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  THE OCCULT PERSUASION

  AND THE ANARCHIST’S SOLUTION

  PRAISE FOR THE OCCULT PERSUASION AND THE ANARCHIST’S SOLUTION

  Lisa de Nikolits sets readers on a rollercoaster ride of clever twists and unexpected turns. The Occult Persuasion and the Anarchist’s Solution is a lot of fun and filled with believable, yet zany characters. It bounces between the viewpoints of Lyndon and Margaux, a retired couple whose marriage speeds steadily downhill after Lyndon decides to call it quits and runs off. It’s the ultimate story of marriage meltdown told in a style all Lisa de Nikolits’s own, and this one should be on everybody’s must-read list.”

  —DIETRICH KALTEIS, author of Zero Avenue

  The Occult Persuasion and the Anarchist’s Solution is a very adult Alice in Wonderland with a dash of The Conjuring: readers will be smiling one moment and breaking out in goose bumps the next. As one character succinctly points out, “Things come to light in the darkness.” Warm, witty, wildly imaginative and inspiring, The Occult Persuasion and the Anarchist’s Solution puts the “joy” in joyride! Lisa de Nikolits is one of the most exciting authors in CanLit today and this funny, fearless new novel will not disappoint her fans.

  —HEATHER BABCOCK, author of the forthcoming Filthy Sugar

  Lisa de Nikolits has penned a taut, tight thriller involving domestic disputes, death, and a wonderfully jarring book title. Along the way there’s a stolen cat, a suspicious boating accident in Sydney Harbour, Australia, assorted crimes, and a slew of quirky, compelling characters that will keep you reading. If you’re a fan of off-beat mysteries with a dash of dark humour, this novel is for you.”

  —NATE HENDLEY, author of The Boy on the Bicycle: A Forgotten Case of Wrongful Conviction in Toronto

  Her creative powers at a peak, in The Occult Persuasion and the Anarchist’s Solution, Lisa de Nikolits, a sage wrapped in a cloak of language, offers us a crystal ball to gaze upon ourselves. With Lisa de Nikolits’s brand of camp and mysticism, the story zig zags, spirals with vortices, depths and explosive happenings as she weaves a story of magnitude—a disappearance and a demonic spirit to a punk rock tattoo parlour and a protest of such vision it plays on the world’s stage. You come to love the characters, you want to remain in the book, which seems to read the reader on the inside. We become part of its structure. The Occult Persuasion and the Anarchist’s Solution will haunt and guide you long after you finish it. Lisa de Nikolits has written a masterpiece that firmly places her as one of the best Canadian writers of our time.

  —BRENDA CLEWS, author of A Fugue in Green

  Lisa de Nikolits takes you on a wild ride through the disintegrating lives of a husband and wife who are lost, figuratively and literally, in Sydney, Australia. Told from the alternating points of view of Margaux and Lyndon, the narrative rolls out in a kind of stream-of-consciousness that grabs at your heart. On their volatile journeys, they each encounter people who change their lives. Lyndon meets an aging anarchist who tries to save the world; a woman’s tortured soul reaches out to Margaux in repeated visions. In this unique novel, de Nikolits explores the lives of desperate people struggling to find meaning in the modern world.

  —SYLVIA MAULTASH WARSH, author of The Queen of Unforgetting

  Lisa de Nikolits has written another page turner—this time a novel of transformation—with especially captivating secondary characters, including a large affectionate Maine Coon cat. Addictive—and a joy to read.

  —ELIZABETH GREENE, author of A Season Among Psychics

  Lisa de Nikolits’ imagination has a seemingly unlimited cast of colourful characters and she uses several of them to full effect in this, her latest look into her wonderous mind. Like rows of dolls on a shelf, Ms. de Nikolits picks a few at random, dresses them up, and builds a fantastic story around them. Less rotten than Rotten Peaches, less furious than No Fury Like That, The Occult Persuasion and the Anarchist’s Solution has more fun than No Fury Like That, but has its serious, introspective moments as well. An Oakville couple having a mid-life crisis in Australia is the stepping off point of another of Ms. de Nikolits’s imaginative adventures, full of colourful characters and witty, but realistic dialogues about life, anarchy, capitalism and tattoos.

