Ta-da, my next novel, The Swanson Shuffle has an official release: April 30. For me, that will be a happy day as this novel finally will be available to readers as an eBook and paperback. The link’s below.
Over the next few weeks, I will share posts about the book’s pieces, that is, its story line, characters, setting, inspiration, and what was happening in 1974 when the book takes place. Today, I am writing about the title, The Swanson Shuffle, and what that means.
Two years out of college, Bia Fernandes leaves a dead-end job to work and live in a psychiatric halfway house, where she learns more than she expects from the ex-patients who live there. The Swanson House is a century-old mansion that must have been grand in its day when it was owned by the Swanson family who got rich from the mills in that town. Since then, it’s been an inn, a rooming house, and now a psychiatric halfway house. The building will eventually be demolished when an interstate is extended through that town.
That’s the Swanson part.
As for the shuffle, I will let Bia, who tells this story, explain what that’s about. At the start of the book, she has arrived at Swanson House for part of the interview process.
I pull my black VW Bug onto the long drive of Swanson House and park beside a maroon-colored car with fins. A man leaning over its chrome grill squints as he raises his head and pushes his long, dark hair back with the side of his arm. I remember him from when I came for the interview last week. His name is Jerry, and the man marching in place beside the car’s front fender is Lane, actually Lanford Dawson V. That’s what he told me, and I haven’t forgotten because he made such a big deal about the V and when he said, “I come from a long line of Lanes.”
I’m here for the overnight visit, part of the hiring process to see if I can cut working and living in a psychiatric halfway house. I’m early, but I’ve already driven once around Petersville, and it looks just like another Massachusetts mill town barely holding onto itself. The houses, mostly triple-deckers, are a little worn, and downtown is a strip of dusty stores a few blocks from the brick factories. A supermarket, an International House of Pancakes, and a couple of car dealerships are on the outskirts of town, where a patch of scrubby forest ends.
Lane stands beside my VW although his feet still move on top of a thin, gray crust of snow. Up and down. Up and down. Like somebody ordered Lane to mark time and forgot all about him, so he keeps doing it. I asked about it when I was here before. Debbie, the staff member who’s leaving, said it’s a side effect of the drug Lane takes. Two other guys at the house also take it, and they do the same exact thing. They call it the Swanson shuffle.
I witnessed such a side effect when I was a live-in staff at a psychiatric halfway house a long time ago. To be clear, this book is not a memoir. But I believe my personal experience allows me to give an accurate portrayal of what could happen when people with zero experience in the mental health field are hired to live with ex-patients.
The residents are expected to have jobs, take their medication and do chores. They interact at dinner, meetings, card games, and activities such as volleyball games in the backyard. The staff members are supposed to be role models and help in any way they can. That’s how Bia feels when she is hired. But, alas, that’s not the what happens in The Swanson Shuffle. More soon….
Here’s the link to The Swanson Shuffle to pre-order your Kindle version. (Paperback readers don’t have to wait and can get a copy now.) Thanks for your interest.
