Friday, December 29, 2023

Interview with Mary Kubica

  1. In Just the Nicest Couple a surgeon goes missing, and a friend of his wife holds a secret about the disappearance. What idea inspired the book, and why did the story of two couples (one happy, one not) resonate with you? 


As with most of my books, it starts with a tiny seed of an idea that grows during the writing process. With Just the Nicest Couple, I was first drawn to the concept of writing about a missing man, because we hear so often on the news and in the media about women who go missing. I wanted to flip the script and see what would happen if the roles were reversed. My books are always domestic in nature, which was the draw for having two couples involved in this book. Not only was I diving into the lives of one couple, but the lives of friends and co-workers as well, asking that all important question: How well do we really know the people closest to us? 


  1. You began writing as a young girl, but what led you to the suspense genre? Why do you like it so much, and what authors influenced you?


My debut novel, The Good Girl, was the first manuscript I wrote that was in the suspense genre, though as a child, mysteries and suspense (such as books by Christopher Pike and Nancy Drew) were my favorites to read. Before The Good Girl, I wrote women’s fiction, though my manuscripts were only ever works-in-progress because I would get partway into the manuscript and then lose interest. With The Good Girl, I started adding suspense elements by accident and soon discovered how much I enjoyed writing in the genre. I knew I’d found my niche. I love watching a mystery develop over time and including things like unreliable narrators and red herrings. One of my favorite parts about the genre is slipping subtle clues into the text once I’ve discovered my twist. There are many talented authors in this genre, but a few who have set the bar incredibly high are Ruth Ware, Alice Feeney and Stacy Willingham.     





  1. I’ve heard you don’t work from an outline, but prefer to be surprised by character interactions. What are the best and worst parts about working this way?


Yes, I am definitely a panster, or the type of writer who prefers to fly by the seat of her pants, than a plotter. The best part for me is the spontaneity of it and not knowing on any given day when I sit down to write what will happen in the lives of my characters. I always learn something new about them and am just as surprised by the twist as I hope my readers will be. The worst part is that there are many times I write myself into a dead end and discover that an idea I was excited about simply doesn’t have legs and I have to delete pages. That can be frustrating, but it’s still an important part of my process!


  1. Of the two narrators in Just the Nicest Couple, which do you identify with, and why?


In Just the Nicest Couple, we hear from Christian, a man whose wife was the last to see Jake Hayes before he went missing, and Nina, Jake’s wife. Though Nina and I have quite a bit in common (she is a woman, like me, and is a teacher; I was a high school teacher before I turned to writing full time), I identified more with Christian. He’s a man deeply devoted to his wife and unborn child, who will do anything to protect his family. I appreciated that about him and found it easy to understand his motivations even when his actions were sometimes questionable. 

 

  1. What is the most suspenseful thing that has happened to you? 


For someone who writes suspense novels, very few suspenseful things have happened to me, which is a good thing because I’m actually a scaredy cat in real life! That said, I’m always on the lookout for strange things that can work their way into my novels, like the time I stayed in a hotel, only to discover that mine was one of two rooms with the same room number, or when I stayed at a bed and breakfast with a crawl space door in the corner of the room, and spent the entire night wondering where it led and who might be on the other side of the door. 

Wednesday, November 22, 2023

Things that Go Bump in the Universe




The subtitle of this long but not long winded audiobook is “How Astronomers Decode Cosmic Chaos” by C Renee James. It is read by Wendy Tremont King. The author takes listeners on a grand tour of our search for the reasons behind supernovas, neutron stars, Gamma Ray bursts, and pulsars. Lots of history finds its appropriate way into the narrative, lightening the load of so much information with an earthy, even humorous sprinkling of anecdotes. Would you like to be an astronomer? This book gives you a look at how astronomers work, and you can define for yourself how boredom is and can be eclipsed by discovery. The author manages to cover immense ground with the ease of someone very familiar with the drudgery of finding those moments of exhilaration amid all the math. Recommended for anyone looking for an audiobook with an outstanding comprehension of what it takes to be a trailblazer. Plus just the breath of the science told in a way that can only astonish.

Friday, October 27, 2023

Interview with Boyd Morrison





AT) You wrote The Noah’s Ark Quest, which became an indie bestseller, but your experience is in industrial engineering, sometimes for NASA. Then you worked on X-Box games for Microsoft. How did you discover writing?
Boyd) I’ve always been a big reader, but I’d never considered writing until I took a science fiction writing class from Hugo- and Nebula-award winning author Nancy Kress. I wrote a terrible short story for class, but I thought I might have better luck writing a full-length novel. That’s when I got the idea for a chemistry grad student being chased by killers who are after a formula he created, which eventually became my thriller THE CATALYST.

