Marigold

A thirty-something floral salesman searches for reasons to keep living. “Marigold is a hundred haikus of loneliness, pages torn from Baudelaire’s dream journal, the suicide note as high art. Forget your dime-a-dozen writers on the New York Times bestseller list; here is an authentic voice crying out from the American darkness.” —Kevin Maloney, author of Cult of Loretta “Beautiful, foul, and brief, this potent roman à clef more than earns its title. Grim, yet ultimately hopeful in its own twisted way. Weaver is one of my favorite writers working today, and his ear and rhythm are in full effect in Marigold.” —J David Osborne, author of Black Gum “Marigold is a no-bullshit portrait of 21st century American loneliness. It’s a small epic on the mysteries of alienation and self-doubt. Weaver is the poet-laureate of Midwestern absurdity with a heart a mile wide He is a writer with great powers of empathy and devastating sadness. . . a refreshingly honest revelation for these idiotic times we live in.” —Michael Bible, author of Sophia “If the ultimate goal of literature is to connect human beings, Marigold lives up to its highest standards.” —Benoit Lelièvre, Dead End Follies