When We Were Gods
By Peter Gigi ISBN: 9781847470904 Published: 2007 Pages: 222 Key Themes: alcoholism, depression, recovery Description 'When We Were Gods' is the true story of a lost, forgotten and dispossessed generation. Fuelled with the fury, cynicism, dreams and humour of people who are bored with media deceptions and mass produced fairytales. Set in a sedated Northern seaside town at 'the end of the line, ' it tells the story of 'scum washed up on the tide.' Outsiders. A bomb explodes in Chris' brain, blowing his bright city life apart. Everything is gone, his girl, his home, his job and his friends all ripped away. Chris, 'crash lands' back in the town he grew up in, with the wreck of his alcoholic father. Spiralling further down into a 'place, with neither light or darkness', believing himself dead, Chris meets Jim who introduces himself as an angel. We are all Gods. Glorious, magical and infinite. We are here and this is our story. About the Author Peter Gigi was born in Newcastle Upon Tyne. Educated at the University of Leeds, he lives in the North of England by the deep dark sea. As a writer and performer he is also a poet and writes for the stage. fascination with disintegration and outsiders. Book Extract 'Thank the baby Jesus! Thank the f**king baby Jesus!' Chris thought, stepping into the warm light from a naked bulb hanging vacantly from the kitchen ceiling. The kitchen was a little warmer and brighter, but certainly not any cleaner than the streets. 'So you're back then?' His dad said, sitting down heavily on a chair by the kitchen table, firmly planting himself in amongst the filth and devastation. His dad looked Chris up and down. Ashtrays lay choked and overflowing, half-eaten foodstuffs, tins, boxes and bottles surrounded him. Empty bottles and full. Bottles of Scotch were the only thing on his dad's shopping list. Chris dropped his bag onto to the slimy linoleum. 'Yeah just for a bit, ' Chris replied, not convinced of the statement the moment it left his mouth. It was clear his dad had become very accustomed to a single life. There was a distinct lack of any female touches to the place. Bottles and bottles were everywhere. Empty bottles full of empty dreams. one those bottles? One bottle for every day of his life after mum had gone. Was he looking for the golden ticket? It was obvious, from the state of the kitchen that he hadn't found it and he was still looking. Chris knew it was a futile search, like a heroic quest, with no treasur
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