A moment later, her feet pointed inwards, she removed her hat and undid her long, flaxen hair.

Again, he cringed. “If you’ve noticed something, ignore all. This hasn’t got anything to do with you.” A third time, he cringed.

A most ethereal, lyrical, incomprehensible hiss commenced then: from the other end of the winding, decorative-brick driveway, each clay block shining the color of blue Welsh stone, a sleek Siamese cat with a coat of chocolate-spotted ivory had just appeared. And now the creature raced toward his shadow.

As he looked into the animal’s big, searching, blue eyes, the chocolate Siamese studied the off-center tip of his nose. Then the animal turned away, as if to compare the peculiarity with that of some disembodied visage hovering in the distance.

Out upon the loch, meanwhile, a miraculous rogue wave suddenly arose—and now the swell crashed against the pebbly strand.

Not a moment later, a cool flame crawled across Fingal’s throat. The strange fire rattled, too—not unlike the sound of fallen juniper leaves caught up in the current and dancing against the surface of a stone walkway.

Crivens. By now, the alien, pulsating presence held him so tight that he could barely breathe. Before long, he fell to the earth, and as the dreamlike flame continued to move across his throat, he rolled all about—until the illusory sensation of cool warmth wriggled and twisted and dropped into his neck dimple.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

M. Laszlo is an aging recluse who lives in Bath, Ohio. Rumor holds that his pseudonym is a reference to Victor Laszlo, a character in the classic film Casablanca. On the Threshold is his first release with the acclaimed, Australian hybrid house AIA Publishing. Oddly, M. Laszlo insists that his latest work, On the Threshold, does in fact provide the correct answer to the riddle of the universe. 

Buy link: https://aiapublishing.com/product/on-the-threshold-m-laszlo/

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