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Literary Fiction

 

Date Published: March 1, 2021

Publisher: Boutique of Quality Books

In this indelible and deeply moving portrait of our time, two young pseudo-intellectuals, Beckman and Malany, set out on an odyssey to define the artistic life, and in doing so, unleash a barrage of humorous, unintended consequences. NO BIRDS SING HERE is a multi-layered novel about a Post-Modernist America in which characters are struggling to survive in an increasingly chaotic world.

 

 

 

No Birds Sing Here tablet

EXCERPT

Beckman struggled with renewed desperation at his bonds;

pulling, jerking, twisting, when unexpectedly he felt them give,

just a little, then more, struggling until he had wiggled a hand free.

Quickly he pulled the rest of the cords from his other hand and

ankles, then untied Honey, who was breathing the way she had in

the back seat of the Model A.

“Quietly now, let’s creep out of here.”

Honey nodded, disheveling her hair. “The keys,” Honey whispered.

Beckman put his finger to his lips. “Go to the car. I’ll get them

from his pocket. If you’ll . . . ”

“No way. I’m sticking with you.”

“All right, but be very quiet.”

Together they tiptoed to the old man. Beckman, with soundless

gentility, picked the man up from the table and leaned him upright

in the chair, retching at the decayed stench that swam up from his

body. The moment Beckman reached into his pocket the man’s eye

popped open with drunken surprise. Beckman jammed his hand

into the man’s pocket again, fingers hunting madly for the keys.

The old man opened his mouth, but before he could get anything

out, Honey grabbed one of the bones off the table. It was sharp and

jagged at one end where it had been broken and gnawed. Holding

the rounded joint end and, using the jagged end of the bone as a

primitive knife, she jabbed it into the man’s one good eye. He yelled

a bubbly, underwater type scream and fell backward. Beckman

quickly found the keys in the other pocket as the old man twisted

in agony on the floor.

About The Author

Daniel V. Meier, Jr.


A retired Aviation Safety Inspector for the FAA, Daniel V. Meier, Jr. has always had a passion for writing. During his college years, he studied History at the University of North Carolina, Wilmington (UNCW) and American Literature at The University of Maryland Graduate School. In 1980 he published an action/thriller with Leisure Books under the pen name of Vince Daniels.

He also worked for the Washington Business Journal as a journalist and has been a contributing writer/editor for several aviation magazines. In addition to, No Birds Sing Here, he is the author of the award-winning historical novel, The Dung Beetles of Liberia that was released in September 2019 by BQB Publishing.

Dan and his wife live in Owings, Maryland, about twenty miles south of Annapolis and when he’s not writing, they spend their summers sailing on the Chesapeake Bay.

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