Books, Reviews, Short Stories, Authors, Publicity, a little poetry, music to complement...and other stuff including politics, about life... "Books, Cats: Life is Sweet..."
We were in awe of the cruise ship when we arrived at the dock the next day. It was something like seeing a mountain superimposed on a dark blue sky for the first time. It was quite a shock seeing the ships glistening in the port with their stark white hulls in contrast with the blue water. Twelve storeys tall and two and a half football fields long, the power required to actually get these things to move is unimaginable. Stepping aboard is like arriving in another world, opulence doesn't begin to describe this colossus of the seas. It's like stepping into a small city owned by an oil sheik. And a city it is, with every size, shape, nationality, and everything anyone could ever want within easy walking distance. It's our little piece of the world for the next few days, along with about three thousand of our closest friends. There was little time to explore as the first order of business was the lifeboat drill. This was all news to us...but...looking back we are happy that we had to go through that slightly annoying exercise... After the lifeboat drill, we got to explore the movable castle where we would be staying for the next three days. The staterooms are small but functional. With so many things to do, we weren't going to be spending much time in them anyway. The toilets, which Jim affectionately named "Slurpee," have tremendous suction, and you feel that you need to stand back when you flush them for fear of being sucked in and jettisoned into the ocean. As a male, I'm not sure it would be wise to remain sitting on the toilet when you flush as you might be neutered before you realized what was happening...
~~~
I Guess We Missed the Boat:
A Travel Memoir
By Barry Finlay
I kinda wished I knew this family so I could travel with them! I've traveled quite a bit, but not nearly as much as I would have liked, especially after reading this memoir of what's been happening when you travel with Barry Finlay. Now I will have to say that I do have to immediately correct the image presented by Finlay as he described one of the first things I did on one of the cruises I've enjoyed. Here's the female version of that first very personal experience...
Stripping off the sanitary paper, I hurried to get seated--I had to go! Traveling with my two sisters, I knew I'd better hit the head as quickly as I could, so I was gazing around liking our tiny toilet, having concluded my business in being there. Just as I started to rise, a big Slurp roared immediately below--I thought it was going to pull me on through into the sea! OMG! How bad do you think it is when one of the very first things you talk about is the commode! You see, the toilets are automatic and so if you're a man, you just do not get the full effect of that slurrrrrpiiiiiiieeeeee! Especially when it's your first time! Of course I warned my sisters...LOL But my first real slurp, I shall never forget!
OK, I'm laughing as I remember, but, you know, it was the first thing I looked for when I came to the chapters on cruises! It's a moment you want to see if others experienced as you did. Obviously, the gender of the occupant does make a difference...LOL Sooo, the first thing you notice if that the book is divided into different types of travel--that is; the travel component--by vehicle, by boat, by plane... I think what happens by vehicle are much more unique to the traveler, but still, it was interesting to see the arrangements of a group of 8, all related in some way... For the first thing, they have meetings! Well, I guess I've been part of the planning, but most of the early planning for me was by somebody else, be it either for business or pleasure. In fact, since planning was always a part of my professional position, I preferred it that way! Anyway, I hope you'll forgive that there is so much covered in this type of book, that I tend to share what made an impression on me...LOL
I have had the opportunity to travel with and without the group and there have been some events in my travels that seemed like minor tragedies when they happened, but time has managed to turn them into something better. I have probably forgotten most of what I once knew about our travels. I'm just happy that I'm not capable of forgetting what I didn't know. Not only do we work hard to be able to do the things we want to do when we're old enough to do them but we also work long and hard to earn the right to forget things. Young people often comment on how lucky we are to be able to travel. Yeah, well, the unsympathetic side of me says, "Work for forty years, save a bit of money, and you will be lucky enough to travel, too!" ~~~
First of all, you won't enjoy it half as much as we who have indeed worked over 40 years... It's funny, I think, that I have more of a sense of humor about being older than I ever did when I was young. It really doesn't bother many of us that age has started to allow us to forget. I think we remember what we want to, don't you? And so much of the early part of the book is a group sharing of memories. Finlay's group lives in Canada, so many of their travels brings them into the U.S. I think that is a natural inclination--to travel where you haven't been. Two of my favorite visits in Canada included seeing the wonderful "Phantom of the Opera..." at the Pantages Theatre... Oh dear, see what happens when we meet fellow travelers--we want to tell our own stories!
Still in Canada, a trip right at the border to Vermont is a popular place for a winter ski vacation, featuring a trip to Jay Peak restaurant for "Poutine." This is supposedly the original, according to Wikipedia, but there are lots of different versions!
...offers the heart attack-inducing combination of French-friend potato chips, cheese curds, and gravy...a favorite dish among French Canadians. You know those little things that dam up your arteries? They love to see poutine coming. You haven't lived, and possibly died, if you haven't eaten poutine!
Of course there is always the accidental sighting--you know, of celebrities...Mine was Ed Asner, but this group got Billy Ray Cyrus... Of course, I could cheat and talk about my trip to Branson...
Evelyn and I met Billy Ray Cyrus at the Nashville International Airport...He sang "Achy Breaky Heart," one of those songs that no one admits to liking but everyone sings along and dances to. As he passed through security ahead of us, we confirmed with the woman checking us in that it was indeed Billy Ray...She said she couldn't understand what the fuss was about because she sees these people all the time. We did get a chance to talk to him briefly, and he is, without a doubt, one of the nicest celebrities that you could ever want to meet. ~~~
Dan George, Chief of the Burrard Indian band in British Columbia...
