Out & Allied
YA/adult nonfiction
"If tough guys wear pink do they stop and think why someone like
me is such a threat to their masculinity? Tough guys are usually the
gay bashers, dripping our blood on the cold concrete when inside their
thoughts and emotions leave them incomplete? Why must I be beaten in
the back streets, where every walk home is trick or treat? What is it
that makes you a man? Is it part of God's plan?..."
In 2015 I attended a conference on advocating for LGBTQ students
in schools. For me the highlight of the conference was a session on
theater as a means of consciousness raising. We watched a group do
two pieces. Then we were split into groups to do improvs. I was a
sexist coach/teacher discrediting a student's claims of sexual
harassment and yearning for the good old days when this stuff didn't
happen.
Theater, whether scripted or improv, seems to be a perfect venue
for raising awareness. For the audience it can be a relatively safe
way of gaining insight. For actors it can be a means of expressing
self or walking in the shoes of those on the other side. For both
groups after production guided discussion can be satisfying and
fruitful.
"True, but where to begin?" you may be thinking. I have good
news. You don't have to reinvent the wheel. Outside & Allied: An
Anthology of Performance Pieces by LGBTQ Youth and Allies (I read the
first volume; I know there is at least a second) gives readers a very
clear road map to stage success.
The biggest part of the book consists of actual pieces. They
range from traditional dialogue oriented scripts to poetry. Many have
specific directions for actions and staging. In the acknowledgements
we are assured that they have been field tested and performed.
There is also a very comprehensive guide to moving from book to
stage. It covers from auditioning and casting through rehearsels to
post performance discussions. There are also good suggestions for
writing original material and a wonderful list of helpful organizations.
I'd suggest starting with scripts and then going on to write
your own material or go improv. I also see this format as a way of
shedding light on the other isms that make so many the other in our
society: racism, religious intolerance, sexism, classicism,
ageism... You will only be limited by your imagination and
willingness to take chances.
On a personal note, for me each year the stretch of time from Advent
through the first days of January is a mini sabbatical. While other
people speed up to shop, send cards, decorate, entertain, I focus on
the meaning of the season and being present for those I love. Just
call me a seasonal slacker. I always end this time period rested,
inspired, and ready to take on the world or at least Penobscot county.
A great big shout out goes out to all the companions, human and
otherwise, who add so much to my life!
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
Gunpowder Girls
Gunpowder Girls
YA nonfiction
"...The fire continued to consume the buildings and the girls
who couldn't escape. Inside the rooms, thousands of rounds of
ammunition exploded, sending bullets and lead fragments everywhere.
Pieces of the girls' and women's bodies flew into the air, landing in
the yard and in the trees nearby. Girls ran from the rooms, their
bodies aflame and their faces burned black. Men tried to extinguish
the fire on their dresses by covering them with coats, shirts, or
whatever they could find."
Tanya Anderson wanted to write a book about women during the
Civil War. Only a lot of the low hanging fruit--nurses, soldiers,
spies for example--had already been picked. Then she found a group of
women and girls barely mentioned in books involved in very hazardous
work essential to the war effort. Though books proved to be dead
ends, the Internet yielded abundant information. Her research
resulted in Gunpowder Girls: The True Stories Of Three Civil War
Tragedies.
"Each girl and woman became someone I wanted to know--as much as
I could, more than 150 years later. Basic information on a flat sheet
of paper gave me more than I expected. Details became circumstances,
and circumstances bred empathy. The urge to tell their stories kept
me awake at night. The need to make sure these victims would not be
forgotten became the energy that created the book you're now holding."
Times were tough during the Civil War times. There was a lot of
hunger and deprivation. Husbands and fathers were off fighting.
Sometimes they came back crippled or didn't return at all. Armies on
both sides, ill clad and fed, raided farms and homes for whatever they
could get their hands on. Adults and children took whatever jobs they
could get just to survive.
Both armies needed a lot of ammunition which had to be
painstakingly made by hand. Women and girls had smaller hands that
were more adept at this delicate work. (Girls were preferred to boys
who were found to play pranks and roughhouse and sneak smokes a tad
too much to be in places full of highly explosive materials.)
