The Island of Always

a novel by Stephen Evans

“A charming literary screwball comedy.”

Kirkus Reviews

Nick is charismatic. Brilliant. Quixotic.

And possibly Delusional.

His passion for environmental and animal rights constantly gets him in trouble. And his ex-wife and former law partner Lena inevitably comes to his rescue.

But when he ‘liberates’ the lobsters from Minneapolis grocery stores and loads them into the mayor’s pool, the ensuing media event goes one step too far. While Lena fights to save Nick from being committed or going to prison, her hopes for a normal life are left dangling.

And when the man she still loves has one more wild idea, Lena has a choice to make.

In this funny and endearing extension of Stephen Evan’s The Marriage of True Minds (also included in this volume), we follow this Hepburn and Tracy-like pair through animal rescues and courtroom dramas toward an ending only Nick could foresee.

The Island of Always is a fast-paced comic novel about a partnership that extends beyond law, beyond marriage, and possibly beyond reality.

Print: 9780991575978
EPUB: 9780991575961
ASIN: ‎ B07DBFK295

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What the Critics are Saying:

“A charming literary screwball comedy.”

Kirkus Reviews

“…smart and well-crafted….highly entertaining “

Starred Review, BlueInk Reviews

“…a zany and unpredictable comedic literary novel.”

Foreword Clarion Reviews

“This creative and cleverly written novel is well structured and engaging. A surprise twist at the end will leave readers smiling.”—The BookLife Prize

Praise for The Marriage of True Minds (included in this volume):

“Stephen Evans’ first novel, The Marriage of True Minds, is a funny, poignant, oddly beautiful book about three divergent life forms—animals, people, and lawyers. You will love it if you read it with a true mind.” —Kinky Friedman

“Poignant and outrageous, moving and profound, Evans’ delectable debut novel thrums with zesty dialogue and a memorably zany cast of irresistible characters.”—Booklist

“Evans demonstrates his playwright’s mastery of dialogue and tension in his accomplished and  whimsical first novel about love and the bizarre behavior it ignites.”—Publishers Weekly

“Evans writes throughout with a sense of refreshing humor, and the snappy repartee … is also  very funny and fun.” —ForeWord Magazine

Excerpt:

“Lena Grant stepped off the elevator on the skyway level of the Wells Fargo Center in downtown Minneapolis, slipped quietly down the deserted corridor until she reached the atrium, paused as she took two deep breaths leaning against the Italian marble wall near the museum with the working telegraph, slid into the historically accurate fully restored red and gold stage coach, hunched down low on the rear bench, and sang, very softly, the Wells Fargo Wagon song from The Music Man.

The lobby was deserted, except for the lone security guard at the front. Lena was sure he was aware of what she did. But he was discreet enough not to notice her singing and she was discreet enough not to mention how little affect his thermos of coffee was having.

Qui tacet consentire videtur was the common law maxim: silence gives consent, as Nick would surely have reminded her, after which he would have quoted the entire summation by Thomas More at his trial for treason in 1535, then perhaps a chapter or two of Utopia. Lena was a superb attorney, but she did not have her husband’s legendary legal memory.

De facto husband, not necessarily de jure, she reminded herself. Nick had signed the divorce decree. But was he competent to do so? Nick had suggested that he was not. But in making that argument, wasn’t he contradicting the argument? How can he argue that he wasn’t competent if he was competent enough to argue competency?

Lena sat upright, rocking the coach. Exactly, she thought. This was exactly what being married to Nick was like, even when you weren’t. Nothing was what it was, and everything was something else entirely that you had never imagined or anticipated.

She couldn’t live like this, she decided. And she was going to go home and tell Nick to his face. After no more than three more choruses.”