The Leper

He has lost his wife, his home, and much of his purpose in life. Now retired and living alone in a vacation cottage, he spends his days walking, drinking, following the news, and raging against the self-righteous progressives he blames for everything that has gone wrong.



He is not angry, he insists. He is simply honest.



When he joins a new political movement, he finally feels heard again. But one ill-judged statement is enough to turn him from loyal supporter into public enemy. Friends abandon him, strangers condemn him, and the merciless machinery of public opinion casts him out like a leper.



Yet exile has unexpected consequences. As his old certainties begin to crack, he is forced to confront his failed marriage, his troubled relationship with his son, and the uncomfortable possibility that the people he despises may not be so different from him after all.



The Leper is a sharp, darkly comic political satire about loneliness, polarization, moral superiority, and the human need to belong. Provocative, painfully recognizable, and often surprisingly tender, it asks what remains of a person when society has decided that he no longer deserves to be heard.