II: Other Hamilton Sister::Heat

It's hot!

The sun blinds me. I try to look away,  it reflects off the residue of dew on everything around me. It's not making this easy for me.  Sweat on the coils of the AC is mocking me. I can't decide if it’s just the dew or if it’s another indicator.

I have to look up to relieve my eyes. What should be a pretty sky with its blue-red reminds me that I have to hurry.  My eyes wash across the lesser moon that looms ever large in the sky. I know it won't be visible much longer with the clouds coming. I already feel the humidity the clouds bring with them.

With longing I glance at the remaining dew. I lick my lips feeling the dews fragility knowing New Terra is unable to embrace it. Our big mother star burns it off and tosses it back into the air around us. I can feel her smothering comfort rolling down my flesh. It's making me feel parched, squeezing me dry to burn my sweat from my skin. It's been less than an hour of sun, yet I feel as though its mid day.

I wipe my forehead with the thin sleeve of my chenille overcoat. My eyes watch it change color under the light. This distracts me from the affectation of my skin. I feel as comfortable as I can in this heat, having cast off my barmaids outfit in exchange for a sports bra and short shorts. I'd be more comfortable without the overcoat, but modesty prevents that. Not too much modesty though, I have left it unbuttoned.

I contemplate going back inside the bar with Jack, but it's going to get worse inside with the AC broken.  I could make Jack come out here to do this. Then he'd have to completely replace the whole thing. I'm trying to help him avoid that. I look down upon my work.

Ants are dancing on the clots of fractured clay around the air conditioner. Seeming unperturbed by its spurious attempts to restart then die and restart again.  Though, they have dissipated considerably since I shut the AC down completely.

I finish bleeding the system. It hasn't leaked out but it acts like it’s blocked somewhere. It could be one of these ants or a whole colony. The seals on this thing are worn enough to invite intrusion.

I carefully pull the reclamation canister and my rigged filter off the assembly.  Hooking up the can of compressed air I give the system a good blow. I can hear the problem, Jack would likely not. It quickly disappears as whatever was there breaks loose and hits the palm of my hand. I'm thinking we're not out of the woods yet. Feeling uncertainty of the future, I make the sign of the cross and say a few Hail Marys. That could be sacrilegious, because I don't consider myself religious. Everything looks good to my eye. Well, as good as it can. I need to recharge the system.

First I cap it and test some pressure on it.

It's a bust.  I mean a real bust. The leak is so evident I see the few remaining ants being blown hither and yon. Normally I'd give the wrench a good toss. I've not been using the wrench for fear of making things worse.

I ask myself why I'm doing this.

Turning at the sound of the back door opening fortuitously I can see Jack's head sticking out. He squints under the sun. He says, “Angie, how we doing out here?”

Stepping back from my work and looking at Jack, I say, “Hot, sticky. This damn stuff is worn beyond its warranty period by almost a decade. Could use some better sealant. A few new parts.”

Jack steps out. I watch as he shifts his slightly rotund midsection. After some difficulty he's standing on the stoop with the door shut. He's round not fat, but definitely not buff like the Tom's who strut around the bar. He looks to me to be in thought before he does a half dance with the door again to make a hasty retreat. I hear his grunting and grumbling as he disappears and the door closes. I'm thinking he can't stand the heat. But, his head comes out again.  This time he lands in the sand. The door slams itself.

With a sheepish expression he offers me a bag.

He also offers a glass of amber liquid.

I wave a hand and say, “Thanks. You know I don't drink that stuff.”

I’m clutching my chenille together in front. I’d have to let go to grab both. I turn my back towards him as I take the sack.

Jack waves his hand pointing at the glass and says, “It's tea, with sugar, the way you like it.”

 Embarrassed at my own lack of trust, I take the tea from his huge fist.

I set the bag down and look inside.  It contains everything I need to do this job proper. I give Jack a well deserved harsh look. I say, “Great, make me do this twice. Where were you hiding this?”

Checking the ground for ants, I stomp around a bit.  I sit. The ground feels cool. That's not good. That means I'm warmer than it is. I sip the tea slowly. "Thanks Jack, I really needed this tea."

Jack shrugs, wiping his fingers on the towel draped over his shoulder. He says, “Yeah, Sorry. I'm bad. I know. But, I listen and I picked this up a week ago. Figured it was due to quit soon.”

I pull my feet closer to me until my hiking boots touch where my bare thighs meet the hem on my shorts.  Taking a very short break I touch the cool glass against my legs then I move my feet away to make room.  Feeling contorted I try to reach the bag so I can I pour the parts in my lap. Flattening it on the ground I carefully lay the parts upon the bag in a row.

Feeling light headed and giddy for a number of reasons including the heat I exclaim, “Wow. All shiny and new.  I hope this doesn't come out of my paycheck.”

I start to work again, this time I take up the wrench.

Jack says, "Only if you mess it up and I have to buy more parts."  I watch him step into the little shadow offered by the structure of the bar.  His gaze falls out across the desolation toward the line of trees that mark the lower edge of the mountains.

I look into the sky, looking for clouds. To me they are as scarce now as the ants are at night.  I know that at night the clouds sink down covering the ground like a cottony blanket. The sun comes up to burn these away in short order. For a number of hours the moisture hangs in the air before clouds return like a colony of ants.  I feel the need to hurry. I'm already overheated.

I catch Jack following my gaze, he says, “If this takes too long I can make an exception. Let you use that cot in back.”

I recall the first time Jack made such an offer.  I'm not sure what he expected to get out of it. Whatever, he didn't get it. I feel comfortable with Jack though, you only have to say no once with him. With confused and possibly misplaced disappointment I recall he hasn't made such an offer since. But, I've been diligent about getting home early.

 Huffing a couple of times, I stop to sip at my sweet tea. I look at Jack. I say, “Na, That's okay. I'll get home just fine. It's much cooler up in the mountains.”

Jack nods. As I work I can feel him become focused on his observation of my own intent process. He says, “Where and how did you learn to fix stuff?”

This is not the first time Jack's asked this. I say, “I dunno, it just came to me one day.” I stop and think about that. I'm certain each time I give him the same answer.
I hear Jack scoff. He half laughs and says, “Yeah, sure, don't tell me. You could go to town, take the test, and get licensed. No longer have to deal with the Tom’s here. I'm just say'in you'd have a good chance at a better career.”

I finish my work, check for leaks, fill the line, and bleed the air from the system. Everything is sealed and tight. Gathering Jacks tools, supplies, and decadent parts I stuff them into the bag and wipe my hands on the bag.

I see Jack raise his eyebrows. I nod, and watch him slip back inside. In short-order the conditioner comes on and begins to cycle. I wait and watch. After some moments, feeling some relief, I stand. I look to the door.

Jack’s hanging half in and half out. His gyrations are giving me a headache. I think he's torn about doing something or rushing in to enjoy the cooler air.

I wave and say, “She's all good.”

I see Jack decide and he falls upon me giving me a fatherly hug before I can move. He says, “You do good work.”

I shrug out of his grasp, put some distance between us. I do like the way he refrains from adding, for a clone, at the end of that sentence though.