Another sighting, one I would like to have had, was of Chief (and actor) Dan George... Most at our age have seen him often in movies, but Finlay said that he saw him so often, he "began to think what I was seeing was some sort of spirit world emissary appearing to send me and my fellow passengers safely on our way..." Wouldn't that be cool, since he died in 1981, it just might be true! ,
There is quite a bit about flying since 9/11 but I'll just mention that Ron the Cowboy faced the worst of that...so you can see if you can top his story... I really wondered whether when they started telling some of their travel stories whether they had been "added to" in order to top their co-traveling partners...LOL...
And then there was Finlay's wife, Evelyn's interests in castles, this one in Portugal, which I would love to see...
...in the town of Silves, Portugar, where I really began to more full understand Evelyn's love of castles. This was the beginning of what has come to be known as ABC travel. Another Bloody Castle. Silves has a castle built in 1200 AD, and Evelyn was in her element, exploring every nook and cranny...She explains her love of castles...There's just something romantic and mysterious about them...
~~~
While this ritual is practiced individually and no one waits for the other to have located their object of desire, it's almost a team sport as the objects appear on the table at virtually the same time. In my mind's eye, I can see the symphony playing in the background. With the imagined strains of Swan Lake and the soft lighting from the giant chandeliers overhead providing the ambiance, it is like watching a synchronized swimming event. Arms looping in synchronization toward pocket or purse. Fingers searching. Discovery. Containers placed on the table at precisely the same time....
Starting with a cruise and ending here seems a good idea, because there are just too many places to share about. But I really howled when they began to talk about the ritual at dinner. Dinner on a ship may be as formal as you wish, especially if you're heading on to whatever entertainment might be available that night. I myself would not be eligible to participate in this ritual that this small group had created. But it started with one individual picking up a purse, for instance, and starting to search through for an item--normally a small box.
Now I have to say that if the author's imagination roams as widely as found on page 129 then you can decide whether you want to travel with this individual! I'm sitting here wondering whether his travel companions ever had this described to them--before it became part of this book--and whether they've traveled together since then! Actually, traveling with somebody is always more fun in my experience. And if you can't travel, finding a travel memoir by somebody with a great imagination and sense of humor might just be the best way for you to see some of the world... or at least the next best thing to actually being there! Check it out... or if you're not quite sure, here's one more quote:
The first animal we saw as we passed through the gates of the Serengeti was the incredible giraffe...as they come close to the truck to afford the tourists a good look, they seem to be saying, "Look at me! I'm sexy and I know it." ~~~
GABixlerReviews
Barry Finlay had an extensive career in financial management before retiring in 2004, after thirty two years with the Canadian federal government. He is a Chartered Accountant (CA) and Certified Management Accountant (CMA) who dabbles in the arts as he is also an award winning decorative wood carver. Since retiring, he has divided his time between writing, working as a consultant on financial policy matters, travel, playing golf, climbing mountains, philanthropy and enjoying his three grandchildren.
In 2009, Barry got off the couch and climbed Mount Kilimanjaro with his son, Chris. They carried a Canadian flag to the peak with the names of over 200 supporters who donated to the Finlays' cause of providing clean water and educational opportunities to a preschool and primary school. The experience of climbing Africa's highest mountain at age 60 with one of his sons, and discovering the satisfaction of reaching a goal and giving others the opportunity to achieve theirs, was a book waiting to be written. Kilimanjaro and Beyond has won numerous awards and Barry is featured in the Authors Show book, "50 Great Writers You Should Be Reading."
His new book, I Guess We Missed The Boat just received the 2013/14 Reader Views Literary Award in the Travel category.
Barry is a recipient of the Queen Elizabeth Diamond Jubilee medal for philanthropy.
A portion of the proceeds from the books will go towards helping young women and youth in Africa start small businesses.
Fourteen months later, Clover was born. Amanda sent a photograph to her mother in New York: Here's your lovely grandchild. Look at her eyes. Just look at them. She's so beautiful--already! At two days!
"Fond parents," said Amanda's father.
His wife studied the photograph. "No," she said. "She's right."
"Five days ago," he mused. "Born on a Thursday."
"Has far to go..."He frowned. "Far to go?"
She explained. "The song. You remember...Wednesday's child is full of woe;
Thursday's child has far to go..."
"That doesn't mean anything much."
She shrugged; she had always felt that her husband lacked imagination; so many men did, she thought. "Perhaps that she'll have to travel far to get what she wants. Travel far--or wait a long time, maybe."
~~~
Most children do not choose their own name, but she did. She was born Sally, and was called that as a baby, but at about the age of four, having heard the name in a story, she chose to be called Clover. At first her parents treated this indulgently, believing that after a day or two of being Clover she would revert to being Sally...But Clover refused to go back to being Sally, and the name stuck. ~~~
Do you believe in love--in finding one individual who will be your soul mate--that you will be in love forever? Then this book is for you!
The forever girl had made up her mind while still a child. She had a best friend, a boy named James, with whom she was friends all through school. In fact, there were three of them who had all been friends, but two of them had chosen James to fall in love with... Her father had obtained a job and the new family was on their way to Grand Cayman, a location that was filled with ex-pats from all over. The story of Clover's love for James begins there
but, the islands didn't have the schools to prepare most of the children, so she was also off to Scotland...
