At Night She Cries, While He Rides His Steed
“A tall, thirty-two year old man stares deep inside a filthy hellhole of a gold mine with a dimly lit lantern, trying to see through a cloud of dust. This man is me, but I refuse to give any other further physical description of myself until I’m wealthy. Most great men usually do. What I can tell you is that I’m jammed between the tits of the great American Gold Rush of 1849, and shit is fucking real. This isn’t a goddamn hobby where you take your kid out with a spaghetti strainer on Sundays hoping for the best. People died doing this shit. Which is why I paid someone else to do it for me…”
And so begins At Night She Cries, While He Rides His Steed, the funniest novel to hit book shelves in years. It is a side splitting satire that perfectly parodies romance novels and western dramas. Our hero, Saint James Street James is a tall, extremely muscular, 32-year-old man whose attributes and possessions include a mind stronger than Socrates on acid, a magnificent horse he loves more than anything in the world, a package so large that it requires a signature, a beautiful, passionate wife with a rack so perfect it belongs on a billiard table, a shit ton of children, and his own personal gold mine. His life, set in 1849 against the backdrop of the California Gold Rush, is one long parade of amazing sex, dynamite montages, and whiskey. He is the richest man in town—equal parts loved and feared by all. But when the Schlager Brothers come to town, so too comes the end of the good times. St. James is forced to defend everything that matters to him (including, but not limited to: prostitutes, his horse, money, and drugs. Oh, and his wife and children too, sort of). God help anyone who stands in his way.