Jack’s arms fall to his sides. He grins, “I'm serious. About schooling. I'd help pay for it. If you was my daughter …”

I shake my head, I say, “You'd miss me. Maybe you need to get yourself a real daughter.” As I think about that and what he tried that first night I think, maybe not.

Jack waves his hand. He says, “Na.” He goes quiet. I'm unsure which he has said no to. Then he says, “You still could come check and make sure everything is in working order.”

I finish my tea and hand Jack my glass. He bends down to the spigot, gives it a short blast of filthy water.

I say, “That's okay, Jack. We have a good arrangement. I don't need to be indebted to you forever.”

Jack shrugs, looking toward the hills. Pulling the towel down he works the corner into the glass to polish it. Jack says, “I know you don't like working Toms.” His head points.  “Like that one inside. Just a tourist. Passing through. Now with his face plastered to the table because he thought he could ply you with a few drinks.”

I'm looking at the ground. The ants are back en-masse. Back to worship this humming deity. I'm almost pleased to have restored their continuity perhaps their existence.

 I shake my head to clear it of Jack’s merciless words.

Turning away, I step towards the hills. They are the first leg of my journey into the mountains. This thought tires me. I'm not looking at Jack. So, just to be certain he can see I'm leaving, I shout, “I'll see you tonight, Jack. Take care of yourself.”

I need to get away from the heat.



Copyright 2012 J.L. Dobias

Write-edit-write-and keep moving forward:

Do you really want your readers to be your editors?

Well, yes.  At least that's what I had in mind when I asked a few of them to read my book while it was in development.

I felt the lack of takers on that offer was a poor reflection on my ability to write.  The trauma of rejection gave me writer's block for about a half second pause.

So, one problem with self publishing may be the perception that I'm still asking those people to edit my work while also asking some to pay for it.  Heh, Heh Heh, and in a way I am.  But, that's only a reflection on the system of self publishing.

Some things to remember:
You shall do extensive spell checking and grammar checking and sentence structure checking. You shall find someone else to go over your work, doing the same things you just did Then you shall sit down together and do substantive editing (also known as developmental editing and comprehensive editing). This is a much more in depth look at structure, continuity, and character building. Perhaps cutting the fat.  Keep in mind that old saying.  "Don't throw the baby away with the bath water."

This is also a bit backwards but trust me you need to get some of the little stuff out of your way before delving into rearranging your thoughts to be readable by most readers.

This can never hurt you if you plan to go the conventional route and get an agent or a publisher to notice you. This is critical if you plan to self publish.  That is mostly for the sake of your reader.

The reader will most likely still find a way to express their opinion of the errors they do find.  And they will find them.  You should nod and smile and write notes.  Remember, this is the unsolicited edit you forced on them.

When you publish you should try to buy a self publish package that contains a copy-edit.  This will be a final look at grammar and spelling at the very least. There may be some attempt to help with sentence structure. Usually what you get though is the low end description of copy-edit and something better than proof reading.

We did our best to cover the substantive end in my first book, but I had a poor grasp of the whole process and may have contributed to a failure mode.   The up side is that this gives the rawest form of the writers work and might ring more true than a polished piece.

If you are like me you may feel compelled to go the extra mile and have someone new look at what you now think is the next best thing to sliced bread. It's probably not totally critical and it is costly unless you have an abundant number of volunteers with English degrees. But, if you think you didn't miss anything, as a friend once said, you are delusional.

Keep in mind, when you have someone else do the copy-edit, that you should read the manuscript all the way through while verifying the work accomplished.  Most editors will send you back a document file with notes and tags on the changes.  I found though that some changes were made that did not have tags and were critical because the change altered the meaning of the sentence.  This sounds bad, and it is.  But in most cases it caused me to rethink my wording, since it must have really confused them for them to make it say what I did not mean.

You can possibly try to get substantive editing from an on demand publisher if you ask.  The problem will be that substantive editors are expensive, in terms of the cost of self publishing.  My document had over 400 pages and 260000 words.  In page count they charge by the hour at a rate of 50 to 60 (low estimate) us dollars per hour. That's at anywhere from 1-6 pages per hour. Word count is 2 to 4 cents a word.  These are on the conservative end of the estimates.  For my first book it would cost anywhere from 5,000 to 10,000 dollars for a good substantive edit.

The good news is that if you are buying a package including copy-editing and they do a good job.  You will be getting a value on this book of about 3,000 to 5,000 dollars. And unless you are a copy-editor you will need another set of eyes to look at this. And if you are a copy-editor you will have it done anyway because you know you will need it.

The final goal is to not burden the reader with someone else job.  If they don't enjoy reading the book then you failed.

And, yes.
 If you didn't enjoy it please let me know.

I subscribe to the no news is good news. And after 250 downloads and no comments I'll just assume everything is dandy and keep on keeping on.

J.L. Dobias Author of Cripple-Mode: Hot Electric

I:The Other Hamilton Sister::Smoke

I sit, contemplating memories that I shouldn't have. Memories that are clearly not mine. Wondering if there is some tiny strand of truth to the notion that twins have a connection that goes beyond their shared lives. It's been a long time Theodora. What are you up to that these thoughts and feelings burn me to the dark pit that stands in the place of the soul I've never had and can't possess? Why now? Why do these memories plague me at the time I'd given up; the moment I'd tried to immerse myself in a life that wasn't meant for me? I'd gone to great length to lose myself. How did you find me and why did you send me these strange memories, ever more strange than any I could imagine from you? Memories that work at the very fabric of the shadow of my inner self that pretends to be a broken soul. And how can any of this be possible when in truth we are not real twins when we've only shared a womb as creatures created by man and not endowed with life by god. I'd given up and you so mercilessly pulled me out of that tailspin and gave me gifts that beg me to make more of this wretched life than to immerse my hollow self in my own pity. How dare you make me care again?

I watch the smoke curl up at the end of my hand. It looks as though my fingers are on fire. Winding itself around the long nails and climbing straight up to wither away at the edge of my face. It's disgusting. I know. I don't much care. I don't smoke these things anyway. They are here for ambiance. I've played this wretched character too many nights. This cigarette has become an ironic symbol. The glow is like the embers of my being releasing the grey smoke of my phantom soul into the air.

I lift up my right leg and cross it over the left until the knees are neatly stacked. I'm creating a tell for the perv across the room. I call him that because I've watched him observing me half the night. Perhaps I'm being unfair. He could be an ardent admirer of beauty. I lift my skirt, what there is of it. This is a way to show more flesh and yet less substance. It's certain now I'm blocking the view of what he's been trying to see. It's a tease. His eyes haven't wavered. He's like the rest. They're all the same. And I'm not much different. I've become the damned leading the damned.

Tom, that's what I call them. It's for peeping Tom. Whenever they catch me saying it, it quickly becomes Tom Cat. He's been here long enough intently gawking. He should have pounced by now. I pivot on the bar stool to afford a better view. I watch from the corner of my eye. His movements are subtle. He's rich with intent where his eyes are concerned. Maybe he's unsure about interrupting my work. He doesn't realize that he's the other half of my work.

