Old McDonald’s Farm This Ain’t!

A while back I contacted Dorothy Thompson of Pump Up Your Book tours about The Chimp Who Loved Me — And Other Slightly Naughty Tales Of Life With Animals. The premise, as laid out in the book description, sounded intriguing. The old adage about working with animals and children sent up red flags, though. What assuaged my concerns was the promise of something authentic—and it didn’t disappoint.

I know what you’re thinking; you see the title—The Chimp Who Loved Me—and wonder if my proclivities are suspect. The closest thing to any biblical cross-relations with the animal kingdom in this book is Annie Greer’s unnerving story about babysitting a baby chimpanzee named Sam. I won’t spoil it for you, but if you think chimps are cute and cuddly I would highly recommend you get a copy of this book and absorb the first chapter; which highlights the underlying theme of our role at the top of the food chain and why we should respect it . . . and the animals.

Ms. Greer and Mr. Vandehey structured the stories such that they provide not only laugh-out-loud instances of human/animal miscues, but Annie is very emphatic in her warnings concerning our predilection for getting up close and personal with wild animals. She does an admirable job of not just saying “keep a safe distance,” but also explains why the need to do so. Ants in your pants are a picnic compared to the relative dangers of a squirrel in their stead. Camels do more than spit (nasty enough in itself); small deer possess agility and sharp hooves; and of course chimpanzees make a drunk redneck look safe by comparison. Speaking of which . . .

I have been to Florida, but as with many tourists my travels were along the typical tourist corridor through Orlando. The picture Annie paints of Florida’s denizens outside the relative safety of this corridor is at once genuinely funny and equally disturbing—a brisk and hair-raising walk, hip-deep, through patches of backwater Florida’s genetic detritus. While this likely would dismay the Florida tourism authority it adds color, a Deliverance kind of backdrop, to these remarkably entertaining stories.

The Chimp Who Loved Me is engaging, gathering its gravitas from a faithful adherence to real life. Annie and her husband Kent have an enduring love for the animals they care for, but they don’t present their stories in the sterilized, Disney-esque fashion you might expect—the real world just doesn’t work that way. Dr. Dolittle dressed snazzy and used proper English when talking to his charges, but the world of the Greer’s is often chaotic, demanding, and unpredictable, three ingredients which rarely call out the saint in any of us. The Chimp Who Loved Me is real life, described in real language, but in the most honest and genuine manner.

So do yourself a favor—take a break from your regular reading material and get yourself a copy of The Chimp Who Loved Me. Scamper through the pages, smile and laugh at our own idiocy wrapped in the best of intentions—or sometimes just the idiocy of others. I promise you will enjoy it as much as I did. As a bonus, 20% of all proceeds will go to various animal welfare organizations. And check out the website—seriously! Lots of great information there, updates on some of the animals and their stories, a Q&A section with Annie, just a really nice looking, very well done site. Check it out at www.thechimpwholovedme.com.

For those who enjoy good promo as entertainment here is the book trailer:

My thanks to Dorothy Thompson of Pump Up Your Book for her work in getting me the review copy of this book.; additional thanks to Diva Publishing for their help.

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The Liberty Bell

Liberty. One word—an idea, really. One which doesn’t simply process in our brains to bring context to a sentence or meaning to the words around it, but more implicitly resonates and travels deeper into our cores, where every stirring notion of patriotism simmers. One word that immediately evinces two striking icons of the American essence: the Liberty Bell and the Statue of Liberty.

As Gary Nash conveys in The Liberty Bell we long ago dismissed the idea that these icons were mere objects showered with our jingoistic ardor, but rather we have imbued them with a kind of reverence and love only the vestment of our souls could provide.

Leviticus 25:10: “Proclaim liberty thro’ all the land to all the inhabitants thereof.” Daresay a solid number of Americans know these words as inscribed upon the bell, but perhaps more telling might be how many don’t know the passage, or only know the names Pass and Stow from the movie National Treasure. Nash’s scholastic approach to relating the Liberty Bell’s history leaves little doubt of its staggering relevance and gravitas as an enduring icon of our cherished founding principles.

