Marcelgaro

printed copy

e-book version

Gianluca Garofalo – Illustrator

He has published and/or he publishes with: Soleil Prod, Ankama, Hoepli, Giunti, Giunti Progetti Educativi, Giunti Kids, Mondadori, Gruppo Editoriale De Agostini, Helbling Languages, Pearson Paravia Bruno Mondadori, Pearson Educational, Nottetempo, Blackat, Oxford University Press, Dorling  Kindersley, Templar Publishing, Fernleigh Publishing, Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana – Treccani, Nord-Sud, A&C Black, Kyowon, Siphano Picture Book, La Margherita , Ars Verlag,
T-Scrivo Edizioni, Profil international, DoGi, Friederich Reinhardt Verlag, Založba Kres, Sello Editorial, Lumen Editorial, Sjaloom, Sudamericana; with the following magazines: Alias/il manifesto, TV Sorrisi e Canzoni, Young 18, Tre fate per amiche, Stregatti.

Matthew Temple – English Translation and Adaption of the Novel

Studied Biochemistry, Computer Engineering & History
Analyst for Comcast Inc.:
Development and training of inventory software to track Leased equipment
Development and training of comprehensive reporting software
Operations Manager for Active Organics:
Developed Extraction Methods to Improve the Concentration of Active Organic
Compounds used in the Manufacture of Cosmetics
Improved Analysis of Extracts to Satisfy FDA* Reporting Requirements
Head of Customer Service for Porton Interments:
Installation and Methods Development of Analytical Equipment for the sequencing of proteins and peptides.
Clients included The National Institutes of Health, Stanford University Depart of Chemistry, UCLA Deportment of
Chemistry & The Scripps Research Institute.

Waters Corporation:
Installation and Methods Development for High-Performance Liquid Chromatography systems (HPLC).
Clients included Abbott Laboratories, NASA, United Technologies, Eli Lilly, Alza Corporation & Genentech Inc.

Shriners Research Center:
Research Lab Assistant for the Characterization of Collagen Focusing on Inherited Connective Tissue Disorders.

Matthew has recorded three albums:
BMI Affiliated Songwriter:
Come Home My Son
Catalog includes:
Summer Man
The Journey
Was named “Entertainer of the Year” Two years in a row for the State of Washington.
Performed with Duke Ellington in 1970
Was the first entertainer to perform live in Prudhoe Bay Alaska
Matthew also served on the Georgetown County Art’s Commission

Joan-Mary Frazier

She’s a literature student and a fashion model. Phillip’s former girlfriend (when he was alive) she lives with her Literature professor, Tony Seppilli. In her own way she continues to love Phil even if he’s dead. She’s undecided on her future: she doesn’t acting whether to go in academia or acting. She is amusing, sexy, intelligent and very often a partner in crime (voluntary or not) for Phillip’s forays.

Eleanor Ruth Carelli

Internationally renowned biology researcher, Eleanor is Phillip’s aunt. She is now an elegant, petite, middle-class lady in her sixties . She looks very much like Janet Leigh in John Carpenter’s The Fog. She wears glasses with a golden chain round her neck. She always sports elegant clothes, very often a dress. She lives with Phillip in an elegant Villa in New York City.
She keeps a diary in which she takes notes on everything; she’s the one responsible for her nephew’s return from the dead. Along with Phillip she breeds 114 rats that live in the attic of the villa and in special occasions (such as parties) she lets them run free in the Villa. The fine line between her intelligence and her madness is often invisible.

Prof. Anthony Seppilli

University Professor of Classical Philology. Fat, in his mid-fifties with thick walrus-like moustache and thinning hair combed back; he looks like a young Wilford Brimley. He loves food and beautiful women along with Hemingway, Bukowski, John Huston’s movies and Gillespie’s jazz. He is Joan’s teacher, with whom he has a romantic relationship, but he becomes a close friend also with Phillip and Eleanor.

Mrs. Alida Sibley

A biology researcher and a friend of Eleanor. In her youth she had in vain tried to establish a lesbian relation with Eleanor. She is Joan’s aunt. Mentally deranged, now in her sixties she has become the head of a center for alternative psychoanalysis and mental recovery named the “DoubleWhite Center”. She’s Phillip main antagonist. She doesn’t like Phillip entertaining the idea of a love relation with her niece Joan. She therefore manages to devise diabolical plans to destroy Phil. For this purpose she transforms some of her oblivious patients in bloodthirsty monsters.

Dennis

Dennis is Alida’s devoted assistant at the DoubleWhite Center. He is a strong, big-bearded fifty-year-old man. He is a man with a heart of gold and at the end of the story he will also be able to understand his mistakes and to repent of those ones.