This is how I make money. It's not what everyone thinks. I just have to get him to buy me drinks. He pays a god awful amount for my cola's and his liquor and I get a fair commission. I watch him drink himself under the table and I move on. I can't claim it's much of a living, but it's all I got. Nice work for a clone. The best I can expect on this suck rock planet, New Terra. I'm pretty sure this job isn't helping our image here, but that was tarnished to begin with.

I can't say people here think well of clones. I don't blame them. I don't have fond memories of clones myself. Even if I'm one, by most definitions. My problem with elitist groups like the Clone Colony Collective is that they have rules for defining what a clone is. I don't fit the mold even though they left genetic markers in me to make it impossible to deny what I am. I'm an outcast of the outcasts.

My understanding is that I'm not quite acceptable because I came into the world in a most normal fashion. Being a natural live birth makes me something disgusting to the average clone. I'm just as broke up about it as they are, but it was their leaders who decided to bring us into this universe.

Us is me and my sisters.

If Tom were sitting next to me where he's supposed to be I'd be telling him all of this. Spilling my guts, only today I'm halfway relieved as this all has a strange feel of something disgusting. It's just a story,My names Angie my sisters are Betty and Lucy. Bet you thought I'd say Betty and Veronica. The Toms like that joke. Personally I don't quite get it. But I try not to be judgmental, they always listen to my story. So, I tell them I'm the Alpha and Betty is Beta. We're the first two prototypes. Lucy our little sister was sorta in the middle and I'm not at all sure if there was going to be an Omega. I never tell them our real names are Amber, Theodora, and Lucia. I'm Amber.

I tell the Toms that Lucy passed away, and that's the truth. I think her death sealed Omega's fate. Lucy was supposed to be the golden child. Betty and I we were failures, but I don't tell the Toms that because I'm not all that fond of the fact.

We would have washed out of the program, but they let us be Lucy's babysitters. That whiny brat didn't make things easy. But, I shouldn't blame her, not for whining. I do blame her for taking us into her nightmare. That was uncalled for. Well, if we'd believed her, instead of laughing at her, maybe she would have been less inclined to prove there is a boogeyman. I guess we laughed too hard.

Lucy wasn't really our little sister.

We're triplets. Identical in shape and form if not in mind. Lucy was too odd to be like us.

Lucy knew better than to take us there where that horrible thing was lurking. It snatched us up in one fell swoop and held us like the catch of the day. I'm not sure what Lucy had to do to get us loose. I know Betty and I were certain we were going to die. What that beast did and what it tried to take from us had us hoping it would finish us quick. Lucy got us out somehow, but it cost her. I know that bastard sucked her soul out of her. Despite what people say about clones having no soul. If I've no soul then why do I care and why does it hurt? And why does it feel like what isn't there is slowly being torn from me every day?

Now I have to deal with worthless tears rolling down my cheek. After putting us into that mess, she's not worth this. But, the crying serves a purpose. Mr. Tom across the way has noticed. He's on his way to comfort me. I know what he really wants. It's not what he'll get. But, when I play the cards right he'll pay for it. I try to avoid his eyes. His eyes tell me lies I can't afford to buy lest he touch the heart and then the soul that isn't there.

Tom sits in the bar stool next to me. His arm engulfs me like a cradle does a baby. At first it's a slight and tentative action that grows less so for each moment I don't rebuke him. He's talking to me, consoling me. Maybe asking what's wrong or if he can help. I wouldn't know. I see his lips move but the words are like white noise to me. I have an attention problem. I've been this way since that one time in JumpSpace under the thumb of that creature. It's why I crave the contact of even this stranger to take away the bitter taste left from an encounter with indescribable terror.

Somewhere in the moment of his unusual comfort my head finds this stranger's shoulder. I'm pressing hard against him. I make faint attempts to dwell on anything else other than what I'm sure Tom must think of me. This whole town knows I'm the Clone Slut. I've a reputation to maintain. I do my thing at night then vanish in the morning. Into the mountains. Up where my friends are. Where everyone is smooth. Without a care for where you came from and what you do with your life. The one place I'm not a castoff clone.

I'm here, on New Terra, because mom and dad ran away with me in tow.

Theodora, Betty, was the wise one. She took the general's offer. The general was LJG, League Jump Guild. He promised steady work and decent wages. I wonder how Theo is making out with all of that.

I worry about mom and dad, even though they aren't really our parents. Mom did carry us in her womb. That doesn't much count with clones. It's just a different sort of vat, an inferior one at that. I struggle to understand how I'm supposed to feel about it. I say it doesn't make a difference. I'm betrayed by tears that might protest.Life wasn't pleasant after the project broke down. The general promised a lot. Still, he was one of those many who set this all up to begin with. He killed Lucia as much as that monster in JumpSpace. Her blood and her ashes are on his hands. I worry about Theo. I wonder if she thinks about me.

Tonight's gentleman is being awfully tender. I'm not used to that. I push his drink a bit further away from his reach. Sipping my cola I look at him. He's still absorbed in his one-sided conversation. I rest my scattered golden truss upon his shoulder and try to listen to the rhythm of his voice. If I can't focus on his words I'll focus on his tone. Dad and mom were never this tender. It was always, "Make sure Lucia does this. Have Lucia do that. Keep Lucia happy." If they'd only known it all amounted to "send Lucia into the jaws of death."

I almost ask Tom what his real name is. That would be bad. Wrong. None of this is real. My real life is in the mountains with my friends. Tom will be gone tomorrow to be replaced by another Tom with the new night. I look at him with suspicion. I'm not at all sure this isn't one of the Tom's of a bygone night. That's happened before. They usually are aggressively abusive if they can recall that the other night ended with their face pasted to the table instead of my breasts.

He's too kind to be a dissatisfied customer.

Jack, my boss and bartender, has worked his way over to us. He's swishing the corner of a towel into a shot glass. After giving me a severe look he pushes Tom's drink back up next to Tom's hand. He waits for me to move, so I keep still. Jack has only my interests at heart. I can't live if I don't have money. I can't have money if Tom doesn't keep buying drinks.

Tom picks up the glass and empties it. Jack has the next one on the counter for him before he can lift a finger. Tom tosses money into the great jar there in the middle. That's good, a part of that is mine. Before I allow my self to backslide I stand up. Tom instinctively encircles me with both hands to hold me there. I have to be gentle but firm in explaining that I need to use the powder room. I really just need to get out of his gentle reach long enough to let the harshness of reality intrude on my state of mind.

Still trying to make things difficult for me, Tom gently lets me go in warm fuzzy pieces. I use my forefinger to touch my lipstick and I use it to smear his lip just a tad. He smiles genially. I walk away giving him coy glances from over my shoulder.

Inside the bathroom with my hands on either side of the sink I take one long look at myself. I could just as well be looking at Theo or Lucia. But, Lucia's a ghost by now so I'd rather not go there. Tears swell and continue to smear my makeup. I look into the mirror. I place the remaining piece of my cigarette balanced on its filter on the ledge at the bottom of the mirror. The smoke runs across the mirror in the direction that the ventilation takes it. My eyes are a mess, so I begin wiping them gently until they are clean, so I can re-paint them. I can't take out the redness but some eye-drops will help a little. My whole body shudders and I long for Tom's gentle touch. With a harsh shake that tosses my hair in the air I try to push those thoughts away.