Professor Nash moves sure-footedly from the pre-bell story through its period of actual use and into the larger, almost epochal journey through generations who venerated the Liberty Bell as a symbol of our democratic culture. Unless you are a historian (or history buff) you may not have known the State House Bell (or Old Bell), as it was known until around 1835, was removed from its tower in Philadelphia in 1776 and hidden in another town for fear the British, who came to occupy the city, would have melted it down for ammunition.

Many citizens don’t know of the bell’s near demise—along with the old Pennsylvania State House—in 1816, under a “Gothic mist of ignorance and vice”; just two of the rich, significant historical allegories Nash relates. Schoolchildren were inculcated with fabricated, emotionally charged stories of its use on July 4, 1776—a stigma which actually aided the tocsin in its rise to almost ephemeral reverence.

A generous amount of the book is allocated to seven separate trips the bell made over a 35-year span. If there is a singular quibble I have about the book it would be the amount of detailed information given about each and every trip—every stop, how many people showed up, etc. Without doubt there is value to such data, and in this case it serves to highlight the increasing popularity of the relic and how it served to bolster patriotism at crucial times when it was needed. I view this (very minor) discontent on my behalf as indicative of my wanting to learn the next piece of lore or passionate affect upon a new generation.

Appropriately, an in-depth look at the anti-slavery movement and the chimer’s role in it exposes the reader to many instances in which liberty was pronounced and exercised within close proximity to the bell, often at the expense of slaves.

A story from 1851, involving 33 blacks and five whites, furnished the reverberating overtones for caustic feelings from slaves being brought to trial in Independence Hall, mere steps from where the bell hung. Fugitive slaves had escaped into Lancaster County and these thirty-eight people defended them during what was termed the “Christmas riot” in which a Maryland slaveowner had pursued one of his own fleeing slaves and got caught in the turmoil and was killed. Abolitionists extolled the group as following the example of “Washington and other American heroes” in 1776. But outside Independence Hall a crowd of whites called for justice and punishment for those responsible for the killing and for “taking the lives of men in pursuit of their recognized and rightful property.” The Leviticus proclamation on the bell would seal its fame and its catapult into the world of causes—in a most moral and vitally important way.

Nash has given a beloved, if muted, icon a solid, well-researched biography, one which puts right generations of embellished legend and sets into a proper framework the genuine gift to American the Liberty Bell has become. Iconic history at its sonorous best.

As always I thank Rhonda Sturtz and the New York Journal of Books for procuring a copy of this book for review. Thanks also to Yale University Press for the review copy.

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Rhyme and Reason (Or Not)

Perhaps you remember, as I do, reciting lily-white rhymes full of innocence and grace when you were young. Gentle, undisturbing words like “Mary had a little lamb, whose fleece was white as snow, and everywhere that Mary went the lamb was sure to go” passed by your lips without a thought or the least hint of childhood stress. How about “Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail (or bucket) of water . . .” You know the rest.

These nursery rhymes did more than burn themselves into your cerebral wiring—in many cases they taught us language concepts, like simile: “fleece white as snow”, or “Twinkle, twinkle little star . . . like a diamond in the sky.” In others we were exposed to history in a conveniently sanitized form, such as in Jack and Jill. That little ditty is thought to have its origins in King Louis XVI (Jack), and his queen, Marie Antionette (Jill), both whom were beheaded—Jack “lost his crown” and Jill came “tumbling after.”

Cute, right? As kids we were shown rich illustrations of Jack and Jill with a pail playfully cavorting up a hill, then somersaulting back down. Probably better than the harsher truth.

But here is something I came across in some reading I was doing. Consider this more modern wordplay from a man named Dick King-Smith:
If you fall into a river that’s full of Pirahna
They’ll strip off your flesh like you’d skin a banana
There’s no time for screaming
There’s no time for groans
In forty-five seconds you’re nothing but bones

Delightful!