AT) There are four novels in the Tyler Locke series, and you also have two stand alone novels. Then you transitioned into writing with Clive Cussler on the Oregon Files series. How did you meet him and come to working with him?
Boyd) I didn’t even know I was in the running to write with Clive. He was looking for a new co-author for the Oregon Files and read a couple of my novels. He loved them and particularly enjoyed how I crafted my endings. He called me out of the blue one day and asked if I wanted to write with him. I’d been a big fan of his ever since I read RAISE THE TITANIC!, so of course I jumped at the chance. Two weeks later, I was sitting in his home office, where we brainstormed ideas that would turn into my first novel with him, PIRANHA.

AT)  Did you ever see his car museum or the Confederate submarine museum in Charleston?
Boyd) Unfortunately, I haven’t yet been able to visit the Hunley in Charleston, but I’ve been lucky enough to see his car museum in Denver. The cars have been lovingly restored, and they’re all masterpieces of design and craftsmanship. I could see why Clive loved to include them in his stories, and I got to feature a few of them in our collaborations.

AT) What is Tales of a Lawless Land about?
Boyd) Tales of the Lawless Land is a historical adventure series written with my sister Beth Morrison, who is the head curator of medieval manuscripts at the Getty Museum in Los Angeles and a world authority on the Middle Ages. We wanted to create a fun thriller series that captures the spirit of classic adventures like Robin Hood and The Three Musketeers. In the two stories we’ve written so far, THE LAWLESS LAND and THE LAST TRUE TEMPLAR, knight errant Gerard Fox has been unjustly ex-communicated, losing his land and his title, and is forced to journey through Europe in the aftermath of the Black Death and during the Hundred Years War. He is accompanied by a fierce and resourceful lady, and together they are on a search for justice, both for themselves and the downtrodden souls they come across.

AT)  You’ve had a diverse background with a lot of successes. What interests you most, and how has that changed over the years?
Boyd) I love storytelling in all its forms. It’s a way for us to learn about the world, what our place is in it, and how we can relate to others. I also enjoy how stories can give us a sense of justice and closure when the world around is often senseless, cruel, or random. I’ve been writing for a long time, and I plan to continue to do so, but now I’m also moving into acting to tell stories. I’ve performed in many plays, but I’d like to expand into screen work to reach a broader audience.

AT)  Do you listen to audiobooks, and what do you think of your narrators?Boyd) Since I work at home, I don’t get to listen to audiobooks on a commute, but I do enjoy them. I’ve had a number of different narrators for my stories, and I love hearing their unique approaches to narration. Someday I may even narrate one of my own audiobooks!

AT) What’s next for you?
Boyd). Beth and I are currently working on book three in Tales of the Lawless Land, which will take our characters to medieval Croatia, where many of the King’s Landing scenes in Game of Thrones were filmed. I’m also working on a contemporary thriller novel as well as a screenplay, in addition to my acting. So I’m not bored!

Sunday, October 1, 2023

Interview with Julie Garwood

With tens of millions of books in print and numerous New York Times bestsellers, Julie Garwood has clearly earned a position among America’s favorite fiction writers. Her reputation as a masterful storyteller is solidly founded in her ability to deliver stories with appealing characters, powerful emotions, and surprising plot twists. Readers claim that it’s the humor as well as the poignancy of her novels that keep them laughing, crying and thoroughly entertained. Her first novel, Gentle Warrior, was published by Pocket Books in 1985. There have been over 30 novels since then. Her name appears regularly on the bestseller lists of every major publication in the country, including The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, USA Today, The Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times and Publishers Weekly. The popularity of her books expands with each new publication, and she is now read and enjoyed in many languages around the world. Her website is at JulieGarwood.com. One of her new titles is Grace Under Fire.

JONATHAN LOWE: You come from a large Irish family, growing up in Kansas City. Any other storytellers among your siblings, and what are your earliest memories of reading or writing?

JULIE GARWOOD: Everyone in my family is a storyteller.  When we get together, it’s always fun — and sometimes a little noisy from all the talking and laughing. My very earliest memories of reading aren’t pleasant ones.  During second grade I was kept out of school for an extended period of time because of complications after a tonsilectomy.  When I finally returned, I had fallen behind in reading.  My mother eventually saw how much trouble I was having and got help.  She took me to Sr. Elizabeth, a nun at our school and a wonderful woman who opened up a whole new world of books for me.  It was because of her that I learned to love the written word.