I have often wondered about the proposition that for each of us there is one great love in our lives, and one only. Even if that is not true--and experience tells most of us it is not--there are those, in legent at least, who believe there is only one person in this world whom they will ever love with all their heart...Such stories are touching, but the cynic might be forgiven for saying, yes, but what if the person you love does not reciprocate? ~~~
There is only one twist in this ongoing saga of unrequited love...It is that Clover's mother is also feeling unloved since her husband works so much. She has contemplated an affair and explored who on the island was one that she would even consider... He happened to be James' father, the island doctor...
So it was that, on the very few meetings of this pair, they went for a boat ride--and got hung up during a storm on a small island. Finally, a boat comes to help and one of the passengers works with her husband... There had already been a determination that they were not going to meet any more but that didn't stop what happened...
And as the gossip spread, it happened that James began to pull away from Clover's friendship, as demanded by his mother...
So when Clover went off to Scotland, her mother and brother went as well, separated so that her parents could lead their own lives, whatever that meant... Clover began to be settled in at her school and life continued...
Having a novel concerning love that does not immediately lead to intimacy was quite refreshing for this reader--almost surreal, when most books and especially movies immediately move in that direction... If you are looking for a gift for a young teen/adult, this would be perfect. You can share how you feel about forming relationships foregoing the need to deal with the "messy" part of suggesting that she look to her future and play it all slowly...
Life in the Caribbean was interesting to learn about in greater detail...I've visited from shipboard but you don't really get anywhere beyond shops...Still the beauty to be found there in the islands is a treasure you can bring to mind, especially today when I look out and see snow in March! LOL
Attending boarding schools is an experience that most of us would never experience, so exploring that dimension of Clover's life was interesting--but not something I think I'd enjoy in reality. And, of course, most students there would be moving on to higher educational institutions... Both James and Clover were attending Edinburgh but rarely saw each other as both dated others.
It's going to sound corny to you because---well, because men don't think like this, I know, but I do. It's just the way I think--the way I am."
"Of course. We're all different."
"I've known this guy forever. Since we were kids. He was my best friend, I suppose, or that's the way I though of him. Then I realized--a bit later--that he meant more to me that that. I wanted him to know that but I couldn't tell him, could I? I left it."
He interrupted. "But you should tell people." He shrugged. "Otherwise they don't know. How can they?"
"Yes, maybe. But I didn't, and all the time I thought of him. And so the years went by and nothing happened. That's all there is to it, I suppose.
He stared at her in silence. "You still love him?"
She avoided his gaze. "I suppose I do."
The admission--to Padraid--made her feel light-headed...
~~~
This is a sweet story... A nice retreat of reality--does that make sense? Grand Cayman, Scotland, and later Australia are all visited--all places we may dream about visiting but never have the opportunity to actually travel there... Take that trip now! You might find that love of your life!
1695 AD England "Sound the assembly! The sun's up and time's awasting." Charles Wallace stood in his stirrups, long, equestrian-hardened legs raising his tall frame high above the restless conglomeration of horses and riders, million about the glade of the gray granite mansion house. The Earl of Devonshire's nostrils flared, savoring the pungent orders of trampled, dew-laden grass and fresh droppings. He tugged at the cuffs of his taupe doeskin riding gloves, massaging palms together, as a shiver tiptoed across his spine. Anticipation, not the chilled morn air, was its author... Wallace's topaz eyes raked the crowd, all mounted and eager to be off...Still, he scoured the sea of bobbing black and tan caps and flowered bonnets. Ah! There--the copper-haired French seraph. He visualized her delectably curved long legs below full hips, cinched by a petite waist. Her heart-shaped face was illuminated by incandescent emerald eyes, hovering above a slender, tipped up nose...Victoria Chevalier was a passionate, willful maid, plainly..
~~~
1850 AD Philadelphia "There's a small cafe nearby," he said. "Quite secluded, and tables in the back allow for complete privacy. Shall we go there?"...
Almost a year to the day after she first met Robert Isaac, they rode his black lacquered surrey into the countryside for a picnic. Jonathan Denton had succumbed ten months past, leaving his fortune in trust to his only daughter. William Quincy made many determined forays after a share of that wealth, but a phalanx of attorneys could not dent the ironclad instruments forged by Robert for his client. Denton had consigned Morgana's care and fate to the hands of his capable young man. It was a duty he would have taken seriously... even if he hadn't fallen hopelessly in love with her...
"I've found love with another man," she had told Robert, a merry twinkle in her golden eyes... Oh, you ninny." She laughed, eyes alight, her face a picture permanently etched into the fabric of his brain.
"His name is Robert Isaac. 'Tis you I love, my sweet fool..."
~~~
A 3rd Time to Die
By George A. Bernstein
Having just read this author's Debut novel, I was somewhat disappointed as I began to read his latest. The basic storyline--a married couple, with a greedy husband wanting to stay married for the trust funds left his wife, was the exact plot for the first novel. A hint to Bernstein that this is very noticeable to readers... Also, a need for proofreading is a small issue...
But after getting into the story, especially once the suspense mounts at every turn, this irritation was soon forgotten as the whodunit mystery grabs hold--tightly! There was no way I was gonna figure out who the guilty person was. Of course, having multiple people come back in multiple lives, when you have no idea who they might be in the present life, can having you questioning every single character now living...LOL Do you believe in reincarnation? Well, none of the individuals in this story did--even the psychologist scoffed at the idea...