How many nightmares might this endgender if it entered the collective childhood consciousness as Jack, Jill, and Mary?

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Greek and Roman Myths

If you read my previous post The Cloud with the Silken Lining then you saw this review coming. Some of the inspiration—and information—came from this book. It’s 220 pages, not wieldy at all, and a terrific primer for those wanting to get a thorough overview of Greek and Roman mythology. ~ JWN

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What are the Northern Lights? Why might a tornado demolish one house and leave another unscathed? Centuries of research and observation have provided answers to some stubborn enigmas, but what do we do when those answers are so seemingly inaccessible we can’t possibly begin to understand their origins to begin with? The most ethereal, most immeasurable response most likely rests upon faith or religion. Not so different from how the people of antiquity coped with external influences in their own lives.

The Greek And Roman Myths: A Guide to the Classical Stories is the erudite equivalent of having a field guide in your backpack when hiking or traveling in a foreign country. Philip Matyszak does a remarkable job in coalescing not one but two entire pantheons of gods and ancient myths into a compact, utterly enjoyable read. Through his work we can see the interaction Greeks and Romans had with their gods as a means to engender a rationale for both the natural and unnatural forces around them, to bring civility to a period that could be often barbaric and chaotic.

Homer (the Greek poet of antiquity, not Simpson) introduced many of us to these myths via his epic poems, the Iliad and the Odyssey. Matyszak has, in a contemporary sense, given us the means to more easily comprehend these myths and their widely varied casts so we may more fully appreciate just how ingrained they are in modern life.

Forget that these myths, gods, goddesses, titans, heroes date well before what historians and scholars consider the common era (B.C. E.); to this day their influence permeates our everyday lives, such is their power. Astronomers navigate the constellations when searching the heavens, using names like Leo, Perseus, Andromeda, Aries, Cassiopeia, and Pegasus; auto makers have given us the Saturn, the Orion, and the Cressida; almost every planet is named after a Roman God; Internet companies like Juno and Delphi; recording company Mercury hefts its name from the Greek god Hermes (using the Roman name Mercury); the goddess of victory, Nike, lends her name to the ubiquitous athletic clothing company; even Aetna, the child of Uranus and Gaia (the mother from whom all life comes—mother earth) lends her name to a mountain and an insurance company. Continents and days of the week bear the names—or at least derivatives of names—of ancient deities. The stories behind some of these names are fascinating and layer a colorful dynamic upon a nomenclature we all but take for granted.

Both the Greeks and—later—the Romans, believed their deities to be more immanent in nature than entirely within themselves. The author provides a host of snapshots that bring these stories into relief, fleshing out the anamorphic from the ethereal. The evolution of civilization suggests that centuries of polytheism slowly gave way to more prophet based, monotheistic cultures, and the deities of old became interpreted as symbolic of human nature. Matyszak provides plenty of grist for such an idea when presenting allegories like the Neoptolemus Principle (the harm one man does to another will always come back to him) and a Sisyphean Labor (any fruitless or endless task). Both have their basis in Greek lore, but have morphed into descriptions of concepts we now apply to our own time.

Far from being dry, The Greek And Roman Mythsis, frankly, a fun if legitimately educational romp through the mists of antiquity.

The subject matter is handled respectfully and with an underlying scholarly approach, but sans heaviness which some volumes imbue their study of the period with. The content is well structured and easily accessible, albeit abridged for brevity’s sake. The true meat-and-potatoes of these apologues are served for the reader’s considerations, but those desiring a more granular view of these myths may be disappointed; the book wasn’t intended to be a treatise on myriad facets each myth provides. Instead, it brings a greater scope of understanding without being too expansive in its approach. My reading of the Iliad back in high school would have been much more enjoyable had I had a guide such as this to refer to.

The complexity of Greek and Roman mythology is broken down into an easily palatable tapestry of the major plots and characters, providing a brief look at how many of the venerable narratives have influenced literature and art throughout history–a remarkably fun, illuminating read.

