I wrote Four Darks because I needed—and wanted—to read it myself, but also to feel less lonely with certain life experiences and a particular way of being and existing in the world.
I hoped it would resonate with others in a similar place, creating a sense of connection—a sense of being seen and understood in one’s otherness.

Feedback like the one just received on Amazon means a lot to me.
(I meant to write “touches my heart,” but that felt too sentimental—even if it’s true.)

Dark and Deep
I finished this book in one sitting, yet I hesitated for a long time before writing about it. The reason is deeply personal: the protagonist’s relationship with his father mirrors my own in ways that are difficult to confront.
As a gay man who lived through a similar experience, I understand exactly what moves through Jack’s mind. I recognize the desperate need for love and validation under the crushing weight of domestic abuse. Navigating one’s sexual awakening is challenging enough; doing so in Jack’s circumstances is excruciating. He isn’t naïve. Jack’s worldview is clear-eyed, often bordering on cynical. And yet the trauma inflicted by his father has left him fragile and, speaking from experience, profoundly cautious around others.
That guardedness, combined with his striking looks, creates a familiar paradox. To many “ordinary” people, someone like Jack appears distant, even unobtainable. Who dares take the first step toward someone so closed off and beautiful? More often than not, it’s the villains and the self-assured narcissists. The ones who see young Jack as a sexual object and feel entitled to approach him. In his hunger for warmth and connection, Jack is left with painfully few choices. Even when he senses the risks, he finds himself responding to the advances of men who mean him no good.
The novel closes with a faint flicker of hope, a suggestion that even in the darkness, there may still be room for mercy.

[A. Komi via Amazon]