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| I've been a fan of his work for almost twenty years. —Neil Gaiman |
| When I was seventeen and read Martin Millar’s Ruby and the Stone Age Diet, I fell a little bit in love with the sweet, gormless, lovelorn Brixton squatter protagonist and his best friend Ruby, who never wore shoes, and who made everything okay by naming it —Bookslut |
| The book is finally appearing in its first American edition—a development not only welcome but ages overdue . . . It’s right on that edge between youth and wisdom, cute and serious, words and pictures . . . give yourself a break and pick this up. It will remind you of your youth—or somebody’s —The New York Times Book Review |
| The dizzying array of characters and perspectives whips Millar’s madcap story into a potent blitz that runs at full throttle through the satisfying conclusion. Fans of Irvine Welsh will love Millar’s singularly entertaining tale of suspicious minds. —Publishers Weekly | |
Ruby and the Stone Age Diet
Martin Millar
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| Paper | 5 1/2 x 8 1/4 | 160 pgs. | ISBN: 1-59376-232-1 | List: $13.95 | 01/1/2010 |
Available on Powells.com, Amazon.com, from your local BookSense store, and bookstores everywhere!
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About the book: “From now on,” Ruby says to her friend, the unnamed narrator, “we’re going on the Stone Age diet. It means we only eat the sort of healthy things our ancestors would have eaten. Raw grains and fruits and stuff like that. That’s what our bodies are made for.”
An admirable plan, but Ruby never eats, and the narrator’s attention span doesn’t lend itself to routine. He’s too busy pining for his ex-girlfriend Cis, who broke up with him and left him nothing but self-pity and a plant: an Aphrodite Cactus that, when it flowers, is supposed to seal the love of the giver to the receiver. At least, according to Ruby. Ruby, who never wears any shoes (even in the dead of winter).
Though lovelorn and lonely, the narrator’s life is rich with myth, with demons, werewolves, gods, and goddesses; everything is imbued with a spirit. There’s Helena, goddess of electric guitar players; Ascanazl, an ancient and powerful Inca spirit who looks after lonely people; Shumash the sun god; the war and sexuality goddess Astarte; Aphrodite; the muse Clio. In fact the only thing stronger and more sustaining than the narrator’s fantasy life is his friendship with Ruby—stable, supportive, inspiring, the kind of pure friendship that a body is made for.
About the author: Martin Millar is the author of the Thraxas series; The Good Fairies of New York; Lonely Werewolf Girl; Suzy, Led Zeppelin, and Me; Milk, Sulphate, and Alby Starvation; and Lux the Poet. He lives in London.
From the book:
Cis comes round. I bound around the flat trying to do things for her. She gives me a pot plant and tells me she doesn't want to see me any more. I think I might die on the spot.
Ruby wanders in and offers us some tea.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Why don't you want to see me any more?”
There doesn't seem to be any particular reason for it.
Ruby brings the tea and Cis goes away. I look at my pot plant. It is a little cactus.
“Will you go and cash my Giro for me?” asks Ruby, and signs the back.
I go to the Post Office. It is robbed. I am surprised at this. Normally it is a quiet place. Robbers come in with machine-guns and hold me and all the other customers at gunpoint and demand a small jet to fly them to Libya. All the hostages shake with fear...
I cash our Giros and go home.
“Ruby, I'm sorry I was so long cashing our Giros but when I was in the Post Office robbers with machine-guns came in and held me hostage.”
Ruby says don't be silly and I say it is true and she says it is just the acid making me think funny things and I say what acid and she says the acid she put in my tea to make me feel better about Cis leaving me and after that I can’t think of anything good to say. |