From Apollo to Zeus (Jupiter), Prometheus to Pandora, Hera (Juno) to Hades (Pluto)—all the interesting stars of Greek and Roman mythology are here and anyone with even the slightest curiosity about them will find a wealth of delights among these pages.

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Once again I would very much like to thank Ted Sturtz and the folks at Thames & Hudson for providing a copy of this book to review. My other reviews can also be found at the New York Journal of Books.

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The Intimate Lives of the Founding Fathers

Providence has its signature upon everything of value, tangible and intangible. The founding fathers, especially George Washington, firmly believed its “guiding hand” was akin to a protectorate, ensuring all the proper people were aligned with Time and Events to conceive a new country of unequaled freedoms.

Indeed, Providence brought these men forth, men of stoicism and intellect, of passion and courage. What we are indoctrinated with in school only scratches the surface of the story history has to tell us. Our founding fathers secure our deserved approbations for their words and deeds, yet we are released from our institutions with precious little knowledge about a matter of equal importance to their historical fame—their humanity.

One can scarcely give thought to Adam without including Eve—they may be considered the First Parents. One without the other is inconceivable. He needed her softness and guile; she, his strength and security. One gave ballast to the other. We know how that story ends, of course—through the parable we are implored to consider the dynamics of man and woman; perhaps more pointedly, the mystical enchantment of love.

The Intimate Lives of the Founding Fathers brings to our purview the affections and influences of the wives, mothers, sisters—and yes, lovers—of six American founders. Our historical culture is such that we tend to exalt the men and relegate the influential women of their lives to mere footnotes, if mentioned at all but in passing. Thomas Fleming does eloquent service to these deserving, effectual ladies.

Probably the most sonorous is the yet undecided controversy regarding Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings. If you’re looking for an ultimate confirmation of yes or no, you won’t find it here. You will encounter plenty of information—claims, counter-claims, denials, and withdrawals—emanating from both camps. Fleming does a brilliant job of providing historical evidence via oral and written accounts. This reviewer was explicitly taught that Jefferson had absolutely taken his mulatto slave Sally Hemings as a lover and sired children with her. As with much of what is fobbed off as history in our textbooks, much of the true evidence, pro and con, is left unmentioned, leaving no room for genuine discussion and—gasp!—learning. Left to the accelerated pace of teaching many students are exposed to ivory tower versions of history. Mr. Fleming’s salient prose gives much needed grist for the mill. To any person interested, even intrigued, by early American history, the arguments presented are worth the price of the book alone.

Ample time is given to revealing sentiments regarding Jefferson and his wife, Martha. I’ve known of Jefferson as a towering political figurehead, but never have I known of his painfully romantic nature. The man adored his wife, and considered only the briefest of dalliances well after her death when he encountered Maria Cosway in Paris many years later.

An almost untouchable icon, George Washington is sometimes intimated as having been quite the ladies man. Our revered national hero is shown to have been acutely susceptible to Cupid’s touch in regards to Sally Cary Fairfax. But he was also prone to fits of temper, a congenital facet of his character inherited from his mother, Mary Ball Washington. General Washington was oft rumored to have taken other women as lovers, but again Fleming provides a rich well of documentation which only serves to solidify the contrarian idea that he was deeply devoted to Martha Custis Washington, his wife. Martha, in fact, was often with her husband as he traveled during his command of the Continental Army.

But we are invariably drawn to the potentially scandalous nature of men in power. The sheer use of the word Intimate in the title is enough to arouse prurient curiosity. Was Ben Franklin the subtle political and feminine provocateur he’s said to have been? Was Alexander Hamilton, born of a mother with a seemingly insatiable sexual appetite, equal to her misgivings? Who was more responsible for bringing America through the War of 1812: James or Dolley Madison? And were Dolley Madison and Martha Wayles Jefferson “pimped out” as their husband’s political detractors would claim? Each of these men are drawn for our posterity by Flemings’ deft style. Their backgrounds and accounts of events which surrounded their ascendancy are intricately woven together with their loves and peccadilloes to flesh out their heretofore almost ignored humanity.

