Preface to The Naked Man

This is a book in search of truth. That is its message and meaning. I don’t mean to imply that the narrator or characters embodied within its corpus know the truth, or can find it if it even exists at all. Rather, the main theme of this novel is a quest for truth, and what happens as a result of its absence, obscurity and elusiveness. It is a question asked but not answered.

The stories that form the basis of each chapter are all true in the sense that they really happened. I can vouch for their validity having actually experienced every episode myself. The scenes described are real places, and as of today you could venture out and touch them if you knew where to go.

I have been careful to change names and blend personalities of the characters so that any resemblance to living people will be obscured in the interest of privacy. I am especially keen to point out that anecdotes regarding police officers are taken from events reported in the Los Angeles Times and are a matter of public record. If there is any offense given or taken by depictions of personages in the novel, I simply assert that this is what happened, they must be judged accordingly. I make the same disclaimer for the language used, which might seem a bit rough, but that is how I heard it spoken, and I present it to you in its pristine form, unabashed, raw and authentic in its unvarnished lack of eloquence.

It should be duly noted in the interest of completeness that the music by the Screaming Clams, often alluded to in the bar scenes, is essential to the environment surrounding the story, and is presently available on line at www.cdbaby.com under the title of Tomahawk.

Since this is a true story, I should acknowledge those who helped bring about its telling, for better or worse, but having forgotten many and worse remembering some who would prefer to remain undetected, out of respect and a fear of litigation I shall refrain from a making a personal dedication. Rather I have selected a verse from the Book of Dogue that will suffice for that purpose:

“For truly she never existed at all,

No more than shadows run down the hall.

Only a dream fills the void of her space,

Ashes of destiny lay in her place.”

The Author