In these pre OSHA tImes the places in which these women and
girls, many who hadn't reached puberty, labored 12 hour days for low
pay were catastrophes waiting to happen. Gunpowder lay on floors and
filled wood barrels. Componants that should not be in close proximity
were. All it took was something as mundane as a horse shoe striking a
spark on a cobblestone to cause whole buildings to explode. Gunpowder
Girls tells of three such tragedies.
Gunpowder Girls is a must read for Civil War buffs and women's
studies scholars and students. My only caveat: it is probably too
graphic for more sensitive young readers.
On a personal note, my latest Bangor Daily News op ed was on how we
can make a difference in our communities. I have never before
received so much positive feedback on one of my pieces. It is being
forwarded and reprinted on the Internet and will be in the Peace and
Justice newsletter.
A great big shout out goes out to all who are taking my words to heart.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA nonfiction
"...The fire continued to consume the buildings and the girls
who couldn't escape. Inside the rooms, thousands of rounds of
ammunition exploded, sending bullets and lead fragments everywhere.
Pieces of the girls' and women's bodies flew into the air, landing in
the yard and in the trees nearby. Girls ran from the rooms, their
bodies aflame and their faces burned black. Men tried to extinguish
the fire on their dresses by covering them with coats, shirts, or
whatever they could find."
Tanya Anderson wanted to write a book about women during the
Civil War. Only a lot of the low hanging fruit--nurses, soldiers,
spies for example--had already been picked. Then she found a group of
women and girls barely mentioned in books involved in very hazardous
work essential to the war effort. Though books proved to be dead
ends, the Internet yielded abundant information. Her research
resulted in Gunpowder Girls: The True Stories Of Three Civil War
Tragedies.
"Each girl and woman became someone I wanted to know--as much as
I could, more than 150 years later. Basic information on a flat sheet
of paper gave me more than I expected. Details became circumstances,
and circumstances bred empathy. The urge to tell their stories kept
me awake at night. The need to make sure these victims would not be
forgotten became the energy that created the book you're now holding."
Times were tough during the Civil War times. There was a lot of
hunger and deprivation. Husbands and fathers were off fighting.
Sometimes they came back crippled or didn't return at all. Armies on
both sides, ill clad and fed, raided farms and homes for whatever they
could get their hands on. Adults and children took whatever jobs they
could get just to survive.
Both armies needed a lot of ammunition which had to be
painstakingly made by hand. Women and girls had smaller hands that
were more adept at this delicate work. (Girls were preferred to boys
who were found to play pranks and roughhouse and sneak smokes a tad
too much to be in places full of highly explosive materials.)
In these pre OSHA tImes the places in which these women and
girls, many who hadn't reached puberty, labored 12 hour days for low
pay were catastrophes waiting to happen. Gunpowder lay on floors and
filled wood barrels. Componants that should not be in close proximity
were. All it took was something as mundane as a horse shoe striking a
spark on a cobblestone to cause whole buildings to explode. Gunpowder
Girls tells of three such tragedies.
Gunpowder Girls is a must read for Civil War buffs and women's
studies scholars and students. My only caveat: it is probably too
graphic for more sensitive young readers.
On a personal note, my latest Bangor Daily News op ed was on how we
can make a difference in our communities. I have never before
received so much positive feedback on one of my pieces. It is being
forwarded and reprinted on the Internet and will be in the Peace and
Justice newsletter.
A great big shout out goes out to all who are taking my words to heart.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
The Crossover
The Crossover
YA fiction
Poetry and sports are not often combined. Kwame Alexander's The
Crossover shows that this is a pitiful state of affairs. The verses
convey the story beautifully and sparsely. The ones about games
practically sing with the rythym of the basketball court.
Twins Josh and Jordan are basketball stars. Their dad is a
player from back in the day. He's given Josh the nickname Filthy
McNasty. At first Josh doesn't care for the name.
"But, as I got older
and started getting game,
the name took on a new meaning.
And even though I wasn't into
all that jazz,
every time I'd score,
rebound,
or steal a ball,
Dad would jump up
smiling and screamin',
That's my boy out there.
Keep it funky, Filthy!
And that made me feel
real good
about my nickname."