By the time I'm finished I'm certain Jack will have Tom more under the bar than over. It's better this way. That those who have souls do not mingle with those whose soul is in question. I really don't feel soulless, but to be honest I don't know how that should feel.

Now I'm all fixed and ready to proceed through my night. Once again anchored with the reality that my real life is in the morning in the mountains. I pull out a new cigarette and light it, leaving the tiny smoke stack in front of the mirror. One last look through the fog of smoke to assure that I look presentable. I touch the glass.

This here, right now, is nothing more than smoke and mirrors.







Copyright 2012 J.L. Dobias

A rose by any other name...

Sci-Fi vs Science Fiction:  Potato potato Tomato tomato.

I was going to ramble on about Science Fiction vs Fantasy but I found out quickly that there's a whole bit of controversy just within the smaller community itself.  Perhaps I have been isolated from reality too long but I honestly did not put much stock in the trouble with Sci-Fi.  I also tend not to listen to the wise words of Mr. E...

I'll post here something I posted on a forum under one of my few screen names.
-----------------------------------------------
   Funny thing;
I've only been reading SF for 55 years now. And never really ran into this prejudice until recently. It's a rather ironic prejudice.

Back in the early 50 most Science Fiction as it was called would today apparently be considered Sci-Fi by some of the definitions I have heard.

Somewhere in the 60's and 70's there were attempts to make it Speculative Fiction that would most likely be the true SF definition.

Now there seems to be some push to differentiate between SF and Sci-Fi which in most cases devolves to Science Fiction vs Sci-Fi which is just silly because SF is Speculative Fiction and not Science Fiction at all.

But truth be told they are all the bastard children of what was happening in the 50s which was then Science Fiction and now seems to come to mind as Sci-Fi so that might make them all the children of Sci-Fi who have all forgotten their roots.

But hey, I've only been watching this for 50 some years so what do I know?

----------------------------------------------------
Now for those who know me I'll confess to the stretch here.  Unless we can count Dr. Suess it is a slight bit less than 55 years.  Though if we use SF liberally to include today's definition of speculative fiction that seems to be an umbrella of a multitude of genre I'm sure we can fit it in.

As it is it may have been two more years before the teacher and librarian expressed concerns for my reading level if I continued in my present direction.

That's when they pointed me to the Mushroom Planet Series by Eleanor Frances Butler Cameron.

Please don't say those are not Science Fiction or you will break the heart of a seven year old.

Since 1992, Golden Duck.org has presented the Eleanor Cameron Award for Excellence in Children's Science Fiction to the author of an English Language novel written for middle-grade readers.

From there I discovered Philip Francis Nolan's Buck Rogers and Edgar Rice Burroughs' Mars and Venus series and Otis Adelbert Kline's Venus series just to name a few.  And when dad brought home several boxes of books from auctions I discovered Pohl Anderson's  After Doomsday.  That and the Science Fiction Book Club pretty much caused me to hit the ground running with reading.

Suffice it to say several teachers were still a bit concerned about my reading level.

Now to get back to a point I was going to lead into.

 Will I be offended if someone calls my writing Sci-Fi instead of  Science Fiction?  The answer is no.  So if someone means to offend me they will have to pick a more universally understood term like perhaps crap.  Now that would get my attention.

This brings us to the next big question.  What about fantasy?

I do think there are elements in my work that contain what some people might find they need to relegate to fantasy.

I have no cure for their ills.  This book is meant to be Science Fiction in much the same terms Robert Heinlein would have preferred to have seen the definition of  Speculative Fiction go.

That worked out so well for him that perhaps I should just go on with calling mine Sci-Fi and that should make everyone happy.





J.L. Dobias Author of Cripple-Mode: Hot Electric

On Self Publishing

Self-Publish?:Explain to me once more why you shot yourself in the foot!

My coffee is lukewarm and the smell of tobacco and beer fall upon us like a familiar overcoat.  The warm face sitting across from me has harsh disparaging eyes. He turns away because he knows I know him all too well.  He's the best of friends, even when he's being a troll. Putting his beer down and folding his beard with the thumb and forefingers of each hand he points his head towards me. He says, "I know I said I didn't want to hear your lame ass justifications, but tell me again.  The last time I wasn't listening."

 I lean into the table lowering my lids a bit and watching him just a moment longer.  He's still looking my way, that says something.  It's probably safe to go on.


Laying my hands on the table palms down I try to give the appearance of saying a small prayer, not for him to be enlightened, but for me to have patience.  I say "Well, it starts back when I went to a blog where it was clearly explained that there are thousands of submissions every year for new books from new authors.  There were a series of daunting hoops to go through just to be sure your i's are dotted and t's crossed.  Those were not insurmountable.  In fact they're instructive.  With the insight offered, I could ensure that I'd not fall into some of the usual pratfalls of the average new author.  And it isn't that I can't finish the work.  It's finished.  I have another on the way. And I have an infinite supply up here."


Shaking my head ,it lists slowly as though its over heavy.  I wait and watch.  There should be more comment from the peanut gallery any second.  When only silence reigns I clear my throat.  I say, "None of that poses a problem.  It's those blasted statistics.  One in several thousand chances that an agent or publisher will spend more than a passing glance on my work even when it's presented properly. It's like a slow death march. I'm sending out clones of my manuscript on one way trips with such a small chance that they will survive the purges. That alone would not be so bad, but it's not knowing what I'm sending them into.  Rejection notes vary but the common theme is to just say keep trying.  Not much in the line of battle reports to tell intelligence what we're up against.  God, it would be at least something if they just said that they'd decided to burn the next 1000 manuscripts to make room for the next invasion.  Seriously though some constructive criticism.  It would dispel any vision that there are a whole circle of agents and publishers with a large hat just pulling submissions until they reach the quota."

"This same blog site had a link."

"It has statistics related to authors in print and their experience with getting published by major publishing houses.  It was in part done to help highlight the importance of doing short stories to build your reputation and credibility as an author.  It had statistics showing the difference between published authors who first did short stories and then published a novel as opposed to those who were fortunate enough to go straight to a first novel.  It also included the success rate of both sides of that coin.  Showing that those who had built a reputation with short stories had the higher probability of success in maintaining a consistent flow of novel work. This was all instructive in painting a clear picture of what needs to be done."


"Still, a daunting part, the submissions and rejections, remain to hang my manuscript over a fire."