Until a new client started telling that psychologist what was happening to her...
This strange, uncontrollable panic... The Terror she called it...blossomed early in their marriage. All was wonderful at first, as they kissed and touched trembling with delicious passion. She'd close her eyes, descending into her special imaginary place, that tranquil little meadow, surrounded by massive oaks and firs. She'd even imagine the tinkling of a brook, tumbling over small rocks. Mon amour! Mon amour! That lustful French voice, whispering to her, spilling goose bumps down her spine. Where did it come from? Exciting, but kind of spooky, too. Then something would change. Ardor and joy were quickly squelched by the specter of a fierce horned apparition, wickedly hooked beak and raking claws, charging from the woods, screaming death. She knew it was imagination, but The Terror clutched her heart, drying up her juices, stiffening her limbs with panic. She'd fight through it, trying to relax, steadying her breathing, wanting to please her husband. She never discussed it with anyone, feeling foolish... !!!
Ashley Easton had not planned to buy a horse, but when she saw how it had been beaten, having heard the horse's cries and run to find him, she promptly made the decision and bought the horse. It had been years since she had ridden and jumped, having stopped to marry and take care of her family, but she was feeling like her marriage was going sour...
We'll look great out there, won't we buddy? A pair of redheads having fun." She grimaced, shaking her head. Was she really ready for this? She loved riding, and especially jumping this big horse she had bought on a whim, little more than a year ago. Once healthy, he turned out to be the enthusiastic jumper that guy had been promised, and then some! Her vow to Keith to take it slowly evaporated when she realized he was so eager to attack fences. Now, after ten months of hard training, they were entered i her first tournament, the first major amateur shows of the Northern Illinois season. Nothing like starting big... ~~~
Now Keith was screaming that she should never have made the purchase and, further, that she shouldn't be riding, claiming the reason was because she was pregnant. Maybe if he had asked her to talk about it...but forbidding her really was all that it took to ensure that she would indeed be continuing to ride and hopefully begin to compete!
What really angered her was his using the baby when he had earlier shouted that he didn't want the child! So she left for her race prepared...but not for what happened there!
Injun tossed his head and took several quick, mincing steps in place, sensing the time was near for jumping. She again scoured the stadium but noticed no familiar faces. Then she saw him...lounging by the arena's railing, his obsidian eyes riveted on her. Who is this intriguing guy, lean and fit-looking, whom she observed several times in the last few days, watching her work Injun over the practice course? Again the beat of hummingbird wings fluttered in her breast... She shook her head imperceptibly, returning her attention to the stadius... She shifted her seat in the saddle, changing her focus, visualizing the challenging course before her... "Show 'em how it's done, Red," he shouted, as she turned her attention to the course and began her run. The first jump was a brush and single-pole. Despite the man's encouragement, a wave of chills spilled across her back. She crouched low in the saddle, driving the roan forward with her knees.
Jeez, that's a big fence! But Injun cantered in, head high and ears forward, and as if understanding the man's words, stood off in full stride, soaring over it with ease. Wow! Beautiful! Maybe we can handle this after all. She leaned left, sudden confidence surging through her Her grip on the reins changed subtly, unfamiliar but somehow stronger. Her sometimes tenuous seat strangely firm, she eagerly drove toward the next obstacle, guiding with pressure from her knees as much as from the reins. Ashley squinted, measuring the size and breadth of the jump, a wooden wall. The world around her momentarily slowed to a crawl. Alle! Her head popped up at that long forgotten sultry voice, chortling in her head. Why suddenly now, after a fifteen year silence? A quick head shake as she fastened on the approaching barrier...What the...? Where did the wooden barrier go? A boulder studded four-foot wall, covered with moss and ivy, loomed in front of them...The jarring shock of landing clear of the jump brought her head up, as she fought to regain her stirrup. Oh God, Oh God! We made it. When did they set that up? So realistic! Shit! This isn't the course. How the Hell...did we get lost in the woods? Tally Ho! Tally Ho! The big sorrel thundered on, oblivi0us of his master's confusion, hurdling the rough trunk with Ashley clinging to his neck and mane, trying to regain command of the sweat-slick reins. She managed to thrust her foot into the flapping stirrup and gain tension on the bridle just as they burst upon an unruly tall brush line, bordering a bubbling stream. Mon Dieu, cette foret est si beau. She blinked. Damned French again? This is too much!.. Forget it. Gotta concentrate on weaving through sparse woods, thick with the smell of fir, hurtling rock and stone walls, trees and wooden fences, hedges and streams, until there were none left. Where did they come from and how had she gotten there? She'd seek those answers later. Had to finish this first. Broken sunlight, like celestial spears, pierced the woods ahead. A meadow? Once clear, they could find their way home...La Finis. She shivered, glancing up, blinking again...Back at Onwentsia! Back on course!
~~~
It was time to admit it, Ashley needed some help to understand what was happening. In the meantime, however, she had met the intriguing man who had called out to her and he had started to help with her training. Then, while she was unable to ride due to the pregnancy, she brought her other two children to begin taking classes.
Once the baby was born, when Keith had not even made it to the hospital, she seriously began to think about her future. She started investigating and found people who were willing to tell her that Keith had been going to a high-priced call girl for years, but recently had taken a mistress...
Then it really got wild, as she started with a psychologist that her friend had recommended, and shared what happened to her while running her last race. The more she shared, the more he realized that what she was saying was true--at least for her. He suggested hypnosis to find the point where she had started to be afraid of sexual relations...