Family discord sadly happens--even with twins. A new girl in
school starts taking up a lot of Jordan's time. He's acting really
strange. Josh is alone much of the time. A gesture of anger and
frustration makes the brothers even more estranged.
And then there's their father. His family has a major history
of heart disease. Only he won't stop eating doughnuts and other not
so good stuff. And he refuses to see a doctor. This becomes a source
of spousal contention.
Basketball fans and poetry affecianados will enjoy this lively
coming of age narrative.
On a personal note, New Years Eve was great. I read and ate candy
near the tree with my precious tuxedo cat purring on my lap. We saw
the ball drop. Unfortunately Eugene didn't get to because he was
plowing snow.
A great big shout out goes out to all the fine folks who spent New
Years Eve plowing snow and restoring electricity.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
YA fiction
Poetry and sports are not often combined. Kwame Alexander's The
Crossover shows that this is a pitiful state of affairs. The verses
convey the story beautifully and sparsely. The ones about games
practically sing with the rythym of the basketball court.
Twins Josh and Jordan are basketball stars. Their dad is a
player from back in the day. He's given Josh the nickname Filthy
McNasty. At first Josh doesn't care for the name.
"But, as I got older
and started getting game,
the name took on a new meaning.
And even though I wasn't into
all that jazz,
every time I'd score,
rebound,
or steal a ball,
Dad would jump up
smiling and screamin',
That's my boy out there.
Keep it funky, Filthy!
And that made me feel
real good
about my nickname."
Family discord sadly happens--even with twins. A new girl in
school starts taking up a lot of Jordan's time. He's acting really
strange. Josh is alone much of the time. A gesture of anger and
frustration makes the brothers even more estranged.
And then there's their father. His family has a major history
of heart disease. Only he won't stop eating doughnuts and other not
so good stuff. And he refuses to see a doctor. This becomes a source
of spousal contention.
Basketball fans and poetry affecianados will enjoy this lively
coming of age narrative.
On a personal note, New Years Eve was great. I read and ate candy
near the tree with my precious tuxedo cat purring on my lap. We saw
the ball drop. Unfortunately Eugene didn't get to because he was
plowing snow.
A great big shout out goes out to all the fine folks who spent New
Years Eve plowing snow and restoring electricity.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Monday, January 9, 2017
Stepping Stones
Stepping Stones
Bilingual picture book
One day Margriet Ruurs, spending time on Facebook, was
transfixed by a picture made of stones of a family: a woman cradling
a baby and a man carrying a heavy load.
"Wait a minute, I thought. How can stones display such
emotion? Who is the artist who can breathe such life into solid rock?"
Fortunately one of the stones was signed. Nizar Ali Badr, the
artist, is a Syrian. The war in his nation is the topic of much of
his work.
"Nizar's work spoke to me strongly. In his art I saw people
changing--from happy, carefree children into people burdened and
fleeing. There was hurt and sorrow. But ultimately there was also
love and caring. All of this told with stones."
Ruurs wanted to create a book around this amazing art. Her
first challenge was contacting the artist. It's not all that easy to
contact an artist in a war torn country who speaks a different
language. Also she was going against the order for children's book
creation with pictures coming before text. And she wanted a portion
of the proceeds to go to organizations that help refuges. Amazingly
she pulled it all together. We truly benefit from Stepping Stones: A
Refugee Family's Journey, the amazing fruit of her labors. Script is
in both English and Arabic.
Rama and her family are first happy farming, going to school,
playing. Then war came. Neighbors fled. Then it was their turn.
"That night I lay in bed and cried
Because I knew I would never again
Hear the crow of the rooster, the creak of the gate,
The bleat of our goat.
I lay awake and listened to the wind,
Wondering if the moon rises the same way in other places."
So begins their journey toward hope and freedom from fear.
Stepping Stones is a must acquire for public and school
libraries and a beautiful addition to family collections.
On a personal note, I love the Albert Einstein quote at the beginning
of the book: "Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved
by understanding." These words of wisdom are more necessary now than
maybe any other time in history.
A great big shout out goes out to refugees, people who help them, and
peace keepers.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Bilingual picture book
One day Margriet Ruurs, spending time on Facebook, was
transfixed by a picture made of stones of a family: a woman cradling
a baby and a man carrying a heavy load.
