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    Naming The Moon
    Naming The Moon
    Naming The Moon
    Ebook87 pages1 hour

    Naming The Moon

    By Joseph Valentinetti

    3/5

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    About this ebook

    Pauly Macy came to California, with Jilly, to buy a house and settled down. But settling down didn’t work for Jilly. Jilly was gone and here he was, in a California backwater, among piles of dung, ladies auxiliaries, ministers, priests and Dutch dairy farmers. He filled his loneliness with his friends, the Madillacs, work and travel. During football season he flew to each Vikings game. At a season opener in Buffalo he met Loretta. Things between them couldn’t have been better until one night she didn’t come home. The police found the van she had been driving, off the road by the reservoir but couldn’t find any evidence of a crime and soon gave up the search. Nobody was interested. But Pauly kept searching the urban wilderness where the van had been found. Even after he himself had given up hope compulsion drove him on. One evening, in his search for Loretta, he stopped to rest on the shore of the reservoir and fell asleep. When he woke in the darkness he thought he saw a second moon. He shook himself awake. It turned out to a skull. Not Loretta’s but the oldest Caucasian human remains ever found in North America. Then everyone, from the local native Americans to the Arian Brotherhood, was interested.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJoseph Valentinetti
    Release dateJul 23, 2011
    ISBN9780983406334
    Naming The Moon
    Author

    Joseph Valentinetti

    The Type Of People I Write About There are many reasons a person will pick up a book. They’re looking for something, it could be anything. So let me give some idea of what you’ll find when you open a book of mine. But first let me tell you what you won’t find. None of my characters are innocent. They are not finding love for the first time. They are not stunning symbols of ideal beauty or intelligence. They may be jaded or naïve but they are not brand new. None of my characters are capable of turning into bats, wolves or anything requiring a special uniform, especially a cape. They can’t leap over tall things, least of all buildings. They don’t wear masks or have faithful Indian companions. They don’t dress like they’re in Sherwood Forest and they don’t have a shapely fairy with dragon-fly wings who can sprinkle them with pixy dust and make their dreams come true. No ruby slippers, no magic Lamps. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with characters like that or people who write about them, it just that I don’t. What you will find are people, ordinary average people who find themselves in extra-ordinary circumstances. People who have gotten themselves into a position that’s completely new to them and they have to figure out how to get out of it. If they don’t find a way the consequences will be severe and most likely fatal. There’s a spiritual song called The Lonesome Valley. It says, `Nobody can go there for you’. While that’s true, there are many people willing to help them find the path to it, if they’re not careful. My characters can’t buy their way out, they can’t wish their way out. They can’t hope for the best, they can’t pretend it isn’t happening. They can’t say it’s all someone else’s fault. It’s their time in life to face the facts. E.M. Forster said the only way to end a work of fiction in a satisfying way is with death or marriage. Both satisfactorily signal the end of the adventure. My writing never ends with all the questions neatly answered. Some of the conclusion is left to the reader to ponder. Some readers think this isn’t the way books should be but some books are, mine for example. About Me Whenever I’m faced with the prompt to say something about myself I’m stumped. Maybe it’s because when I read how other people have responded to that, with dates of birth, schools attended, jobs held, marriages tried, children raised, accomplishments they’re proud of, I’m a little to a lot bored by it. Resumes and vita sheets-I don’t know. I always thought the only difference between a resume and a prison record was who’s doing the writing, who’s the record keeper. I was born in New York City. From a national perspective it’s a world class place, full of everything anyone could ever want. From someone who grew up there it was the biggest small town in the world. Most New Yorkers live in enclaves of a few thousand people and spend most of their lives in a limited geographical area. My years there were spent in Washington Heights-some trips downtown, once to Jersey, to a camp, sponsored by the church for poor kids, but mostly within the confines of a square mile or two. I failed to graduate from George Washington High School because I failed to attend most of the time. By the authority vested in the City of New York I was transferred from GWHS P.S. 192 to P.S. 614. The 600 schools were special. To put it simply, you went on Monday and came home in June. I’d probably still be there but, about this time, the transit authority built the second level of the George Washington Bridge through my bedroom, forcing us to relocate, relieving the city of its responsibility toward my education. One night, some friends and me were sitting around bored, playing cards, in a furnished room, on 48th and Palisades, over the 300 Club, in Union City New Jersey. We were mostly jobless, older teenagers. I don’t remember how the subject came up but we were talking about military service. Henry said he liked the Air Force, they had cool raincoats. I said the Army was three years and that was better than the four years the air Force demanded so it was the better deal. We cut the cards for it. I drew a queen. We enlisted the next day, on the buddy plan, Henry and me. He got pneumonia the first week of basic training and that was the last I saw of him. Through no fault of my own I served in the peace time army. I got my GED in the service. I earned the GI bill for my time. All in all I got the better of the deal. It paid all the way through to a master’s degree in education. My undergraduate advisor told me I was the brightest undergraduate he’d ever met. My son’s mother said I was the dumbest bastard she’d ever met. A hand full of one, a handful of the other. Neither held the ring of truth or the aroma, for that matter, I wanted from either relationship. I was probably somewhere in the middle. I was a counselor/instructor at the University of Minnesota. I worked with federal grants to help underprivileged students access higher education. I did that until the university and federal government decided educating the underprivileged was no longer something worth doing. During this same period I worked in public relations photography for the music industry, photographing their artists when they came to town for concerts. I also did studio photography as well as teach photography for Metropolitan State University. I taught training classes for state employees in utilizing media to improve agency communication. I had five one-man shows of my Photographs at the universities and private galleries. I have since worked as a Public Guardian and a private detective. There is a block of time in this later period that I refer to as The Lost Years. You’ll have to wait to hear about that. Some days I am happy and some days I am sad, some days I feel good and some days I don’t. I dropped out of high school because I didn’t see the connection between tin exports from Bolivia, solving for X and teachers who didn’t seem to understand the limits of their responsibilities, but, more likely it was because I didn’t understand the limitlessness of my own. So. Now I’ve said something about myself.

