Those Who Dwell Upon the Earth by James D. Sanderson A Must-Read Masterpiece...

My first encounter with a book by Hal Lindsey was quite exciting. I was young enough that I thought and looked forward to the time when Christ would come again. Since then, I've read a few more books on the topic and realized that it was not up to man to decide when that Second Coming would occur. Nor, was it necessarily to be associated with the end of the world. Yet time after time it is routinely brought up. During the present, one of the points made was related to Jerusalem. Yet, nothing happened... We didn't see a change just because America decided to relocate, or did we? 

The thing that I've come to question is whether or not the "good" would be taken before "that" occurred. Suppose, just suppose that's not what happens. What if a North Korea nuclear bomb destroyed much of the world. But, there were still Those Who Dwell Upon the Earth? 

One of the questions posed would then be, are we ready to dwell here on earth as a follower of Jesus?  There was another Jesus who is the main character in this book. He, too, found it hard to live within America as the future has left us. How would you do?

STRANGER ON THE SHORE

A stick of black helicopters skirted the far edge of the dawn.  No one knew change was coming, least of all the four brothers.  They made their way along the shoreline toward the north end of the lake.  All night a filthy rain had fallen and now the sun was trying to open its sticky eye.  

One of them, Thomas, waded out to his knees to retrieve a good-sized carp that had gone belly up.  He held it up triumphantly, his fingers jammed up into its gills, and said, “It doesn’t look too bad.”  Now he examined it in an animated way, as with a critical eye.  “Not bad at all.” 

“I can smell that thing from here,” one of the others said. In spite of that comment, Thomas brought the fish along with him back to the shore. 

They were trying to find a man others had told them about.  “A man who knows everything.” 

“No one knows everything,” another of the men, James, had said.  He was bookish, so he should know.  Bookish was a word that had been used before the advent of computers.  Now, whenever a book was found in the rubble and wreckage of a lost building, he would carefully dig it out.  

The others laughed and hooted.  “What are you going to do with that?” 

“Read it,” he’d say with a bemused smile. 

“What for?” 

“For a while.” 

“He’s found another cookbook.” 

“Not this time.”  He’d hold up his latest treasure – whether ‘Fathers and Sons’ or ‘Trout Fishing in the Rockies,’ carefully brush it off and place it in his carry bag.  He seemed to be physically afflicted when he was forced to discard one to make room for another.  A man can carry only so much weight. 

The third brother, Andrew, took the lead now.  “Let’s get going,” he said. “What’s your hurry?”  Thomas was considering gutting and cleaning the carp then and there. 

“We haven’t got all day.”  He set out. 

“Yeah, yeah.” The fourth among them, Matthew, was somewhat quieter than the others.  He had fine features and sandy hair.  

They were brothers, as different as they were from one another… 

Along here bushes and small trees had begun to sprout and grow.  Future replacements for those that had been charred in the unquenchable fires. 

They smelled breakfast smoke some minutes before they came upon a young man sitting on a rock warming his hands at a fire.  Several fine trout were laid out, prepared to join the two that were already popping and cooking on an improvised metal grate.

“Why don’t you join me,” the man said, looking up at them with gentle eyes. “We might do that,” Andrew said. 

“We could eat,” Thomas said. 

“Why don’t you go bury that carp?  It looks corrupted.” Thomas turned part way to his left and slung the fish back into the lake.  The splash it made was upsetting in the still of the morning. 

“Please…”  The young man motioned for them to sit on the fallen log and several rocks that were naturally arranged around the fire.  

They did not sit. “We’re looking for a man we’ve heard about,” James said. “What man?” 

“A man they say knows everything.” 

“No one knows everything,” their host said with a snicker. 

“That’s what I said.”  James seemed pleased to have said it. 

“Tell me,” Thomas pointed at the fish.  “Where’d you get these perfect trout?  Not in this lake.” 

The man pursed his lips and jerked his chin Native American style toward the top of the lake.  “A perfect stream feeds this lake.” 

“No one is stocking these streams.” 