LOWE: You have an interesting website. The backyard seems to have a gazebo and a castle in the distance. Mostly imagination, like Wizard of Oz, or does your backyard hold similar surprises?

GARWOOD: My back yard isn’t quite like that.  I do have a beautiful view of trees, but there isn’t a castle beyond them. That view is just in my imagination.

LOWE: How would you describe your latest book, and are you working on a new one now?

GARWOOD: FIRE AND ICE is a romantic suspense novel about a reporter for a local Chicago newspaper who thinks she’s covering a routine and rather uninteresting story, but behind that story is a mystery that takes her all the way to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska. The idea actually came to me after watching a Science Channel documentary about polar bears. Yes, I’m working on the next book now. Until I’ve got most of it down, I don’t give out too much information. I made the mistake several years ago of telling about the story I was working on, and then in midstream I changed my mind and wrote a completely different book. I’m still getting emails from people who are looking for the first story. As soon as I’ve written most of the current book, I’ll post some information about it on my web site.

LOWE: Do you have a preference between contemporary and historical or regency, and do you find that your readers have preferences too, or is romance universal?

GARWOOD: I love writing both historical and contemporary novels.  The story usually dictates the setting.  Most of the readers seem to have a definite preference.  I’ve discovered from their comments that they tend to favor the type of book they read first.

LOWE: You’re not going to write a paranormal vampire romance one day, are you?

GARWOOD: The paranormal genre certainly has become popular, but I don’t have plans to write about vampires. I’ve never really been drawn to the subject; however, I do understand the appeal. There’s something intriguing about that combination of danger and romance.

LOWE: Literacy is one of your interests, which is important, I believe, in our current age of television and video games. What do you do to help the cause, and how can readers get involved?

GARWOOD: I try to support literacy programs as much as I can. I’m especially sympathetic to local libraries who are struggling to stay alive. I used to visit schools often to talk to students about reading, but unfortunately my schedule lately hasn’t allowed as much time for that as I’d like. My recommendation to anyone who wants to help is to get involved with your local library.  There are so many programs and fundraisers that could use volunteers.

LOWE: I sometimes review audiobooks for truckers, and was surprised to learn that many macho truck drivers–guys you’d think would be watching Steven Seagal movies while drinking beer–are actually fans of writers like Janet Evanovich or Nora Roberts. Have you encountered any wrestling fans at your signings, and what advice would you give men about reading romances so that they can learn to be more romantic by understanding their wives.

GARWOOD: I don’t recall any wrestling fans at signings, but you’d be surprised by the number of men who write to me. They usually say they got turned on to my books by their wives. In fact, I received an email just yesterday from a man who said his wife reads my books to him when they take long car trips, and now he’s hooked. And for messages like that I say, “Thanks, ladies.” I definitely think men will understand women better if they read romances, and there’s a strong possibility that these same men will say thanks too.

Saturday, September 30, 2023

Travels with Darley Newman



Darley Newman has been traveling the world for over a decade, using many adventurous means, ranging from horseback to surf board to skis. She hosts and produces “Travels with Darley” and “Equitrekking,” seen on PBS, Amazon Prime, AOL, MSN and on networks in over 85 countries. Recognized in Forbes for her PBS Travel Empire, she consistently innovates as a media entrepreneur, storyteller and adventurer. 

Jonathan Lowe) Many people would consider a travel show on PBS and CreateTV the ideal job. You get to experience new cultures and ideas, food, all kinds of hotels, and more. Not everyone knows what happens behind the scenes with bookings, transfers, editing, writing, etc. What was your attraction to this, after working  in other venues and shows, and what might readers most be surprised to hear about what you do?

Darley Newman) I worked on a variety of shows before I started my own series, including 48 Hours on CBS and the documentary series FRONTLINE. I love that with my own series, both Equitrekking and Travels with Darley, I get to do a diverse array of creative work, including hosting, writing, producing and even editing. I especially enjoy travel, so traveling the world for my career has been a dream. As an entrepreneur, you always have to juggle lots of different tasks and I find that exciting and fulfilling. People may be surprised to learn that I’ve personally edited over 70 half hours of our series or that I’ve not only surfed in Ireland, but been charged by an elephant while I was horseback riding in Botswana, Africa. 

JL) Can you name a few places you most enjoyed visiting, and why?

DN) Some of my favorite destinations have been France, Hong Kong and Botswana. All so different, but they all have great food, nature escapes, fascinating history and culture, and engaging locals who have guided me off the regular tourist path to discover authentic adventures that I enjoy sharing with our fans and friends. I love the food in Hong Kong, the cheese and wine in France and the amazing untouched nature and variety of wildlife in Botswana. We travel to film both in the USA and internationally for my series, which makes for lots of varied adventures and people. 

