Showing posts with label Reading. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reading. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
#SaveOurCozies | Extended Haul
Because I’m so excited about #SaveOurCozies, I had to stock up on a few new titles. Many listed has always been on my radar, but never quite made it home. These are books I’ve noticed time and time again in stores, but have yet to slide into. Until now! But to be extra, extra clear, I had to be sure they were each the first in their respective reading order. Never trusting the read order placed inside the first few pages of any given series, I took my time investigating these suckers. Nothing’ll piss me off more than picking up a new series midway through; a personal aggravation of mine, if you will. So let me list and share what each series (as well as their individual hooks) is about. At least for those who are new to them like myself. And no, the Nora Roberts Public Secrets (1990) book isn’t a cozy. Though there is a kidnapping and possible murder involved. I’ve just always wanted to read the damn book and found it for 25 cents! (For those who have read it, please share your thoughts. I’m an on/off Roberts reader outside of her J. D. Robb series.)
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#SaveOurCozies | Video TBR & Campaign Links
Thursday, March 31, 2016
Sisters Doing It For Themselves | The Female Mystery Lead Haul
Remember that Eurythmics and Aretha Franklin song “Sisters Are Doin’ it for Themselves”? Good if you do. Because I believe it's a suitable theme song for my recent book haul. A haul where I unintentionally visited three different bookstores in an afternoon, led mostly by divine inspiration. I know how "divine inspiration" sounds. But what else describes visiting one bookstore and–in passing–somehow three-point turn your way to stop by another? Just because it was there to catch your eye. In lunch hour traffic. Imagine. So while everyone else was lined up at Chick-Fil-A's drive-thru, some of us were chewing on organic brownie bars and throwing down at the local bookstores. It had to be done.
So I attribute the song to this collection of recent purchases–because they’re mysteries carried by women leads. You know, just about the only gender class in mysteries I raise up to read about. I mean, a time or two I’ll give the guys a chance. It’s just male characters in this genre seem so outmoded. Or, for the sake of sounding redundant, passé. In the future I may have to eat my words. Still, unless the male character is gay, I’m less likely to find genuine interest in his story. And, subsequently, the investigation. And true there are self-published Kindle books nowadays with a gay male solving crime. I just need to do a little more research to find good ones. You know, because the book still has to tell a great story at the end of the day. But on the general tip: I need a good, kick-ass female to pull me through a mystery.
So with the chatter bucket out of the way, I’m here to share four new crime novels centered on the female sleuth. As well as a lot of deserts in Arizona...
Nevertheless, my experience with Anna Pigeon’s debut, Track of the Cat, was everything. Here was this flawed, borderline alcoholic who remade her life after losing her husband in a freak accident. So in a stretch of parallels, she took herself out of the concrete jungles of New York and into Texas back country as a park ranger. However, the Texas back country is only her first locale. In proceeding books, Anna's new career takes her to a variety of other National Parks. So her surroundings are always fresh to her and the reader. As well as the murders she finds herself wrapped up in. After the first book, Barr's blend of National Park studies and murder ticketed me for Anna's line of adventures without further convincing.
Unfortunately, the following two books, Superior Death and Ill Wind, sold me lukewarm feelings. I was still grinding on the Anna train; I just wasn’t there completely after those reads. Regardless, I knew I wanted to dedicate myself to this series, and have since kept an eye out for Firestorm.
In Firestorm, Anna's stationed at the California Lassen Volcanic National Park. Sounds pretty cool, right? Until a forest fire erupts, leaving Anna to confront it.
Within the blazing chaos, two men are found dead. One a victim of the fire. The other stabbed in the back. The kicker: a winter storm is descending on the park, leaving the remaining ten forest fire survivors stranded. That’s Anna, eight other people, and one killer in the mix. Anna’ll have his (or her) ass for sure. And I must say, I feel like Firestorm will breath another life into the series. One in which I have no intentions of giving up until I see Anna through to the end, anyway. Her story and adventures are too unique to pass up.
Within the blazing chaos, two men are found dead. One a victim of the fire. The other stabbed in the back. The kicker: a winter storm is descending on the park, leaving the remaining ten forest fire survivors stranded. That’s Anna, eight other people, and one killer in the mix. Anna’ll have his (or her) ass for sure. And I must say, I feel like Firestorm will breath another life into the series. One in which I have no intentions of giving up until I see Anna through to the end, anyway. Her story and adventures are too unique to pass up.
