It is rare to come across a genuinely original voice in fiction, but Bard Cole is just that.

— Sebastian Beaumont, Gay Times (UK)

A master of confused longings, clear-eyed chronicler of ambiguous desire, purveyor of desperate acts of love. He charts the course of badly lived lives with great economy and wit.

— Paul Russell, author of The Coming Storm and Boys of Life

— Dennis Cooper, author of Frisk and Period

In his first novel, C. Bard Cole weaves a delirious web of invented fragments of American literature with the language of nursery rhymes, school books, encyclopedias, advertisement, pop music lyrics and TV listings.

A frantic field guide to a mental landscape shaped by literary allusion and littered with pop culture detritus, This is Where My Life Went Wrong is autobiography as anti-novel, placing the universal story of an artist’s coming-of-age in the context of American history, politics, and culture at the beginning of a new century.

C. Bard Cole witnessed the two great urban disasters of twenty-first century America in New York City and New Orleans and is currently waiting for the third in Memphis, Tennessee. His short fiction has appeared in Men on Men, Flesh & The Word, and other book anthologies, as well as in the short story collection, Briefly Told Lives. He is a former assistant editor of Alabama Heritage magazine, where most notably he contributed an article about a fascinating rock.

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He gave her a long, juicy taste of his magic lollipop. It was an all-day sucker. She gobbled down the sweet nectar. She would never be satisfied with just a taste. She wanted all of it inside her parched, hungry throat. This is true. She really liked lollipops. On the other hand, one thing she disliked a lot was penises.

Billy was the smallest player on the team, but when the guys kicked back to play some more relaxed games, he showed what a great receiver he could be. Even when he got pounded over and over, he sprang right up, ready for the next guy to have a go at him. He loved nothing better than getting a workout and building up a sweat going head to head with the big guys. By the end of that session, he was wet from head to foot and boy did he feel sore. The soreness gave him trouble later that evening, when he went to a gay sex club and fifteen guys ran a train on him. Billy made a mental note never to play football and bottom at a gay orgy on the same day.

Tommy started off his English class doing good work & pleasing Teacher, but he just could not keep it up all semester. Disappointed, Miss Brown asked what his problem was — did Tommy need special attention? A more personal touch? Tommy eagerly agreed and for the next two months Miss Brown took the reins and drove that boy harder than he’d ever been driven before. Her one on one efforts made him say with a smile that he never thought he’d enjoy being ridden by a teacher! Ridden hard and whenever he wanted to quit she said no, fighting back and taking him to the next level. And it must be said that Tommy was Miss Brown’s favorite pupil too. It was her last year teaching junior high — she had reached the mandatory retirement age of 65. She gave Tommy a nice pen and pencil set.

Mister Joju hairy potto. A nickel bag of hope. A nickel bag of pussy. A nickel bag of dereliction of duty. A nickel bag of angina. A nickel bag of diarrhea of the mouth. A nickel bag of Mediterranean style consoles. A nickel bag of pork. Squeeze one’s nut. Chasm one’s peccary. Notch-puncture one’s Frenchman