It is no stretch of rationality to pronounce women as equally important in examinations of our history (dare I say history overall). The social standards of the time shut women out of leadership roles, yet we are repeatedly shown—as if we need to be—that without their support and counsel these men may quite possibly have manifested a different kind of history for us. These ladies were removed from the direct harshness of the political limelight, but their involvement on the periphery, and directly upon their husband’s lives and hearts, was as important to the fathers’ emotional well-being as any stroke of the pen they may have used to induce history. In many instances their influence and support had direct impact upon politics, both national and international.

In the interest of personal disclosure, this reviewer is an unabashed fan of Abigail Adams. This section of the book was something I looked very much forward to. Having read David McCullough’s John Adams, I was hoping to come away with some fresh insights. Those are present, if muted by comparison. To be fair Fleming has a much wider net to cast in exploring the amorous sides of our vaunted founders. The casual reader may not know much of what McCullough told, so to that end the section dedicated to the Adamses is easily capable of standing on its own. Much can be gleaned from the intimate correspondence between the couple during their years separated by an ocean in the cause of independence. In case you’re wondering, I still adore Abigail.

Throughout, Fleming’s prose is, most often, beautiful. There are times, however, when he teeters on the cusp of being inaccessible. I consider myself to have a decent vocabulary, and there were a few times I needed to consult a dictionary. I consider this an advantage as it lends itself to expanding my love of the language. But for someone looking for a fundamentally simple read, they may find the book frustrating on occasion. The subject matter deserves—really, requires—respectful handling and meticulous care. Sheer vocabulary aside, his pen does nothing in the least to diminish this highly intelligent, thoroughly enjoyable and engrossing read.

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Once again I’d like to thank Ted Sturtz at the New York Journal of Books for his help in securing a copy of Intimate Lives for me to review, and to Harper Collins for providing the copy. The book was provided solely in exchange for the purposes of reviewing.

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The Last Train From Hiroshima

“Handle them carefully, for words have more power than atom bombs.”
—Pearl Strachan

As readers we connect on one simple but unflinching principle: words possess amazing power. In his latest work, Charles Pellegrino adroitly summons their potency. His detailed yet compelling analysis is woven with the thread of true human narrative, and even though he lays its foundation upon the objectivity of science, The Last Train From Hiroshima is at once accessible and seductive in both its horror and its fascination.

When I went to school—as I recall—we were given the commercial airline version of this small but devastating window in history—the 30,000-foot view, with little turbulence and a smooth ride to the deck of the USS Missouri to accept Japan’s unconditional surrender. Bereft of detail, the material taught was the modern equivalent of bullet points in a mind-numbing sales presentation. Mr. Pellegrino fills in the grim gaps, suturing closed yawning cavities in my inoculated learning. Be forewarned—the truth is not pretty, the details not sparse. The forensic detail alone is dramatic, and at times brutally graphic. Eyewitness accounts, diaries, family histories—a deep well from which Pellegrino draws to present, in stark clarity, the dawning of the nuclear age in warfare. This is not like the conveniently sterilized Hollywood versions we’re familiar with.

Be assured this book is, in no way, a discourse on the “we should” or “we shouldn’t” ideologies. In many places it reads cinematically, the story revealed from both ends of the delivery/reception spectrum. The author spends a little time in the beginning describing the detonation process—not in split-seconds or moments, rather in millionths and thousandths of a second. He refers to the explosions of both the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs as “brief reincarnations of distant suns.” At the outset, he describes events directly at Moment Zero, Ground Zero, at the Dome of Hiroshima’s Industrial Sciences Building (now known as the “Peace Dome”):

“At the moment the bomb came to life, before a globe of plasma could belly down to ground level, the top millimeter of the Dome’s metal cladding would catch the rays from the bomb and liquefy instantly, then flash to vapor. Bricks and concrete, too, were on the verge of developing a radiant, liquid skin.”