  —JAMES FISHER, The Miramichi Reader

  Prepare for a wild and wondrous ride! The Occult Persuasion and the Anarchist’s Solution is a page-turner like only Lisa de Nikolits can deliver. Featuring a cast of memorable characters—including a functionally dysfunctional family of four; a Maine Coon cat named Queenie; a former punk-hacker-turned-anarchist barber; an olive-eyed cross-dresser; and the malevolent ghost of a former psychiatric nurse—and set in the picturesque (and sometimes seedy) Australian cityscape, The Occult Persuasion and the Anarchist’s Solution gives fans something to truly sink their teeth into, from start to surprising ending. Mark my words: After reading de Nikolits’ latest tour de force, you’ll never look at familial relationships the same way again.”

  —RUTH ZUCHTER, author of The Mother Suite

  This cathartic and ultimately healing book conjures paranormal horror from historic events our collective consciousness would seek to gloss over, punk rock and rolling readers into a tumble of lapsed and bizarre behaviour that breaks a conventional marriage in two. As both players swirl into deep self-discovery, a supporting cast of eccentrics, gurus, bikers and a spirit medium guide the unceremoniously separated pair toward an intense crescendo where the forces of witchery are called into battle and freedom-loving values are jerryrigged to outlive life.

  —SK DYMENT, author of Steel Animals

  Be Your Own Revolution and steal back your world! Live your life to the fullest and be the person you want to be, not what others want! The Occult Persuasion and the Anarchist’s Solution offers characters that are realistic, flawed and yet have redeeming qualities as, once again, author Lisa de Nikolits gives us a novel that is unique, has many powerful messages and makes everyone wonder which way would they align? Filled with suspense, action, intrigue, deceptions, betrayals, unknown answers, family love, discord and change, plus an anarchist’s occult beliefs, [this is a] perfect blend and recipe for a noir novel, a serio-comic thriller with five-star flavour.

  —FRAN LEWIS, Just Reviews

  Lisa de Nikolits’s The Occult Persuasion and the Anarchist’s Solution gallops off to a frantic start with a drowning off Sydney Harbour and a jeep and cat theft in Kirribilli. Margaux and Lyndon, a previously happy bourgeois couple from Oakville, Toronto, have embarked on an “Around-the-World-For-However-Long-We-Want” trip but Lyndon’s mid-life crisis derails their plans. A collision of accidental meetings brings more excitement into these two retirees’ lives than either could have reasonably imagined. They encounter anarchists, white witches, demon ghosts, tarot readers, tattoo artists, and more. De Nikolits grabs the reader by the scruff of their neck and pulls them along, willingly, for a wild, unexpected, and zany ride.

  —MYNA WALLIN, author of Anatomy of an Injury

  What a fabulous, gripping story The Occult Persuasion and the Anarchist’s Solution is. A hugely consequential and restorative story, written with an unerring ability to draw the reader so completely into its riveting landscape. We bond with this band of humans we grow to care deeply about. The characters’ startling mutiny is at times unnerving—a full-tilt unravelling—mutating into magnificently odd odysseys, driven by catalysts that cut to the core. I revelled in this saga’s spirited and gutsy guides and gurus, who pop up and prop up, soothe, support, smooth, unravel, and disconcert, and who present challenges and offer exp
anding perspectives, teeming with unanticipated and suspense-filled consequences.

  —SHIRLEY MCDANIEL, artist

  Copyright © 2019 Lisa de Nikolits

  Except for the use of short passages for review purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced, in part or in whole, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording, or any information or storage retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher or a licence from the Canadian Copyright Collective Agency (Access Copyright).

  We gratefully acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada.

  Cover art: Glenn Larkby/Shuttershock

  Cover design: Colin Frings

  eBook: tikaebooks.com

  The Occult Persuasion and the Anarchist’s Solution is a work of fiction. All the characters and situations portrayed in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Brief quotes from The Dispossessed by Ursula K. Le Guin are used with permission of HarperCollins Publishers. Copyright © 1974 by Ursula K. Le Guin, renewed copyright © 2002.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Title: The occult persuasion and the anarchist’s solution :

  a novel / Lisa de Nikolits.

