Opher Goodwin’s Best Alternative/Indie novels

Here is a list of some of my best alternative novels ( I write about what is real) (all available in paperback or kindle and some in Hardback):

Reflections From A DitchSex, death, awe, wonder, fury, birth, life, beauty, politics, religion, anger, nature, love, questions, stories and thoughts are all words. I had to rearrange their meanings. You live your life and then you die. You start a journey that will not end as you expect. From a childhood spent in ditches to a lonesome wait in a ditch. You think you understand. You have relationships with people, animals, possessions and places but you can only guess at the other side. You are aware. You have a moral code you live by. You see how good things could be and, when you wear your Sunday best, you do your bit to make it happen. Your life is measured in seconds but how much of it has significance? You laugh and enjoy. You think and wonder. You create and destroy. Sometimes you are fulfilled and often you are frustrated; most of the time you are simply bored or engaged in the mundane. The things that stand out are oases in a desert of forgotten ordinariness. This is a story of a crash.Reflections from a ditch: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781500836498: Books
53 and ImplodingThis is the story of what goes on in one man’s head; an antinovel in which the mosaic of thoughts, ideas and interactions with friends, colleagues and life build into a picture of a life in crisis. An aging rebel finds himself increasing isolated and craving for a dream that is fading and a promise that never materialised. The compromise of life has created dissatisfaction. He feels split in two with no real identity. He sits at his computer and tries to make sense of the world and his life with its mundanity, highs and lows. This book is an alternative elegy to a disturbing world.53 and imploding: Amazon.co.uk: goodwin, opher: 9781512343014: Books
Farther From The SunA mosaic of a novel, a memoir, homage. My father was born in 1922. I was born in 1949. We have different values, different lives and ideas. How far apart are we? How much light did he shed? What are our legacies? This tells the story.Farther from the Sun: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9798680607763: Books
Bodies in a WindowLooking out through that window, standing beside death, peering at the world outside, it struck me that we were all stranded within the parameters of our own narrow lives – the fashions and attitudes of our youth and old age. We were victims of our times and ourselves. There was no such thing as individuality and freedom. It was an illusion. All life ran its course and ended in scenes like this. We were all trapped within the limitations of our days. Outside that window was another world. There were all manner of things happening. It was a panoply of everything you could imagine – rich and eventful. Life went on. It was only in here that it had stopped. In here everything had changed. All values and endeavours had been rendered meaningless.Bodies in a Window: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781986269544: Books
Danny’s StoryThis is Danny’s story and how he stumbled upon a place to live and friendships that saved his life. This is the story of a house that became a home. It is the story of an assortment of desperate people who were all lost and some became found. It is a real story of how people who are worthless and have no respect for themselves came to form a community. It is a story that tells us that there is a reason for everything; that chance works in strange ways and that often salvation appears out of the strangest circumstance. This is the story of Danny Champion.Danny’s Story: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781533487216: Books
Goofin’ With The Cosmic FreaksThis is the ultimate sixties book – an ‘On the Road’ for the British Underground with all its sex, drugs, dreams and music; those times of crazy people high on life and mad for experience – when anything was possible. It captures that idealistic naïve impossibility permeated with vitality and careering love and dreams, the wild rush for adventure without a thought for the future because it was going to last forever. – Seemingly forever changes! It spans continents as it trips its way through time, space and mind in a mad rush to discover life and experience or die trying. Now was all there was and it had to burn, burn, burn or it was dead. In the days of dope and poetry, where the world was ripe for changing, there was a mystical buzz of unity. In the shadow of an establishment that stood for war, prejudice, work, isolation and the rat-race with all it’s status seeking power games, racism and slow death signified by getting the lines straight on your lawn, Jack’s cackling laughter and bright eyes, death-defying madness and care-free attitude showed there was an alternative. Maybe dope was never enough and when we grow up it is time to put aside childish things where they are confined to our dreams and memories. But somewhere out there Jack still lives where it is real. We did change the world!Goofin’ with the Cosmic Freaks: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9781500860240: Books

  Thank you for looking. Why not try one or two? And please leave a review! Cheers Opher

Featured Book – Goofin’ Pt. 7


            Hat taught me to drive in my multicoloured Ford Pop. It came natural to me. I’d been riding my Honda for a year and just seemed able to transfer the skills over. There was nothing much too it. I got in, twice round the block and we were off.