What he didn't expect was to find he, himself, actually watching... He had finally told her to go all the way back until she was actually experiencing the fear, even while knowing she was alright and was watching what happened herself... The psychologist saw exactly what was happening, not just by her telling him, but because he saw her and her lover murdered, torn to shreds in a small wood clearing. Had he committed murder in a former life?! Now everybody was heading to the internet to find out whether these events had happened... Who, What, Why...and Where would the 3rd death occur?!
Even with the few things that bothered me editorially, I still have to recommend this for an exciting and intriguing paranormal romantic suspense... Check it out! GABixlerReviews
George A. Bernstein is the retired President of a Chicago company, now living in south Florida. He's also a "World-class" fly fisherman, having held a dozen IGFA World Records, and has published Toothy Critters Love Flies (www.pikeflyguy.com), the definitive book on fly fishing for pike and musky. A 3rd Time to Die is his 2nd novel. His first, Trapped, was a contest winner, and received high praise, gaining mostly 5-star reviews at Amazon. Feel free to visit George at www.GeorgeABernstein.com
Welcome Dr. Anderson to Book Readers Heaven! You’ve been busy! If I remember right, your first two books came out about the same time and now you’ve released Nuclear Farm and Blue Farm! Do you plan to always publish two at a time...LOL?
When I finished Nuclear Farm, I had a powerful urge to keep writing. I hate hawking manuscripts to publishers. I’m 66 years old. Writing is a second career for me. I’m seeking neither fame nor fortune. Marketing is not my strong suit. I don’t like book signings. I write mostly for my own enjoyment—telling stories. I believe my ultimate goal is to be appreciated as a writer after I’m dead. To be more direct, I will never try to publish two books together again. Publishing one book is a monumental task.
Can't imagine even trying to market two books at a time, but, of course, your books already have a fan base which is growing fast!
You have two distinct topics—a thriller series is obviously moving ahead, but you also wrote about violence within America’s hospitals emergency rooms, what’s been happening on that front?
Some very exciting things are happening. I began my Healthcare Violence Blog, at the time I published my novel, The First To Say No, almost two years ago. (Check out my Review of this book!) Many people are not aware that the healthcare workplace accounts for 60 per cent of all violent incidents in American workplaces. Healthcare workers, like emergency care nurses, are being forced to be victims of patient violence, without recourse. Hospitals are loathe to prosecute “customers.”
The First To Say No is a graphic novel, but the characters in it were not fabricated. I took the most violent patients in my own career as an emergency physician and made them characters in this book. Every murder, every rape, every physician or nurse assault in this book occurred before my own eyes. In the book, I assembled all of these real people into a gang. Interest in healthcare violence is at an all-time peak. As I have outlined the factors that contribute to healthcare violence in my blog, visitors to the blog have mushroomed. On some days, the blog receives over 15,000 hits. These are from healthcare workers, government agencies responsible for safety in the workplace, hospital organizations, hospital administrators, physician and nursing organizations. I believe the tide is turning. New legislation and regulations will be forthcoming. I’m excited to be a small part of this process.
I first learned about this issue when I read your book and, even today, seeing the 60% rate is, to me, quite outrageous! To me there is no legitimate reason for the hospitals to simply call them patients, rather than treating them, first, and then, calling in the police! Or better yet, do that simultaneously! This is soooo illogical it boggles the imagination to comprehend how the personal rights of healthcare employees are taken from them! Anytime BRH can help promote this issue, reblogging or whatever, let me know! In the meantime, let's move on to your two recently released books--the second and third in The Farm series...
First, I have to ask about your setting for the Farm series... Is there really a place? Are the cave systems there? Do you own it? and When can we have a tour?
I live on a Civil War battlefield that was a plantation until the Civil War. My immigrant ancestor, Richard Anderson, arrived in Virginia in 1635 in Jamestown. Four Anderson brothers bought over 4,000 adjacent acres from King George II along the Appomattox River in the early 1740s. This farm has been at the crossroads of history several times. The physical description of my farm in the Farm series is quite accurate. Even the presence of Confederate gold in the caverns underneath the farm is a treasured belief of my ancestors, including my own father, a minister not prone to exaggerate.
Protecting a piece of property like this is a full time job. Since over a thousand Civil War muskets have already been recovered here, along with many edged weapons, cannon, buttons, belt buckles, and Minnie balls, somebody is always interested in digging here in the middle of the night. The plantation house is restored and original. While not as elaborate as mansions along the James River, the descriptions of rooms in this house are accurate. While I occasionally allow small groups of kids to visit my functional 19th century grist mill and my covered bridge, I am almost as paranoid about visitors as Andy Carlson is. The more the public sees, the more likely they will return to steal and dig and break-in. This cycle has been repeated many times. An aunt currently owns the plantation house. We can’t choose our ancestors, nor should we revel in their accomplishments or the people they rubbed shoulders with. Nevertheless, I am proud to be a steward of this property and I have taken steps to see that it will never pass out of my family.
Certainly can't blame you for your security issues...Maybe you could blindfold me just to see some of the Caverns... I wish I would have discovered spelunking when I was much younger! But I've toured a few and marvel at the beauty to be found!
Second, you have created a Farm family that are quite formidable with a, shall we say, quite strict disciplinarian at the head...Soooo, how does your own family compare, especially your wife—does she “stand down” to your commands?