The Mummy Dan Carnahan, the Werewolf Gyro Marchione, the Vampire Christopher Kier

   

Kriss The Hoatzin and One of 114 Rats that live in the attic of Villa Carelli

  

Phillip’s beloved pet is a tropical bird, a hoatzin that he brought back from the
Amazon. His name is Kriss and he will have a significant role in the thrilling finale
of the story.
The Rats are pampered and fed with love by the two Chinese Housekeepers. But
they will play a decisive role in the eventful finale.

first page of the novel

Chapter 1
It was raining in the city. Not that annoying, on again off again rain, but a steady, heavy, soul-depressing rain. A New York rain. Low rumbles of thunder could be heard in the distance. The air was heavy with the smell of rain; wet streets, wet bricks, and wet garbage, mixing with the smells of freshly baked rolls and steaming pots of homemade soup. As complex as a perfume concocted from fields of daisies and sour piles of dirty laundry. Even with the windows closed, the smell filled the speeding taxi as it made its way from LaGuardia Airport to the Upper East Side.
On the dashboard, a small placard proudly displayed a picture of the driver and his name, Bhupesh Dasgupta. He had escaped the caste system of his native India but still wore his tightly wrapped silk turban. It was as much a part of him as his dark eyes and neatly trimmed beard. Bhupesh loved to talk, and he was very proud of his English. If you asked him, he would tell you he spoke it perfectly. If you asked most of his passengers, they would say they couldn’t understand half of what he said and weren’t the slightest bit interested in the other half. But tonight, he was silent. These passengers made him so nervous he’d turned up the radio to cover the silence.
In the backseat, a thin, gloved hand wiped the fog off the window and let in just a little more of the harshly colored city lights. Bhupesh could barely make out the gaunt form wrapped in a trench coat, staring absentmindedly at the passing signs. This passenger seemed fascinated by the foul-smelling steam pouring from the manhole covers and the promises made by the flashing neon signs. The “World’s Greatest Food,” “Best Prices,” and “Buy One Get One Free” without telling you what the “One” was. He sat there, quietly ignoring the noise of the radio. What Bhupesh didn’t know was that his mysterious passenger had sensed his discomfort. Fortunately for the cabby, he didn’t care what he’d sensed. He just sat “quietly” and let the city flash by.
A long black scarf was wrapped around his neck, and a wide-brimmed black hat hid most of his face. Even though it was dark, the man wore mirrored sunglasses. The only things visible were his long, beaked nose, a bushy mustache, and long stringy hair that fell to his shoulders. Bhupesh loved old American movies and he often compared his passengers to characters from them. This guy looked vaguely like Jean-Hugues Anglade had in Killing Zoe.
The other passenger was a woman who looked to be in her mid-sixties. She was refined, petite, and extremely uncomfortable. She sat pressed against the door as if she wanted to be as far away from Beak Nose as possible. There was one other passenger in the backseat. It was in a cage. It sat between the man and the woman like a barrier. The driver had no idea what was in it, but even over the stench of the streets, he could smell it. It smelled wild, and it smelled dangerous.
The sounds in the cab all seemed to be getting louder. The music, the noise from the street, and even the cabby’s GPS with its annoying British voice. Bhupesh bit down on his lip when he realized he was talking to himself. Not that his passengers cared—they apparently had nothing to say to each other, much less him. As he pulled up to a red light, he took another look into his rear view mirror. The street lights illuminated the woman’s face. She had her head turned away from him, so he took his time looking. She seemed to be watching the rain drops make their way down the window, but her body was very tense. Bhupesh could see she was gripping her purse so tightly her long pale fingers had turned white.
She looked like a school teacher in her perfectly tailored, gunmetal gray suit, her perfectly appropriate oval glasses on a perfect little gold chain and a ring with perfectly matched sapphires on her middle finger. She even had school teacher hair, tinted that strange color of blue older women seem to favor, cut short and styled in small tight curls that hugged her scalp. Even though it was rainy, windy, and humid, her hair looked like she had just walked out of the salon. For all of her school teacher look, there was something unsettling about her. An aging Janet Leigh in The Fog, he thought. She has the same cold look.
She turned so quickly Bhupesh had no time to look away. Without taking her eyes off him, she quickly opened her purse, pulled out a sour candy, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth. She said, “You can go now, the light is quite green.”
He’d just started to move through the intersection when a terrifying scream filled the cab. His eyes bulged with shock as he slammed on the brakes and brought the cab to a screeching halt. The scream died off in the sickening sound of someone being strangled. He turned in time to hear the last of the horrible sound fade away. It was coming from that cage. He looked at the woman, then at the cage, then back at the woman, and a lifetime of being respectful to his elders abandoned him.
“What in the name of Krishna was that?” the cabby shouted.

(…)