One advantage of it was that old Ford was that it was a lot warmer in winter than the old bike. Another advantage was that you could fit eight people in – with a bit of a squeeze. Then lastly it was always good for a bit of pastoral shagging – variety being the spice of life.

Hat sat there like a maniacal driving instructor dishing out instructions.

            “Left here! Straight on! It’s always straight on!”

            We took the bend at the library at fifty. Easy to do on a bike where you could lean into it but quite different in a sit-up-and-beg Ford Pop which promptly rolled on to two wheels, leaned over threatening to go into a roll and squealed like mad.

            Hat sank down into his seat.

            Somehow it stayed up and we made it round.

            “Whooooooooooeeeeeeeeey – Haaaaaaaaaa!” I yelled.

            “Pretty hairy,” Hat observed. “Perhaps a little less floorboard if you don’t want to fuck up the paint-work.” He nodded to himself. “Or soil the upholstery in the passenger seat.”

            We headed out for the open road and picked up two hitchhikers. That was mandatory. You always stopped for hitchers. It was the rule. If you had something you shared whether that was a joint or a ride.

            I was really getting into it. The car roamed around the lanes a little because the steering was basically shot but it had a bit of poke and cruised nicely at 60 – 65 M.P.H… We were going out of our way to drop off our guests. It made for a good run.

            Hat amused himself by rolling jays and passing them round as we hurtled down these narrow country roads. Everyone seemed quite mellow.

            “Not doing bad, is he?” Hat enquired, leaning over the seat to converse with the hirsute couple in the back.

            The hitchers looked a bit bemused. They hadn’t cottoned on to what he was talking about.

            “Considering it’s his first time out in a car,” Hat casually slipped in.

            I swung it round another corner and noted that the atmosphere had got a tad more tense.

            Everyone loved my multicoloured car. I nicknamed it Herbert. It was a name that seemed to suit. One particular speed-cop seemed to especially take to it. At every opportunity he pulled me over to have a closer look.

“Mornin’” I’d say breezily.

He scowled at me.

“Lovely day for it.”

He would get his book out and write me up without a word and hand me the ticket. Then he’d get back on his bike, kick-start it and glide off into the traffic.

I’d have to go in with all my details – insurance, log book and shit. A right fucking nuisance though I was determined not to let them see it was buggin’ me.

I’m sure the guy used to lie in wait for me. Sometimes he’d do me twice in a day and he averaged three times a week.

            “Mornin’,” I’d say breezily as I arrived at the cop-shop.

            The desk-cop would fix me with a scowl.

            I’d shake my hair out, stroke my beard and pull at the white scarf I wore under my flying jacket.

            “Hey, you guys go to scowl school?” I’d enquire. I’d hand him my documents. “Same again.”

            He’d start copying the details in without a word.

            “Hey man,” I’d say conspiratorially. He’d stop writing and look up at me. “Just put ditto. Save you a lot of trouble.” I nodded and winked. “There, look, see, I’m on every page. Details haven’t changed.”

            He went back to writing with a stony expression. I think I was getting to him.

            Allie knitted me a big thick jumper to go with the car. It was multicoloured. I loved it and wore it every time I went into the cop-shop. For some reason I don’t think they were anywhere near as keen on that jumper as me. They seemed to take it as a personal affront.

            Jack used to particularly love my Herbert-mobile. He often took over from Hat as co-pilot. Some nights he’d rap on the window and drag me off into the night.

            “Hey, man, let’s get off to Brighton! You up for it?” We’d drive there and run up and down the shingle beach then get back in and drive back.

            I’d drive and all the while he’d be yattering in my ear.