JL) The George Clooney movie “Up in the Air” described traveling light, both physically and emotionally. What do you put–or not put–in your baggage, and how might your travel differ from other travel journalists? 

DN) It’s hard to travel light when we’re filming, because we have a lot of gear. When I personally travel, I’m great at traveling light. I like to pack lots of layers, comfortable shoes and the essentials, like sunglasses, sunscreen and hats. Can you tell, I need sun protection? As a female traveler and travel host, I make sure to step out of my own comfort zone to show travelers of a variety of walks of life different adventures they can enjoy, no matter their age or skill level. I hear from lots of women who have been inspired to travel to new places and try adventures like mountain biking and horseback riding, after being inspired by Equitrekking and Travels with Darley. 

JL) That’s inspiring. Mountain biking and love of horses, too. Have you written articles, in addition to scripts, and do you have any favorite travel books or movies?

DN) I write our TV show scripts, video short scripts and also have written a travel book about Equitrekking published by Chronicle Books and lots of articles for CNN, True West, Equitrekking and beyond. I love to write and share stories. I also like reading travel books and watching movies. I’ve been inspired by the movie “The Way” with Martin Sheen to hike the Camino del Santiago and really like the movies Lost in Translation, Under the Tuscan Sun, and Eat Pray Love

JL) Your show is on Amazon Prime, which also produces many other TV series in all genres. How has technology changed travel, and what’s next for you? 

DN) Technology has changed both travel and filmmaking in so many great ways. I definitely use my smart phone on the road. It’s helpful when mapping locations, finding restaurants on the fly or for google translate. I’ve had full conversations in Japan with google translate, which was handy. With social media, I’ve connected with lots of other great travelers and new friends and discovered new places to go through their dynamic photos and videos. I’m looking forward to seeing what technology comes next.

The Locksmith Who Taught Zen by Jonathan Lowe



“Has he confessed or not?” I once asked Lieutenant Drake of the NYPD as he handed me the police report.

    “Yes and no, Mr. Moss,” Drake replied. “As his court appointed lawyer, you’ll have to sort that out on your own. He was caught red handed, but claims he’s not guilty. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have several more important—meaning violent—crimes to attend to.”

    I remember I went to the room where Albert Noonan was presented to me. A short bald man in his forties, he seemed placid and almost disinterested, yet his blue eyes were alive and alert. I sat across from him, and opened the folder on the table between us. Then we shook hands. His fingers felt cool, and relaxed. “I’m Freddy Moss, Mr. Noonan,” I said. “I’ll be representing you in court.”

    “Yes,” Noonan said.

    “Yes,” I repeated his flat, uninflected acknowledgment. “Well, it says here that you are suspected on nine occasions to have placed your own locks on other people’s various doors and gates. On the ninth and last occasion you were caught chaining shut the ticket office to a football stadium just before tickets to a rap concert and Dodgers game went on sale. The note in your pocket read ‘Resist nothing except the illusion of ego and its emotions and obsessions.’  Tell me, were you about to copy the man who the press is calling Sargon, or are you really him?”

    “Do you really know who you are?” Noonan asked me, without a trace of sarcasm.

    “Excuse me?” I said, with some abstraction.

    “Names are merely signposts pointing to the reality beneath,” he declared, although his voice remained calm and even. “They are constructs of the ever compulsive mind, which can only label things and produce in you a fear of your own destruction.”

    I smiled despite myself. “That’s nice, Albert, but we haven’t got time to discuss philosophy.”

    “It is not a philosophy, it is a simple fact. As for time, it is an illusion. Most people live in the past or the future, and yet the past and future do not exist, nor have they ever existed. Everything that happens, happens in the Now.”

    I coughed and looked down at my notes again for a refresher. “So. . . may I call you Al, or do you prefer ‘Sargon the Enlightened One’?”

    He continued to study me, his sharp blue eyes trying to delve beneath mine. “As I said, names are meaningless. It is the ego, the mind which needs to label things. But the ego or mind is not you. You are behind it. Only the real you can know another person, not your mind. Your mind can only know labels. It labels everything from a flower to a person, but cannot truly know anything.”

    “Listen . . . Mr. Noonan? I’m about to lose my cookies here. If I’m to defend you, you’ll have to cooperate.”

    “If only that were true,” he said.

    “What do you mean, if only that were true? You don’t think I’m here to help you?”