"Then, light at the end of the tunnel.  The author of this post painted this horrible picture of self publishing.  For some reason he'd deemed it necessary to include statistics on the number of self publishers who might be noticed by an agent or publisher. His indication was that it was a sad 1 out of 256 chance. I looked at this and realize 1 out of 256 as opposed to 1 out of thousands.  And, there was my solution to my dilemma.. "


My companion looks only slightly baffled. Eyebrows furrowed above thin slits behind the dark reflective spectacles. This is good, I expect he's forgotten previous rounds of discussions about my book. I say, "Remember, you indicated that you didn't want to read my book to review it. You wanted the hard evidence in your hand so you could browse page by page in one night the efforts of all my years.  And, there it is, chance is more in my favor with self publishing.  All I have to do is sacrifice my first born.  And, not really that much of a sacrifice when I can place a copy in those fleshy maws of yours. To say nothing of the fact that it would cost the same or less than a custom made furry costume."

As is his characteristic response to such revelation he sits back in his chair and forms an O with his mouth.   Then his eyes light and he smiles and chuckles, nearly sloshing the beer from his mug. His throat adds its own reverberation to his chortle.  The wind comes up swiftly to whip the smoke up and away. The smell of beer washes away from us like the evening tide.  I lift my eyes to watch the smoke become a part of the clouds.  Then I force them to come back to the empty chair across from me.


Taking the book from my bag I set it on the table.


It's a shame you couldn't stick around long enough to see this.  I can only hope that as I sit and read  you will be reading over my shoulder.  Farewell my friend and have a good rest.

Copyright 2012 J.L. Dobias

Authors Whose Work I Have Read::

I'm beginning a page of authors I've read with links.  I'm not endorsing the links just the authors.
It may take me a while to complete this page... This is a random listing I'm not playing favorites here. Though most if not all of these authors line my bookshelves.

•   Charles Dickens
•  Teresa Edgerton
•  Sir Arthur Conan Doyle 
•  Robert J. Sawyer
•   Jules Verne
•   Harlan Ellison 
•  H.G. Wells 
•  J.K. Rowling
• Sherrel Lee-Valens Rise
•  D. G. Compton 
•  Christopher Hodder-Williams
•  Mark Twain
•   Voltaire’s Candide
•  Edgar Allan Poe
•  Miguel de Cervantes
•  Jean Mark Gawron
•  Samuel Beckett
•  S. L. Viehl
•  Alexandre Dumas
•  Algis Budrys
•  C. S. Friedman
•  Eleanor Cameron 
•  Roger MacBride Allen
•  Catherine Asaro
•  Joan Vinge
•  Jan Clark--Review: Prodigy
•  Algis Budrys
•  Tara K. Harper
•  Ken MacLeod
•  John Varley
•  Anne McCaffrey
•  Mercedes Lackey 
•   Kay Kenyon
•  Lisanne Norman
•  Dean Koontz
•  Robert A. Heinlein 
•  Simon R Green
•  David Weber
•  Wilson Tucker
•  John Boyd
•  Elizabeth Ann Scarborough
•  C. S. Lewis 
•  Margaret Weis
•  Philip K. Dick 
•  S. L. Viehl
•  John Brunner
•  Neal Barrett, Jr.
•   Philip José Farmer
•  Roger Zelazny
•  Jack Williamson
•  Cordwainer Smith
•  Melissa Scott
•    A. E. van Vogt
•  David Gerrold
•  Murray Leinster 
•  John Wyndham
•  Clifford D. Simak
•  Keith Laumer
•  Edgar Rice Burroughs
•  Kate Wilhelm
•  Otis Adelbert Kline
•  Philip Francis Nowlan 
•  Connie Willis: To Say Nothing of the Dog
•  Andre Norton 
•  Steve White
•  Michael Moorcock
•  Franz Kafka
•  Elizabeth Moon
•  Ted White
•  L.E. Modesitt
• Frederik Pohl
• Pamela Sargent
•  Vernor Vinge
•  D.F. Jones
•  Sharon Lee and Steve Miller
•  Elizabeth Hand
•  Aldous Huxley 
•  Poul Anderson 
•  Sir Arthur C. Clarke
•  Isaac Asimov 
•  Vonda N. McIntyre
•  Frank Herbert 
•  C. J. Cherryh 
•  Julie Czerneda
•  Anne Harris
•  Richard Matheson 
•  SM Stirling
•  L P Davies
•  Philip Pullman
•  Lloyd Biggle, Jr
•  Kurt Vonnegut 
•  C. M. Kornbluth
•  Jerry Pournelle
•  George R. R. Martin
• Harry Harrison 
•  K W Jeter
•  H. Beam Piper
•   Julian May
•  William Gibson
•  James Blish
•  Trevanian
• Stanislaw Lem  
•  Alexei Panshin
•  David Feintuch 
•  Douglas Adams
•  Greg Bear
•  Rebecca Ore
•  Jack L. Chalker
•  Gregory Benford
•  Diann Thornley
•  Deborah Doyle & James D. Macdonald
•  Samual R Delany
•   Larry Niven
•  Ursula K. Le Guin
•  Alfred Bester 
•  Gordon R. Dickson 
•  Olaf Stapledon
•  Damon Knight 
•  A Bertram Chandler
•  Theodore Sturgeon
•  Ray Cummings 
•  Robert Silverberg
•   StephenKing
• MichaelCrichton
• Jeffrey A. Carver
•  Katherine MacLean
•  Mark Leon The Unified Field
•  John Sladek
•  Leigh Brackett 
•  Daniel Keyes
•  Orson Scott Card’s 
•  Mary Shelley
•  Ray Bradbury
•  Katharine Kerr
• David Drake
•   Edward E. Smith
•  Marion Zimmer Bradley
•  Stephen R. Donaldson 
•   Alan Dean Foster
•   Bob Shaw
•  F.M. Busby
•  M. A. Foster
•   Robert Sheckley
•  Robert L. Forward 
•  Michael Flynn
•  William Shatner
• Lois McMaster Bujold
•  Jack Finney 
•  Carl Sagan
•  David Brin
•  Joanna Russ
•   Stan Lee

J.L. Dobias Author of Cripple-Mode: Hot Electric

Leaving Comments

If you want to leave a comment you will have to use the drop-down box and chose anonymous unless you fall into any of the other categories.  Then you will have to do the Captia .

Here's a listing of some of the hard volume resources I had on hand while assembling Hot Electric
Remember that I stuffed these notions into my head and shook them vigorously, looked in and more often than not came up with "Try Again."  So the authors and their works listed here should be in no way held responsible for my desecration.

• A concise history of Painting from Giotto to Cezanne  by Michael Levey
• In and out the Garbage Pail  by Fredrick Solomon Perls
• HTML complete  (whole bunch of editors)
• Mythic Astrology by Ariel Guttman & Kenneth Johnson
• Witches    by       Hans Holzer
• Complete idiots guide  Wicca and Witchcraft  by  Denise Zimmermann and Katherine A.Gleason
• THE ENOCHIAN TAROT  by Gerald and Betty Schueler
• Tarot for Beginners     by   P.Scott Hollander
• The Complete Guide to the Tarot  by Eden Gray
• Principles of Development Lewis Wolpert (Rosa Beddington, Jeremy Brockes, Thomas Jessell, Peter Lawrence, Elliot Meyerowitz)  I should probably get a more current edition.
• Personology by Gary Goldschneider
• The Illustrated Atlas of the Universe by Mark A Garlick (Wil Tirion)
• Astronomy the definitive guide by Robert Burnham, Alan Dyer, Jeff Kanipe, (Wil Tirion)
• Essential Astronomy  by Cynthia Phillips and Shana Priwer                                                                The former three ended up being references along side wikipedia
• Websters Universal Encyclopedic Dictionary

As it turns out many of these were mostly useful in setting some of the mood.

