Three is a charm
Three is the charm

When the lives of three working girls on the streets of
New York City, their protector and diner owner Lou,
and three big boys working in the meatpacking district
meet, the stage is set for the inevitable yet unexpected.
Three is the Charm is a powerful and brutal account of
the dark sides of street life in NYC anno 1956, packed
with graphic sexual and violent scenes. Yet in the end
love conquers all.
Or does it? - Reader, beware!.

**Click here for the official first press hand-out of the book!
** Click here for a spectacular 3D presentation!


"Reminiscent of Selby's Last exit to Brooklyn, this book is not for the faint-hearted."
— j.j. birchwood —

"With Three is the Charm, Finkel serves up a cunning cocktail
of his darkest and at the same time lovingest prose."
— d. manerston —

"Every page breathes a horrifying and enticing blend of camaraderie,
violence, semen and ground meat. I ate it all up!"
— h. newland —

Renowned as the world's greatest xylophonist,
Ian Finkel was born in Brooklyn, New York. An incessant performing musician and composer, Ian is also an acclaimed and diverse writer, having penned many film and stage
productions, novels and books of short stories.
1956 – Three is the charm is a
most-provocative, explicit and at the same time lovingest novel.
Practicing five hours a day and writing for another six, Ian's daily routine is never too full to take the time and tell you about his greatest passion: cigars.

Other books by Ian Finkel You're not supposed to be here

Hilarious travel stories by the world's greatest xylophonist, while on his trips performing around the world.

Sex stories my wife told me
March 2013

When Harvey's wife Janie —the perfect couple, married for years in sweet simplicity — suddenly begins writing stories of the foulest nature, Harvey is put through a hell that no good man deserves.

Transmutation Blues 2014
In Transmutation Blues Finkel takes us on a dazzling journey
that depicts the very, very human condition from every possible
perspective, from the vile and rancid to the almost politically correct,
leaving us confused in the end, but at a much higher level than
before. I simply couldn't put it down, spinning still.