Perry Glasser
220 Morgan Drive
Haverhill, MA 01832
978-373-2687

perry “at” perryglasser.com

I write out of certain convictions no longer universally accepted and, in some circles, under attack; that the purpose of the Arts is to illuminate and enrich the human experience; that however dark, unknown, changing and inchoate, a universal human experience exists; that human experience can and even must be communicated across the lines of our obvious physical differences; that the product of the Artist must be readily accessible to an audience; and that while the expression of the Artist embodies the essence of a time, the Artist speaks to and for an audience beyond that.

- How We Lost the Internet

Perry Glasser nails the curious kind we are: a tribe drunk with hope. This volume of stories reveals, page after terrific page, how we crawl from sleep into the crosswise light of a new day’s dread.
—Lee K. Abbott, author of All Things, All at Once.

Perry Glasser's superb storytelling conjoins grace and peril, making Dangerous Places irresistible to any reader who craves an authentic American voice and a sensibility that understands danger as a life-summoning force.
—Bob Shacochis, National Book Award-winning author of Easy In The Islands and Swimming in the Volcano

Perry Glasser's Dangerous Places is a fascinating collection of fabulous, funny, wildly different stories, each cunningly invented and firmly controlled by a fiction writer who has the wisdom, skill, and ease of a master.
—Ron Hansen, author of Mariette in Ecstasy, Atticus, and Exiles

Perry Glasser returns! He understands the insistent magic of people’s ordinary dreams; and he writes with an insider’s wisdom about the true hardiness of hope. This is good fiction – and worth the wait.
–Ron Carlson, author of Five Skies and At the Jim Bridger

Perry Glasser’s characters claim our emotional attachment; they are ordinary people walking a razor’s edge of balance, one step from sudden disaster. These stories are Glasser’s best work yet.
—Philip Gerard, author of Secret Soldiers and Cape Fear Rising

from Jody’s Run

They seem four friends met by accident on the street. Jody runs at them. The corral of arms does not yield. They laugh. She is caged. They start toward the car. She is caught in a moving box. As if she might be blind, someone takes her elbow.

She screams. A hand claps over her mouth, her head bends backward, her throat is exposed, a cry gurgles in her throat. Lifted by her knees, her feet leave the ground. Two arms circle her chest. She bobbed like this on Daddy’s shoulder, the horizon bumping, him looking ahead, she behind. Hands on her, she is suspended in space, her head lower than her feet. Her mouth works free and she screams, less with terror than the sure knowledge that to be heard is her last, best hope. Her arm thrashes and slaps the bare metal car top. She strains, twists, and something pops in her arm, but she pushes against the roof with all her strength and desperation....