Where One's Inner Wilderness Meets the Natural World

by Denes McIntosh


Book Details

From The Readers


“The first time I read ’Wilderness’ I kept reading because I couldn’t wait to see what happens with the characters. The second time I read it for the sheer pleasure of the writing. Anybody reading it once is definitely going to want to read it again.”

“The gradual regeneration of the human spirit following the brutality of the ‘incident’ renewed my faith in others, and in myself.”,

"Poetic, prosaic, insightful, getting to the heart of the human condition.”

“Harlen McCoy had me at ‘raking the invisible leaves’, and kept me with ‘wanting to hire a Judge Judy impersonator from Craigslist to come over and take a bath’.”

“’Kevin wore the same kind of shirt every day of his life, but with different colored sleeves’? We need more Kevins.”

“A story of faith, not prescription, or formula faith, but the kind that enables love to find a willing host.”

“The women in this novel are women I want to get to know. The men are the friends I wish I had.”

“Your description of Pastor Blauer is an Edward Hopper painting in words (‘He’s about 5’6” tall, with a cheap haircut, and usually wearing a powder blue suit. Sometimes he wears a brown polyester suit, kind of shiny from age. Makes him look upholstered, like an old hide-a-bed, or a couch you might keep out in the carport’).”

“I like that David watches Tom and Tracy Morgan through their window in the evening from his rooftop. I like that Tom sits on his couch naked. And I like that he doesn’t care who’s watching. If I were a character in the book I’d be Tom Morgan.”

“Made me look at my own wilderness.”

“Sexy and romantic. I wish Gina would dangle her hush-puppy in my café.”

“Stimulated more discussion with my husband than any book we’ve ever read together.”


Book Excerpt


”It was a spring afternoon with soft light coming to rest on the hood of Tim’s truck, bathing his windshield in promise, and an unapologetic radiance; the kind you might be used to seeing in the early morning, or even later in the day as the light lingered. There was a calm, ethereal, glow as he moved through the naked landscape of the High Desert. It reminded him of something in a dream sequence from one of those low-key indie movies that were always winning the awards at Sundance.

Colors danced on sand canvas, cactus planted inadvertently, scattered, as if by the wind, across a vast landscape, rising like the hairs on the back of your neck would at the thought of being stranded there. Rocks lying about like treasure strewn across the ocean floor around an old shipwreck; other rocks reaching spire-like towards the sun, content in the knowledge of their own ancestry, and in their dominance of the landscape.

As Tim pulled into the dirt parking area for the Vulture Peak trail, he noticed Lindy under a scrub pine tree off to the side of the trailhead. She was wearing khaki walking shorts, a soft terra cotta cotton blouse, and tan hiking boots with red laces. She was leaning forward, rear knee low to the ground with her front knee pointing forward, stretching out her upper thigh, and lower back muscles, in a kind of scissors position. She completed the exercise, and then, standing upright, reached back to grab her foot, pulled it up to her butt, held it for a few moments to further stretch the thigh, released it back to the ground, and then did the same with the other foot. She finished up with toe-touches, bending from the waist with palms lying flat on the top of her hiking boots. Tim was feeling nothing short of inspired by her beauty, and the natural elegance with which she moved. She blended with the landscape like a sunrise on an eastern peak. He was delightfully lost in the enchanting apparition for a moment.

As she was rising back to the upright position, Lindy caught Tim’s eye and waved him over. Actually, I think she caught him staring, but had the presence of mind to not let on, the grace to let him off the hook, so to speak. It was, somehow, very enabling for Tim just to see her. He felt himself kind of excited now for the walk.”


About the Author

Denes McIntosh

Denes McIntosh lives in the Sierra Nevada Mountains outside of Georgetown, CA. with his wife, Pat, his dog, Chica, and Buster, the cat.

A prolific songwriter, recording artist, poet, and cultural blogger (Coyote Tracks), Denes is a contemplative thinker and observer of the human condition, illuminating the obvious, as well as the obscure. His perspective consistently serves as a filter for the noise and distraction that life too frequently assaults our senses with.

Denes McIntosh – P.O. Box 721, Georgetown, CA 95634


Email: denes@theoldcoyote.com

Also by Denes McIntosh

Coyote Tracks
Poetic Indiscretion
All The Wild Horses