J.L. Dobias Author of Cripple-Mode: Hot Electric

Some of the resources I have found helpful in getting started with writing.

• :Science Fiction Writer Robert J. Sawyer: {great source for getting started: not for faint of heart} http://sfwriter.com/2007/07/self-publishing-is-not-way-to-go.  Last I checked there were few if any kind words for self publishers. Some style preferences such as fonts and formatting might be misleading and cause a bit of pain in transferring over to print if you find a publisher who will take electronic submissions. Otherwise solid advice from a pro.
•  Yahoo: Dictionary: Online definitions and Pronunciations  
•  I would suggest buying one very large hard-copy comprehensive dictionary.(350,000 words plus) Often trying to verify your own usage of a word on line can be disappointing.  You could be using it correctly while the listing has only colloquial usage.  Then again,  your usage may in that case alienate your reader and unless it's part of a characters development you might rethink using  the word!           
•  Dictionary and Thesaurus - Merriam-Webster Online
•   Dictionary and Synonyms, Antonyms   Roget 
• Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia {Take care there are many unverified pages here.  Still a great source for fiction writing.}
• The Gregg Reference Manual Online Information Center    (I have the  Spiral-With-Flap Binding)   I'm not sure what is on line.
•  http://www.writesf.com/       writing course for science fiction and fantasy.   
• Calibre - E-book Management       Viewer and converter for e-books multi-format 
•  Adobe - Digital Editions   Viewer for xlibris e-books  (at least the ones they give me) 
•  Amazon Kindle for PC: Install Instructions     Viewer for kindle e-books
•  The Blue Book of Grammar and Punctuation  An afterthought to the first encounter with copy-editor.
•  Jim C. Hines » First Novel Survey Results And...the survey says!   
•  Getting Published, by Science Fiction author Jeffrey A. Carver       I had to include this because it just confused me.  He seems to suggest that self publishing is not good (though he is not a total negative person as regards this).  Still, looking at the bottom of his page, he advertises with a link for Xlibris and a few others.             
•   http://www.writesf.com/       writing course for science fiction and fantasy.      
•  AgentQuery :: Find the Agent Who Will Find You a Publisher    
•  http://www.writesf.com/   
•  The SF Site:
•  sff.net
•  SFWA 
•  Analog -- Submission Guidelines

J.L. Dobias Author of Cripple-Mode: Hot Electric

Review:At the Gates of the World's Rim by Shiva Winters.

At the Gates of the World's Rim by Shiva Winters.

What I like about Shiva is that not only is there no end to her imaginings but each book gets much better. This is not one of those series where the second book is less than the first and the third is having trouble getting up to par. No. She makes each one better than the previous and they read quite well so that you might shuffle them up while reading and not get too confused.

This installment begins to add to the already large dynamic family of Monorth. He and his sister now share a daughter through her partner. This is no ordinary young girl, its Monorth's offspring after all. We'll be seeing a lot more of her.

Monorth's name basis relationship with the gods is growing as the gods seem to be drawn into his life as though he's some sort of spiritual lightning rod. Nix and Monorth are getting into the serious business of visiting and mapping out the gates to all the worlds beyond the rim.

Monorth is still an outcast from the Salak'Patan so he's playing it all close to the vest but he's collecting such a vast library of knowledge that it's becoming evident that he shouldn't keep it to himself. He is going to have a tough time trusting others to handle it all .

Nix and his fire cats are beginning to also grow their family and as they start expanding out into more preserves he and Monorth soon discover there are other being such as the fire cats who seem to represent each of the godly elements. Monorth also seem to be collecting a number of the 7 legendary swords of the gods.

It's all leading up to a major turn of events.

If you like Science Fiction, Fantasy, steam-punk, furry stories, Sword and sorcery, and even a few fire breathing dragons. (to say nothing of the cats). These novels are for you and it would be a shame to let a few spelling errors spoil the best read of the year.

J.L. Dobias author of Cripple-Mode: Hot Electric

Touchstone Trilogy by Andrea K Host.
I purchased this book after reading a sample of Andrea K Host's -And all the Stars-. I had already put the three books in my wish list prior to that. But after reading that sample I had a feeling I should just buy the whole and totally unrelated trilogy. I read through them in three days.

People have told me that writing in first person is hard to do. They have given various reasons why it does not work and sometimes those reasons are conflicted. Some even suggest that it's this decades fad to write in first person. Because this is written as a diary it's naturally in first person. Andrea nails first person right on the head, and right out of the box.



Cass is such an engaging character in Stray that she sucks you right into her story at the beginning. There is not doubt of Andrea's world building abilities and her strong characterization. But what really got me in this story is in the chapter February when Cass's birthday arrives. And I'm not giving anything away, other than to honestly say I was so into Cass by then that I nearly cried. It's not often a book does that.

And then there was Lab Rat One. And by now this series is peopled with a couple of handfuls of characters that you would think you'd need a score card but there are more to come and Cass has a way of making sure we don't lose track of who is who. Or maybe I should say that Andrea does.

It doesn't take long before Andrea does it to me again. Even though Cass sometimes begins to sound a bit whinny I just get so into her whole dilemma that I can't help but feel what she must be feeling.

So by Caszandra the third installment, you would think I was steeled and ready to handle it. But, Andrea through Cass has a way of now drawing you into her life and the extended family of people around her.

This series of books is one powerhouse. Well told tightly packed. Emotionally charged.

But what really got me was how it all touched me. I would need more stars if I gave a star for every time I was greatly affected by this story.

Essential Reading in Science Fiction by David Scholes seems to be neither of these.

I purchased this e-book and I read these all straight through to the very end. I wouldn't call it science fiction as much as fantasy though it does contain a lot science fiction'y descriptions.

This appears to be a collection of 24 stories that could very well stand alone. Yet there is this convoluted thread that runs through them all to make it look like a disjointed effort to make a novel.



I say this because the first story has a character named Urrle who at one place gets miss-named as Earle. Earle seems to be a recurring character through out. And there are threads of Asgard myth's with Odin and Thor in prominence. And there is some almost faceless benevolent but non interfering alien race called the Brell. So, it becomes difficult at best to divorce these from one another. There are some other names recurring but often with disturbing conflicted time lines - such as Chris and Jenny.

This is what creates the rather disjointed whole at best.
It's not that these might not be good stories its just that my limited intelligence kept having me say "Huh" straight through to the end. I tried in my mind to break them up into their separate selves but that was just worse.

Here's a challenge for other readers- read this and tell me what it is really all about.

Shiva Winters - Of Forgotten Days and Lost World - continues to weave the magic of the Salak'Patan series.

The story picks up after the life changing and somewhat life shattering first book with Monorth out in the field trying to continue the work of rebuilding the Salak'Patan. As his reward he is subjected to backstabbing and treachery until he has no choice but to retire from that, which he has been so driven to complete.

