The Colon Chronicles is Benton Fazzolari's first published novel. In it he explores the difficulties of breaking free from the religious cult in which he was raised as a child. Although, a work of fiction, Fazzolari draws upon some of his own experiences for much of the content of his book. Fazzolari also looks at depression, mental illness, and unrequited love by presenting eccentric and intellectual characters trapped in the incongruous circumstance of being part of a religious cult. Great book for ex-Jehovah's Witnesses and ex-Mormons.
After leaving the Jehovah's Witness religion several years ago, I began writing what would become my first novel. It is a sad, yet humorious story about two characters that are emotionally disturbed because of being raised in the cult like conditions of the religion of their parents.
This is also a story about mental illness and depression. The character's have telent and generally maintain a "normal" life, but are constantly haunted by a past that doesn't go away very easily. The Colon Chronicles is a true catharsis. Still my most emotional writing, despite the publication of two more novels.
"Hello Brother Felix," said the church elder with an incomprehensibly large smile. He spoke loudly as if he were announcing his greeting to an assembly of people, but there were only three people in the back room. "Brother Felix...we asked you to come back here because...do you know why we may have called you back here?" (page 6)
Okay, was it an oppressive cult?
I think so.
Describe it a little.
We had these things called congregation picnics in which enormous Polish women ate giant mountainous sausages and filled their eyes with sauerkraut visions. They added barbeque sauce to the tiny wieners and once a mechanic brought an acoustic guitar and played a bald headed version of Earth Angel. (page 23)
His hiking boots bled with mountain splinters and his socks, no comment. The only slight act of hygiene he committed on his way out the door was a swift run through his hair with three fingers; fingers that were already greasy from a sweaty sleep. As he ran up the driveway the motivation sprayed from his blue aura. The subconscious neighbors down the block could notice it, but ignored it to maintain their privacy and apathy. The ground rocked a little and may have crumbled somewhere. Feegile was doing something with speed. The prophets watching could not interpret it; it was an anomaly, unpredictable, going against the scriptures. How would they explain it to the flock of innocent victims?(page 118)