Throughout A Coward’s Guide to Living protagonist Jacob Will’s life, music had played an influential role. His father played the music which becomes a reflection of Jacob’s thoughts and/or moods. Quite catholic in scope, it makes for an interesting soundtrack to the story.
Richard Thompson‘s ’52 Vincent Black Lightning is just one of the pieces of music Jacob Will references in the book. Read more about Jacob’s Music at bmeisterman.com .
In the absence of a legal will, how are the last requests of the deceased to be addressed? Would a letter be considered a will? What if that letter requests something so seemingly horrible as to make one question their own life? And what if that letter was written by someone about to take their own life?
That’s what Jacob Will (no pun intended) was faced with when his best friend left a request – that of committing eleven little deaths of his own. On paper, one death should do it, right? Why then eleven? And what was Jacob’s role in unknowingly creating his future?
And, were Jacob to do it, just how would he go about it?
That’s a lot of “ands” and “whats”. And he’s just getting started.
How do you feel about where you live? Do you even think about it? Frankly, Jacob Will, the protagonist of Eleven Little Deaths, never gave it a thought and he worked in arguably the greatest city on earth.
He blindly accepted as natural the attractions and amenities the city offered almost as an entitlement – there for him should he want to avail himself of them. Self-centered might be used to describe him, but that would indicate a certain self-awareness which was non-existent. Clueless might be a better description.
Like so many in this area, Jacob Will lived in New Jersey and worked in advertising in New York. If his own truths were evident to him, he would realize he was nothing but a wage slave. But that kind of realization would only come from deep introspection – something foreign to him. Yet, that was not the only thing he was unaware of.
The journey he was about to embark upon would take him places both physically and psychically with no map to guide him. Heaven won’t help him – he’s on his own.
There are countless writing tools available with more being added daily. However, when plotting out Eleven Little Deaths, there was one resource I used daily – a Rand McNally road atlas of the United States. Instead of using an outline or note cards, the atlas served literally as my road map for the protagonist, Jacob Will.
I’ve been to many of the places portrayed in the book and now (oh, the horror!) must visit the others, just to close the circle on this. Over the course of future posts, I’ll write a bit about each place to provide more of a flavor of what Jacob has experienced. I’m hoping not to offend any Chambers of Commerce while doing so. Maybe an invite to each location, a promise of the key to each city, and luxe lodging might favorably affect such a description.
For Farry Poland, that was easy – take your own life. For his best friend Jacob Will, that was never a consideration. In fact, not much was ever under consideration for him. But before Farry’s death, he laid in place a plan to be revealed only after his funeral, for Jacob to get his life together. And while the details of this plan were sketchy at best, the outcome was not. What would ensue would change his life forever.
Most people start their morning off with a cup of coffee; Jacob Will’s started with a funeral. And it went downhill from there, until it got better. Much better.
His best friend died, by his own hand, but not before leaving instructions on what Jacob needed to do with his life. And if he followed these, nothing would ever be the same. Thank God! Many miles will have been traveled before Jacob comes to understand there is life after death.
Eleven Little Deaths could best be described as Homer’s Odyssey meets Thelma and Louise, minus Louise. Or Jack Kerouac’s On the Road as re-imagined by Carl Hiaasen. Traveling across the country, Jacob realizes his issues are deeper and more plentiful than he thought, compounded and illuminated, sometimes maddeningly so, until he discovers what he’s been missing… a life.
Bruce Meisterman 