Friday, February 19, 2016
#MarchMysteryMadness Challenge List
Goodreads Group: March Mystery Madness
(#MarchMysteryMadness)
*Challenges*
~~~~~ The Food/Craft/Hobby Cozy~~~~~
1. “It wasn’t the way that Hannah preferred to attract new clientele, but she had to admit that finding Ron’s body had been good for business. The Cookie Jar was jam-packed with customers. Some of them were even standing while they munched their cookies, and every one of them wanted her opinion on what happened to Ron LasSalle.”
Everybody has a craft–a hobby. Whether it’s baking sugar cookies or crocheting Forget-Me-Not dollies. Maybe even culturing herbs for organic dishes. Or are you into nature photography and are a dedicated bibliophile? Now imagine engaging with your day-to-day passions when a body suddenly crosses your path. What would you do? Do you have what it takes to balance your craft with solving murders? Explore the possibilities by reading a cozy mystery with a food/craft/hobby theme.
~~~~~ The Get Christie Love Lead~~~~~
2. “Finally, after all my procrastinating and avoiding Bessie’s calls, I was able to put the finishing touches on my report, explaining exactly how I had spent her money (I didn’t include the manicure), apologizing for what I hadn’t been able to find out, but pointing out that her involvement may have sparked the cops’ renewed interest in the case. I included the name of the lawyer that Jake had given me as well as the contact for the program for Rayshawn. I also warned her in strong language that Rayshawn had been on the verge of committing a serious felony and had some serious problems that had to be dealt with, and if she and Viola didn’t make sure he got help, I’d be forced to go to the authorities with information that would result in his arrest.”
Find and follow your inner Christie Love and Foxy Brown. Read a mystery/crime fiction novel powered by an African (-American) female sleuth. Or, from Tokyo to Seoul. Shanghai to Kolkata. Or even New York to Los Angles. Read a mystery/crime fiction novel featuring a sleuth with an Eastern perspective on matters. (In general, a book featuring a person of color taking lead.)
~~~~~ The Christie/Poe Complex~~~~~
3. “I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat.”
“Dogs are wise. They crawl away into a quiet corner and lick their wounds and do not rejoin the world until they are whole once more.”
Did you know Edgar Allan Poe did mystery and crime fiction before mystery and crime fiction were even a thing? Let’s face it; he’s the godfather of the genre. He’s the seed to this entire challenge. Therefore, your challenge is simple: indulge in one or all three of Poe’s mystery shorts…
A. The Murders in the Rue Morgue
B. The Mystery of Marie Roget
C. The Purloined Letter
Or how about the matriarch of mystery and crime fiction, Agatha Christie?
Sunday, February 7, 2016
#ReadSoulLit Jubilee by Margaret Walker
"Here is the classic--and true--story of Vyry, the child of a white plantation owner and his black mistress, a Southern Civil War heroine to rival Scarlett O'Hara. Vyry bears witness to the South's prewar opulence and its brutality, to its wartime ruin and the subsequent promise of Reconstruction. It is a story that Margaret Walker heard as a child from her grandmother, the real Vyry's daughter. The author spent thirty years researching the novel so that the world might know the intelligent, strong, and brave black woman called Vyry. The phenomenal acclaim this best-selling book has achieved from readers black and white, young and old, attests to her success."
~ Synopsis from Amazon.com
Saturday, May 16, 2015
Why I Haven't Been Reading...
I am 16 days into May, and haven’t completed a book yet! And it’s torture. It truly is. Life. Life. Life. It’s always there. And while I’m not one to claim stress (because I believe we perceptive and own what we will), there is definitely something going on. Something that is most certainly working for my highest good. So I wanted to create a post concerning why I haven’t completed a book–and how I hope things get on track. You see, I believe when things seem to get hard, it’s God/the Universe’s way of moving things/situations out of the way so our better good can come in. Or for our desires to manifest. And nothing could be more evident than having my car totaled last month.
It was a simple kind of Saturday. I was finally off work, and my best friend had moved into her new apartment the day before. She was adjusting, and I wanted to be there to help her through the process. We met at her old apartment, the one she shared with her family. I parked my car in my usual parallel parking spot at her old apartment complex, and then we took her car to her new place.