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    Reviews for Naming The Moon

    3/5

    22 ratings11 reviews

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    • 3/5
      The story was interesting, but the way it was written made it hard for me to follow. It was not a style I had read before and half the time I didn’t understand what the author was trying to say. For example, the dialogue jumped around a lot which made it hard for me to tell who was speaking at some points in the story. There were loose ends that I would have wanted solved, like what happened to Loretta? Did the professor survive? What happened with the bones?My final thoughts on this novella are, while I think it was a good start, I still feel like this is a rough copy of a story that can still be fixed up to be better.
    • 3/5
      Though this story lacked some good editing it was an interesting novelette about a man named Paul who thinks he has met his soul mate only to have her dissappear. After searching the area where her belongings have been found Paul finds a skeleton. Luckily the skeleton is not his friend but ends up being a much older skeleton that gets a lot of people involved. Could have been fleshed out a little bit more but all in all was not a bad way to spend an afternoon in the sun.
    • 3/5
      An interesting novella that could easily be expanded into a novel. The story revolves around Paul who has a new love move in with him. He is the happiest he has ever been but she disappears with all of his stuff. The search for her leads to Paul finding his stuff but not her. After the police have given up he continues to search for his true love. One day during the search he finds a skull. But the skull turns out to be of a much older woman and leads to a second mystery in Paul's life. He is determined to protect the skull from all other claimants.It is too bad that the author leaves these two mysteries open. I hope that he expands on both stories some time in the future and possibly continue Paul's search for his two women.
    • 3/5
      This novella could have been so much more if the author had invested the time and energy. The two plot lines are incomplete and need much more substance. The characters are not developed sufficiently. It is too bad really as the author really has some talent. If he had developed the stories to their full fruition, I would have been much more satisfied. The two plots are good concepts but they just don't go anywhere. A round past a decent bout of editing would also be warranted as the novella is choppy and does not flow well.I have also read his longer novella, Tyler Palewhite. That book is an improvement over Naming the Moon because of the time taken to develop the story more effectively. It does suffer from the same lack of editing.I expect that time and the addition of a good editor will elevate this author to a much higher level and probable commercial success.
    • 3/5
      Joseph Valentinetti's novella "Naming the Moon" was a short, but good little read. I wasn't a huge fan of how short it was, but I did like how much the main character, Pauly, really overcam all the obstacles with his personal life. Interesting choice of his profession, too. It was enough to engage the reader. I really would liked more of the story.
    • 3/5
      I liked this short story/novella a lot, but there were a few issues. One, the flow of the writing and the editing mistakes made it a bit difficult to know who was talking or thinking ... lack of quotes, no breaks where there should have been, etc. Another problem was the abruptness of the ending - as well as not knowing whatever happened to one of the characters. However, these issues weren't enough to make me knock a whole star off, and the writing style was unique and quirky enough to bring life to the characters.
    • 2/5
      To me this felt like I was reading the notes for a novel. The basic plot was interesting, but it felt under-developed. Characters appeared without explanation, and some felt like they were little more than names. It has the potential to be a good story, but it needs more work.
    • 4/5