    “No, I mean if only you were losing your mind. You think too much. Everyone does. This is what is wrong with the world. The mind plays an endless game with you, and you identify with it.  It hates the Now, and so you are never happy or at peace.”

    “Please, Albert,” I pleaded. “Please just answer my question.”

    “I have answered your question, have I not?”

    “No, you have not. At least not legally, not technically. Are you this Sargon they talk about in the papers, or aren’t you?”

    He sat back and folded his hands. After a moment he said, “It was around seven hundred BC, in the Assyrian capital of Khorsabad, that King Sargon the Second used a lock to secure the gate to his fortress. His lock was wooden, and utilized a wooden key which had notches on it matching the blocks or ‘wards’ inside the lock. Over twenty four hundred seventy years later, in 1778, Robert Barron invented the first lever tumbler lock, which consisted of a housing containing springs, metal tumblers, and a rotating inner core called a plug. Unlike all prior warded locks, these pin, disk, or lever tumbler locks were difficult to pick because a cam was involved. Now, of course, certain tumbler locks are secured inside housings of tempered magnesium alloy steel. And since we should live in the Now, this is what matters now, does it not?”

    “Do I take that as a yes?”

    He just sat there and stared at me.

    I sighed. “Let me try again. Are you the perpetrator, alias Sargon the Enlightened, a locksmith from Van Nuys by trade? Please enlighten me.”

    He looked away. “The past is given as a reference, for your mind, which clings to such things. In the more recent past I used a special tool steel pin tumbler padlock combined with a nickel alloy hardened steel chain reinforced with molybdenum alloy studs. My chain resisted hacksaw blades, and required nothing less than an argon plasma torch to defeat.”

    “Now that your most recent history is straight, at least,” I said, flourishing my pen, “would you mind telling me exactly why you did this thing, Al?”

    “Is it not obvious?”

    “You mean by the notes left at the scene? What’d you do, anyway, read some Buddhist text, and decide to make your classroom as big as all outdoors?” I paused, and watched his face for reaction. There was none. He was at peace with himself, devoid of hostility or even worry over the consequences of his acts. “And by the way,” I added, hidden curiosity now stabbing me like a knife, “where did the sayings they found come from, again?”

    He blinked at the ceiling. “They are from the Ten Grave Precepts attributed to Bodhidharma from the book Isshin Kaimon, The Precepts of One Mind.”

    “Oh, of course.” I turned pages in my file, and read aloud. “Okay, the first here is ‘I take up the way of not killing.’ Supposedly you left that ‘precept,’ as you call it, not at an abortion clinic or death house, Al, but at a military drone contractor. . . right after you picked and replaced their front door’s mortise lock with a double dead bolt. Sound familiar?”

    He gave me no reaction, so I continued.

    “Next was ‘I take up the way of not stealing,’ a note they say you left at Sterling Health Services, an HMO under investigation by a 60 Minutes crew, after you chained shut their administration building. Then it was ‘I take up the way of not abusing animals,’ which was found on a meat packing kingpin’s metal office door, next to his Hummer car dealership, after you clamped a titanium padlock onto the door’s built-in flange. Nice work there, Al. Easy enough for anybody to do, too, huh?”

    “Obviously.”

    “Then the next day the note, ‘I take up the way of not speaking falsely,’ appeared on the door to union local 393 of the Teamsters. And ‘I take up the way of not giving or taking drugs’ was found on the locked door to Liquor World off 42nd Street. Then ‘Sargon the Enlightened One’ apparently took a week off, because it was a week later the note ‘I take up the way of not supporting the lies of others’ was discovered on the chained door to BuzzFeed. And yet all this still didn’t get much press, did it, until ‘I take up the way of not praising myself while ignoring those who suffer’ appeared on the exit doors to the Dorothy Chandler pavilion during an awards ceremony two weeks after that. Did you go on vacation out to L.A. then, Al? And how did you accomplish that one without getting caught? I thought those Hollywood awards shows had high security.”

    “Even security guards do not always live in the Now, unfortunately for them,” Noonan replied with cryptic ease.

    “They’re unenlightened, is that what you’re saying? Like me?”

    He nodded, but without any detectable trace of emotion. “Perhaps it explains to you how a person is able to slide five bicycle U-locks into the adjacent entrance door bars while passing outside.”

    “Uh huh. . .  Well, you certainly got everyone’s attention with that one. They had the fire department out front on live television. And while that was happening a. . . person . . . left ‘I take up the way of not being stingy’ in a note on the windshield of a Mercedes, right after he defeated the alarm and locked The Club onto the steering wheel. What was that about?”