“Native cutthroat and rainbow are making a comeback.” 

“Now that things are… recovering?” 

“That’s right.” Thomas grunted.  “That’s a miracle!” 

The stranger began to break off pieces of the hot fish and hand them around.  The brothers patted the hot pieces back and forth in their hands, blowing on them before they burned their fingers.  He picked up the other trout and placed them on the hot grill.  

The four brothers finished eating quickly and stood around waiting for the rest of the fish to be cooked. 

“Say,” the younger man said, “you all seem to be pretty easy around strangers… considering… everything.” 

James laughed shortly.  “You don’t seem very dangerous.” 

Thomas lifted his flannel shirt and undershirt, and proudly showed the 9mm Glock he was carrying in his belt. 

“Is it loaded?”

 “Of course,” he growled.  “This baby puts an end to a lot of foolishness.” 

“I can see that it would.” 

“Like he said,” he pointed at James.  “You don’t seem very dangerous.” 

“I’m not,” the other agreed amiably. 

“Where are your weapons?” 

“I get by without them.” 

The brothers looked askance of each other.  Finally Thomas said, “Bears are making a comeback too.” 

The young man smiled.  “I know.”  After a long pause he asked their names.  The oldest was James, bookman.  Then Thomas, the wild one.  Then Andrew, who seemed calculating somehow.  Then Matthew, the quiet. 

“What’s your name?” 

“My name is Jesus.” 

Again the brothers looked at each other, not quite believing what they had heard.  James asked the obvious question.  “You mean like… the real Jesus?” “I’m not him, of course.  But that’s what my parents named me.” 

“And your parents…” 

“Dead.” 

“Ours too. In the Great… whatever it was.” 

The moment passed.  The tension caused by the speaking of that name eased.  “I don’t know what was so great about it,” Thomas said at last.  An old joke, but it seemed to work now among strangers. 

“Sit down.  Sit down.” The brothers sat.  Jesus passed out the rest of the fish.  They ate in silence. 

Then, “Are you headed anywhere?” Andrew asked.  “Or is this your home?” “I’ve been here forty days.  You?” 

“As we said, we are looking for this man…  We’ve become curious about him.” Jesus nodded.  “You have made me curious too.  Perhaps we could look for him together.” 

