New Jamaican Writer

opioja50 · (#1 (**permalink**))

Greetings everyone!
I am Opio Yaw Asante (aka Horace Donovan),
a Jamaican artist and writer.

I have just published my first novel, 'Off The Edge',
an action thriller mixed with romance and suspense.
It sensitively describes the picturesque sceneries and
reggae culture of Jamaica.

The story's protagonist, Ivor Mansong, a descendant of
the Maroons of Nanny Town, Jamaica, saw that the battle
for paradise, fought by the Maroons, was far from over.
He gets caught up in the middle of a shootout, leaving him
close to death. Being among the first of the highly charged
Sea Wasps, trained in military techniques perfected by the
US Navy Seals, Ivor finds himself on the firing line of the
fight against illegal firearms and cocaine trade in the western
Caribbean. After losing the woman he loved and being close to
the edge, Ivor sees the need to change direction once more.

If you would like to purchase 'Off the Edge' or read an excerpt
from the book, please visit
OFF THE EDGE by
OPIO YAW ASANTE (Book) in Mystery & Crime

More information about Opio Yaw Asante and his work can be
found at HOME

Feedback would be appreciated.

EXCERPT FROM "OFF THE EDGE"

Ivor was standing next to the main entrance to the recreation building talking with Michael and his friends when the firing started. Everyone panicked and, in a split second, Ivor found himself on the floor, being trampled on. He thought his heart had given up under the crushing weight of fully-grown adults scrambling through the door. The initial firing continued for about three minutes before it gradually moved away from the playground.

Crowds of people hurried from the building towards the gate and started to disperse along the streets, others called out for friends and loved ones. Ivor got onto his feet and squeezed into the building searching for Michael, who was nowhere to be seen. Ivor inspected his body by sweeping his hands across his clothes; everything seemed to be OK with him. He shouted Michael’s name a few times, coughing intermittently from a combination of the choking smell of discharged cartridges and the stampede, but most of those who were left behind were also shouting for loved ones. It was total chaos.

Moving towards the entrance of the building once more Ivor met up with a small group running back into the building. Not wanting to be trapped inside, he forced himself through the crowd and stopped just outside the entrance. A heavy pulsing sound came across the top of the building nailing him to the spot. The helicopter turned facing Ivor. Its extremely blinding light forced him back against the front of the building. A loudspeaker from the helicopter commanded everyone on the ground to lay face down. Patrol car lights flashed on the street, as more police cars converged on the playground. After much activity, the helicopter ceased hovering and sped off in the direction of the cemetery.

opioja50 · (#2 (**permalink**))

Nine-year-old Ivor’s journey to Kingston is an excerpt from Opio Asante’s novel, Off the Edge.

The horn of the bus from Nanny Town to Kingston sounded in the distance, and the teamwork started in locking the windows and doors, and ensuring all fires were out. Granny reached for her bags and the house keys from the top of the “whatnot” and Ivor waited by the front door with her sculpted guinep-wood walking stick. They hurried down the steep narrow steps, down the unpaved path between the bright red, yellow and purple Croton plants on both sides, sugar canes, a number of mango trees, towards the opening that housed a gate years before.

The small Leyland bus waited on the opposite side of the road. Duke, the driver knew it was Ta Mildred’s shopping day and he dared not leave her. The audience of passengers rocked with laughter as Granny maneuvered around and over the mounds and rocks in her path, strategically placing her walking stick in familiar slots to stabilize herself from Ivor’s tugs, as with excitement he guided her to the worn tarmac and the bus. Granny paused a few seconds to catch breath, before the conductor pulled her up the steps, with Ivor pushing at her bottom to lever her as she mustered the last ounce of energy to claim her seat opposite Duke. Ivor’s seat was a makeshift seat abridging the gap between Ta Mildred’s seat and the gearbox. This was the prime position, because Ivor could see the road ahead without obstruction. He could also see every move that Duke made in taking the bus over, round and down the winding road towards the coastal plains below.

The sun was high in the sky at about ten o’clock, casting sharp shadows that rushed towards Ivor inducing a hypnotic state. Above, Ivor marveled at the light blue sky through the rushing leaves and branches, and the tops of steep virgin mountains on both sides metamorphosing into rugged coffee hills, then gentler slopes adorned with patchworks of green foliage. The spiky effect of coconut leaves exploded in all directions, broad sheltering structures of banana leaves reached for the skies and wiry yam vines coiled spontaneously around wooden poles, standing erect like soldiers called to attention.