Kinky. Trans. Deep. And on Fire. That’s how you could describe the narrator — and the novel. Twenty years ago, the publishing world thought Vera sizzled too much to take a chance on it. But it’s not 1999 anymore. And Vera has finally come out. Part Don Quixote bubbling dreamer, part reckless detective, the narrator of Vera pilots her way through a murky urban terrain, in search of love and answers. What she discovers, in a 1990’s San Francisco, stuck some between AIDS and 911, is not what she sets out to find. The Don Quixote (in sound bytes) of a pansexual search for meaning in the sometimes absurd and often confounding landscape of modern love, Vera is a trans-genre picaresque-romance-mystery novel that chronicles the sometimes comic, sometimes kinky exploits of a poet-cum-detective in search of her Russian lover who has mysteriously disappeared. Or at least that’s how the novel begins, until the narrator discovers it really is a very different, and much more complex, journey she is on. In dreamlike pursuit of the elusive Vera (which means truth or faith in Russian), the narrator finds and loses herself in a world stuck somewhere between AIDS and 9/11–San Francisco in the 1990s–only to discover what it is she is really looking for.