Whoa! My protagonist teaches his children to follow orders, but he does not command his wife Lindsey, a strong-willed woman and a former CIA operative. They complement each other, as husbands and wives should. I’ve been married to the same wonderful woman for almost 44 years. Only a fool would attempt to command his wife. We are partners and equals. We have a joint checking account. My wife is still working full-time as a nurse, while I stay home and write. You better believe that I have learned new household skills and taken on new duties since retiring in 2012. This is as it should be.
LOL! I just had to give you a little jab about your "created" characters... With the concern expressed in your books, I have great admiration for what you are working to achieve...
The Farm, your Debut novel, I think, was my favorite. I fell quickly into the intrigue of the setting, loving every moment that something had been enhanced by Andy and Ben. I was surprised, therefore, that you moved quite rapidly into an older family. Clearly I was wanting to see a longer series, watching the children grow. Which leads me to the question—what are your plans for The Farm series?
I wish that I had taken my writing seriously earlier in my life, but my profession as an emergency physician was too demanding. Jack and Ava Carlson were born at the end of The Farm. They are ten years old in Nuclear Farm, and sixteen in Blue Farm. I have completed a fourth novel in this series, Desperate Farm, where the twins are eighteen. This book will be released within six months. My own children are in their late thirties now and my grandchildren are more like Jack and Ava. While I have written 15,000 words of a fifth Farm series novel, I plan to put this on hold while I write a historical novel. I’m an amateur historian and the Civil War is my specialty. I loved the book and movie, ColdMountain. I want to write a novel like this, taking advantage of my lifelong fascination with the Civil War and its battlefields.
It is clear to your readers, or at least to me, that you have a deep concern for the protection of family and the country in which we live. I’ve earlier enjoyed the “Citizen Warrior Series” by David H. Brown, who also expressed his fear to protect... The thing is that many of us are growing weary of the increased level of violence as well as the seemingly inability to control drugs and its concurrent violence and I’ll mention but not say much except for my personal fear of human trafficking of our young girls and boys. Do you feel that fiction has any role in helping pinpoint these concerns and give your specific ideas about that?
I, too, am concerned about the future of children in America. An emergency physician is constantly exposed to the worst human behavior. Working night shifts for decades in trauma centers left me with a somewhat jaded view of mankind. I’m not the guy you would want to visit Disney World with. I see danger everywhere. I’m constantly observing crowds for unusual behavior. I spent years observing violent patients, looking into waiting rooms and trying to identify the next person who would explode and harm someone. I can often spot criminals, drug abusers, and pedophiles on the street. This annoys my wife. Once a person is fully aware of what an adult can do to a child, he can’t erase that knowledge. By the time an emergency physician retires, he has a form of PTSD. I sincerely hope that fiction has a role in highlighting violence and child abuse in America. The First To Say No was my effort to do this. There is a character in this book who raped mentally impaired school girls and kept their jewelry on a necklace around his neck. I met that man. I wish I hadn’t. I look at the necklaces men wear today. I don’t want to, but I know too much.
Let’s get specific now... What would motivate any man to teach his children that killing other people was appropriate, not to mention teach them how to do it?
I’m glad you asked me that. Exposure to random violence changes everybody. Most people are now aware of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Soldiers learn quickly that artillery fire, rockets, IEDs, and mortars do not discriminate between adults and children. Adults may know how to protect themselves from some of these indiscriminate killers, but children must be taught. The London based International Coalition to Stop the Use of Child Soldiers estimates that over 500,000 children have been used in more than 50 wars---carrying guns, fighting, serving as spies, porters and cooks, and being used as soldier “wives,” mostly in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East. According to relief agencies, in today’s era of combat, 85 to 95 percent of those harmed or killed by modern conflict are civilians. Of those, about 50 percent are children. Think about that. Palestinians strapped explosives onto children and forced them to walk toward Israeli targets, both military and civilian. The same thing happened in Afghanistan. The Viet Cong used the same tactic. Imagine a child walking toward you with explosives strapped to him. Whether you could shoot that child or not, you would never be the same.
But you say—we live in a peaceful country. Depending on the year, the top five most violent nations on earth are Iraq, the United States, Somalia, Colombia, and Afghanistan. Even though we have not had a war in the continental U.S. since the Civil War, we are always in the top ten nations by homicide. Being a child in America does not protect you from mass shootings.
There are almost 800,000 registered sex offenders in the U.S. These are the convicted ones. The Justice Department says that nine out of ten sexual offenders prey on someone they know and have no record of sexual offenses. The exception is pedophiles, who have a high rate of recidivism and molest many victims over years. Recent revelations about Catholic priests are the tip of the iceberg. Law enforcement agencies running internet sting operations find that they cannot efficiently arrest and process all of the adults who want to sexually abuse children.
Like me, Andy Carlson is an emergency physician. Like me, he served in the military. Both of us would rather teach our children how to protect themselves than see them become victims. In Nuclear Farm, an adult objected to ten-year old Ava’s use of cardboard targets shaped like humans. She replied, “Humans are the greatest predators on earth. What are you prepared to do when someone points a gun at you or a member of your family?” Is Andy Carlson paranoid? Of course. How could anyone look at so many dead children and not be paranoid about the safety of his own?