The brothers conferred silently, looking back and forth at each other.  Then Andrew said, “Sure, why not?” 

~~~

The book begins by using familiar names of characters of the Bible. I thought about this more as I read. Do names really matter? Jesus, for the sake of acquiring attention, was used for the main character. But, other than that, wouldn't the same be happening if we are Christians of any name, maybe Glenda, or Harold, who have been and are now, because of "The Troubles" being even more persecuted by a lawless, powerful, and unmerciful world that includes, the government, the rich corporations...and the Certain Way of Truth Church, the official church of our country...

The average American was hungry, had no money, if working, may have had a job where they had no control over anything that happened there. Perhaps they were not even welcomed at the Certain Way of Truth Church...

Opening with a scene that could have appeared in the Bible...but in reverse...we come upon a group of brothers who were roaming through the country...One saw a large fish, which wasn't so much damaged from the radiation that... well, he carried it for awhile... Until the brothers came upon a stranger who was cooking fish over a fire, and had plenty more waiting. Not sitting down, they stood, gaping perhaps at the fish. The man asked if they would like to join him...

His name, he said, was Jesus. And at their surprise, quickly said he was not that one, but his mother thought he was destined for good things and so named him after the Savior... It is not hard to get into the use of Jesus as a main character. After all, we have read about Him often in the Bible... Yes, the Bible was extensively referred to, taught, and taken as to how to deal with what had happened to the world that God had made for all of us.

They had found an old building and claimed it in the Name of the Lord.

You may be familiar with WWJD (What would Jesus Do?) Jesus, the main character, answers the questions from his ever-growing followers...and government officials, based upon the teachings of Jesus. Jesus began, with his four new friends, by feeding them when they were hungry. Then he talked about everybody sharing what they had with everybody else and purchase what was available for distribution. They had found an old building and claimed it in the Name of the Lord. That was their first building where everybody's needs were met. At the same time, he began to spend time talking about Jesus and how his words and acts would respond to all their needs. Soon the town was flourishing, with nobody hungry. A bartering system was implemented...and more...

What was happening soon became a concern, however,...food was being grown and not purchased, for instance. Food merchants began losing money. A doctor had joined the group and soon was serving medical needs...

Then, one day, the doctor was stopped...by "The Fist of Christ," and worked to put fear into the doctor. He responded by asking what they wanted from him. They answered that they were displeased a shop had been set up as a church, when there's a perfectly good church already." And they did't have a license!

Gasping now, the doctor replied as best he could, “Illness and physical limitations are actually part and parcel with the cycle of poverty.  When a worker gets sick, he misses work.  He doesn’t get paid for the time he misses.  The people prefer their own bad system over the shiny but expensive, and thus unattainable, state system.”

Soon, empty housing that had been boarded up, were also claimed in the Name of Jesus... Housing was being provided through the work of others and sharing to those in need...

You may think that all of these are good things--yes, that this was what Jesus would do... But, Jesus and his followers were rejected, harassed, thrown in jail...building owners of those empty buildings sought their legal rights to have eviction of those now in their buildings...

Many of these things have happened already, the poor and homeless are not welcomed. Those seeking asylum are abused and threatened. Children are separated from their parents. Religion is being used to serve the needs of the rich and powerful and for political gain.

But WWJD if he were here...If we have already reached the point, after The Troubles" where America had totally changed to exclude the downtrodden, those yearning to be free. When we know, then, that the nuclear bomb is not the worst thing that could happen to America and the World...

Sanderson has written what I must call a masterpiece story where the apocalypse was not the result of the bomb...it was the result of power and greed and a loss of Love... where even then, a new, epic story arises, through those who are being led by the man who also was called Jesus...And the power of God's Son...

I would call this a must-read recommendation. More on the Study Guide Soon...

GABixlerReviews

I have been a writer nearly my entire life. Even at age twelve I was writing short stories, though I’m sure they would seem embarrassingly childish now. At times it seemed the only way I could express myself. 

I always read great literature as well. My friends made fun of me when I brought a large book with me to ball practice. In fact I read everything I could get my hands on – from adventure novels to the latest articles in Field and Stream or Outdoor magazines. 

Growing up in Michigan, I was a big fan of Hemingway, but I read Dickens and Pearl Buck and Conrad and Willa Cather and, later, Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky. My love for books has not diminished with age. 

I have written a short work of nonfiction – ‘Called To Love’ about the Christian love ethic – and a collection of short stories – ‘Sacred Are the Brave’ about the nonviolent revolutions of the 1980s, available on Amazon Kindle. 

I wanted to write a novel that would express everything I know about writing and faith and the Church – especially the New Testament Church. I hit upon a time in the near future when believers would face many trials – from an authoritarian government, terrorists, an ‘official’ church, and the wreckage of an apocalyptic event, in this case nuclear war. 

How will our faith hold up in such a time? My wife and I have been in a unique ministry for thirty years. In all that time we have ministered to the poor, the disenfranchised, the homeless, and the addicted. 