      There is a lot of talent here: this is a real author. For that reason, you should have a look at this: years from now you could say: "Oh! It is an author I discovered before everybody else." But right now, it is not a good book yet, just a good author. I do agree with the others reviewers so far (4 of them on librarything): the book needs a lot of revision. There are two very loosely related stories: one about a man who loses his girlfriend and tries to get on with his life. He meets another girl who disappears with all his stuff (including his potted plants: I like that detail!). The other story is about the discovery of an ancient skull and the trouble it causes to the hero. I think that the characters, specially the friends, could be more developed: we only recognize them by their names. And I may be a little dense, but I would understand everything so much better in 200 pages instead of 50. I need to know what happened to the girl who disappeared, because we are given to understand that it is something bad, but no explanation comes on. It could make a good detective story. The second story comes out as written very fast and there is a lack of precision about the science of bones - as compared for instance to the stories of Aaron Elkins who would be a direct competitor in terms of audience. I think that the book has more ambition than the "detective" style, it could be profound like the best Graham Greene, but for that, it needs to be longer and the poetical link between the two stories needs to be worked on. This being said, I enjoyed the trip.
    • 2/5
      The characters in this novella were well rounded, though the interaction and the flow between characters was lacking. Paul is a man who tends to give up his life and identity for the women he falls in love with. His first girlfriend leaves him for more adventure. The second girlfriend is as sporadic as Pauly but she also leaves him. On his search for her and the money she took from him he finds a skull. This skull proved that a Caucasian female was in America before the American Indians. Paul feels the need to protect the skeleton of this woman who he names Panoma Moon.
    • 2/5
      After reading this book I must say I was a bit disappointed and in some parts lost. The story jumped around to much. There are great ideas in this book! But it does not have a "flow". The relationship Pauly had with his girlfriend started to go into more detail, then she is gone, great plot, but after that I felt like I was reading an entirely different book. The friendship of Pauly and Malcolm was not explained well either. There are several good ideas that just need to be tied together. One thing this author did that I loved, he made reference to unique motto's, for example: "Love was better over the shoulder, a glance back now and then but keep moving. Just keep moving." This is just one of several catchy phrases. I hope he will build on this and bring the story together.*One more thought, I would change the character name of Pan. This appears to just be a typo in the book. Without giving more information on her and maybe even stating why she is called Pan, maybe an abbreviation of "Pandora" or something. Without telling us about her she seems just thrown into the story and appears to just be a typo, like the author meant to type "Pam". Story Rating: 2.5
    • 3/5
      Naming the Moon is a novella centered around Pauly Macy, a local printer and American football addict. Pauly has recently been left by his girlfriend,Jilly, and plans to go on a series of football oriented trips - to the cities where the games take place, and watch the games in his favourite bars. He collects his airplane tickets from his friends and muses with them about the Moon, and why all the rest of the planets' moons are named, but Earth's isn't. He next ponders the Moon's namelessness in a bar in Buffalo, where he meets Loretta, and things begin to get complicated. Partly because of Loretta, Pauly goes out digging in the Rincon, uncovering the ancient human remains of an woman, a find which could have an impact in archaeology, anthropology and Native American Indian claims.Naming the Moon feels like there are two plotlines (the Lorretta/romantic interest plotline and the skeletal remains debacle) both of which have great potential. The character quirks and interactions, particularly the friendship between Pauly, Walty and Kate, help to flesh out the characters and make them believable*. I particularly enjoyed the mini-stories within the text (e.g., the reason why the bar in Buffalo is called Cheat's) as they add a layer of believability as well as offer a hints or insight.On the downside, the novella has grammatical errors that need editing. The pacing of the story felt off, possibly because there were two plotlines, the second of which was rushed and unexplored, despite it having excellent potential**. The ending felt abrupt and unfulfilled, which was frustrating. The first plotline felt like it was left dangling, unresolved on all levels. The police work described (e.g., leaving a scene unattended) didn't ring true for me, and Pauly's football tour also seemed somehow unlikely.Overall: 2.5 stars - Some great ideas here, but they need either pruning or development.*The interaction with Malcolm is not as believable, but not unreasonable.** It was what drew me to read the book in the first place, hence the frustration.Review copy supplied by the author as part of LibraryThing's Member Giveaway Program.

