Bradley Jay Owens grew up in the Texas Panhandle. He is a former journalist and Foreign Service officer who served in Washington, D.C. and Port-au-Prince, Haiti. His stories and essays have appeared in Ploughshares, The Threepenny Review, The Henfield Prize Stories, The Christian Science Monitor and elsewhere.
He has received the Henfield Prize, the National Prize in Fiction from The Loft Literary Center, and fellowships from the University of Wisconsin-Madison and the
Cité Internationale des Arts.
He lives in Pacific Grove, California.
photo credit: James Marsh
"...the collection demonstrates remarkable stylistic and environmental range, but never at the expense of craftsmanship. Owens' characters are dynamic and captivating, and he has a masterful knack for subtle plot work. The atmospherics and emotional gravity of the prose are striking.... An ambitious collection that... shows impressive scope and literary ingenuity." (Kirkus Reviews)
In my family we named our pets for liquor. We had dogs named Brandy and Tequila. We had a cat named Vodka, to whom I was allergic. We even had a mynah bird once, for a short while, who we called Johnnie Walker.
One morning, after twelve years of writing fiction with little success, Townsend Beane produced a masterpiece.
The thing came out like one long exhalation: eight and one half pages, whole, complete, and unlike anything Beane had ever written.