So the day was moving nicely. We went to her new apartment; chatted and shared decorative ideas. We went trolling around shopping centers for materials to implement a few of those ideas. We ordered pizza and watched movies. Around 10pm, it was time to pick up her brother. We went to pick him up, and didn't get back to her old apartment until well after 11. It was then that I went out to get in my car and saw it had been hit. At first, I refused to believe it; I paced along the parking area certain the car I was seeing wasn't mine.
All this happened on 4/18. Tuesday I finally got my wrecked car towed out of my driveway after nearly a month of sorting out insurance, police reports, and the responsible party. The title was FedEx'ed to the driver’s insurance company, and the check is finally on its way. I've been in a new car for two weeks, and within those two weeks came another set of issues, until I replaced its camshaft last weekend.
The new car (and replaced camshaft) came right on time, because another challenge has been surviving my 9-5. Tuesday my transfer to another location finally happened (the delay is another beast of a story). The new location is a ways out, and my transportation came together right on time (that’s the Universe calling). So I worked all this week, and very little has changed concerning my perception between my old location and this one. I needed a change of pace, and I got it. However, nothing can replace the overpowering desire to be liberated. To be free within the use of my own time, schedule, and finances. So the new location is different, slower, cleaner, and quieter. Even so, it still feels like starting over, and with little to no change in my feelings. It’s still uninspiring. Dull. Creatively void. And just overall dispiriting if you let it be. Nonetheless, the transfer is meant to be a breather until I find something better.
I haven’t been inspired to pick up and finish Charlaine Harris’ Day Shifted, or any other book. All the images of books in this post are my recent acquisitions. The Stephen King book I found in a $5 bin in this new store in town. I couldn't pass it up.
I may just let the rest of this month ride on by with my reading. At least until I can get into a more comfortable, better feeling place. You would think books would be the perfect escape. Normally, they are. However, I can tell you I’m too unsettled to fall into any novels at the moment.
So in closing, I can't wait to come back to this post a few months from now. So do you guys ever go through this? Where life kind of takes a piece of you in another direction?
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Thinking About Kinsey
“G” is for Grafton: The World of Kinsey Millhone
Ah... Kinsey Millhone...
This post had to be delivered eventually, as I’m obsessed with Grafton’s vulnerable, witty heroine solving murders under an 80s-style California sun. Grafton was one of the women authors (along with Paretsky) to break the literary female detective away from the likes of Christie’s Miss Marple. See, Kinsey was young, spunky, a business owner, and American; and somewhat on a different spectrum than Miss Marple and other English female sleuths. Nevertheless, that wasn't all Grafton did when she created Kinsey, and subsequently saw the release of the first book in her series [A is for Alibi] in 1982. She also grinded and molded her protagonist into a private investigator that was just as (if not more) self-sufficient and capable than her male counterparts.
I can't remember what introduced me to the series specifically. It’s always been a familiarly unexplored type of relationship. Something about a casual bookstore browse, and an omnibus book containing the first three books in the series, comes to mind. Nevertheless, it wasn't until I wanted a new female voice– other than the likes of Cornwell’s Scarpetta and Gerritsen’s Isle–did I finally pick up a copy of A is for Alibi.
This post had to be delivered eventually, as I’m obsessed with Grafton’s vulnerable, witty heroine solving murders under an 80s-style California sun. Grafton was one of the women authors (along with Paretsky) to break the literary female detective away from the likes of Christie’s Miss Marple. See, Kinsey was young, spunky, a business owner, and American; and somewhat on a different spectrum than Miss Marple and other English female sleuths. Nevertheless, that wasn't all Grafton did when she created Kinsey, and subsequently saw the release of the first book in her series [A is for Alibi] in 1982. She also grinded and molded her protagonist into a private investigator that was just as (if not more) self-sufficient and capable than her male counterparts.
I can't remember what introduced me to the series specifically. It’s always been a familiarly unexplored type of relationship. Something about a casual bookstore browse, and an omnibus book containing the first three books in the series, comes to mind. Nevertheless, it wasn't until I wanted a new female voice– other than the likes of Cornwell’s Scarpetta and Gerritsen’s Isle–did I finally pick up a copy of A is for Alibi.
Should I lay out all the reason why I'm so in love with Grafton’s Kinsey Millhone next? Or should I keep it quick? The first and obvious factor is because she’s a woman, doing what is traditionally (while I hate to point this out) a job held by men. Secondly, I identify with her—almost on a root level.