"Wait a minute, I thought. How can stones display such
emotion? Who is the artist who can breathe such life into solid rock?"
Fortunately one of the stones was signed. Nizar Ali Badr, the
artist, is a Syrian. The war in his nation is the topic of much of
his work.
"Nizar's work spoke to me strongly. In his art I saw people
changing--from happy, carefree children into people burdened and
fleeing. There was hurt and sorrow. But ultimately there was also
love and caring. All of this told with stones."
Ruurs wanted to create a book around this amazing art. Her
first challenge was contacting the artist. It's not all that easy to
contact an artist in a war torn country who speaks a different
language. Also she was going against the order for children's book
creation with pictures coming before text. And she wanted a portion
of the proceeds to go to organizations that help refuges. Amazingly
she pulled it all together. We truly benefit from Stepping Stones: A
Refugee Family's Journey, the amazing fruit of her labors. Script is
in both English and Arabic.
Rama and her family are first happy farming, going to school,
playing. Then war came. Neighbors fled. Then it was their turn.
"That night I lay in bed and cried
Because I knew I would never again
Hear the crow of the rooster, the creak of the gate,
The bleat of our goat.
I lay awake and listened to the wind,
Wondering if the moon rises the same way in other places."
So begins their journey toward hope and freedom from fear.
Stepping Stones is a must acquire for public and school
libraries and a beautiful addition to family collections.
On a personal note, I love the Albert Einstein quote at the beginning
of the book: "Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved
by understanding." These words of wisdom are more necessary now than
maybe any other time in history.
A great big shout out goes out to refugees, people who help them, and
peace keepers.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
A Long Pitch Home
A Long Pitch Home
Juvenile fiction
"When the plane finally lifts us into the air, I realize I never
sent Baba a kiss back. I send one now into the shadows of the sunrise
and hope it will travel through the airplane window and find its way
to him.
'He will join us soon, Bilal. You will see.'
I nod, still looking out the window as Karachi shrinks into a
toy city with blinking lights. He will join us soon. I repeat my
mother's words in my head over and over, because I want to believe
they are true."
Remember how you felt when you were a child. Try to imagine how
you would have coped with this series of events. Your father
disappears a week before your tenth birthday. No one can tell you
why. It's obvious that the adults in your family are frightened.
Then your dad returns with startling news. You and your siblings and
mother are to fly half way around the world to live with your aunt and
Uncle, not knowing when (or if) he will join you.
That's the plight of Bilal, protagonist of Natalie Dias
Lorenzi's A Long Pitch Home. America is a lot different from
Pakistan. There's the dominant language, the food, the customs. On
his first trip to an America swimming pool Bilal is horrified to see
people of all ages in bathing suits.
"Back in Karachi we went to the beach all the time, but adults
always covered themselves with regular clothes--light shalwar kameez
trousers and long shirts, no arms or legs or shoulders sticking out.
At the club pool there were swimming hours for ladies and children,
and swimming hours for men and children, but never together.
But here in America? Aren't the adults embarassed to be half-
naked in front of everyone?..."
And then there are sports. Cricket, which Bilal was a star in,
is not played. Instead there is baseball which he has to start
learning almost from scratch.
All these adjustments would be easier for him if only his father
was there to guide him.
A Long Pitch Home puts a very human face on an issue ripped from
today's newspaper headlines: refugee families torn apart. I would
highly recommend it to help kids get a better grasp on immigration
issues.
On a personal note, the New Years Eve edition of the Bangor Daily News
carried the story of a man's finally victorious struggle to get his
wife and young children safely out of Syria, their native country
turned Hell on earth by civil war.
A great big shout out goes to refugee families seeking to stay or get
back together in a safe place and those who help them. Also one goes
out to the Bangor Daily News for their recent positive immigrant
stories. Way to go,
BDN!!! You're making me proud to be one of your op ed contributors.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile fiction
"When the plane finally lifts us into the air, I realize I never
sent Baba a kiss back. I send one now into the shadows of the sunrise
and hope it will travel through the airplane window and find its way
to him.
'He will join us soon, Bilal. You will see.'
I nod, still looking out the window as Karachi shrinks into a
toy city with blinking lights. He will join us soon. I repeat my
mother's words in my head over and over, because I want to believe
they are true."
