MORI

Seagard presents a genre-blending cosmic thriller about a self-destructive man who makes strange discoveries in a sun-dappled, modern-day Los Angeles.

When readers first encounter Miles “Mori” Morhart, naked and drinking profusely by a pool in a small California backyard, they already know that, in a month’s time, Mori will be missing and presumed dead. Not only that: He’ll also be the main suspect in the unsolved disappearances of four adults in L.A. between the ages of 25 and 38. Mori doesn’t know any of this yet, though; he came to the West Coast from Austin, Texas, to do little more than drink “creamy chardonnay” and lots of gin and vodka—and, of course, to smoke such copious amounts of cannabis that he even raises eyebrows at the local dispensary. Before long, the situation becomes clearer as readers learn of Mori’s daughter, whose messages he ignores; his ex-wife, whom he thinks he’s seeing in random bars; and his binge drinking—all symptoms of a life left behind. Put simply, Mori has come to California to drink himself to death, and he’s successfully pursuing this goal until a random voice starts speaking in his head, demanding that he “commune” with him—something Mori is unwilling to do until Lili, the attractive and enigmatic owner of the aforementioned dispensary, offers him a special off-menu pre-roll that she says could change his life. After just a hit or two, Mori finds himself more open to communing with the voice, which describes itself as an “esotericist” and part of a group who “specialize in spiritual and metaphysical methods.” The voice is investigating the disappearance of a young woman and her daughter, and it believes Mori can help. But readers know that whatever Mori’s about to do could lead to his death—and Lili will be at the center of it all.

This first volume of Seagard’s planned series bites off quite a lot, but never more than it can chew. The protagonist’s self-deprecation and sense of bewilderment—related in real time, carrying readers along with him—make the work feel breezy and approachable, but these character features also allow Seagard to tell a story with some depth. The story provides readers with laughs and suspense in equal measure, while presenting a narrative that tackles alcohol abuse and the state of California in ways that are recognizable but also deftly avoid cliches. Certain picadilloes in the prose soon become grating due to repetition—most notably, the author’s insistence on beginning many passages of Mori’s narration with the command, “Picture me.” But these moments are intermittent enough that they don’t overwhelm the sense of fun in these pages. Fans of SF and fantasy will find some welcome and familiar elements here, although readers who prefer the most complex and amped-up versions of either genre may find this book’s version a bit unfulfilling. The main emphasis in this novel is on storytelling and characterization, however, both of which unfold in an appealing way.

An inventive, humorous adventure into the cosmically esoteric with a flawed narrator whom readers will root for.