Book Review-The Syphilis Artist

Literary as well as suspense readers will find The Syphilis Artist disturbing, engrossing, and compelling; rich in its portrait of a Norwegian artist who creates more than art (“The evil that men do, that lives after them.”) as his legacy.-Diane Donovan The Midwest Book Review The Syphilis Artist Per Olav Verås Vanguard Press 978-1800162297           $15.99

The Syphilis Artist

PreOrder Now Prepare to be shattered. In this shattering and beautiful debut novel by Per Olav Verås, we see shades of Jerzy Kosinski’s The Painted Bird, and the truth is brought home that evil sometimes can never be escaped, or fixed, or forgotten Pegasus Publishers

First edit sent to #pegasus

Excerpt from page 10

Copyright Per Olav Verås, 2020 from the novel THE SYPHILIS ARTIST (note I have blocked out some exciting text. You will have to buy the book to read further. )

I walk across a field of flowers

… a bright summer’s day,there is the scent of mint, and in the near distance, thebuildings, desolate and rust-colored, where the killingoccurred. I walk with a small crowd of silent survivors,who are no longer prisoners. I will go inside the emptybuildings, and think, can whitewashed concrete wallstestify to the evil, will they speak? – Mia

Why I Wrote The Syphilis Artist…in english

I am a native New Yorker. Most of my life has been lived in the United States. I was fortunate to attend Stuyvesant High School. My pepper haired English teacher, Mrs. Hegarty, gave us students some advice. Memorize Shakespeare. Just do it, for the pleasure it gives. Shakespeare is the gift that keeps on giving.

A little, hidden place in a town in Norway

Where I write these words.Where the memory of those events lingers,where I will reach back, and meet her.I will hold her close, again, and again.I will look into his eyes, in this stillness,and weep, as he wept. I will wait.

Welcome

My name is Per Olav Verås. This website is home to my debut novel, The Syphilis Artist. Follow me on twitter at https://twitter.com/po_veras . I walk across a field of flowers, a bright summer’s day, there is the scent of mint, and in the near distance, the buildings, desolate and rust-colored, where the killing occurred.