    “The car belonged to a star who gave her time to charity, but not her money. The time she gave was for her own aggrandizement, and the charity parties she attended spent more on flowers and food than was given to the poor.”

    “Why take the time and the risk right then, though?”

    Noonan closed his eyes, then, and took in a slow, deep breath. Finally he opened his eyes, which I imagined were even bluer. “Time is an illusion,” he said.

    I laughed. “You won’t think so when you’re doing it,” I promised him. “You could get twenty years for this, even if you plead guilty and throw yourself on the mercy of the court!”

    “Have mercy,” he said, “on yourself. You are the court. Your own judge, jury, and executioner. May I tell you why you are so obsessed with guilt that you must return to it constantly?”

    “We haven’t got time for that, Al. We have to prepare your defense.”

    “Resist nothing,” he instructed me.

    “Excuse me?”

    “You heard me, but you are not listening. Your mind is creating a constant dialog, a background noise from which you cannot escape. You need to turn it off, and step out of time’s grip on you into the present. Then you can know your true self, and become alive instead of just labeling things around you. Then you will know there is no salvation in the future, and no resolution from the past. There is only the Now, and it is more than enough.”

    “Now, now,” I said, although the smile on my face felt forced.

    He leaned forward, looking directly into my eyes. “Yes, now is the time to awaken,” he said, “from your false identity.”

    “My false identity,” I repeated, contemplating it for the first time, turning it in my mind in frustration. But my mind, with its old patterns, still animated my lips. “Now, of course,” I heard myself say, “the only thing they’ve really got on you is the stadium box office incident. That precept about taking up the way of not indulging in anger. And resistance. If you’re a copy cat, though, and you’re not this Sargon guy, I may be able to get you off with probation. After all, you’ve got no record up to now. Which means it’s your choice now, isn’t it? So tell me, what’s it gonna be? Not much time. Are you guilty or not guilty, Albert? Enlighten me!”

.

Some say that Time is an illusion of the mind. Of the ego. Ironically, over time, I’ve since learned that’s true. When my wife left me, taking with her our son Jimmy, she complained of my staying too long at the office, and of neglecting her. Going out the door, she was crying when she said maybe now I had all the time in the world. Which got me to thinking. Until, in my misery, I gave up thinking altogether, and lost my job too.

    I don’t know how much time has passed, since, but the one who is known as Albert Noonan goes on trial soon. I will not be defending him, nor does he require a defense. I can only complete his unfinished work, the tenth precept. And so I will take up the way of not defaming that which reflects true self-nature, in that subtle and mysterious realm of the One which does not hold dualistic concepts of ordinary beings and sages. The teisho of the actual body is the harbor and the weir. This is the most important thing in the world–the letting go of ego and of waiting and even of seeking. In the eternal present, its virtue finds its home in the ocean of essential nature, and it is beyond explanation. So let the court decide what it will, I know that Albert Noonan is not guilty. And when his jury has been sequestered–when they are locked away–they will see the Truth, too.  -0-

Friday, September 29, 2023

Change of Seasons by John Oates



His title was inspired by Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons. There is also the rock band. And of course weather itself is going viral, with the Weather Channel now doing dramatic plane crash and disaster programming. In CHANGE OF SEASONS, John Oates shares his story for the first time, from his own motorcycle accident to meeting Andy Warhol at the Denver airport during a snowstorm. He takes listeners on a wild ride through all the eras, personalities, and music that has shaped him into what he is: the first true account of the band and his memories as half of a genius music duo, perfectly paired, whose iconic songs have universal appeal and will stand the test of time.

Not that either of them ever wanted to be considered half of anything. They are individuals who have sometimes collaborated, and through highs and lows they forged ahead, together or separately. Rebels and individualists, John was a journalism major in college when he met Darryl, who studied music education. A swirl of people and circumstances, including ever changing commitments, led them to collaboration. What happened next was both happy coincidence and the result of hard work and talent.

Narrated mostly by his co-writer Chris Epting, but also by John, the audiobook is a surprising and long-awaited peek into the lives of two who once sang the words “No Can Do,” recommended for anyone who loves the 80s era, how time changes people, and yet how friendships forged early grow stronger. Technology may have killed much of the old school, as lamented by Joe Walsh at Darryl’s House. (“It’s drum machines, and you can tell.”) Yet Darryl and John’s remain true to their long-standing belief that technology is something to embrace. And so, with innovative videos and tours sponsored for the first time ever by outside corporations, (including a highly publicized Lear jet race) they created whatever it took to “push the envelope,” and to “stay ahead of the curve,” with the ultimate desire to keep making music. Today “Hall & Oates” remain the biggest duo ever, unique, and possibly never repeated. Who knows? No one can predict where it’s all going.