I found that the above quote kind of says most of what I want to say, or at least put it in better words. So I'll leave it at that for now, while filled with the temptation to re-read the series as I anticipate the reveal of the 24th book in the series.
Monday, June 2, 2014
Paretsky's Orders
It all began when St. Albert’s Priory decided to retrieve their stock certificates to cash in for a new roof. Unfortunately, those stock certificates turned out as fakes. So naturally, the church’s treasurer member is taken to task. Said treasurer happens to be V. I. Warshawski’s nasty, venom-dribbling great-aunt, Rosa. And she's a woman who has held a grudge worth a millennium against V. I.--or specifically, V.I.’s mother Gabriella. Nevertheless, as the treasurer of St. Albert’s Priory, Rosa finds herself under investigation by the FBI and SEC (Securities and Exchange Commission) on suspicions of exchanging the church’s real stock certificates for counterfeits. Acknowledging how somber her situation is, the bitter, grudge-soaked Rosa swallows a wedge of her pride and sends for her niece. Thankfully, her niece happens to be Chicago’s hot-shot female P.I., V.I. Warshawski. And this shit only gets better!
Easily a five-star read! I have to tell you, I couldn't put this book down. Out of the three I've read so far in this series, Killing Orders is my favorite! And I should also add that I think I'm finally won on V. I. Warshawski. However, to be totally honest, I had the intention of cramming her down my throat until I did like her enough. Therefore, while I've always delighted in V.I.’s ability to shoot a gun and kick ass, it finally dawned on me in Killing Orders exactly how vulnerable and human V.I. actually is. Much to my complete and utter satisfaction.
First let’s do away with her appealing ability to make many bad decisions and mistakes, as well as the spring of curse words she has in her arsenal (confrontational scenes are one of my favorites in P.I. novels because of this). Instead, I stress her vulnerability in light of how this book dedicated itself to illuminating pieces of V. I.’s family history to help develop her as a multi-dimensional character, and not just a woman on a mission.
You would think that because V.I.'s parents have long passed that there is only room for a solitary, one-note existence contained by her profession as a private investigator. However, she actually has stand-ins for a mother and father who save her from the miffed, cynical woman she could've become. Her “mother” is a Viennese physician named Lotty. And her “father” is a police officer named Bobby Mallory, who worked alongside V. I.’s actual father on the Chicago police force. Both Lotty and Mallory devoted themselves to V.I.’s well-being, as evident in Killing Orders by their ability to see beyond V.I. herself. They were the characters who wholly disagreed, argued, and fought with her and her lifestyle as a P.I. They drew her riling mind in with reason and force, determined to appeal against her magnetism for danger. All that can be considered when V.I.’s actual blood relative, Rosa, rather have no relationship with her because of her decades old grudge with V.I.’s mother (the same can be said for V.I. who rather not have a relationship with Rosa either). Added to the fact that Rosa drew V.I. into danger, as opposed to against it. And even more of an addition, Rosa was a thoroughly religious woman, but could not practice forgiveness for a wrong V.I. didn't even commit. One thing I can say is that Rosa and V. I. are alike in both their fire and stubbornness. But thankfully that's about the sum of their connection.
Readers may not recognize this, but there’s a difference between plot and story. Plot is all that the character does. Story is all that a character becomes by the end of the novel. Killing Orders did each of these so, tense, stylishly, and balanced that even I wanted to cry for V.I. toward the end.
A must read if you love hard-boiled detective fiction!
Sunday, April 27, 2014
She's in the Dunes
But first let’s talk about what the book is about. A quick summary before I try to work my thoughts out on a book that clearly needs a re-reading. Opening the novel outside of a railroad station on an August afternoon, we meet Niki Jumpei. As I mentioned, Niki is an entomologist. However, it’s much more of a budding hobby. Niki’s actual profession is that of a school teacher. So in pursuit of his side passion, he spends a quiet vacation hunting for bugs in an unnamed area near the sea. From the beginning we (the reader) are given facts and speculations related to his character, as a sort of set up to his impending disappearance and breakdown. One speculation tackles his unmarried status while sharing a home with a woman. And other speculation of the more stereotypical generalities point toward his possible homosexuality.
