Photophobia is a novella. While it is here available for purchase separately, Photophobia is also included in a larger work of short fiction by Owen Thomas entitled Signs of Passing.

Conrad Kurtz manages the Sol Ridge Winery, a sprawling, dew-slickened vineyard nestled into the Santa Cruz mountains. Conrad is a businessman and a glorified caretaker of sorts, keeping the grapes growing and the wine flowing until his stepdaughter, Iris, lawfully inherits her late mother’s bequest and takes control, something for which the shy, nearly invisible Iris has no aptitude or interest.

In the meantime, Conrad is king, ruling the land and his handful of subjects – Iris; his chief picker, Señor; Señor’s adorable school-aged daughter, Celia; a small seasonal Mexican workforce; three dogs; and four horses – with the iron-fisted authority and presumption of any monarch. He brooks no dissent, expecting obedience if not gratitude from anyone in his path. Just ask the dogs. Just ask Iris.

Visits to Sol Ridge are by appointment only. Conrad carefully picks his visitors, who tend to be young and blonde. Jac, a photographer scouting locations for a coffee-table book on California vineyards, fits that bill perfectly. Her efforts to visit Sol Ridge for a photoshoot have been persistent but fruitless until Conrad finally gets a good look at her. After that, there really is little question for Conrad but to invite her up to the ridge and hope she spends the night. True, Conrad is perplexed and even a little unnerved by Jac’s dark glasses. She never takes them off, even as the rainclouds coalesce above the ridge and begin to release their burden. He tells himself that Jac is simply self-conscious of the wine stain birthmark, pooling like blood in the hollow just beneath her left eye. But this eccentricity is no deterrent. Conrad’s agenda for Jac is plain to everyone. Iris. Señor. Celia. Even to Jac. Conrad never stops long enough to consider whether Jac has an agenda of her own.

There is history in the soil. There is wisdom in the vine. The light is a wizard of misdirection. It has agendas of its own, casting shadows as it illuminates. Jac sprinkles water from a bottle over a cluster of grapes and takes a photo. Conrad thinks that counts as cheating. She tosses him a smile.

“There is nothing honest about photography.”