By Eric Leclere — Published 2005

Paperback: 19.8cm x 12.9cm — 207 pages — ISBN: 9780953556212 

No bones about it: Alan Winston didn’t invent the wheel, isn’t invariably sweet to puppies, and hasn’t necessarily got what it takes to become another anybody. As a matter of fact, it could even be said Alan Winston is not truly there, or, come to think of it, always getting through to himself. So, on account of him knowing a few difficulties like that, maybe there was always a certain inevitability to his ending up at the end of a Mile End dead-end in a bid to dissolve among Greater London’s oohing and aahing hungry hordes; drop out of sight until you drop out of mind, so to speak. Who can tell? But there can be no doubt about some things: whatever else he may or may not be, Alan Winston is gorgeous. Twenty-twenty-vision gorgeous. Can-see-the-stars-and-the-gold as in apples-in-your-eyes gorgeous. And, like someone somewhere is guaranteed to have said, when you’re lost and alone and still find it in you to pause and take stock of all that glistens and flutters, the world’s got to be better for having you in it. Or so you’d think.

“Al-my-friend. How you doing tonight?”

“Still floating, Paolo mio.”

“Dio cane. How you do it?”

“Easy. You got to be as handsome within as without.”

2016 FOREWORD by the author