A Certain Point of View: Writing, Film and Stuff

  Not a Romance Novel: Why Emotional Truth Matters More Than Genre Readers often ask: Is Reunion: Coda a romance? The answer is more nuanced than a shelf label. Yes, there is love—aching, tentative, redemptive. But this isn’t a story built on tropes or tidy resolutions. It’s a novel with romance, not a romance novel. The difference is emotional gravity. Jim Garraty’s journey isn’t about finding “the one.” It’s about living with memory, navigating regret, and learning how to love without losing himself. Romance in the Garratyverse is never spectacle—it’s sanctuary. It’s the quiet miracle of being seen, of being accepted, of being allowed to feel without apology. In Reunion: Coda , love is complicated by life. By traffic. By missed calls. By the weight of history. And that’s what makes it real. This is a story for readers who crave emotional fluency over formula. Who find resonance in quiet moments, in letters never sent, in friendships that hold space when romance f...

  “The Ones Who Stay” They clap the loudest when the room is full, Their laughter timed to match the crowd. They speak in echoes, not in truth— A friendship built on being seen, not known. They tag your name in borrowed light, A gesture made for watching eyes. But when the silence stretches long, Their presence fades, rehearsed and thin. Then there are the ones who stay. No spotlight, no applause required. They know your rituals—how you stir your tea, The way you pause before you speak. They don’t perform your pain, they hold it. Not to fix, but to witness. They show up in the quiet hours, When grief is not poetic, just heavy. They remember the stories you forgot, The jacket tossed backstage, the missed cue. They lift you—not for spectacle, But because you asked, or didn’t have to. So let the crowd disperse. Let the stage go dark. The ones who stay will still be there— Unscripted, unshaken, real.  

A depiction of what Kelly Moore might look like. © 2025 Alex Diaz-Granados  I didn’t set out to write Leigh E. into Comings and Goings . Truthfully, I didn’t realize I had—until yesterday. Kelly Moore, as she lives on the page, was always her own person: emotionally fluent, quietly confident, and possessed of that rare wit that doesn’t clamor for attention—it simply belongs. But as I revisited a particular scene, something shifted. A flicker of recognition. The cadence of her voice, the way she occupies space without needing to claim it… these weren’t conjured. They were remembered. Leigh and I have been friends for over two decades. Southern, adventurous, whip-smart, and beautiful in that unassuming way that makes you feel lucky just to know her—she’s been a quiet constant in my life. I sent her a message, a little sheepish, with an excerpt from the book. She read it and replied, “LOL, yep, that’s me!” And just like that, fiction folded back into life. A few minutes later, she se...

  🧭 How to Read the Garratyverse: A Guide for New and Returning Readers There’s no single way to enter the Garratyverse. Like memory itself, the stories unfold in layers—sometimes linear, sometimes recursive, always emotionally true. Whether you’re new to the universe or returning to trace its quiet echoes, here are three pathways to explore the work. 📚 1. Publication Order Reunion: A Story → Reunion: Coda → Comings and Goings – The Art of Being Seen This path honors the evolution of the Garratyverse as it came into the world. You’ll witness the deepening of themes—love, regret, emotional sanctuary—and the growing fluency of its characters as they navigate the long arc of connection. Start here if you want to experience the universe as it was written—layer by layer, revelation by revelation. 🕰️ 2. In-Universe Chronological Order Reunion: A Story → Comings and Goings – The Art of Being Seen → Reunion: Coda This order follows the emotional timeline of the ...

  Fabio, Interrupted: Genre, Grief, and the Emotional Architecture of Reunion: Coda Some readers see a title like Reunion: Coda and expect a romance novel. Maybe they picture a windswept beach, a tearful embrace, or a shirtless man with flowing hair and a tragic backstory. I get it. I even leaned into the joke with a parody cover—Fabio in full glory, dramatically crossed out by the international symbol for “Prohibited.” But beneath the humor lies a serious point: Reunion: Coda isn’t a romance novel. It’s a story about memory, grief, male friendship, and the emotional consequences of reunion. A recent summary generated by Copilot in Word captured the heart of the book better than any genre label ever could. It described the narrative as a “richly detailed fictional exploration” of Jim Garraty’s life—from his high school years in South Miami to his adult career as a history professor in New York. It highlighted themes of love, loss, personal growth, and the enduring impact of ...

© 2024 Horse Mesa Press   Review: Haiku for the Midnight Hour by Dawn Pisturino Dawn Pisturino’s Haiku for the Midnight Hour takes the delicate form of haiku and twists it into something eerie and evocative. These brief verses, though spare in language, pulse with dread—ghosts, shadows, and the chill of empty spaces fill the page. It’s poetry for when the lights go out and you start noticing things you wish you hadn't. She plays with juxtaposition: traditional nature imagery rubbing against spectral unease. The result is a collection that’s as unsettling as it is elegant—like overhearing a whisper in the dark, only to realize it came from nowhere. This isn’t horror that screams; it lingers. Perfect for lovers of Halloween ambience, gothic moods, or anyone who enjoys finding beauty in the quiet spaces between fear and fascination. Here’s a poignant excerpt from Haiku for the Midnight Hour that captures the haunting elegance of Pisturino’s style: whispers through the tre...

© 2025 Alex Diaz-Granados. Cover designed for the Kindle edition by Juan Carlos Hernandez   “Cassette Tape Years” For Jim, for Marty, for Maddie—echoes in two keys In corridors of sunlit youth, where voices trembled into song, a boy with history in his eyes loved a note too fragile to belong. The Winter Concert, velvet sound— a Schubert prayer, Ave Maria— he watched the solo fall like snow while silence held what words could be. A letter passed with trembling hands, final bells and summer haze— what he could not speak aloud hid in tape reels and school hallways. Seventeen years and northern skies, chalk and paper, wounded grace— the past returns in piano chords, her eyes: familiar, Marty’s face. Columbia’s towers weigh him down with echoes of Miguel’s despair, but Maddie’s hands across the keys remind him love still lingers there. And in the fire of hurt and fight, the scholar bleeds, the teacher bends— yet healing comes in quiet tones when letters ri...