Remember how you felt when you were a child. Try to imagine how
you would have coped with this series of events. Your father
disappears a week before your tenth birthday. No one can tell you
why. It's obvious that the adults in your family are frightened.
Then your dad returns with startling news. You and your siblings and
mother are to fly half way around the world to live with your aunt and
Uncle, not knowing when (or if) he will join you.
That's the plight of Bilal, protagonist of Natalie Dias
Lorenzi's A Long Pitch Home. America is a lot different from
Pakistan. There's the dominant language, the food, the customs. On
his first trip to an America swimming pool Bilal is horrified to see
people of all ages in bathing suits.
"Back in Karachi we went to the beach all the time, but adults
always covered themselves with regular clothes--light shalwar kameez
trousers and long shirts, no arms or legs or shoulders sticking out.
At the club pool there were swimming hours for ladies and children,
and swimming hours for men and children, but never together.
But here in America? Aren't the adults embarassed to be half-
naked in front of everyone?..."
And then there are sports. Cricket, which Bilal was a star in,
is not played. Instead there is baseball which he has to start
learning almost from scratch.
All these adjustments would be easier for him if only his father
was there to guide him.
A Long Pitch Home puts a very human face on an issue ripped from
today's newspaper headlines: refugee families torn apart. I would
highly recommend it to help kids get a better grasp on immigration
issues.
On a personal note, the New Years Eve edition of the Bangor Daily News
carried the story of a man's finally victorious struggle to get his
wife and young children safely out of Syria, their native country
turned Hell on earth by civil war.
A great big shout out goes to refugee families seeking to stay or get
back together in a safe place and those who help them. Also one goes
out to the Bangor Daily News for their recent positive immigrant
stories. Way to go,
BDN!!! You're making me proud to be one of your op ed contributors.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Towers Falling
Towers Falling
Juvenile fiction
"I hope the teacher doesn't say, 'Write an essay about your
summer vacation.' If she does, I'll leave the paper blank. Else I'll
have to lie. Say eviction is the best vacation. Hearing Ma weeping
and Pa wheezing, cracking his knuckles, while Leda sucks her thumb
double-time and Ray holds my hand."
Adults often forget that kids process incidents differently from
them--especially when they are far enough in the past that they aren't
constant conversational currency. This is especially true when the
event in question was the kind you remember where you were the rest of
your life and the kids in question weren't even born then. With no
shared frame of reference there is often quite the large gap in
understanding. Jewell Parker Rhodes' Towers Falling beautifully
underscores this concept.
After a stretch of living in their car, narrator Deja and her
family have been placed in one small room with no water, refrigerator,
or stove in a run down and not exactly safe homeless shelter. Her
mother struggles to support the family on a waitress salary. Her
father is seemingly paralyzed by disabilities she doesn't really
understand. She must take care of little Ray and Leda when she's home
from school and her mom is at work.
Her new school is in view of the former twin towers. Her class
begins a study of 9/11 as living history. For some reason her father
becomes upset that he is studying this topic. At one point he even
wants to transfer her to another school.
Towers Falling is a poignant coming of age in which a girl
learns how an event that happened before she was born irrevocably
changed the life of one of the people she loves the most.
On a personal note, the last Thursday of 2016 we got a snow storm.
Eugene was called out to plow. Joey and I woke up to find the power
out (about 100,000 people lost electricity) and the house ice cold.
We cuddled on our favorite chair near the tree with a good book until
the power came on and our home warmed up. It was our second adventure
in as many days, his attempt at Christmas tree climbing being the
first one.
A great big shout out to the feline friends and canine companions who
do so much to keep life from bring boring.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Juvenile fiction
"I hope the teacher doesn't say, 'Write an essay about your
summer vacation.' If she does, I'll leave the paper blank. Else I'll
have to lie. Say eviction is the best vacation. Hearing Ma weeping
and Pa wheezing, cracking his knuckles, while Leda sucks her thumb
double-time and Ray holds my hand."
Adults often forget that kids process incidents differently from
them--especially when they are far enough in the past that they aren't
constant conversational currency. This is especially true when the
event in question was the kind you remember where you were the rest of
your life and the kids in question weren't even born then. With no
shared frame of reference there is often quite the large gap in
understanding. Jewell Parker Rhodes' Towers Falling beautifully
underscores this concept.