Ours has not been a ‘normal’ experience of church. Out of that experience, then, has grown my latest novel, ‘Those Who Dwell Upon the Earth’. It will be released on September 1st in Kindle and Trade Paperback. A Reader’s Guide will also be available on Kindle. An audio version will be available soon as well. 

For more about me and my work please see my blog: jamesdsanderson.blogspot.com

The Ring, The Bomb, and the Word - A Magnificent Thriller by Assad R. Wright

Finishing the last line of “Amazing Grace,” he was about to close the hymnbook when he felt something tugging at the edge of his consciousness, trying to get through. He had felt it earlier as he walked down the aisle but ignored it as he focused on avoiding the unfriendly stares of his fellow wedding attendants. The warning was now a silent scream inside his skull. Without drawing attention to himself, he finally closed the book and leaned back, his eyes closed. To someone looking on, he appeared as someone taking a nap. Contrary to that, however, he now put his mind into a fast rewind and backed up to where he entered the gate. He then started forward in super slow motion, trying to pin down the unusual or the out of place. Nothing in the driveway! Nothing in the parking lot … Wait, in the first row of cars, a Ford Corvette with heavily tinted glass. Even the back glass and the windshield were extremely dark, so heavily tinted, indeed, that he was sure they had to be way outside of allowable range. Something else was bothering him about the Ford. All the cars in the lot were parked with headlights toward the building, including his. The Corvette, however, was parked with the front facing the direction from which it had come. It was the only one in the entire lot. He needed a closer look. He started to get up, intending to give the Corvette a closer look, when the door to the sanctuary was swung wide, and a voice like that of a ring announcer intoned, 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the wedding party.” Still unsure whether to sit down or finish what he had intended to do, the first couple walking briskly down the aisle made up his mind for him, and he sat down, berating himself for an obvious slip up. He knew this was supposed to be a gay wedding but was still unprepared for what was to follow. Rip was expecting a maid of honor and her male escort to come dancing down the aisle to the tune of a popular wedding song. A few feet from the altar, they would bow and courtesy to each other and move to opposite ends. The rest of the wedding party would follow suit until a semicircle was formed around the altar, leaving a small opening for two people. The organ would then ring out the well-known tune of “Here Comes the Bride,” and the bride would come slowly up the aisle, borne on the arm of the giving-away father. No such thing was happening here, and Rip was a bit confused, not knowing what or even how to think about what he was seeing. He liked to think inside the box, and changes that he couldn’t account for made him uncomfortable. He consoled himself with the thought that he was here to carry out a specific task, and until what was happening impacted on him doing that job, he was unconcerned. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t quite put it out of his mind as the first couple walked in. Two ladies walked in without the aid of music. They walked in arm in arm, and instead of separating to opposite sides, they remained together, arm in arm. These were followed by two men arm in arm, duplicating the exact positioning of the first couple. This continued until there were four couples on each side of the semicircle. Next came four children in single file, bearing flowers, boy-girl and boy-girl order. This group was followed by a single girl with a small cushion with two rings on top. The rings looked as if they would equal the lifetime earnings of an average family of ten. 
A door to the right of what he assumed to be the choir dais, empty now, opened, and the officiating minister walked through followed by his attendants. As he settled back in his seat, Rip scolded himself for not being more thorough. As Chuck had noted, they just couldn’t afford any slip ups, no matter how trivial they may appear. He began combing the room for anything that didn’t look right to him. 
At that thought, he felt a chill running down his spine and a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. The heavily tinted Ford parked facing the direction from which it had come definitely fit the description description of a Doesn’t Look Right (DLR) scenario. How many times had he told himself and others that one of the most fundamental practices in self preservation was detecting DLR situations and acting accordingly? He was about to do just that when the minister gave a loud cough, and as if by cue, the hesitant voice of a female came over the loudspeaker singing, “Born free, as free as the grass grows …”

He was again taken off balance. Were they supposed to sing that type of songs in church? He couldn’t be sure and decided to leave it alone. As the last line of the verse “born free to follow your heart” came to a close, two women walked arm in arm down the aisle and filled in the space left in the semicircle. Rip couldn’t help noticing the lack of practiced grace associated with the entrance of the bridal party and the bride. Instead, what he was seeing here today was more like intentional defiance. The minister coughed again, this time rather self-consciously preening himself, not unlike a peacock, and when he was sure all eyes were on him, he began speaking, “Ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters, we are gathered here in the sight of God to unite this couple.” 
Before he could proceed any further, a soft murmur began at the back of the church and rippled its way to the front. Turning around, he found himself looking at one of the most beautiful ten-year-olds he’d ever seen. With a face that would make a cherub pine away in envy, she came up the aisle, dressed in flawless white. She was carrying a bouquet of some of the most beautiful flowers he had ever seen. With a smile that said the world was at her feet, she glided up to the couple and handed the woman on her right the flowers, bowed gracefully, turned around smartly, and glided back the way she had come. The admiration around the sanctuary was unmistakable. 
