Originally from Portland, Oregon, Jeff Brewer was raised on a healthy diet of rain, a general sense that the consistently gray sky was really sunshine in its purest form, and an understanding that the hippies who lived in the trees were crocodiles sent from the sun with specific orders to dismember the endangered spotted owl. After stints of working as a deckhand on sailboats, he now lives in New York. When he isn't writing, reading, and working, he spends his time avidly collecting old-faced dolls that resemble both dead people and dogs. He also collects spent hand puppets and 19th to early 20th-century spittoons. He yearns for more space to hold his spit holders.