By Andrew F. Sullivan

A breakneck tour of a brokedown city littered with ruptured families, missing mothers, busted bowling alleys, and neon motels.


Larkhill, Ontario. 1989. A city on the brink of utter economic collapse. On the brink of violence. Driving home one night, unlikely passengers Jamie Garrison and Moses Moon hit a lion at fifty miles an hour. Both men stumble away from the freak accident unharmed, but neither reports the bizarre incident.

Haunted by the dead lion, Moses storms through the frozen city with his pathetic crew of wannabe skinheads searching for his mentally unstable mother. Jamie struggles with raising his young daughter and working a dead-end job in a butcher shop, where a dead body shows up in the waste buckets out back. A warning of something worse to come.

Somewhere out there in the dark, a man is still looking for his lion. His name is Astor Crane, and he has never really understood forgiveness.

“An unflinching, black-hearted story told with relentless, straight-razor prose. Waste, Andrew F. Sullivan’s brilliantly concussive new novel, reminds me most of a literary cage match: busted, doomed characters tumbled together with no hope of escape–and it all makes for one hell of a show.” — Michael Christie, author of If I Fall, If I Die

Waste is the unholy amalgam of Pollock’s The Devil All the Time, Selby’s Last Exit to Brooklyn, and the films of Harmony Korine. Andrew Sullivan has written a scorcher. This book is riotously alive, pulsing with bad intentions—and very very dangerous.”—Craig Davidson, author of Cataract City and Rust and Bone

“In some of the sharpest prose anyone is writing today, Andrew F. Sullivan vividly brings to life some of the most damaged and sorrowful characters ever encountered in fiction. Mark my words, Waste is going to be considered one of the best books of the year.”—Donald Ray Pollock, author of Knockemstiff and The Devil All The Time

“Balancing tenderness and brutality in the palm of his hand, Andrew F. Sullivan has carved out his own category to capture the ugliness of the world, his words always in search and service of some beating heart beneath the dirt. With Waste, Sullivan’s deft prose hammers out a harsh, hard-fought harmony that compels you to sit down and listen.”—Miriam Toews, author of All My Puny Sorrows and A Complicated Kindness


DZANC, world English, March 2016