After what seemed like an eternity, the minister coughed again, pulling back the congregation from their reverie. He began speaking again, but Rip wasn’t paying him much attention now. There were a couple things that didn’t add up. For one thing, whoever heard of flowers coming in after the bride had made her entrance? True, this wedding was as unconventional as one could get, but it still did not explain things. And secondly, why didn’t the little flowers-bearing angel remain with the party? He looked around behind him, but she was nowhere to be seen. 

This stunk of a DLR. Without wasting another second, he rose and began striding toward the back door, ignoring the repeated coughing of the reverend. Moving quickly through the vestibule, he was just in time to see the rear entrance door swinging shut, but not before seeing the white-dressed angel hurrying through. He wheeled around and started sprinting for the sanctuary. He was pounding up the aisle now, drawing gasps and shrieks of confusion and indignation from the audience and multiple coughs from the minister, who seemed unable to stop or control his throat actions. 

A few feet away from the couple, he began unbuttoning the top of his jacket without once slowing down. As he reached the couple, his hand was snaking out of his jacket, filled with the retooled USP 45 pistol. Flipping the gun to his left hand, he reached out and snatched the suspicious bouquet of flowers with his with his right and headed back the way he had come. A quarter of the way down the aisle, he moved between two rows of seats placed farther apart to allow passage. 

Directly ahead of him, an imposing stained glass window loomed. Without breaking stride, he began shouting, “Down, get down!” Still some distance from the window, he brought the USP 45 up, placing shot after shot in it, all the time shouting, “For God’s sake, get down.” Noticing many still standing, he fairly screamed, “A bomb, a bomb, get down!” The word bomb did the trick. People were diving to the floor all over the sanctuary. The stain glass had now shattered, leaving a very large hole.

Slipping the gun into his jacket pocket, while ignoring the heat from its barrel, Rip drew his flower-laden right hand back, and with the best Dan Marino imitation he could muster, hurled the bouquet through the now open space in the window, at the same time hitting the floor himself. The high school coach, who persuaded him to shift from budding quarterback to linebacker because, according to him, his build suited that position better, should have seen that throw. The bouquet flew through the window, spiraling across the parking lot, making a tight arc as it began to come down. 

Rip’s thought that he might have overreacted a tad and that there was no bomb after all was cut short by a horrendous blast. At first, it seemed the air was sucked out of his lungs, followed by tremendous heat that scorched everything in sight. Simultaneously, he heard the thudding against the building and realized what was happening when a late-model Benz was jammed into the stained glass window through which he had hurled the bouquet. Hearing a sickening creak, he looked up and realized that the entire wall and roof on that side of the building were about to collapse. It seemed like all hell was breaking loose now. The wedding goers were in a mad rush for the front door or any opening they could find to get as far away as possible from the doomed building. The ugly scene was made worse by the angry yells, panicked screaming, and choice profanities, which seemed out of place in a church. 

Rip knew he had to get outside and to his car as quickly as possible. He also knew he had to stay away from the melee. In there, he knew he could be dragged down and trampled, as he knew must be happening to others in that stampede. Against the right side of the building and about eight rows from where he was now crouching, he noticed the front end of a Lexus truck protruding slightly through a hole that was made when the blast flung it against the wall. Not wasting another second, he powered upward and headed for the truck. He had to knock some people aside, but that couldn’t be helped. Reaching the vehicle, he put his back against the grill and began straining as he tried to push it backward. He could feel every muscle in his aching body strained to the limit, but still, the truck wouldn’t move an inch. He closed his eyes, lowered himself, and bunched his muscles for one last do-or-die push when he heard grunts to his right and left. Opening his eyes, he noticed others had joined him in his quest for outside air and separation from the bombed-out church. He nodded briefly to no one in particular, and together, they began pushing in synchrony. Ever so slowly, the truck began moving backward in response to the pumping legs and straining biceps; it picked up speed until it was clear of the gaping hole. 

Rip was the first one through, and without looking back, he started sprinting for his car, fearing the worst. The parking lot nearest the blast had become an instant instant junkyard of mangled metal and chrome. Gone were the rows of neatly parked cars. Cars were thrown every which way, even on top of each other. For him, hurrying as he now was, the lot had become an obstacle course. He bobbed and weaved his way around the damaged cars as best he could without slowing down too much. The farther away from ground zero he got, the more he began noticing less damage. He was now truly glad that the imperative of a quick getaway had accustomed him to parking as near to exit as he could. Slowing down beside his car, he saw that the front driver’s side window was shattered. He quickly took off his jacket and used it to brush most of the broken glass away and sat behind the wheel. The engine started with the first crank of the key, and he backed out not too slowly into the driving lane. He began moving down the driveway much too slowly for him, but he had to take care not to hit the frightened people streaming out of the church. Luckily, only a few of them were out already. 
Reaching the gate, he quickly decided and turned to the left, back toward the town from which he had come. The bombers, whoever they were, would hardly go to the right, which led farther into the farm areas. More than likely, they would be headed through the town and to I-95. Once there, he couldn’t guess whether they would head north or south toward Miami. He had to reach them before then. He reached for his cellular phone to call 911 but put it back when he heard the wail of the sirens coming his way. The blast must have been heard for miles away. Less than a minute later, he was flashing by them, his car climbing steadily up to eighty miles per hour...