So begins the wandering through the halls and out to the very Rim of the Empire. His ever strange sometimes dysfunctional family growing around him and their support for him also growing. Out on the Rim his destiny brings him to Phoenix or Nix as he calls himself. And I was almost fooled into thinking this was going to be another man with ultra intelligent cat stories of which many abound.

In a way it is. But the rich detail of the story- often confuse as Purple Prose- yet in fact it is Purple Patch. And for those who don't know- there is a difference. Purple prose detracts and takes from the story. Purple Patch enhances it with its poetic beauty. The consistent depth of the characters that walk through this story - though sometimes it seems they can do no wrong - are all painted with their own quirks that give this story its excitement and adventure and romance.

I've already warned those who are distracted by the occasional misspellings and grammatical errors so this time I'm going to rate the book on what it did for me.

It gave me a pleasant exciting good read filled with a patchwork of poetic beautiful worlds, characters and ideas. Getting us ready for the next great book.

I won't recommend this for everyone- but, then some of you are going to miss some really good stuff.

Keep them coming Shiva.

Book Review - Chasing Power by Genevieve Pearson

Chasing Power by Genevieve Pearson:Book Review

I really liked this book- that's a sort of mirroring of what that star selection says. I might have given into one more star but there were elements of the style that kept me rolling back to clarify what I'd just read. The sad thing is that I believe its the fault of the Kindle book and not the author.

Chasing Power is a really good book. It grabbed my interest and kept it most the way through. Though it took a while before I started seeing elements of something new or surprising. Some of the sequences were predictable such as Harry being thrown off from his protective guard duty by an attractive females uncanny attention to someone like Harry. Eventually though the author , Genevieve Pearson, shows her stuff as she begins to throw in a few twists to the plot.

I really enjoyed the main character, Samantha's, distrust of the others. Of course it's only fair that she doesn't trust Lane, Al, and Harry while she views them as her kidnappers. She has trust issues. I think that this was all handled well and the subsequent miscommunication because of mistrust was quite believable adding much to the story.

The one little issue- and it most cases it works just fine to use this style- is that there were whole sections of dialogue without any classifiers as to who was speaking. And though in most cases when I went back I could sort it out there were e-book related formatting problems that munged dialogue together at some of these points.

I'm certain this boarders on nit picking since it might work the other way for other readers who would be put off with the inclusion of too many he said- she said - cluttering the pages.

I recommend this book to anyone who reads Science Fiction or Fantasy or who loves those super hero graphic books. This has elements for all those people put together with some original plot twists and it's begging for a sequel.

Or maybe that's just me begging for the sequel.


J.L. Dobias Author of Cripple-Mode: Hot Electric

Book Review - If You're Human Don't Open The Door by Jennifer-Crystal Johnson & N. Jones

If Your're Human Don't Open The Door by Jennifer-Crystal Johnson & N. Jones

If You're Human Don't Open the Door is a collection of 4 stories of well crafted Terror and Horror.

Jennifer-Crystal Johnson (together with N.Jones) has written several chilling tales with a variety of female protagonists who have to quickly run the gamut from terror to horror to terror again. And Jennifer does it well. And, in keeping with the genre, things don't always work out for the hero. The tempo of each story is different as she takes us through;

Frozen moments of horror:

"I found that I, too, was frozen as I watched the creature seem to pulse and shake on top of him." -Emily The Day the Demons Danced

To moments of active Terror:

"I shut the door slowly and locked it. My knees grew weak and it was getting harder to breathe but I had to push onward. I felt faint. I looked to my left to see the washer and dryer there and rested a hand on the washer. My pulse began to increase. I had to move now before it was too late- too late. Wasn't it already too late?"-Emily The Day the Demons Danced

The final story is full of interesting imagery.

"I could feel millions of cuts on my body as I crashed through this curiously contradicting wall of the world, beautiful and painful, brilliance originating from a painful source, and an animal scream permeated the air and resonated throughout my bones, each laceration in my skin humming as if electrified."-Jennifer-Crystal Johnson Mirror Demon

In the short span that these stories allow, Jennifer finds a way to make the reader empathize with each of the main characters so that they find them selves mentally shouting don't open the door. In some cases the reader is taken on a sustained chain of thrill a minute gut wrenching terror. It's a good thing they were short stories.

On the other hand there were only four. I could have managed a few more. Maybe next time.

J.L. Dobias Author of Cripple-Mode: Hot Electric

Book Review - Shiva Winters:: Once Upon Another World

Shiva Winters Once Upon Another World

The title and the cover almost had me thinking 'fairy tale'.
Once I dove in feet first it was more like Zelazny's Amber series and Farmers Tier series rolled together and given a special Shiva Winters touch. Raven Sinclair is a powerful character well matched by his counterpart LeShana, who is not only lovely but also as powerful and kick-ass as Raven.

Suffice it to say, I loved this book, and there is only one reason I give it 4 stars instead of five. There are so many errors in spelling, grammar, and questionable usage of some words and missing words- sometimes extra words that just don't belong there. I can live with some of this in dialogue- no one speaks perfectly all the time. But it leaks heavily into the narrative portion and that gets me to believing that maybe those characters don't really speak that way either. This book is offered free, but as a representative of self publishing it could have used a bit of polish. (Another couple of pairs of eyes.)A number of people I know might toss this book down after the first 50 pages and that's their loss.

One thing I disagree with other people about is that an editor could have pared it down some. I'm not a fan of muting the authors voice. An edit will help the spelling grammar and other but the author's work should stand unless the author decides some portions might not be necessary or should be reworked. I did not see anything that just jumped out at me and said I don't belong here.

As it stands Once Upon Another World is a well packed novel with a fairly tight plot that has plenty of twists to keep the reader guessing. It also demonstrates some skill in world making that Shiva should be proud of. She has a writing style that I was comfortable with, though I'll need to read more of her work to see if the style changes as she becomes more polished.

If this book ever goes to paper print copy I would suggest a strong look at some editing and a signed copy for me.
Bravo! For an awesome first novel.

J.L. Dobias Author of Cripple-Mode: Hot Electric

Book Review : Vivid by Andrea Murray

Vivid by Andrea Murray : Book Review

The novel Vivid by Andrea Murray is definitely YA though I would add Mature to that- that's just me.

There are some familiar elements- that's not a bad thing - in fact it made my hair stand on end to see Vivian and her friend Abby in high school facing the usual angst that life dishes out plus being the target of Trista and the bully elite. When Vivian displays some rather remarkable powers that's when the chills start and I got shades of Stephen Kings Carrie.

Fortunately we have Easton Garrett and Cooper McNeal to ground them. These fellows are almost unbelievable. That might be why it takes the girls so much time to figure out that they are real.

Just when things begin to look like they are getting better Vivian discovers her families dark secrets and it supplies some answers to some rather frightening memories she's been having. Vivian is beside herself trying to keep her secrets and live a normal life. But, prom is on the way and we all know what that could lead to.

Because she's been using her powers- even though its sparingly- she's running the potential for putting a pin on the map for some very bad people.