Interestingly, when I showed my pre-release copy of the audiobook in downtown Greenville SC as a test, I discovered that some young people (18-25) didn’t know who they were. But then Clark Gable never heard of William Faulkner. When they met, Gable said, “what kind of work are you in, Mr. Faulkner?” Funny, because Nobel Prize winner Faulkner was writing Gable’s screenplay! (Gable’s narcissism is also recounted in the James Garner biography.) It was never just about the fame, with Darryl or John, as it is in much of the music business today. It’s about having fun doing new stuff, not flaunting what you have or who you know.

I heard from co-writer and narrator Chris Epting, who told me, “My experience recording the audiobook was really very special. It’s the first time I haven’t voiced a book alone, and so that in and of itself made it special. What really stood out, after having written the book with John, was realizing that when you have to read a book aloud it takes on a new meaning. You begin to notice things that you missed while writing it. There are nuances and tonalities in John’s writing that really fully blossom once read aloud. He has a very poetic way of crafting a narrative and I think it reads wonderfully on the page. But when read aloud, it has a deeper gravity and inner beauty. He does the intro to the book, along with a piece at the end, and so he is well represented in the story. But in the end it’s the words that matter, I think, more than the actual Voice speaking those words. Working with John gave me a tremendous insight to how he presents himself and what his thought processes. I think that helped me bring a certain context to the audio that a hired actor would not have been able to achieve. That’s what happens when you work with somebody on their story. You spent hundreds of hours together and really climb inside their brain. It’s a very intimate process and I’m very proud of the book that resulted from this collaboration. Again, John is a tremendous writer and I’m so glad I had the opportunity to experience the audio portion of this project because it gave me an entirely new perspective, working on it the last two years.”

One More for the Road by Jonathan Lowe


 
It was one of those hot summer nights. Near a lonely stretch of highway, as Tom stood motionless behind the cash register at Lenox Liquors, he thought about opening a bottle of bourbon for a few swigs of the old stuff to keep awake, but no--he needed this job. His aging mother was dying. Doctors had called it "multiple myeloma." The plasma cells in her bone marrow had turned against her. As her only dependable son, Tom had to hold two jobs just to pay that part of the bill her insurance didn't cover.

     At 10:15 a black Eldorado turned into the parking lot for the third time that night, its headlights sweeping past Tom's eyes. He looked up to see the driver wheel this time in a quick semi-circle, then back directly in front of the door. Next, both doors opened and two young men emerged.  

     One with a gun.

     Tom felt a rush of blood surge into his temples. He froze for a moment, and then slid down behind the counter, visualizing the bullet that might shortly enter his head. That single hot lump of lead which would burrow through all the intricately connected neurons of his brain, funneling away all his memories forever, now waited in the gun carried by the swarthy one. And he imagined again how the hammer would cock back until--

   Sudden blackness. Yes.     

  A medic had once told him that a bullet in the brain would be less painful, because it meant instant death, not a long painful slide into oblivion. He liked that better. But what if he were hit in the stomach?  Then, he realized, it wouldn't end quite so easily, would it. . .     

     The front door started to open, now. Behind the register, Tom focused on the third shelf below the cash register, seeing the handle of an automatic pistol in a shoe box at the back. The initials on it were "L.L."  for his boss, Larry Lenox.

     "All rightie, then," one of the punks said as their shoes clicked onto the store’s tile floor.  Tom lifted his arm up and over the register. "Watch it!  He's gotta gun!"

     Hoping to scare them off, Tom squeezed the trigger, and a big bottle of Rhine Wine burst and showered across some stacked six packs of Michelob. A returning shot caught the register, shattering the plastic corner away. Then more shots thundered, pierced the back wall.

     The man with the gun muttered a curse. Instead of leaving, they were trapped now--cowering in the aisles and afraid to exit the same way they came in. To give them added incentive, Tom fired wildly again, catching two bottles of gin on a header, displayed like bottles on a fence post. Then a new fear replaced his other one.  For an instant the heavy alcohol scent in the room reminded him of the smell of napalm. . . what if the room caught fire? 

      When he could hear again, there was nothing to hear. Had they gone, as he hoped? He lifted his head to look. Once--quickly--then again.  

     A sudden explosion from the side. Tom yelped in pain, glancing down at the flesh wound like a bayonet slash along his middle. 

      "Drop it, man!"  

