E N McMahon has a Master's degree from the London School of Economics, and a PhD in 17th-century French Literature from Duke University. She has worked as a newspaper reporter, television researcher, bagel maker (briefly), and (even more briefly) in encyclopaedia sales. She divides her time between England and America.

Judas of Memphis by E.N. McMahon

Out of Egypt I have called my son…. For 2000 years he has wandered the earth, seeking redemption. 2000 years of loneliness and disappointment. And now, at long last, his time has come.

Unto him is given a child - Jesse Garon Presley, twin brother of Elvis, whom the whole world believes to have died, a stillborn, on a cold and gray January night in 1935. Only one man knows that Jesse's grave in the potter's field is empty: Jesus's twin brother, Judas Iscariot.

For Judas, surely, Depression-era Mississippi is his own Promised Land: steeped in Scripture and studded with the names of his childhood - Jericho, Cairo, Bethlehem, and Memphis. Judas has a new hope to replace the one he lost all those years ago, when he was forced to consign his own brother to the cross. Perhaps, after all his years of exile, Judas Iscariot has finally been given a second chance.

CURATOR'S NOTE

Judas of Memphis by E. N. McMahon is The Master & Margarita transplanted to Depression-era deep South. For 2000 years full of loneliness and disillusionment, Jesus's twin brother Judas has wandered the earth seeking redemption. And now, at long last, his time may have come: on a cold and gray January night in 1935 unto him a child is given—Jesse Garon Presley, twin brother of Elvis, whom the whole world believes to have died stillborn. Only Judas knows that Jesse's grave in the potter's field is empty. For Judas, Depression-era Mississippi is his own Promised Land: steeped in Scripture and studded with the names of his childhood—Jericho, Cairo, Bethlehem, Memphis. With Jesse, Judas has a new hope to replace the one he lost all those years ago, when he was forced to consign his own brother to the cross. Perhaps, after all his years of exile, Judas Iscariot has finally been given a second chance. – Athena Andreadis

 

REVIEWS

  • "The story of Jesus's twin brother is seldom told, and the fact he is cursed with immortality comes as a shock. However the story revolves more around his adopted son who is also a twin. The characters and their personalities give a depth to this tale of religious misgivings. The story is set in the depression in America and is beautifully written. Well worth a read for those not overly orthodox in their Christianity."

    – Graeme Hurry, Editor KZine
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Excerpt

This land is full of folks hooting to the Lord, begging Him to reveal Himself, and praying for a personal relationship with Him, and they think God is maybe like the best buddy you ever had, only better. Somebody who might call you up on the phone one day and ask how you're doing, and you'll talk some about the wonder of life that He gave you ("Thank you Lord!"), and then you'll wind around to the disappointments you suffered in the past week ("Does that seem fair to you?") And He'll listen the way a good friend listens, and not saying much, still make you feel a whole lot better. And just as He is like your closest pal, God is also like famous people, who you love but have never met, and in that affection borne by blessed absence of actual acquaintance, you make them over in your image and likeness. You can pour out your heart to them, and they take it all in perfectly, because the hole where their heart would be is cast the very same shape and size as your own.

I'm here to tell you, God ain't any kind of buddy material. I know because I got stuck with Him on a one-on-one kind of basis, that only me and my twin brother can boast of having. One-on-one with God is no bit of basketball out in the driveway. I wish I could have known Him another way entirely, the way you look up at the sky some night as you're coming home, wonder a moment at its color and scope and height, then set your chin back to horizontal, and keep on moving. But I guess He needed somebody to chase around after His chosen son, make sure that he tied his shoes, and got to where he was supposed to on time.

I saw to all that for a stretch. Then for a stretch a mite longer, I've carried a satchel full of silver coins. Yes ma'am, yes ma'am, three bags full - I'm a black sheep too, you understand. The brother conceived not as the son of God, but the son of God's shadow: the first Christian schism, you'd have to say. Judas, aka Jude the Obscure, the shadow of JC, with him in the womb, but pulling away from him even there, a heresy becoming flesh as surely and steadily as the word of God.

Those coins rattle some in my pocket. If I were a running man, they'd spill out over the ground, but I have learned to walk at an even pace. The coins jingle, and announce me like a signature tune. You know what they say about money: to figure out what the Lord thinks of it, you need only look at those He sees fit to bestow it on. I'd have to say the same for eternal life, too, and I often do, after my morning head to head in the mirror. I wash my neck and clean my ears in the knowledge that I will tarry until the second coming.