~~~

I was asked to review the second book by new thriller author, Assad Wright, Hijacking of the American Presidency, (do check out my review if you haven't already) and found it so amazing and intriguing, that I knew immediately I wanted to read the Debut of this fantastic new series...

What I discovered was that this book was a much more exciting thriller that captured me from the first page through to the last! But, oh, the closing--it was magnificent! How I wish I could share it with you... I did include an extraordinary scene to whet your appetite, because the entire book is moving from one crisis situation to another...And the creative organization of the novel which provides clues through various ways is, in my opinion, extraordinarily well done. This new author gained an ongoing fan after his first two books.

The title sets the scene perfectly...readers will be attending weddings...we watch as a nuclear bomb is transported into the United States and placed as planned...and we are involved in both organized and cult religious organizations. God's word, molded into the pace of the story, is totally relevant for both the situation and the story, and yet, provides an opportunity for a young man to face his own beliefs as he deals with the most significant catastrophe that the U.S. would face, if completed...

The main characters are an elite group comprised of Chuck Chisolm and his partners, Prim Stone and Rip Ganders, with the ample resources of the Religious Unit of the Antiterrorism Task Force of the Department of Homeland Security. A perfect trio who work together in the second book, but for a large part of this book, they are separated and sent to various places within America where possible terrorist action at same-sex marriages will be taken...

The terrorists are part of a large religious sect opposed to the idea of same-sex marriages. Their plan--the largest mass murder in American history. And to ensure it occurs, they have also planned smaller terrorists acts in various locations where homosexual couples are being married. It should be noted that the mass murder is planned in a state that, at that time, did not legally allow this type of marriage. But the Future Trend Nondenominational church decides to perform ten thousand marriages in one ceremony. It is supposed to be a secret--and is to the general population, but the religious group, known as RAGJ, discovered the plan and immediately worked to ensure it never occurred...

One of the most important issues for me was how the author effectively portrayed each of the various characters in each of what were essentially three different types of groups that would be included under the Universal category of Christianity. Even then, his individual characters within each group were so clearly differentiated that there was no question of the type of person each individual actually was...

To me, this was a personal concern since there are so many different types of religious conflicts in today's world, that it is no longer possible to define the true character of an individual by a specific category used for classification rather than for spiritual beliefs. If this concerns any of you, this book does an exceptional presentation in helping others to know that not all who call themselves Christians, may indeed, be followers of Jesus' guidance to love one another... 

