The new book THE BUTCHER AND THE BUTTERFLY by Jim Antonini is now out.
Book synopsis: A wearied boxer turns his back on a chance at a world championship to search for his estranged brother in New Orleans. Trapped in a strained family relationship, a promising, young ballet dancer looks for an escape. Unexpectedly, their paths cross as they discover friendship, heartbreak, and hope in the most unlikely place.
The brilliant cover artwork was done by Emmy Lowe.
As a recent trip to New Orleans, Jim retraced the steps of the story’s characters to places throughout the French Quarter that provided inspiration for the book.
Book Dedication: Jim met the brilliant and eccentric painter Noel Rockmore in early 1990 at Johnny White’s, a since-closed, infamous French Quarter dive bar, on his first visit to New Orleans. They watched a boxing match together there one evening. They had a great time. Noel was quite the boxing fan. He told Jim about his wonderful paintings, some of which hung on the walls of the bar. They were stained from years of exposure to cigarette smoke. Jim would meet with him again in the years before he passed. The last time Jim saw him they listened to Nirvana songs that he played on the jukebox repeatedly to the dismay of many of the bar regulars. Noel especially liked “Heart-Shaped Box.” The story behind The Butcher and the Butterfly emerged from the smoky haze of those lazy afternoons spent there.
“Do you ever think about getting out of here?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m off in a few hours.”
“No. Get out of this bar and get out of New Orleans. For good.”
“Every single day.”
“What keeps you here?”
“So many things.”
“Like what?”
“For one, I needed somewhere to disappear. This seemed like a good place for that. My life is easy here.”
“Disappear? Who are you hiding from?”
“A past life I’m trying to forget.”
“What happened?”
“I was betrayed by the person I loved the most.”
“An old girlfriend?”
“My brother. He ruined me. I can’t even talk to my family.”
“What happened?”
“He jus’ better not come looking for me. You don’t even want to know what I might do to him.”
“What did he do? It must’ve been awful. You don’t seem the fighting type.”
“You working tonight?” he asked, changing the subject as he grew angry thinking of Bobby.
“Not tonight,” she said after a short pause, waiting to see if he’d answer her.
“What are you doing later then?”
“Probably coming here.”
“You like food?”
“Do I like food?” She grinned, puzzled by his odd question. “Yes, I like food.”
“I get off at six. You want to grab a bite somewhere for dinner? I know all the best gumbo joints in town.”
“I’d like to but. . .” Her voice trailed off. “That’s okay,” he said quickly so she didn’t have to make up an excuse. “Another time, maybe?”
–Chapter 23, page 49–
The ugly grinding noise was deafening. The men humped the bulky machine towards the door of the bar and neared the stool where Chuck was sitting.
“Stop!” Chuck screamed out in horror over the commotion. “Stop! What are you doing? Stop!” The guys moving the cigarette machine immediately stopped and let go of it, frantically looking around as if they dragged the heavy machine over someone’s foot. The bar went silent, and everyone glanced at Chuck.
“Where are going with my girlfriend?” he said, pointing to the machine that supplied his daily fix of nicotine. Everyone in the bar including the three men moving the machine laughed. One guy at the bar even spit out the beer he’d been drinking at Chuck’s comment.
–Chapter 25, pages 51-52–
Filthy and still bleeding, Chuck sat alone on large, jagged rocks along the banks of the Mississippi River at the end of Canal Street. Giant rats scurried about him. He drank hard from a bottle of Ten High whiskey hidden in a brown paper sack. Staring into the black water, he wadded up twenty-dollar bills and tossed them, one at a time, into the flowing river.
–Chapter 42, page 84–
Chuck staggered alongside the streetcar tracks that ran parallel with the Mississippi River. A whistle from an approaching streetcar howled. Chuck stopped and turned to the oncoming streetcar. The car sped by him, generating a stream of air that tossed his long shaggy hair over his face.