After missing his bus ride home, Niki finds himself at the mercy of three old men who glide him--in a sincere manner--toward a pit in the dunes near that village. In that pit lies a single home--or shack. Offering him food and board for the night, the men direct Niki toward taking a rope ladder down into the pit where he will meet the woman offering his boarding. While Niki, with the woman, is calm, if not strange, he is unprepared to spend the coming days with her and makes it clear that he is simply there for the night. She giggles slightly in turn. However, Niki’s situation is anything but amusing when the next day he proceeds to climb out of the pit only to find that the rope ladder is missing. Trapped, his official role is to help the woman with maintaining the spread of sand encompassing the village. This entails hauling swells of sand out of the pit via the three men’s dropping buckets. Should Niki decide not to take part, the exchange of water for work will end. It’s more or less there that he realizes he is captured. Nonetheless, the real intrigue lie in the solitary woman residing comfortably in the pit. And so, the psychological arguments and metaphoric unbinding begin.
The summary sounds like a fairytale because the tone of the book is like one. Nonetheless, if I could pick up and examine one aspect that I’ve gathered from this book, it’s that sometimes we have to weather our storms and make the best out of what we are given. That’s not to say that I wasn't enraged at Niki’s situation--just as he became. However, as the story progressed during his eventually Niki conformed to his situation. Or the idea that the carte blanche way of creating your life is an internal deception.
If you're read this book, what do you think? Do we live life unaware that we are trapped, yet strongly believing that we are free? Regarding my personal circumstances, I believe so.
Monday, March 24, 2014
Guest Post: The Writer's Life by Jeffrey Perren
This Writer's Life by Jeffrey Perren
Up before dawn — make tea for me, coffee for the wife. Check emails — marketing tasks, correspondence with beta readers, and miscellaneous.
So far, that doesn’t sound very exciting. But that’s the business side of things. I leave as much of that as I can to my publicist — remembering how blessed I am to have one who loves my work.
Later, write or edit the latest story. Currently, that’s Clonmac’s Bridge, the tale of a maritime archaeologist who discovers a Dark Ages bridge near Ireland’s Clonmacnoise Monastery — and finds it perfectly intact. Soon, it will be a re-telling of the William Tell legend and later a trilogy set in the Age of Discovery.
But whatever the subject matter, the process is similar: research everything you can about the history, technology, and general society and daily lives of the period and people. Then, weave a plot within and around all that — filled with drama, romance, and ideas to enrapture the reader for every single page until the end.
Tall orders, all of them. But that’s what makes the writer’s life a glorious adventure all on its own. Visit places I’ve never been but want to see. Be people I’ve never been but strive to become.
Like life, the effort is three-parts tedium to one-part heart-pounding excitement. And you’re continuously trying to shift the ratio, despite the never-ending resistance of the universe to move it in the undesired direction. Still, you have to try — and try and try again. To give up is to decay, to die a little, on your way to complete dissolution. No profit in that.
It isn’t for everyone, for sure. It’s cerebral and emotionally taxing. It’s isolated and isolating, and it takes far more self-discipline than most people — me included — can manage on a regular basis.
No one orders you to write all day, every day. But if you don’t the page doesn’t get filled. You feel guilty when you slack off, and rightly so. You realize that no one, yourself included, is paying you to not write — neither in coin nor in praise. So, you pick yourself up by the bootstraps and plunge in.
Then, you find you’re enjoying the process so much you wonder why you procrastinated so long.
That’s one writer’s life, anyway. Your mileage will no doubt vary.
What could account for this astounding longevity? Why are his colleagues and the Church so desperate to prevent him learning the secret? And why is his consummate lover his greatest enemy?
Griffin Clonmac will go through hell to find out.
He won’t go alone. Inspired by a real discovery, Clonmac’s Bridge shifts between contemporary times and 9th century Ireland. It tells the story of two men who struggle against envy and mediocrity--a millennium apart--aided only by a loyal helpmate and an unconquerable will.
An archeological thriller, a love story, and a pensée on society then and now, Jeffery Perren fans are sure to find this latest novel his best yet.
By
Jeffrey Perren
Excerpt from Chapter 1
[...]
Mari Quispe looked down from the peak of a hill above an archaeological dig near her home in Cusco, Peru. She was the official head of the project, largely owing the influence of her father, but she had no illusions. Few would follow her instructions without it, despite knowing she was the most knowledgeable investigator among them.
