The commodification of love, murder, wellness and warfare—all that stuff, I guess—gives a sort of continuity to it:
My previous book, along comes a war, coming from a place of shock and solidarity—my response to the invasion of Ukraine, and how that horror is experienced by civilians—both in Ukraine itself (thanks to Bohdana Bun’s beautiful photography!) and further away, where we watch on screens across the globe. It bears witness, and all its profits go to the Come Back Alive Foundation.
My new novel (launching in June), The Trashman, comes from a different angle—but spotlights similar horror.
We live in an age where spectacle overwhelms substance, power pretends to be entertainment, and outrage out-appeals truth. In this era of the evil clown Trump and performative politics, reality feels increasingly staged—curated, monetised, weaponised.
The Trashman is (in part) my response to all that.
It’s a neo-neon-noir Hollywood thriller which flits between LA, Paris and Milan. Interwoven into a modern love story, it’s about image, the mechanics of fame. It’s fast, cinematic, and—I hope—satirically funny.
along comes a war and The Trashman both bear witness. Their underlying concerns overlap: what happens to our truth when power and image dictate our lives, and what do we become if we let them?
More soon.
— Freddie








































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