       The swarthy driver of the Eldorado appeared around a pyramid of silver Coors cases, beckoning his accomplice. Tom dropped the automatic, and the kid loped forward and kicked it away. The automatic skittered back into the dark stockroom as a .38 was shoved into Tom's ribs.  

     "Easy," Tom implored, lifting his shirt despite the sharp stab of pain. "It hurts, see."

     "Well, don’t ya cry on us now," said the driver with a laugh as the other kid got the money from the register. "Yer just nicked. Come inta the back, let’s see what we can do ‘bout the bleeding." Behind the driver the second punk stood grinning. He had a fat, white, rounded face scarred by acne.  

     They turned on the stockroom light. After a moment of terror, Tom forced himself to say, "What's your . . . name?" 

     "Name?"  The punk looked puzzled. As if he didn't know what name meant. 

     "Mine's. . . Tom Russell. Been working here four months, ever since my mother went into the hospital."

     "Oh yeah?"  

     The driver put one hand to his mouth and whispered something to his accomplice. Following orders, that one left the room, closing the door behind him. In the interim, Tom got a towel and dabbed at his wound.

     "Yer one big bruiser, ain't ya?" the driver noted. "Get many customers this late?"

     Tom shook his head as the gunman’s eyes scanned the stockroom floor. "Not until Friday."

     "Tell me," the driver said. "Why'd ya open up on us? Think we'd kill ya?"

     Tom nodded. "Figured you'd think I saw your license plate. Hard to miss it the way you backed up to the door. I. . . didn't see it, though. What'd you plan to do--carry out some beer besides?"

     This time the driver laughed, albeit nervously. "Yeah, ta celebrate. Third place we hit ta-day." He snickered. “One fer the road, eh?”

     They were silent as a sound like crunching across glass was audible through the closed stockroom door.

     "Tell me about your childhood," said Tom, suddenly.

     "Wha--?"

     "Your childhood. What was it like? Was it rough?"

     The driver stared at him, blankly. Then his ugly face wrinkled, his eyes narrowing above the tiny diamond nose stud. But still he said nothing.

     "Because mine was rough," Tom went on. "My dad died when I was eight, and when I turned fourteen I went to work in a laundry at a dollar an hour. Had to quit school to help my mother. We all lived in a duplex and rode the bus everywhere, then. Never had many friends until I got drafted. This one guy--I call him Harry--used to be my best friend. We got to be marksmen out on the range. Harry, he was like me. And that was the only really good time I remember, too--me and Harry, out on the range. You know?"  Tom paused, staring down at the floor. The sound of a truck passing could be heard as a tear slid down his cheek, surprising even him. "But I bet you got lots of friends still around, and even a girl friend too."

     "Yeah," said the driver, flexing his fingers around the revolver. "Big deal."

     "It would be, if you had my memories."

     "That right? How old are ya?"

     "Lot older than you."   

     "An’ ya still a mommas boy?"  The driver laughed. “You--yer jus’ a fool, what you are.”

     Tom smiled smoothly like they do at the Taco Bell drive-through window, because he remembered his first months in the Army, so long ago. There were hecklers then, too. Saying things he'd preferred they didn't.  Things that made him do more pushups than he was asked, so he could stand up and fight back. Things about his mother that reminded him of his younger brother sticking him with her while he went off to become a fat cat lawyer in California. It had made him spend his free time out on the range until he was really good at something, so they couldn't talk behind his back. 

     "What's taking your friend so long?" Tom asked, changing the subject. "I don't hear him out there."

     "Hey, he's jus’ lookin fer somethin," the driver replied.

     "What?"

     "Never you mind what. Okay?"

     But it wasn't okay. Something was wrong, Tom sensed. Many had tried to fool him about things. Like the insurance representative who'd convinced him to drop partial coverage on his mother's policy because the rates were so high, and they 'probably won't need it anyway.’ And especially Barry, his black sheep brother, who’d stuck him here.

     So what could the driver's accomplice be looking for?

     Let's see, he thought. . . They came in, both of them, through the front door. When they came toward him, he fired once, and the driver fired back. First once, then twice more, into the wall. After a moment he fired into the stacks how many times? Four times. Two shots from the driver, then. Another two from him, into the stacks. And then? Then the driver came around, and shot again, grazing him in the side.

     It was a simple addition. Not hard, even for a man with only a GED. Six shots from the driver. Seven from his own gun. The driver's .38 had six chambers. He knew that. But the automatic--it had fired seven. That meant it held at least seven, and probably nine. It also told what the driver's accomplice was looking for.

     Bullets.

    "Did I mention Afghanistan to you?" said Tom as he bent over, trying to decide where to place his next-to-final shot.      -0-