As her gaze crossed the dry expanse she saw her assistant climbing the hill toward her. She smiled down warmly. She waved a second then replaced her hand again over her thick eyebrows when the sun blinded her.
As she waited for Sandrine to walk up the rise, Mari looked off into the distance. She could see the tall rocks of Sacsayhuaman rising from the desert-like ground, some of them heavier than 100 tons. The sight of the Incan site made her smile, just anticipating what treasures she might dig for there in the future.
At last, Sandrine reached her and said without any chatty preamble, “I think we should shore up that section behind the corner.” She pointed. “I’m worried about the weight from the earth above.”
Mari nodded her agreement about the cave. “We’ve made good progress. Maybe too good.” She checked the angle of the sun. “Do you think it can wait until tomorrow, or should we clear everyone out now?”
She scrolled rapidly down a mental list of who would have to be contacted to do the work and how long it would take. She had enough men on staff to tackle it, but no one with the expertise except Sandrine and the three students. She didn’t want to spare them for that.
Sandrine read her mind. “It will wait, I’m sure. We can get a whole day in today.”
Mari thanked her and went off to find someone to take a message to town for the contractor. This high in the Andes and several miles from Cusco her cell phone was useless.
One of the local workers told her the contractor was at a small house a kilometer from the site. She trotted off to deliver it herself, reaching the shack in a few minutes. She knocked on the door and out came the man, the leathery skin on his face looking flushed from drinking too much Chicha de Jora.
She was still arguing with him, insisting over his drunken resistance that he start first thing in the morning, when a young man rushed up to her. He hadn’t bothered to knock on the open door, a serious breach of local manners. Mari suspected the reason. She turned to him, ignoring the barking coming from the contractor.
He said, “It’s collapsed! The cave!”
She rushed up the hill, her running feet barely touching the trail sloping to the dig. She rounded a turn a few minutes later to see a group of young men standing in front of the cave. She screamed, “What are you waiting for?”
Mari hustled forward to the now-blocked entrance, transformed by the cave-in to an avalanche of dirt, limestone, and shattered support beams. She tapped the stone beside the entrance with a hand pick and waited.
She heard a hollow echo, a good sign. The interior hadn’t collapsed, just the front. If Sandrine had been deeper inside she would be uninjured. Mari checked her watch. She estimated they had about two hours to dig her out before the air ran out.
Her time estimate had been too optimistic.
Three hours later it was nearly dark and everyone was exhausted. Mari was sure they were nearly through, though. They had opened up a hole big enough to admit adequate air. Everyone fed off her confidence and she refused to let up. She urged them on. An hour later, there was at last a hole large enough for a person to slide inside.
She pulled Sandrine’s upper body by the armpits between her own legs and onto her stomach, then she grabbed her around the chest. She scooted backwards, pushing with her heels, dragging her precious cargo along, careful not to bang her friend’s head on anything.
When Mari scrambled out after her, she saw Sandrine stretched out near the rubble, lying alone. The group of onlookers stood back several feet. No one was looking at the body. She was about to shout what idiots they all were but stifled it and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She worked at it for a solid two minutes, then paused to examine Sandrine’s face with the flashlight.
She could see the effort was futile.
[...]
Clonmac's Bridge Amazon & Createspace Links
Inspiration of Clonmac's Bridge was a real-life discovery
Perren has always been fascinated by important archeological discoveries, and he found this one particularly interesting. Maritime archaeologists aren't common characters and they fit splendidly in the story he had in mind.
Also, it’s set in Ireland, a land he loves very much. Like the main character, his mother's ancestors were Irish and he admires the people. But mainly, he wanted to tell about individuals who strive to give their best because they love their profession.
Reader Snippets
"Fascinating, detailed and complex, an investigation that takes us from the present day back to 9th century Ireland." Lili - Goodreads
"Perren's masterfully crafted adventure story covers more than just one marine archaeologist's discovery of a twelve hundred year old bridge. Flawlessly written and paced to take the reader on a journey of discovery with main character, Griffin Clonmac," Gregory Lamb – Goodreads
"Jeffrey Perren has created some fine, odious villains for his protagonists to contend with even as they explore and deepen their feelings for each other." James Ellsworth, Amazon
Professor Thomas Payne didn’t intend to wind up dead on his caving vacation, and the truth he wasn’t the victim. But proving his identity to the police becomes tricky after they pull his passport off the lookalike body.