By the time things get rough we have moved on into something similar to Stephen Kings FireStarter and the feeling that this could get really bad.

And though I mentally draw these similarities Vivian and the people surrounding her are nothing like the characters in those other books. Andrea Murray uses her knowledge to draw us into the lives of some convincing teens trying to deal with their normal lives while they get thrust into something that is far from normal.

By the end of the story you will definitely want to know what is going to happen in the next of the trilogy.


J.L. Dobias Author of Cripple-Mode: Hot Electric

Book Review - Fifth Man

Fifth Man by John B. Olson & Randy Ingermanson

Having been surprised to find the Fifth Man in e-book I devoured it in one day.


I love that John and Randy put their definition of High Concept in the back of the book.

It's quite different from the other definitions I've seen.

I liked the story and it was a page turner for me. I'm not sure that it was because of the High Concept.[even by their definition.]

It reminded me of the survivor and big brother reality shows.
I don't watch reality shows much.

But over all the interaction worked to keep my interest so I must not be averse.

I suppose that the finger pointing in both settings kept the excitement going but you'd have expected by this time they'd learned some lesson from the flight out in Oxygen.

[minor spoilers here and below]
Some of the more die-hard fans might raise a fuss about communication taking 40 min while the robots often appear to react too appropriate to the moment as though they are getting instructions instantaneously from long distances.

In most cases I could resolve it in my mind to mostly serendipity.

The excitement was a lot like the movie leviathan and It was perfect that they ended it mostly with rational explanations for almost everything.

I really did like it despite my apparent tone above and I can at least say that I read this from cover to cover without judging it by its cover or its blurb.

Which is something that can't be said about everyone.

Book Review - Once We Were Human

Once We Were Human by Randall Allen Farmer

"When I screamed myself awake, nothing had changed. Metal cot. Straitjacket. Legs shackled together. A single tiny light bulb on the ceiling, behind a metal cage, bright enough to hurt my eyes."

Farmer, Randall (2011-11-09). Once We Were Human (The Commander) (Kindle Locations 39-41). MajorTransform Unlimited. Kindle Edition.

For me this is where the book begins. There is some preface and it does have relevance. But, as a reader the line above is where the story grabbed hold of me and began to draw me in.

There seems to be some discussion about genre- I have no qualms with calling this Science Fiction. There were many similarities that I could draw between this and the Novel Darwin's Radio. And for anyone who liked that book this book will be a satisfying read to you. For those who felt as I did that Darwin's Radio had a tendency to dwell too much on the stale scientific end of things ;then this book will not disappoint you.

There are some similarities- but mostly about the conjecture that there is some disease involved in what is happening.

This book is what I would term an Alternate Universe story - the story takes place in the 1960s. And in many places there are hints at speculation that what is happening may have happened one or more times in the past. This might create a feeling that its dwelling on myth and fantasy, but I believe as with other books like this it still stand strongly in the category of Alternate Universe Science Fiction. I'm not sure that it needed to be in the 60s, but it was a good place for these characters to be coming from.

In this story the reluctant Heroine is thrust into a nightmare that she would only relegate to what in her mind was the worst of sinners and criminals. She has to face her own prejudice and self loathing in order to cope with what she's become. And all around her are the barriers and abutments of a society that is living in fear of what she and others like her represent.

Randall Farmer takes us into our own paranoid 60s and creates some believable characters who are all working sometimes at odds with each other to try to contain something they can't begin to understand.

It's been a while since someone has written a novel that has kept me as engrossed in the story and immersed in the characters. This was both a thoughtful and fun read that I had difficulty putting down. There's a lot of room left for the next story in the series. I shall move to that after I catch my breath.

Book Reviews

Short Reviews of Other Peoples Work

Funny thing: I ran across this book while looking for a book someone had described to me and could not name the author or title. This is not the book they were talking about but it had most of their description. This is a story of pocket universes created through the application of matrioshka arrays and a man and his pet cat who is an AI Avatar for the larger AI that runs the displays. In this story the main character is an architect who just happens to be studying the Implied Spaces that were created when these world were designed. (Those spaces create in a sort of accident of design while the architects are setting the structures and features of their normal designs.) His quest for a simple understanding of these spaces and the flora and fauna that have populated them thrust him and his AI avatar into an adventure across the arrays. An adventure that threatens their lives and the continued existence of the arrays. Though it builds slow. It starts out with a sword and sorcery motif in one of the pocket worlds. It quickly builds up steam and when the mains plot kicks in it grabs your attention.

Having never read this before I jumped at the opportunity to grab up the E-book of Legions of Space by Keith Laumer. Once again Keith pulls through with a timeless tale. This time he rivals Robert Heinlein with a flawed hero who pulls out all stops to stay alive. No matter how hard life has kicked him Legion has a way of surviving and eventually coming out on top. This has a bit of Heinlein's Glory Road and Philip Jose Farmers Green Odyssey. Told only the way Keith Laumer can tell it.

The Making of Legend by Richard Barrs was a fine add to my E-book collection. If you like the old Robert Heinlein and are a fan of The Last Starfighter and other such movies you should love this book. Making of Legend has the making of a new universe of endless tales. The protagonist in this installment is a bit full of himself and has a long way to go to grow up. Pick this book up and you'll see how that works out in a one night read.

This book took me by surprise. The main character was someone who I found so engaging I could relate to her immediately. And the story is peopled with a magnificent supporting cast. There may be a few distractions from errors,(even with a good copy-edit it is hard to get them all) but not enough to ruin the story. Bravo on a first novel. Looking forward to the next. Did someone call for a sequel? I concur.

I'm not a fan of Distopia stories. But I was pointed at After Things Went Bad and decided to give it a chance. My thought is that if you took Rod Serlings Twilight Zone and a bit of Ray Bradbury and blended it up you might come out with this. Some times the writing style is a bit rough but it works because these are gritty stories. They showcase some things about human nature even if it's parts of human nature that aren't too flattering. They are little chunks out of someones daily life. But they hit their point hard and make you think. Still not a fan of Distopia.

I picked up the E-book Retief by Keith Laumer and of course could not resist re-reading stories I've read before. I never tire of reading the stories of this hard hitting diplomat with a penchant for tongue in cheek humor. What I find the most interesting is how they seem to stand the test of time. I can read these stories with the same awe I had for them back in the 60's. I suppose that's because they are more about diplomacy than about science fiction. Anyone who likes Science Fiction containing those suave cut through the red tape action hero's will love this collection.

I acquired Goblin Moon by Teresa Edgerton recently in E-book format. I found it to be entertaining. If you are a fan of Dumas, Dickens, and Tolkien. You'll love this. Add a bit of Shelly and you round it out. The richness of description of the world of the Goblin Moon are reminiscent of Charles Dickens. While the lead Female character would be likened to Little Dorrit. The depth of intrigue is similar to the work of Alexander Dumas. The Male lead is in someways like the Count of Monte Cristo. Throughout is a thread of theme which is like Mary Shelly's Frankenstein. Toss some Dwarves and Goblins into the mix and you'll have trouble putting this one down.