In fact, Assad Wright's basic underlying theme of a Religious Unit within Homeland Security clearly illustrates the need for more information and the potential of individuals within a category actually acting for their own reasons to perform terrorist and criminal actions. I applaud the author for striking deeply into this major issue within a potentially realistic thriller. We become involved in watching Homeland Security and others work to stop terrorists, not depending upon a religious category to establish who are the guilty parties...

Wright has a brilliant ability to establish each setting as unique, with appropriate good and bad characters in each. We are amazed and then unnerved as we see how weapons have changed, become smaller, but more powerful, and how easily they are moved...using murder to ensure that most individuals involved will never be allowed to reveal the secret transactions...

This is one where I want to go ahead and share more with you,  but I just want to say that this little known author has initiated a series--an important series--as well as some of the most thrilling stories that I've read. The storylines are fantastic, the characters uniquely developed and the descriptive power of each setting is simply extraordinary. 

Because of the storyline, I'm strongly suggesting you consider this a must-read...


GABixlerReviews

Born and raised in Jamaica, Assad R. Wright attended Mico Teachers College and the university of the West Indies in Jamaica, followed by graduate work at Long Island University and CUNY Graduate Center in New York. A retired teacher, the author is now the pastor of a local assembly in Miami. This is the sequel to his first book, The Ring the Bomb and the Word: The Face of the American Homegrown Terrorist. 

Review: Best Alternative History Thriller I've Read So Far!

Image by emptyhighway via FlickrPoint of Entry

Peter Schechter

HarperCollins
ISBN: 9780060843304
323 Pages


I'm not much into politics; however, if our politicians did what was done in Point of Entry by Peter Schechter, I'd be full of praise and involvement. Alternative History is an interesting genre that allows authors to use current or past historical events and create a thriller or suspense novel that reveals either their imagination or, I believe in this case, what the author would have done or what should have occurred by the involved people. I must say that this book was not only the best alternative history book I've read, but I totally agreed with every word--if I were the individual that should be making those decisions! That's saying a lot for me...What would you choose if these events were really happening!?!

The major countries involved are the United States, Columbia, Cuba and Syria...

If something was to be smuggled into a country, anything and everything has been used. One of the methods for drugs has been for women to be the carriers, coming through airport security with bags they have swallowed! Indeed Juan Francisco Abdoul had a whole group of "mules" that routinely took drugs from Columbia into the United States. Abdoul's family had been major players for many years, but Juan had also gotten into politics to gain more power. He had just attempted to have his brother elected as the new president, while he, already, was president of the Senate.

But they had lost the election. A former Miss Universe, Marta Pradilla, who had been able to gain visibility as she toured the world had just won the election as the first female Presidente!

And she was prepared to move quickly! She already had Manual Saldivar, her friend and now chief of staff and press secretary working to figure out how to remove Adboul and other criminals from Columbia. In fact, during her inauguration celebration, she accomplished both goals she had set for herself: to spend private time with the United States president and to speak to him and Castro in one room at one time!

She also maneuvered and succeeded in a one-on-one email connection with U.S. President John Stockman.

John Stockman admitted to himself that he was attracted to Ms. Pradilla, but it was much more than her beauty. It was her open, honest approach to getting what she felt was the right thing. And she was the first major world player who was willing to challenge the president of the United States and make him see how people on the "other side" saw the actions of the United States. It was perhaps the first time that a president was given counsel and advice not based upon the critical evaluation of how it would affect his presidency, but how our actions would affect the world and its people!

And then the United States learned that Syria had been working to obtain materials for a nuclear bomb. The CIA assumed it would be used to prevent the U.S. from taking action against their country. But the CIA was wrong...

And Presidente Pradilla learned what was really going to happen. But to forewarn the United States would put her own life and Columbia in extreme danger!

I loved this book! I'm ready to vote for Peter Schechter as our next president! Look, how many times do we read about our own president making the "right" decisions rather than what is the most politically correct or based upon advice only from his own support staff! If you have a need to see the Unites States in an entirely new and different and...humane role in this world...this book MUST BE A Must-Read!

Book Purchased


G. A. Bixler