Evil Switches Outfits – to The Trashman, from along comes a war

Photo by Freddir Oomkens of Los Angeles

My new thriller, The Trashman, is launching 25 August.

It’s a global, cinematic Hollywood thriller with a twist of sharp political satire. Luxury noir. Its tagline:

In a throwaway world, The Trashman is king.

The book flits between LA, Paris and Milan. It’s for readers who loved the world of The White Lotus, the sun-drenched menace of Ripley, and the poisoned glamour of House of Gucci.

Interwoven into a modern love story, it’s about image, art, fame and lust, the mechanics of “success”, and working out your own best self and place. It’s fast, satirically funny (you can read the pitch below, or just pre-order it here) – but I’d like to share how it follows on from my previous book, which seems so very different.

The commodification of love, murder, wellness and warfare—all that stuff, I guess—gives a sort of continuity to it:

That 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.

 The Trashman comes from a different angle—but it certainly spotlights similar horror. It follows a digital trail from the hills of Bel Air, the Parisian clubs, to the lakeside glamour of Como, the runways of Milan, the crime-tech intelligence hub of The Hague.

We ‘re in an age where toxic, entitled power pretends to be anti-elitist, where spectacle overwhelms substance,  and outrage out-appeals truth. In this era of the evil clown Trump and performative politics as click-bait, reality feels increasingly staged—curated, monetised, weaponised.

The Trashman is (in part) my response to all that. A story about love, lust and success, and finding your true self in a society at war with itself, where everything, and everyone—right to the very top—seems disposable.

It asks: In a throwaway world, how disposable are you?

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?

 

— Freddie

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Here’s The Trashman‘s pitch:

In a throwaway world, The Trashman is king.

A global, cinematic Hollywood thriller with a twist of sharp political satire.

When ambitious young fashion designer Zoe arrives at a celebrity Malibu mansion to present her work, she finds her clients’ bodies instead—curated with the artistry, the cold precision of a “Collection”. In the chaos that follows, she meets Jez, a podcaster chasing his viral breakthrough. Attraction sparks among the horror.

Luxury noir with a body count…

As the Trashman goes global, each new Collection—Paris, Como, Milan—becomes more lethally elegant than the last, featuring more high-profile victims, taunts and cryptic clues.

And Zoe keeps appearing near the scenes. Is she muse, victim, or accomplice?

With ICE raids inflaming a polarised America, and investigators from the LASD and Europol closing in across two continents, Jez faces an impossible choice: expose the woman he loves and secure his fame, or protect her and risk everything.

Zoe’s own reckoning is no less brutal—can she build a career on looking away?

Haut-Couture Horror…

This visceral, darkly satirical psychological thriller follows a digital trail from the hills of Bel Air and the Parisian clubs to the lakeside glamour of Como, the runways of Milan, and the crime-tech intelligence hub of The Hague. It’s for readers who loved the world of The White Lotus, the sun-drenched menace of Ripley, and the poisoned glamour of House of Gucci.

A story about love, lust and success, and finding your true self in a society at war with itself, where everything, and everyone—right to the very top—seems disposable.

In a throwaway world, how disposable are you?

Pre-Order The Trashman here.

 

on being conscious:

From a Meditation of Philippe de Saint Maurice, une entité mystérieuse by all accounts, best known for his Meditations, selections of which I’ve been tinkering at these past years. This one skates the edge of profundity and platitude in characteristic, unsettling Maurician manner:

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On being conscious:

–We are dewdrops in the dawn

Of sunshine on the thirsty lawn:

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We are sparks that fly

Through deep and darkening night sky

Till rainclouds quench us.

 

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Having spent time recently in Thailand I was able to reconnect with Philippe de Saint Maurice and go through some of his Meditations.

These two haiku on consciousness are part of a longer sequence called revelation realisation, but they stand well alone.

I took the photo on Bang Niak beach on the Andaman coast of Thailand last month (December 2022).

For those interested in epic literary hauls, translations of the Meditations are coming along fine and will be shared in Book Seven of The Dark Gospel; I’m sharing the odd snapshot and highlight as I proceed.

Villa of the Mysteries, Pompeii


A poem by Ummidia Quadratilla, on learning that her husband, daughter, and son-in-law have been killed in the Vesuvian holocaust. The family’s seaside villa in Pompeii (now known as the Villa of the Mysteries) has just been destroyed by the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 AD, and the family died while helping their household to escape. Ummidia Quadratilla, a Roman-era Messager of the Tabernacle of Gaia, had stayed in Rome. Selections of her poems appear in The Dark Gospel and are translated by Freddie Omm:

Sweet home, bodies loved

Before the ash and pumice storm:

Thoughts, loves, lives, buried

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Words too crushed to speak

My loss through lasting love now

Silence covers all—

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Busts, scrolls in libraries,

(Like grapes left liquid in the press)

Some burned, crushed, some saved:

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We can only wait

For the centuries to come

To uncover us

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here

I followed a path

thinking that it led somewhere

but it’s ended here—

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It isn’t the road

not taken so much as the

untakeable road—

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Follow my advice:

don’t follow a path—choose the

made up, pathless ways.

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freddie omm

january 2021

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with apologies to robert frost’s road not taken

– the poem is based on a meditation of Philippe de Saint Maurice

the dark gospel, by f.k.omm

i am in the middle of writing an alternative opening for my thriller, the dark gospel.

lex, the hero of the book, has recurring dreams which come true, and this opening describes one of them at the moment of becoming so…

i’m rather down on prologuey type openings usually – it can spoil unity and flow – so i may yet discard it.

as i am interweaving past and present throughout the book, though, it may work better than usual.