    Book preview

    Naming The Moon - Joseph Valentinetti

    NAMING THE MOON

    by Joseph Valentinetti

    Copyright © 2011 Joseph Valentinetti

    Published by Joseph Valentinetti, USA.

    www.valentinetti.com

    email: i-and-a@juno.com

    Smashwords Edition

    This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

    The characters and events in this novella are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

    An imprint of Joseph Valentinetti.

    Table of Contents

    Chapter I

    Chapter II

    Chapter III

    Chapter IV

    Chapter V

    Chapter VI

    Chapter VII

    Chapter VIII

    Chapter IX

    Chapter X

    Chapter XI

    Chapter XII

    Chapter XIII

    Chapter XIV

    Chapter XV

    Chapter XVI

    Chapter XVII

    Chapter XVIII

    Chapter XIX

    Chapter XX

    Chapter XXI

    Chapter XXII

    Jamesy

    Mary

    Ben

    I

    It wasn’t that life without football was unbearable; more like life without football didn’t exist. And it wasn’t that life in Chino California was so dry it could suck the life out of you but sometimes Pauly Macy felt it was doing just that. He was only in California as a bittersweet accident of a long forgotten love affair, long forgotten on her part at least. Pauly was just too sentimental for his own good. Jilly used to tell him that.

    Pauly, you’re too sentimental for your own damn good. Don’t look like that. We’ll still be friends, see each other. I just need room to grow. Here she said, sticking her forearm under his nose. Smell me. Go ahead. I can smell it, can’t you? I’m stagnating. Am I so wrong to want this? In my one and only life? Pauly? Well?

    No, Jillian, he said, but Yes, Jillian, he meant.

    Did he give up nothing to come to this hilly dusty valley of Dutch dairy farmers? The air so thick with armies of flies you couldn’t see the roads and Egyptian pyramids of dung piled high, baking in the yellow sun? The cloying odor, overwhelming, dense as the armies of flies. He gave up his freedom, that’s what he gave up. He brought a house, settled down. Now here he was stuck while Jilly was off somewhere-Hawaii, last he heard. But it was football season so who cared? It built in him all summer long and now with Sunday’s pre-season between the Panthers and Jaguars his plans were in full tilt. God bless her and good riddance Pauly thought, leaning against the outside wall at Macy Press, under the eave, thinking about smoking a cigarette, wiping at the stubborn ink on his fingers—95 in the shade.

    Pauly did cookbooks. He didn’t write them he printed them. The cookbooks that churches and groups still proud to be called ladies auxiliaries put out to raise money. You could hand Pauly a bundle of barely readable notes and sketches that looked the same right side up or upside down and something beautiful would come out of it. Priests and Deacons and Elders and Ladies depended on him. Sometimes, when a church budget would allow, he’d produce an illuminated title page on a special press he called a Beni Press. Sort of a joke. Named for Beni Wattenberg, a fine arts teacher at Gomper’s Technical, who built it as a replica of early lithograph presses but could never get it to work. Pauly figured out it was a question of balance. While Beni fretted over ways to make her press lighter Pauly figured out it needed to be heavier and to be righted on a known surface. Then the limestone blocks began to behave. She told him if he wanted it he could have it. After all, it was he who first taught it to sing.

    The churches also liked him because his work was reasonable. He never caught the California flu. That undocumented bug that gave everyone else absentee ownership fever. He liked what he did. The feel of laid paper, the weight of clay cover stock, the pungent oily smell of the inks. So what if he was a little odd, often dressed in a Viking jersey or cap, sometimes even a horned helmet. So what if the hours notice on his door read Hours erratic or by appointment? So what if he was quiet when he wasn’t abrupt and it was up to you to supply the conversation? So what if you had to ask, You’ll have it by May? And then translate his response to your own satisfaction? So what? He was an artist in this little niche of his, shaping the mundane into something beautiful-a cook in a way, a chef of the press.

    You from the Twin Cities, Pauly?

    New York.

    Why not the Jets, the Giants?

    He shrugged. How would he know? The Vikings, Valhalla. The purple and the gold. That the best limestone came from there?

    Pauly worked lots of hours; long erratic hours. Middle of the night. Days straight. Breakfast for dinner. Beer for water. Vodka for wine. Fists full of ice in his shirt pockets to keep him cool in the hell-hot press room. The clack and clatter of the presses hammered the rhythm of the rails. Not the undulating muffled purr you’d hear

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