Book Extract: The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon by Barry Maher

I’m thrilled to be kicking off October by welcoming Barry Maher to Novel Kicks and the blog tour for his book, The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon.

Thrillers set in the 1980s have a special kind of atmosphere—before cell phones, before constant connectivity—where the shadows felt darker and the dangers closer. The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon takes full advantage of that tension, weaving together a decaying church, occult rituals, and a reluctant hero who doesn’t believe in any of it…until he has no choice.

Steve Witowski’s life is already in shambles—he’s a failed songwriter and a fugitive—but everything unravels further after he rescues Victoria from a violent assault. Victoria has just bought a crumbling church with a haunted past, and the secrets inside refuse to stay buried. Soon Steve finds himself in a world of grave robbing, fire-lit ceremonies, and a demon whose desperation grows more terrifying by the day. Even as visions plague him and the face of the man he killed appears on his skin, Steve insists it’s all delusion. But denial won’t save him, and the cost of survival may be more than he can pay.

Barry has kindly shared an extract from The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon with us today. We hope you enjoy. 

(Content warning: language.) 

*****beginning of extract*****

Back in the 60s . . .

On Wednesday October 13^th, 1968, a faculty panel recommended the dismissal of Professor John Harris—in absentia, as no one at Harvard had seen or heard from him in weeks. Harris later bragged about delivering his final lecture on “one shitload and a half of LSD.” According to the recording made available to the faculty panel, this was the sum total of that lecture:

“Good afternoon. Wow. American Literature, hunh? Let’s see. Moby Dick today. Right?”

“Moby Dick?” asked a confused voice. “No. What happened to The Scarlet Letter?”

“Right. Moby Dick,” Harris continued. “Great book. None of you have read it. None of you are going to read it. Nobody ever does. What you need to understand is that as far as I’m concerned—and I’m the fucking professor—Moby Dick is the same story as The Great Gatsby, which some of you may read. I call it, ‘the half-assed struggle of the individual to put their world to rights in the face of a failure that threatens to define their life.’ I think that’s from my thesis. Though maybe it’s not pretentious enough.”

Harris laughed. “Hey! How about this? Great Gatsby/Moby Dick: same story, different era, right? So, if someone someday tries to write that story for this generation, they should call it The Great Dick. That’d be perfect, wouldn’t it? The Great Dick. Alright, that’s got to be almost fifty minutes. See you next . . . whenever. Wow.”

SUNDAY, MARCH 21, 1982
Two Women and One Corpse

“Any fool can tell the truth, but it requires a man of some sense to lie well.”
—Samuel Johnson

CHAPTER 1

Okay, let me start out by admitting that I was an asshole. I know that. The ludicrous amount of fame and acclaim and money I’ve had dumped on me since that time only makes it more glaring. The fact that we lived in a different world back in 1982 is no excuse. It was the same world. It just wasn’t the world we thought it was.

I remember it was a Sunday night. Sundays always feel different. Looking back now and Googling a 1982 calendar, I’d guess it was Sunday, March 21^st. I remember waking up and within minutes making the decision to leave. Quickly, before I could change my mind, I eased myself out of the rickety hide-a-bed.

Immediately, Maria rolled over into the spot I’d just vacated, breathing loudly through her nose and mouth, not quite snoring. I hate to say it, but she looked every minute of her thirty years. Her thick dark hair clung damply to her face; her heavy arms stretched outward. The cast on her left wrist looked like a giant manacle.

The grandfather clock beside the cigar store Indian read 1:37, though a few minutes before, it had chimed four times. That made as much sense as anything else in my life. I was thirty-five years old, a Harvard grad who’d spent the previous two years faking his way through a $13,500 a year job as a territory rep for the Richmond Tobacco company. That $13,500 was the most money I’d ever made. You’re probably thinking that when you adjust for inflation and translate that $13,500 into today’s dollars, it’s a lot more impressive.

No, it’s not.

I slipped on my jersey and my jeans and gathered the rest of my  things in my old gym bag.  Fortunately, enough moonlight crept in around the edges of the tattered drapes to give the room a dim glow. I wondered if it would be safe to hitchhike out of there, or if Indiana had already notified the California Highway Patrol that I was wanted.

My situation was bad. But not bad enough to, say, crawl into a grave with a rotting corpse.

That would come later.

*****end of extract*****

About Barry Maher – 

Barry Maher has always thrived on surprising his audiences. As a journalist, his work appeared in magazines across the country; as a poet, he earned small but memorable recognition; and as an international speaker, he’s addressed audiences for some of the world’s largest corporations.

His syndicated column Slightly Off-Kilter showcased his trademark wit, while his fiction blends that same humor with spine-tingling suspense.

His media appearances range from The Today Show and CNN to features in The Wall Street Journal and USA Today.

Learn more on his website or connect with him on Goodreads and Facebook.

The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon was released by Crystal Lake Publishing in September 2025. Click here to buy on Amazon, Waterstones and Barnes & Noble. 

by

Laura

I’m Laura. I started Novel Kicks in 2009. I wanted a place to post my writing as well as give other writers like me the opportunity to do the same. There is also a monthly book club, a writing room which features writing prompts, book reviews, competitions, author interviews and guest posts.

I grew up by the sea (my favourite place in the world) and I currently live in Hampshire. I am married to Chris, have a cat named Buddy and I would love to be a writer. I’m trying to write the novel I’ve talked so much about writing if only I could stop pressing delete. I’ve loved writing since creative writing classes in primary school. I have always wanted to see my teacher Miss Sayers again and thank her for the encouragement. When not trying to write the novel or writing snippets of stories on anything I can get my hands on, I love reading, dancing like a loon and singing to myself very badly. My current obsession is Once Upon a Time and I would be happy to live with magic in the enchanted forest surrounded by all those wonderful stories provided that world also included Harry Potter. I love reading chick lit. contemporary fiction and novels with mystery.