I understand perfectly the objections that parents have to educating their children about violence and sexual abuse. Until something happens to a child you know, a parent is like the soldier who steps off of the ramp of a transport jet that brought him to war. He thinks he’s prepared for it, but he’s not. Teaching a child to use lethal force is a terrible thing that should not be necessary in a civilized world. Perhaps the only thing worse is to see dead children who never had a chance against adults.
One of the most difficult historical facts I struggle with is the use of any religion to support violence or child abuse. Yet no real scholar of religious movements can deny that religions have been used for thousands of years to condone violence, persecution, stoning, beheading, war, inquisition, crusades, and witch hunts. Our country’s 21st century enemies, Muslim Fundamentalists, believe that their God wants them to kill all infidels (non-believers). They want nuclear weapons. This is Andy Carlson’s fight, to prevent this from happening. I tremble when I hear anyone say, “God told me to kill,” or “God is on our side.” The scariest thing about the buildup to the second Iraq war was GW Bush claiming that God was leading him.
Obviously your protagonist, Andy Carlson, is a brave man. Do you think, though, that he has a character flaw?
Yes, I do. I admire Andy Carlson. I was never a SEAL, but I treated SEALS as a physician. I've hunted with them. I noticed that we had something in common. We were epinephrine junkies. Andy Carlson and I are both emergency physicians with the same character flaw. The world needs epinephrine junkies, people who crave excitement, danger, and life and death situations. Although we crave excitement, we rarely admit it. We don’t tell our friends, or even our wives, that we need that rush. Certain jobs not only attract people who need excitement, those jobs require people who can function under great stress. And not just function---perform efficiently in a controlled manner inside a senseless environment---like in a trauma center or a battlefield. Not everybody can insert life-saving tubes and lines into a dying patient with steady hands. Not everybody can function like a SEAL in a firefight.
Is there a down side to being an epinephrine junkie?
You bet. Both Andy and I experienced two down sides to a life of craving excitement. At some point the cumulative effect of all that epinephrine overload takes its mental toll. We fool ourselves into thinking that we can look at what human beings do to each other indefinitely. One day I woke up, after thirty eight years of being a physician, and my brain couldn’t tolerate any more “spiritual punches” ---sudden death, senseless shootings and stabbings, rape, dead babies, child abuse, drug abuse, alcoholism, mental illness, and random violence. Andy experienced this kind of burnout as a sniper.
What was the second downside that you and Andy Carlson experienced from being epinephrine junkies?
A common mistake for an epinephrine junkie is to allow his yearn for excitement injure his friends, family, and colleagues. This can be as simple as encouraging your children to take the same risks that you take on a ski slope. In Nuclear Farm, Andy recognizes that his own need for excitement could be the reason that he put his family in jeopardy, not the necessity of the mission. In war, epinephrine junkies can be heroes, or they can lead their buddies into a slaughter. When the battle is over, the epinephrine junkie may wish that he were not a survivor.
In Nuclear Farm the king of Saudi Arabia is portrayed as a friend of Andy Carlson’s, not necessarily a friend of the United States. How did this relationship come about?
In the initial book of this series, The Farm, Andy Carlson is a SEAL stationed in Bahrain. Andy’s job was to infiltrate Arab countries and assassinate targets for the CIA. In Saudi Arabia, these targets were supposedly approved by the king. The targets were usually people who supported terrorists or threatened the House of Saud. Andy was given orders by the CIA to kill people who were not approved by the king, but were targets of the CIA. He discovered that the CIA had their own nefarious agenda, and he was their sword. Even General Douglas MacArthur had problems with “duty, honor, country.” In what order should a soldier respect the elements of this code? General MacArthur said that he did his duty “as God gave him the light to see that duty.” Andy Carlson had a personal code of honor. He reported the illegal killings and CIA mischief to the king. The king respected any man who put honor before country.
From your books, it’s clear that you do not have a complimentary opinion of the U.S. Government, and especially the CIA and the president. How would you explain this viewpoint?
I think I’ve lived too long. I remember every president back to Eisenhower. All of those presidents stood in front of the cameras and lied to the American people, even the presidents that I admired the most. For a better understanding of this I would refer you to The Constant Weave of Deception—Famous Presidential Lies by Pat Shannan. Some presidential lies were more damaging than others. LBJ’s claim, “We were attacked in the Gulf of Tonkin” committed the U.S. to escalation of the Viet Nam war. GW Bush’s desire to control Iraq’s oil led him to his certainty about WMDs. Many presidents claim before their inauguration that they will be truthful. One president actually tried it—Jimmy Carter. His style was quickly rejected for a man who lied so smoothly that even today people believe he didn’t know he was lying about Iran-Contra. Politicians who survive learn that the public doesn’t reward honesty in campaigning or in office. Pat Shannan lists twenty public lies by the current president. We have grown so accustomed to being lied to that we haven’t come to grips with the logical conclusion---we have a hopelessly corrupt government.
Our intelligence services have a knack at missing the most important turns in history, like the fall of the former Soviet Union. We spend billions on these agencies, whose record of success is miserable. There is a joke going around---“The CIA couldn’t find its own butt without a flashlight, ten years of looking, and a Bin Ladin courier to show them.” Thank God for SEALS. The CIA should thank God for Jessica Chastain, who played the diligent CIA agent in Zero Dark Thirty. Although the movie depicted torture as important to finding Bin Ladin, the CIA director denied this. I would like to believe him, but since he makes his living telling lies...I believe that the American people have lost all privacy, and we have little to show for it. The CIA and the NSA deserve scorn. That’s my opinion.