Immediately adjacent to that building, a woman tends to her garden. Pellegrino doesn’t sketch but clearly delineates the process of a human body being vaporized before the nervous system can register pain:

“From the moment the rays began to pass through her bones, her marrow would begin vibrating at more than five times the boiling point of water. The bones themselves would become instantly incandescent, with all of her flesh trying simultaneously to explode away from her skeleton while being forced straight down into the ground as a compressed gas. Within the first three-tenths of a second following the bombs detonation, most of the iron was going to be separated from (her) blood . . .”

This is a guided tour of Hell via the recollections of a number of double survivors—people who lived through the blast at Hiroshima and, for various reasons, took the last of two trains to Nagasaki, only to survive the destructive forces of a bomb three times as powerful as the first. We are given behind-the-scenes passes to watch as Paul Tibbets and Charles Sweeney pilot the Enola Gay and Bock’s Car B-29 bombers over their respective targets. And we are witness to a latent force at least as powerful as the physical destruction caused—the chasmal rifts and fractures the bombs would create within families and amongst old friends.

In both Nature and man’s nature, seeds of better things begin to sprout and slowly, if grudgingly, take root. Some of the survivors experienced a spiritual fallout, and a few of the hibakusha—the largely ostracized people who “lived” through the bombs—left philanthropic ripples in their eventual wake, taking up the gauntlet to present to the rest of humanity the terrors of atomic weapons—this despite the efforts of the Japanese government and the MacArthur Protocols. Through the many interviews with survivors Pellegrino has helped to remove the scab from a 65-year-old wound and apply a salve of truthful exposition to begin the healing process.

There are problems within one particular section, however. According to the New York Times, one of the men central to uncovering an accident on Tinian with the first bomb—a Joseph Fuoco—never participated in either of the bombing missions, as claimed by Pellegrino. He tells us that Fuoco filled in at the last minute for James Corliss, the intended flight engineer. But when Corliss allegedly becomes ill just before the Hiroshima mission, Fuoco becomes the go-to guy. Pellegrino appears to have performed due diligence in his research, but perhaps not enough. Corliss’s family has provided some amount of evidence which reportedly proves that it was Corliss on those flights, and not Fuoco. An Air Force spokesman has stated there exists documentation tying James Corliss to the Hiroshima mission, while they have no record of Joseph Fuoco having been assigned to that bomber squadron.

Mr. Pellegrino has, to his credit, stated that he will set the record straight for any editions yet to be printed. In an interview with the Times he stated “I’m stunned. I liked and admired the guy. He had loads and loads of papers, and photographs of everything.” He added, “The public record has to be repaired. You can’t have wrong history going out. It’s got to be corrected.”

As a writer I understand that it can be difficult to cover all bases all the time—sometimes you just can’t get to information you need, while others you simply overlook or don’t give due consideration. I cannot possibly begin to presume what happened in this instance. It strikes this reviewer as odd that the Corliss family had the documentation, and yet it doesn’t seem to have made it into Pellegrino’s account. Perhaps he had requested an interview and was rebuffed—I don’t know.

But the author did not hide behind any public relations smoke-and-mirrors apparatus in light of the information. He gets straight to the point and tells us he will fix it. Given the body of his previous work I find no reason whatsoever to believe this was, in any way, intentional. And it certainly doesn’t diminish the impact of the stories related by the survivors.

As readers we’ve all come across books that we recommend to friends, family, etc. We do so because we enjoyed them, because they’ve added value to the time we’ve spent within their pages. Once in a while a book comes along which is worthy of elevation above our personal recommendations—it merits an almost moral imperative to be read. The Last Train From Hiroshima is compelling to that end. This book should be at the core of any class traversing WWII history, although given the erroneous information concerning Fuoco and Corliss I would hope it would be the corrected version.

Pellegrino’s words, while painful, sometimes even disturbing, draw into bitter relief invaluable lessons about our capacity to kill, to survive, and even to inspire. Relative to the atom bomb, his words are more than equal to the task.

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I am most grateful to Ted Sturtz of the New York Journal of Books and Theresa Giacopasi of Henry Holt & Company for getting me a copy of this book to review.