After a stretch of living in their car, narrator Deja and her
family have been placed in one small room with no water, refrigerator,
or stove in a run down and not exactly safe homeless shelter. Her
mother struggles to support the family on a waitress salary. Her
father is seemingly paralyzed by disabilities she doesn't really
understand. She must take care of little Ray and Leda when she's home
from school and her mom is at work.
Her new school is in view of the former twin towers. Her class
begins a study of 9/11 as living history. For some reason her father
becomes upset that he is studying this topic. At one point he even
wants to transfer her to another school.
Towers Falling is a poignant coming of age in which a girl
learns how an event that happened before she was born irrevocably
changed the life of one of the people she loves the most.
On a personal note, the last Thursday of 2016 we got a snow storm.
Eugene was called out to plow. Joey and I woke up to find the power
out (about 100,000 people lost electricity) and the house ice cold.
We cuddled on our favorite chair near the tree with a good book until
the power came on and our home warmed up. It was our second adventure
in as many days, his attempt at Christmas tree climbing being the
first one.
A great big shout out to the feline friends and canine companions who
do so much to keep life from bring boring.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
End Of Watch
End Of Watch
Adult fiction
"But he won't allow it. He wants to hurt Hodges, he wants to
hurt the nigger lawnboy, he owes them, and this is the way to do it.
Nor is it just a matter of revenge. She's the first test subject who
was at the concert, and she's not like the others, who were easier to
control. But he is controlling her, all he needs is ten more seconds,
and now he sees what's coming for her. It's a truck. A big black one.
Hey, honey, Brady Hartsfield thinks. Your ride is here."
End Of Watch is a term used to describe a police officer's
retirement from duty. It has a profound and tender feel to it.
Stephen King could not have picked a more perfect title for the third
and final volume of his trilogy that started with Mr. Mercedes and
continued with Finders Keepers.
Bill Hodges, a retired police detective and hero of the two
first books, gets an unexpected call from his former partner, Pete
Huntley. Pete wants him and sidekick, Holly Gibney, to check out a
crime scene and give him input. It appears to be a murder-suicide.
Martine Stover, a victim of Brady Hartsfield, about whom you will hear
more, was a quadraplegic, living with her septegenarian caregiver
mother. Evidence indicates that the mother had put a mixture of
ground up pills and vodka into her daughter's feeding tube and then
used helium to dispatch herself.
Not all the evidence fits. A long term housekeeper, shocked to
receive the news, tells Bill and Holly that the women were happy and
optimistic. Martine even had plans for the future: taking an on line
computer class on accounting. There are also a strange gaming
console and the letter Z on a bathroom counter. Izzy, Pete's new
partner, however wants to close the case with the obvious conclusion.
"'One thing I believe we all can agree on,' Izzy says, "is that
Hartsfield's days of running people down, blowing people up, and
architecting suicides are behind him. So unless we've all stumbled
into a movie called Son of Brady, I suggest we exit the late Ms.
Ellerton's house and get on with our lives..."
Izzy's got reason to be cynical. Mr. Brady Hartsfield,
archvillain of Mr. Mercedes, has spent the past six years in a brain
injury clinic, mostly staring out a window. Most people would find it
hard to believe that a man who can't do the most basic self care could
be in any way involved in a crime.
Bill thinks the world is way underestimating Hartsfield. He's
heard rumors of objects in his room moving without being touched.
He's sure there is still a lot of evil going on in that seemingly
short circuited brain.
Bill is battling a fast moving cancer. But he and his friends
must discover his nemesis' diabolical plot and engage him in a battle
to the death. It's not like he can get anyone else to believe him,
let alone take over.
End Of Watch is Stephen King at his creepy best and a fine
conclusion to a spine chilling trilogy.
On the last page Stephen King has a message to his readers:
"One last thing. End of Watch is fiction, but the high rate of
suicides--both in the United States and in many other countries where
my books are read--is all too real. The National Suicide Prevention
Hotline number given in this book is also real. It's 1-800-273-TALK.