  Names: De Nikolits, Lisa, author.

  Series: Inanna poetry & fiction series.

  Description: Series statement: Inanna poetry & fiction series

  Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20190147180 | Canadiana (ebook) 20190147202 | ISBN 9781771336499 (softcover) | ISBN 9781771336505 (epub) | ISBN 9781771336512 (Kindle) | ISBN 9781771336529 (pdf)

  Classification: LCC PS8607.E63 O33 2019 | DDC C813/.6—dc23

  Printed and bound in Canada

  Inanna Publications and Education Inc.

  210 Founders College, York University

  4700 Keele Street, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M3J 1P3

  Telephone: (416) 736-5356 Fax: (416) 736-5765

  Email: [email protected] Website: www.inanna.ca

  THE OCCULT PERSUASION

  AND THE ANARCHIST’S SOLUTION

  A NOVEL BY

  LISA DE NIKOLITS

  Inanna Publications and Education Inc.

  Toronto, Canada

  ALSO BY LISA DE NIKOLITS:

  Rotten Peaches

  No Fury Like That

  The Nearly Girl

  Between The Cracks She Fell

  The Witchdoctor’s Bones

  A Glittering Chaos

  West of Wawa

  The Hungry Mirror

  To Bradford Dunlop.

  And the mystical place where stories come from.

  1. MARGAUX

  “MY HUSBAND HAS FALLEN OVERBOARD.” I kept repeating that to anyone to who would listen, but everyone looked at me as though I were deranged. I was certain he had fallen into the black sea of the Sydney Harbour. Panic stopped my breath as if a cork had been shoved down my throat. I ran from one side of the ferry to the other and back, but, just like the last time I checked, he was not there.

  It was close to midnight and the Sydney Harbour was a tar pit of roiling waves, churning and chopping. I leaned over the railing, trying to see him in the water, searching for an outstretched arm, but the ferry was moving too quickly. Half a dozen people onboard looked at me curiously, and I could see them thinking, Nuts, she’s nuts, don’t make eye contact. I started panting like a dog, making horrible sounds.

  I grabbed the deckhand by the arm. I tried to form words but I could hardly talk. All I could say was, “Husband. Gone. Must have fallen overboard.” I pointed to the water, thick like molasses.

  The deckhand was kind. He didn’t call me a raving lunatic. He helped me check the ferry from stern to bow, starboard to port, not once but twice. He asked for my husband’s cellphone number, and he dialled it on speaker. It went straight to voicemail. I had already tried, with the same response. Hiya. Lyndon here. Do the necessary or forever hold your peace.

  “He’s fallen overboard,” I said. “We have to find him.”

  2. LYNDON

  I SIDLED AROUND THE CAR, opened the door, and shot into the driver’s seat, quickly pulling the door closed. The air con was an arctic blast, and I was chilled in seconds. Where was the off switch? But more importantly, I had to get the hell out of Dodge.

  I pulled out into the traffic, bracing for sirens, flashing lights, and my imminent arrest, but there was just the usual Sydney gridlock. I threaded in-between the cars, glancing in the rear-view mirror, and looking for a furious blonde in hot pursuit, shaking her fist and probably dialling 0-0-0 to call the cops, but there was no sign of her. What kind of idiot left a brand-new Jeep running while she went to get a coffee? I was standing there, about to sip my skinny flat white, when this rich suburban ditz came along, parked right in front of me, leapt out, and rushed into the coffee shop. It wasn’t like I was looking for a car to steal. Of course not.

  I fumbled with the car’s buttons and levers, driving with one hand, and I managed to turn the air con off. I opened my window and let the warm summer wind blast into the car, washing it clean of the cold, burnt air.

