To live in a world meant for other people

To live in a world meant for other people     Here a bartender carves a block of ice into a near-perfect sphere with a sharp knife and his bare hand.  A geisha steps onto the elevator in the hotel, her hair brushed back with painstaking accuracy.  In the restaurant, food is prepared with care and served with even more care.  Ugly buildings and tangled wires overhead share space with small gardens and handmade signs and window displays and rows of idle bicycles.  Neon skeletons hang by day and become breathing beauties at nightfall.  Preschoolers line up like ducks in yellow uniforms on a train platform.  I hear one visitor refer to these children as the reason why “they are so militaristic.”  My introduction to Japan is a list of quips like this one from other westerners.  I hear them from strangers on the subway.  I hear them from my co-worker who has lived here for several years.  I hear them from the occasio...

Syncopated Rhythm  "... The language is so appropriately raw when needed and so fragile in other passages ... Writing of this apparent simplicity is true craftsmanship and James carries this creative flow throughout the book ... James' gifts as a writer are extraordinary. This may be new work and if so it holds promise of an author who will likely rise in the same realm as Jonathan Saffron Foer et al." - San Francisco Review of Books Clifford and Claudia  "... [the author] can interplay gay characters with aplomb and make his story so universally relevant that the reader can simply sit back and enjoy the entertainment. And in his novel there is entertainment aplenty! ... His ability to create stories that are refreshingly unexpected places him in line with some of most established authors. Highly recommended." - San Francisco Review of Books The Story of Teddy and Eddie  "... James’ elegant style of writing inserts italicized poetic pass...

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The landmark Chelsea Hotel was built in the 1880s as one of the city's first private co-ops. In 1905, it re-opened as a hotel. Over the years, the hotel has been the home of numerous writers, musicians, artists, and actors, including Dee Dee Ramone, Bob Dylan, Virgil Thomson, Sam Shepard, Arthur C. Clarke, Arthur Miller, Charles Bukowski, Allen Ginsberg, Dylan Thomas, Janis Joplin, Tom Waits, Leonard Cohen, and Patti Smith. In the 1970s, a New York landmark himself, Stanley Bard took over the management of the hotel, and his son David joined him later on. In the autumn of 1978, punk rocker Sid Vicious killed his girlfriend, Nancy Spungen, in Room 100, a room that has joined the other ghosts that make up the Chelsea. View from the Balcony, Room 325 The year is 1995 or 1996. I enter the Chelsea Hotel, push through the heavy glass doors. The light in the lobby adjusts to my eyes. Art runs floor to ceiling around the room. Obscure paintings. Little known artists. A s...

A few days each year cherry blossoms fall from distant trees to float among the columns, to litter the surface with a softer edge, a more tenuous future. They are a reminder that one day these patterns too shall die and be replaced with something else. Meanwhile, below the surface, life changes unalterably. Syncopated Rhythm - James Halat My books on Amazon | Subscribe to this site | Contact me  

The water is murky. By the looks of it without direct sunlight since several years before we land on the moon. Diffraction patterns cover the surface. They emanate from circles, intersections of concrete, water, air, and light. The patterns display symmetries. They reflect the steady hum of traffic above. I will see these patterns many times, but I will lose the hum of traffic, because I start to listen to music during my commutes. It helps keep my little madman from torturing me while my arms are pinned to my sides. The mood of the patterns changes with the music. A hand shackles nature’s gentle flow in a sunless room filled with stale air, and creates something alive and beautiful. A few days each year cherry blossoms fall from distant trees to float among the columns, to litter the surface with a softer edge, a more tenuous future. They are a reminder that one day these patterns too shall die and be replaced with something else. Meanwhile, below the surface, life changes unalte...

Syncopated Rhythm AnnLoretta’s Review 5 Star Review on Goodreads Jan 31, 2016 The most razor-sharp prose I’ve read in years. While I loved James Halat’s other two books, I wasn’t prepared for the art and beauty of Syncopated Rhythm. I work my way through the big books, the prize-listed books, the 600-page books, we all do, looking for a scintilla of the humanity Mr. Halat has produced in this (as far as I can tell) all-but-unknown work. The reader is given a main character unflinchingly self-aware, deeply perceptive of those around him, and descriptions of the world he moves through – textures, sounds, tastes, light, darkness – that are so perfect that I want more. But more would be too much. Somehow Mr. Halat knew that. I can’t recommend this book strongly enough, especially to a reader who may be running as fast as she or he can to read every book that comes along trying to find something real, something true. A character who lives his own life on his own term...

My friends ignore me. Can't say that I blame them. I write books that they think nobody wants to read. And maybe they're right. Who wants to read about living in a world meant for other people? Are my friends right? To tell you the truth, most of my friends haven't read my stuff. Only a few have ventured in. Three, to be precise. And of the three, they all like what they have read and encourage me to keep writing. My other friends continue to ignore me. Not a word is spoken about my books. Why am I telling you this? Because, with so many books out there, it is a daunting task to find an audience for mine. Even among my friends. I need to stand out somehow just to get readers to see that I have actually written books. And that's where you come in. I know. "You're gay. I'm not sure that I could be interested in or connect with what you write," you say.  And to that I say, "It doesn't matter. My books are ava...

Syncopated Rhythm 5 out of 5 stars  ‘I have a feeling of being incomplete with this place.’  By Grady Harp HALL OF FAME TOP 100 REVIEWER VINE VOICE on September 25, 2015. Format: Kindle Edition Verified Purchase. Author James Halat has experience form several locations of living. He was born in New Jersey, lived in New York City, and now lives in Toyko Japan. To date he has published two books – SYNCOPATED RHYTHM and CLIFFORD AND CLAUDIA. Knowing this biographical data SYNCOPATED RHYTHM suggests a memoir of sorts, or at least a character the author has created whom he knows quite well – the narrator – no name, just a kind of everyman who is lost in tangential relationships and incidents. His gift at creating conversations, whether overheard or participating, is unique. The language is so appropriately raw when needed and so fragile in other passages. A bit of ‘for instance’, a conversation of a family in a car trip: ‘“Geez, look at the traffic. We’ll be stuck h...

Syncopated Rhythm A part of me, no matter what the situation, is a little sad. It never goes away. I don’t ever remember not carrying it around with me. It feels like a second set of lungs that have trouble breathing. Sometimes I think I can hear them as they struggle to exhale. Many nights I go to sleep listening to this sound. My books on Amazon   |   Subscribe to this site   |   Contac t me