- Madeline Moore
- Toronto, Ontario, Canada
- Wild Card, 2006. Winner of "best oral sex scene" - Scarlet Magazine. Amanda's Young Men, 2009. Excerpted in Scarlet Magazine; Juicy Bits. Sarah's Education, 2009. Hit the #1 spots on Amazon.co.uk adult fiction & adult romance best seller lists. Jade Magazine bestowed the best cover art, 2009 award on Sarah's Education. "Get Up, Stand Up!" which appeared in The Cougar Book (Logical-Lust) won me the title 'Story Teller of the Year 2011' at The Erotic Awards, London, UK. Sarah's Education took the #3 spot on a list of the 30 most titillating titles of all time, as reported in English Daily Mail ;Female; Nov. 12, 2012. Debutante, a petite novel for e-publisher Imprint Mischief, (Harper-Collins) pubbed in 2012. I tutor writing students and am a member of the WGC. D.M. Thomas said: Madeline Moore writes great sex without metaphor and that's not easy to do. Kris Saknussemm said: You're a good egg, Madeline Moore. I am a good egg who writes great sex without metaphor! Yippee!
Tuesday, 4 August 2009
Hello Stranger, Hello Neighbour
Not so long ago, we lived in communities where everybody knew each other.
When a person fell ill, she could depend on her neighbours for food and comfort.
If a fire razed one man’s farmhouse, he could be sure that soon a man, and another, and another, would arrive with wood and nails to help him erect a new one. We lived in communities.
These days we strive to live in isolation. How many people, even those living in apartments, know the people who live across the hall, never mind on another floor of the same building. When our neighbours, people who live near us but are strangers, experience misfortune, we don’t know about it or, if we do, we turn a blind eye and a deaf ear. “I have my own problems,” we mutter defensively. “Life is hard.”
Maybe we’re the ones making life hard.
One day my daughter came to visit me for the first time in my apartment. Her father and I had split up and she’d chosen to live with him. I was understandably nervous when she decided to go for a walk downtown. Although I live in a small town she was only nine at the time and I worried for her safety.
When she returned I immediately asked, “Did anyone talk to you?” And she replied, “Only one man. He lives in that house with the stone fence that is on the corner opposite this apartment building.”
“Oh.” I knew the house, of course, how could I not? I walked by it every day, at least twice. But I hadn’t bothered to wonder who lived in it, though the occupants were my “neighbours.”
No, I’d been too preoccupied with my troubles. Why had my marriage failed? Not so long ago I’d been the wife of a wealthy man with a big house full of things, my own car, and many supposed good friends. Where had everything and everybody gone?
Now I asked my daughter, “What did he say.”
“Well,” she replied, “he said, ‘Everybody’s a fucking asshole.’”
There it was, the answer to all my questions, out of the mouth of a babe as related to her by a complete stranger.
The moral of this little tale is simple.
Everybody is a fucking asshole.