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UPDATE: The Associate Press, along with other media outlets, have “exposed” apparent flaws in the Last Train story. Questions have been raised about more than the dubiousness of the Fuoco incident I mentioned in my review.

- There appears to be a grey area concerning a Father Mattias and a Jesuit monk, both mentioned early in the book. According to Pellegrino the Jesuit, a one John MacQuitty, was “a changed identity,” one which he neglected to include in the acknowledgements of the book. There was never a first name given for Father Mattias.

- Questions of the author’s doctoral pedigree are also raised. On his web site Pellegrino states he received a Ph.D. in 1982 from Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand. After the AP queried the university, they could find no proof of such a claim. Pellegrino does own up to a falling out with the university over a controversial theory of evolution, but the doctorate in question, while it had been discredited–along with a number of other scientists–was reinstated in 1997.

I do not consider the entire book to be a trove of falsehoods. One might argue that to find one such arbitrary fact discredits the whole. I am not so quick to judge given Pellegrino’s prior work. He should have owned up to such things in the acknowledgements, assuredly, but I cannot believe that the entire account is fictionalized.

It is disappointing to see such a work of importance marginalized by lackluster fact checking, but I think we do history a greater disservice by throwing out the baby with the bath water.

The publisher has offered to buy back copies of the book from book sellers, and will not re-publish any other editions or corrections. I, for one, am glad I had the opportunity to read the book before it is erased from our accounts of history. I will, undoubtedly, learn more in the long run, once all the wrinkles are ironed out, than I would have known at all had I not been exposed to the book.

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Indulge Me Thrice, Please!

So today winds up another fun and interesting virtual blog tour. Doing the writing for the guest posts and interviews is work, assuredly, but it’s also enjoyable. But the stops I really look forward to are the book reviews. They are a source of minor anxiety for any author, but the whole reason we share our stories is because we’re curious as to how they make someone feel or think.

In that regard, I got a three-fold return today. In no particular order, I’d be very pleased indeed if you would take a few moments and read each of the reviews below:

• At Cafe of Dreams, by a woman who has guest-posted for me before, April Pohren.

• At Books, Books, The Magical Fruit—(interesting blog title, eh?)

• And a review from Ms. Dorothy Thompson, the woman who has helped steer me through two blog tours and get my name all over the search engines. Her thoughts on The Light, The Dark, and Ember Between can be read at Pump Up Your Book.

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“Magically Brought Real Love To Life”

Quite literally, a book review condensed to six words. Not my words, I assure you, but they do refer to The Light, The Dark, and Ember Between. Wow, huh?

After a few days off I’m back on the tour trail for the last leg of this journey.

The review above came from Ms. Tara Stone Gill at 25 Hour Books. One of my favorite lines from her review is:

I found myself rereading whole paragraphs to just soak in the imagery again and again.

Guess I did something right ;^)

Also today is a quick seven question interview with me at All Voices. Take a few moments to check it out, won’t you?

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Tour II; Day 7 Review and Guest Post

Only three days left . . . not for shopping, but for my second tour. Today has two stops:

• A brand new review of The Light, The Dark, and Ember Between at Reading at the Beach. Two words come to mind: stocking stuffer.

• A guest post I wrote for Market My Novel about one of the ways I write when I’m not actually writing. Bewildered? Check out the post!

Stocking Stuffer, Stocking Stuffer, Stocking Stuffer, Stocking Stuffer . . . ;^)

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TourII; Day 5 Into The Last Week

Hope you will make a little time to check out my two stops for today. This one is slightly different, because they are interviews in two different formats: The blog interview is hosted by a transplanted American in Australia named Jaime at The Hot Author Report. These were some fun questions!

Next will be a return to Blog Talk Radio with Barry Eva at A Book and a Chat. Show should air live at 9:00pm EST, 8:00pm Central, and 6:00pm MST. Listen in, even call-in and ask a question or two if you’d like!
UPDATE! – The host has had an urgent family matter arise, so the interview is postponed for now. I’ll certainly let you all know when we get a chance to do it again!

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