Things go from bogus to baffling when as mysterious phone call at the crime scene leads to the arrest of the young scientist. His fate seems sealed when the victim’s fingerprints match the professor’s work visa.
Intervention by the police inspector’s daughter frees Thomas to search for clues to prove his innocence. So, it’s off around the UK with sculptress Terri, one jump ahead of the authorities--and running from his estranged sociopath father. One slip and claustrophobia will be the least of their problems.
Thomas’ journey soon becomes as much about healing his troubled past as recovering his present self. Along the way, he’ll battle betrayals by his envious staff, romance the rebellious artist, and suffer harrowing misadventures at historic sites in Ireland, Scotland, and Wales.
Travel--even to find yourself--was never so perilous.
By
Jeffery Perren
Excerpt from Chapter 12
[...]
“She opened her eyes again and searched discreetly for the man who had invited Thomas to the island.
She was determined to appear casual, to keep her observer off guard. But the strain of waiting was taking its toll. With every muscle taut, she was beginning to tire. Relax, girl, just relax, she told herself. He’ll get here. And his face will tell you somehow whether he’s the one who put Thomas in the path of the police by false implication.
She was glad now she’d stopped at a shop in Glasgow to pick up a change of clothing. The bikini top and shorts suited her purpose much better than her business suit. She flicked a look at the lowering sun and hoped she would still be glad in a little while. The weather in the Hebrides could change from bright to stormy on a whim.
She tipped her head back and slowly moved her face from one shoulder to the other, like a delphinium following the sun. But she took no pleasure in it this time. It was a feint so she could look around again without seeming obvious. She was sure she would recognize the man who sent the email, though she could not have explained why. She saw no one nearby.
Even during the summer, in late evening there were but a dozen people on the island that held Fingal’s Cave. This day, two were sunning themselves, but far from her. Most of the rest were clambering over the rocks, leaving the cave, trying to avoid slipping off the basalt columns and into the sea. A couple were already waiting at the shore. There was less ten minutes before the last boat left.
Terri debated whether she should check inside the cave. If she stayed where she was much longer she’d miss the boat and camping on Staffa overnight could be suicide. She looked at the dark clouds in the distance and judged that trouble was on the way. Then she measured again how low the sun was. She’d give him another few minutes to show.
When he didn’t, she looked at the boat anxiously, checking her phone’s clock for the fourth time. To avoid being reported by the tour boat captain she watched from behind a boulder as the boat left, then ambled back to her previous spot and lay down.
Unseen, a man lying on his stomach watched her from the flat, tan bluff atop Fingal’s Cave.”
[...]
Death is Overrated Amazon & Createspace Links
The inspiration for Death Overrated
Death Is Overrated had its genesis in an old film called DOA. The protagonist is poisoned and has 48 hours before dying to discover who gave him the fatal dose. Perren spun that idea into a scientist on a caving vacation who is accused – through mistaken identity – of killing himself. He has to prove he’s neither the victim nor the murderer. That, combined with his insatiable travel bug, led to the characters and plot of this romantic mystery.
Reader Snippets
"The author has managed to create well developed, likable characters and scenes which are not boring, but realistic.” Teritree001971 Amazon
“Death is Overrated is a great blend of suspense, tension, action, villainy and excitement. A modern day crime thriller with the heroic characters and daring escapades of a 1940's Hollywood film. Mr Perren writes in a style that conveys topics from the humorous to the philosophical with great clarity, accessibility and pacing.”
Frank Palmer-White
“Death Is Overrated by Jeffrey Perren is well made mystery novel full of twists and turns that will keep reader excited to the last page.” Denis Vukosav
Bio
Jeffrey Perren is an American novelist, educated in philosophy at UCLA and in physics at UC Irvine. The lure of writing soon outweighed everything, though.
He was born in Independence, MO right around the corner from Harry Truman's house. But then, at the time, everything there was right around the corner from Harry Truman's house. Right now he lives in Sandpoint, Idaho with his wife.
He wrote his first short story at age 12 and went on to win the Bank of America Fine Arts award at age 17. Since then he has published at award-winning sites and magazines from the U.S. to New Zealand. He has had short stories published at the award-winning sites Apollo's Lyre and Mystericale.
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