If you are feeling poopy (as Holly Gibney would say), give them a
call. Because things can get better, and if you give them a chance,
they usually do."
Amen to that!
On a personal note, Joey cat has immersed himself in second
kittenhood. This year for the first time in about a decade he
started going for the lower ornaments on the tree. He works one from
all angles until it falls on the floor and then tears all over
batting. Then he learned what happens when a 10 1/2 pound feline
tries to climb a Christmas tree. Hint: gravity was involved. He
wasn't hurt or scared. If anything he was annoyed that when I put the
tree back up I insisted on putting all his newly acquired toys back on
it.
A great big shout out goes out to Joey and all the other creatures
great and small who fill our hearts with joy.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
Adult fiction
"But he won't allow it. He wants to hurt Hodges, he wants to
hurt the nigger lawnboy, he owes them, and this is the way to do it.
Nor is it just a matter of revenge. She's the first test subject who
was at the concert, and she's not like the others, who were easier to
control. But he is controlling her, all he needs is ten more seconds,
and now he sees what's coming for her. It's a truck. A big black one.
Hey, honey, Brady Hartsfield thinks. Your ride is here."
End Of Watch is a term used to describe a police officer's
retirement from duty. It has a profound and tender feel to it.
Stephen King could not have picked a more perfect title for the third
and final volume of his trilogy that started with Mr. Mercedes and
continued with Finders Keepers.
Bill Hodges, a retired police detective and hero of the two
first books, gets an unexpected call from his former partner, Pete
Huntley. Pete wants him and sidekick, Holly Gibney, to check out a
crime scene and give him input. It appears to be a murder-suicide.
Martine Stover, a victim of Brady Hartsfield, about whom you will hear
more, was a quadraplegic, living with her septegenarian caregiver
mother. Evidence indicates that the mother had put a mixture of
ground up pills and vodka into her daughter's feeding tube and then
used helium to dispatch herself.
Not all the evidence fits. A long term housekeeper, shocked to
receive the news, tells Bill and Holly that the women were happy and
optimistic. Martine even had plans for the future: taking an on line
computer class on accounting. There are also a strange gaming
console and the letter Z on a bathroom counter. Izzy, Pete's new
partner, however wants to close the case with the obvious conclusion.
"'One thing I believe we all can agree on,' Izzy says, "is that
Hartsfield's days of running people down, blowing people up, and
architecting suicides are behind him. So unless we've all stumbled
into a movie called Son of Brady, I suggest we exit the late Ms.
Ellerton's house and get on with our lives..."
Izzy's got reason to be cynical. Mr. Brady Hartsfield,
archvillain of Mr. Mercedes, has spent the past six years in a brain
injury clinic, mostly staring out a window. Most people would find it
hard to believe that a man who can't do the most basic self care could
be in any way involved in a crime.
Bill thinks the world is way underestimating Hartsfield. He's
heard rumors of objects in his room moving without being touched.
He's sure there is still a lot of evil going on in that seemingly
short circuited brain.
Bill is battling a fast moving cancer. But he and his friends
must discover his nemesis' diabolical plot and engage him in a battle
to the death. It's not like he can get anyone else to believe him,
let alone take over.
End Of Watch is Stephen King at his creepy best and a fine
conclusion to a spine chilling trilogy.
On the last page Stephen King has a message to his readers:
"One last thing. End of Watch is fiction, but the high rate of
suicides--both in the United States and in many other countries where
my books are read--is all too real. The National Suicide Prevention
Hotline number given in this book is also real. It's 1-800-273-TALK.
If you are feeling poopy (as Holly Gibney would say), give them a
call. Because things can get better, and if you give them a chance,
they usually do."
Amen to that!
On a personal note, Joey cat has immersed himself in second
kittenhood. This year for the first time in about a decade he
started going for the lower ornaments on the tree. He works one from
all angles until it falls on the floor and then tears all over
batting. Then he learned what happens when a 10 1/2 pound feline
tries to climb a Christmas tree. Hint: gravity was involved. He
wasn't hurt or scared. If anything he was annoyed that when I put the
tree back up I insisted on putting all his newly acquired toys back on
it.
A great big shout out goes out to Joey and all the other creatures
great and small who fill our hearts with joy.
jules hathaway
Sent from my iPod
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