Along Seattle streets in 1995, Hatch, a fifty-year-old Marine vet, claws his way to sobriety for life as a painter, one brushstroke at a time, while his invisible dog Bud trots behind.
HATCH is an artist derailed by the Vietnam War. Starting with crayons as a child, his love of art was nurtured as an art major in college, through a semester of study in Rome, and even while in Vietnam. Since then he’s produced nothing. Twenty-seven years after discharge with a gut injury and a Purple Heart, Hatch still wanders Seattle’s Pioneer Square. With his ponytail, ragged T-shirts, patched jeans and an air of hostility, he drinks away his talent, having long ago traded his paintbrushes and pens for Ripple and Thunderbird.
But at least he has his invisible dog, BUD, always trotting behind him, always willing to listen, even willing to talk. Sometimes ribald, sarcastic, always witty, Buddy’s there for the hard truth. He serves as a crutch when Hatch can’t hold on. The banter between Marine and dog drives the book.
Hatch faces a DUI and attends court-ordered AA meetings. One night he stops at a nearby Seattle diner owned by ROSA, a Puerto Rican earth mother who hires him as a kitchen prep. New hope drives Hatch to renew his old love of drawing, inspired by Rosa. Watching Hatch draw a portrait of her, she says he’s an artist with a talent hidden too long. Hatch lets her words sink in. Slowly, despair begins to loosen its grip. Even with obstacles to his sobriety and self-esteem—including a shaming sister, a sex-addicted girlfriend, and a relapse—Hatch gradually moves from painting a mural on the diner wall to exhibiting his work in an art gallery.
As Hatch gains sobriety and opens up, love and art take hold. But the stronger he gets, the more he must come to terms with ghosts from the war, including his life-saving fellow combat Marine, BLUE, and dog, Bud. Along with my extensive research on American combat experience in Vietnam, a retired Marine and historian who served one year and a half near Da Nang, provided vital information for this book.
HATCH is an artist derailed by the Vietnam War. Starting with crayons as a child, his love of art was nurtured as an art major in college, through a semester of study in Rome, and even while in Vietnam. Since then he’s produced nothing. Twenty-seven years after discharge with a gut injury and a Purple Heart, Hatch still wanders Seattle’s Pioneer Square. With his ponytail, ragged T-shirts, patched jeans and an air of hostility, he drinks away his talent, having long ago traded his paintbrushes and pens for Ripple and Thunderbird.
But at least he has his invisible dog, BUD, always trotting behind him, always willing to listen, even willing to talk. Sometimes ribald, sarcastic, always witty, Buddy’s there for the hard truth. He serves as a crutch when Hatch can’t hold on. The banter between Marine and dog drives the book.
Hatch faces a DUI and attends court-ordered AA meetings. One night he stops at a nearby Seattle diner owned by ROSA, a Puerto Rican earth mother who hires him as a kitchen prep. New hope drives Hatch to renew his old love of drawing, inspired by Rosa. Watching Hatch draw a portrait of her, she says he’s an artist with a talent hidden too long. Hatch lets her words sink in. Slowly, despair begins to loosen its grip. Even with obstacles to his sobriety and self-esteem—including a shaming sister, a sex-addicted girlfriend, and a relapse—Hatch gradually moves from painting a mural on the diner wall to exhibiting his work in an art gallery.
As Hatch gains sobriety and opens up, love and art take hold. But the stronger he gets, the more he must come to terms with ghosts from the war, including his life-saving fellow combat Marine, BLUE, and dog, Bud. Along with my extensive research on American combat experience in Vietnam, a retired Marine and historian who served one year and a half near Da Nang, provided vital information for this book.
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