Why didn’t we go in and kill Hussein in Iraq like we did Bin Ladin instead of going to war, losing many lives and costing America billions?
The real goal of the second Iraq War was control of Iraq’s oil and establishing a permanent force in the Middle East. Killing Hussein would not have accomplished this goal. We failed miserably so far as gaining control of Middle East oil by theft. There never was credible evidence for WMDs. Even the CIA told GW Bush this. We are leaving the Middle East even more unstable, having strengthened Iran’s hand and incited more Sunni vs Shiite conflict.
Let’s go into Blue Farm... First, please tell me that you don’t plan to have the ending move into a family feud?!Will we see any more of the second twins in the future?
There is no family feud in Desperate Farm, the follow-up to Blue Farm. I admit that I left Jack and Ava in severe distress in the closing chapter of BF, but the reader should take heart that the twins will see Nate and Tory again under happier circumstances.
I must admit that I was surprised with the sexual discussions and activities of the twins. Do you see this as similar to teaching children to protect themselves from violence... because surely you wouldn’t write it purely because that’s what young people do these days???
Jack and Ava had to grow up sometime. None of their martial arts skills or survival skills had prepared them for relationships with other teenagers. This is the first time I have attempted to recreate coming of age anxieties. I thought that Jack and Ava had to struggle in this area because home schooling does not allow an orderly progression of social skills. Let’s face it. Jack and Ava are socially immature. They can talk to each other frankly, but they don’t know how to relate to the opposite sex. Ava attempts to conquer boys just like she has conquered everything else in her life. She’s manipulative. Jack is gullible. They are not thinking with their brains so much at this point in their lives, and neither was I. I was trying to develop their characters apart from being warriors. The sex wasn’t meaningless to Jack and Ava. Character development over several books is surely tricky, but I have a good memory of my own anxieties as a teenager, and I wanted to write about them.
I’d like for you to explore a little about the mental intelligence of a child as it relates to how they should be treated by their parents...would you mind? Is there really a difference for parents?
That question hits close to home. My own father was a strict disciplinarian with a military background. As a child I constantly felt stifled. I don’t claim to be a mental giant or as multi-talented as Jack and Ava. However, my father had the idea that all children needed to do certain things and all children needed the same kinds of discipline. This is not true. I had six siblings, some more talented than I. Do you know how frustrated I was when told repeatedly that I could only do so many things well at a time? My father and I argued constantly about the sports I wanted to play and the music I wanted to play. School work was easy for me, and boring. Nobody ever needed to tell me to study, or read, or do my homework. I felt that since I had never been in trouble with the law, I had perfect grades, and I had proven myself at every activity I was allowed to participate in, I should be given the freedom to do as many things as I could--- as opposed to being forced into mindless, make-work activities at home. I was not allowed to play all the sports I was capable of playing, nor was I allowed to play the music I was capable of playing. I was forced to take piano lessons for five years. Even though I learned to play every kind of music, I was only allowed to play religious and classical music. I stopped playing altogether. These kind of regrets lasts a lifetime. I still feel cheated. I feel that I could have done much more with my life had I not been shackled to inappropriate restrictions and other people’s low expectations until I escaped to college. Now do you understand why Andy Carlson encouraged his twins to take the roads less traveled, as many roads as they could handle?
I questioned a couple of murders in Blue Farm which seemed premature; e.g., when Andy was watching the twins new home and an armed couple came near but not “at” the house. Isn’t there a law that those individuals must go inside before any action can be taken...or is that something I’ve just read in another novel? LOL
The farm the Carlsons live on had been assaulted by Indians, the British, the Yankees, the carpetbaggers, the revenuers, the CIA, the KGB, and Iranians seeking nuclear weapons. The caves under the farm had been used as an arsenal for over 270 years, not to mention the Confederate gold and the warheads in Lindsey’s lab. As a matter of family principle, anyone who entered the locked confines of the farm with a weapon in his hand was killed and buried there. Real enemies who are intent on killing you cannot be warned and prompted to draw their weapons, as in old western movies. The decision to kill your enemies must be made in boot camp. Andy Carlson taught Jack and Ava this principle. It’s a warrior’s principle. Having a moral dilemma with each shot is hazardous. A real life example of this is the SEAL who recently published Lone Survivor. In his book, the SEALS choose not to shoot a goat herder who could give away their position. The title of the book says a lot. What a burden to carry. I'm not sure what I would have done. I wasn't there. Unlike the goat herder, the people killed on the Carlson's farm and near the house occupied by Jack and Ava in Charlottesville were armed intruders, threatening the Carlson family. That's enough when you have 4,000 acres to bury your enemies. Andy Carlson had no intention of involving the police. To a SEAL there are few problems that cannot be solved with a well-placed bullet. Everyone can't think this way, but warriors must have this mindset to stay alive.
First of all, you won't enjoy it half as much as we who have indeed worked over 40 years... It's funny, I think, that I have more of a sense of humor about being older than I ever did when I was young. It really doesn't bother many of us that age has started to allow us to forget. I think we remember what we want to, don't you? And so much of the early part of the book is a group sharing of memories. Finlay's group lives in Canada, so many of their travels brings them into the U.S. I think that is a natural inclination--to travel where you haven't been. Two of my favorite visits in Canada included seeing the wonderful "Phantom of the Opera..." at the Pantages Theatre... Oh dear, see what happens when we meet fellow travelers--we want to tell our own stories!