Pushing the hair from his eyes, he continued his trek with no destination in mind. He walked between the tracks for another fifteen minutes or so, nearly falling a few times. Another streetcar neared. It sounded its whistle several times. He stepped away from the track and stared at the streetcar that rumbled towards him.
–Chapter 43, page 85–
Lighting a cigarette, Holly stepped out of the sunlight of the beautiful day and into Tommy Black’s. She walked towards Bobby as Butchie poured her a beer in a plastic cup.
“You’re still here?” she asked Bobby, dragging on the cigarette and reaching for the beer.
“Leaving so soon?” he asked.
“Are you going to be in here every day at this time?”
“It gives me something to look forward to.”
–Chapter 44, page 86–
Suddenly, Broadmore rushed into the bar. He carried a pair of large hedge clippers. The 24-inch blades were opened wide. He walked directly to the jukebox. Without hesitating, he positioned the power cord of the jukebox between the blades and slammed the handles of the clippers closed. A shower of sparks exploded around him as he cut the cord in half. The power in the bar blinked several times before going completely out.
“Hey!” Butchie screamed. “What in the hell are you doing, Broadmore?”
“I can’t fuckin’ stand Billy Joel!” he yelled back before storming out the darkened bar.
–Chapter 46, page 90–
The urine was still a rusty brown color since his last boxing match. The kidney pain in his lower back had nearly become unbearable. When he was done, he zipped up and lingered at the trough a moment, trying to catch his breath. After regrouping, he slowly staggered out of the bathroom. He thought of his brother, his parents, Mary: home. He noticed a pay phone that hung from the wall near the restroom door. He lifted the receiver and listened for the tone. It was live. It had to be one of the last active pay phones in the world. He quickly dialed a number. Mary answered on the other end after accepting the charges.
–Chapter 47, page 94–
Holding his hand more tightly, Holly led Bobby to a non-descript red brick building on Frenchmen Street. An almost hidden, red-painted door with black and white letters that spelled “Alfonso’s” greeted them. Popular with locals, Alfonso’s was a hidden gem, a highly regarded Italian and seafood restaurant influenced by Cajun and Creole cooking. Bobby pulled the heavy door open for her and followed her up a set of dark and uneven stairs to the second floor.
They entered the restaurant. It was cozy, quaint, and dimly lit. The heavenly aroma of roasted garlic and melted butter pleasantly hung in the air. Wobbly spinning fans hanging from a high ceiling worked hard to keep the place cool. Bobby scanned the restaurant as they waited for a server. Numerous pieces of colorful, local folk art adorned the cluttered red walls.
Many tables, all covered with red-and-white checkered tablecloths, were crammed near each other to increase the seating capacity in the small dining room. There was only one other couple there. They were finishing their meal.
–Chapter 91, page 186–
Although it was Christmas, Delia’s was open, but no one was there. Bobby decided to make a brief stop before heading back to Holly’s apartment. He quickly scanned the place and took a seat behind the many beer tap handles at the bar. The walls of the place were covered with beer ads and paraphernalia, numerous colorful posters, and several wall-size oil paintings.
The place was lit only by the blue and white neon of several beer signs located throughout the cramped and cluttered tavern. As Eddie had indicated, Bobby spotted what appeared to be a recent 14×18 inch, black and white, framed photograph of Chuck, prominently hanging on the wall behind the bar. At first, Bobby didn’t recognize him in the photo because of his much chubbier face and longer hair.
Chuck obviously was happy when the photo was taken. He wore a wide expressive smile—the kind of smile one wears before breaking into an uncontrollable belly laugh. Bobby stared up to the photo for many minutes, unable to look away. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud. It seemed as if Chuck had been waiting there for him and glaring down with a mocking, ornery look that asked, “Where have you been, asshole? I’ve been waiting for you.”
Ned, the owner who was working the bar, approached Bobby.
“You need something?”
“A High Life and whiskey,” Bobby answered, not taking his eyes from the photograph.
–Chapter 120, page 233–
The book is available at:
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Amazon.com: The Butcher and the Butterfly: 9798218530495: Antonini, Jim: Books