  But where was I going? A quick decision was necessary. I called up a map of Australia in my mind. While I’d had no interest in the adventure Margaux was so excited about, I’d studied a map of Australia for hours, losing myself in the tongue-twisting Aboriginal names like Woollabra, Woolloomooloo, and Wollongong, wishing I didn’t have to go at all. But here I was, and I had to make a choice. I could go northeast or southwest. But the Gold Coast to the north sounded cheap and nasty, so Melbourne won the mental coin toss.

  I was about to take the turnoff for the Hume Highway when I realized that highways might have cameras, whereas the smaller roads would not, so I decided to navigate by the compass on the dashboard and stay off the radar as much as possible. I had the sudden worry that the car might have a tracker, but I figured that if it did, there wasn’t much I could do about it. I felt strangely free and yet resigned at the same time.

  I checked the gas tank. Full. I didn’t have to worry about that. In fact, for the first time in ages, I didn’t have to worry about anything at all. I was free. Free from all the societal and familial shackles and manacles. I pounded the steering wheel with my fist and I grinned a Jack Nicholson crazy-man smile—yes, I was doing the Jack-man proud! I had been bowed and beaten and nearly broken but not for one second longer! I had finally taken control.

  I released all the windows in the car to get the full volume of the sweet-scented, hot Australian summer, and I leaned back in my luxurious seat to savour my moment of triumph. I hadn’t let the bastards grind me down!

  I reached for my skinny flat white and took a satisfying gulp. As I took another slug, thinking it was possible that the Australians made the greatest coffee in the world, a scream pierced my eardrums and my scrotum clenched so far back in my body I was convinced I’d lost my balls for life. I choked down the mouthful of coffee and shoved the cup into the holder.

  Another ungodly ear-piercing howl filled the air, and I nearly swerved off the road. I white-knuckled the car into submission and tried to steady my heart, which was pounding so hard my eyeballs popped like a cartoon character given a wedgie. What in God’s name was that? Was there a demon in the car? Was it a baby? Please don’t tell me it was a baby. I had stolen a car with a baby in it, hadn’t I? I glanced into the back, fully expecting to see an infant staring at me with accusing eyes. It was one thing to be a car thief—which, I’ll have you know I am not—but a kidnapper? My insides sloshed back and forth as if I’d swallowed a litre of the green mush that Margaux made me eat in lieu of breakfast, hoping to help me shed my unwanted pound
s. I had that same bitter taste in my mouth now as I prepared to meet the gaze of the stolen baby strapped into its car seat, pursing its little Chucky-doll monster mouth and winding up its batting arm to let loose another Stephen King-inspired scream. But there was no baby. There was no car seat. No Chucky. Relief washed over me and my balls ungripped a millimetre. At least I was not a child thief. I breathed again. Thank God. There was, however, a large grey box on the back seat. A cat box.

  I took my eyes off the road for a moment and swung around to look at the box. I had kidnapped a cat. I had catnapped. I was a sixty-year-old cat-thieving felon. One did not steal cats. Top of the range Jeeps, yes, that was somewhat acceptable, although of course, I was not a car thief by profession or nature. Deep down, though, I supposed I must be one since I appropriated the car with such ease. But I was not, nor would ever be, a cat thief.

  Thoughts filled my mind like dust devils, and I forced my eyes back to the road. I needed to focus. Self-recriminations and internal philosophical debates were of little use to me at that point. But another eardrum-destroying howl filled the car, as if a hundred geese were being mauled by a pack of wild dogs. It was all I could do to keep the car moving in a straight line. My hands were shaking and sweat poured off me, and I was stuck to the leather seat I had been admiring only moments before. What in the blazers was in that box? Was a cat even capable of making sounds like that? I needed to pull over and dump the box. Nothing in the world should make a noise like that, not even Lizzie Borden’s family as they succumbed to her axe-wielding little hand. And why was the cat suddenly so distraught when it had been utterly silent when I took the car? Why was it howling now, a good half an hour later?

  I scrambled for solutions, which was pretty hard to do when devilish sounds were turning the mushy insides of my bowels to ice despite the summer heat flooding the car. I remembered the air con—how the car had been like a butcher’s storage locker when I took it—and it struck me. Could it be that the creature wanted the air conditioning back on?