So Many Books - So Little Time
My Review:
The Moon in the Mango Tree is a beautifully written story about a woman’s pursuit of her own identity while remaining dedicated to her marriage and the man she loves. Set against the backdrop of Siam and later Europe, the narrative chronicles Barbara’s life as the wife of a missionary doctor in the remote jungle area of Nan and then the bright social life of Bangkok. Her growing discontent with her growing sense of inadequacy sends her on a quest to find her dream of a music career.
Ms. Ewen masterfully crafts this tale with descriptive prose about the people, the countryside, and the customs of Siam as well as Barbara’s inner thoughts and emotions. I found myself caring about Barbara and Harvey and was anxious to learn what choices Barbara would make.
I would recommend The Moon in the Mango Tree, especially to those who love historical fiction.
About the Book:
Based upon a true story. Barbara Bond is beautiful, talented, smart, and she’s trained for years to sing grand opera. But for the average woman in 1919 the idea of a career outside the home was a leap into the unknown. She marries Harvey Perkins, a medical missionary, sets aside her career for the moment-she believes-and travels with him into the jungles of Siam. There she struggles with her faith and the mission, all the while becoming enchanted with the local people and their culture. Soon her love for Harvey is tested by a secret that rises between them. After several years they move to Bangkok, where Harvey is a royal physician. Life glitters here, but still she longs to sing. Can she have it all-Harvey and a career? It’s the roaring twenties: Bangkok, Paris, Lausanne, and finally Rome. Here, alone in the shadow of Harvey’s secret, Barbara faces the harsh choice between music and love.
But when you choose between two things you love, one is lost.
Based on a true story.
“You will feel the oppressive heat of the jungle, the furious love between a man and a woman, and the feelings of loneliness from living with a man who is bound by duty to give his all to his patients while having little left to give at home. Placed in a time of fun, loud parties, and impressive party guests, The Moon in the Mango Tree makes you feel like you have stepped back in time, and right into the action.”
(Kathy Fisher) The Romance Readers Connection.
About the Author:
Until recently retiring to write full time, Pamela Binnings Ewen was a partner in the Houston office of the international law firm of BakerBotts, L.L.P., specializing in corporate finance. She now lives just outside New Orleans in Mandeville, Louisiana with her husband, James Lott. She has served on the Board of Directors of Inprint, Inc., a non-profit organization supporting the literary arts in Houston, and is on the Board of Directors of The Pirate’s Alley Faulkner Society in New Orleans.
Pamela’s first novel, Walk Back The Cat (Broadman & Holman. May, 2006) is the story of an embittered and powerful clergyman who learns an ancient secret, confronting him with truth and a choice that may destroy him. She is also the best-selling author of the acclaimed non-fiction book Faith On Trial, published by Broadman & Holman in 1999, currently in its third printing. Although it was written for non-lawyers, Faith On Trial was also chosen as a text for a course on law and religion at Yale Law School in the Spring of 2000, along with The Case For Christ by Lee Stroble. Continuing the apologetics begun in Faith On Trial, Pamela also appears with Gary Habermas, Josh McDowell, Darrell Bock, Lee Stroble, and others in the film Jesus: Fact or Fiction, a Campus Crusade for Christ production. Her new novel, The Moon In The Mango Tree (B&H Publishing Group, May 2008) will be available next spring. Set in the 1920’s and based on a true story, it is about a woman faced with making a choice between career and love, and her search for faith over the glittering decade.
Pamela is the latest writer to emerge from a Louisiana family recognized for its statistically improbable number of successful authors. A cousin, James Lee Burke, who won the Edgar Award, wrote about the common ancestral grandfathers in his Civil War novel White Dove At Morning. Among other writers in the family are Andre Dubus (Best Picture Oscar nomination for The Bedroom; his son, Andre Dubus III, author of The House of Sand and Fog, Best Picture Oscar nomination and an Oprah pick; Elizabeth Nell Dubus (the Cajun trilogy); and Alafair Burke, just starting out with the well received Samantha Kincaid mystery series. Pamela is currently working on a new book titled Dancing on Glass, which was recently short-listed as a finalist for the 2007 Faulkner/Wisdom creative writing novel award.
My Review:
I recently read the first two episodes of The Star-Fighters of Murphy Street by Robert West. Both books were entertaining with enough action, interesting people, strange creatures, and mysteries to keep most kids in the target age group interested. The books are a fun read. My only concern is that the books are classified as Christian fiction and there is very little mention of God. I would recommend these books for your children for good, clean entertainment.
About the Author:
Robert West grew up in Indianapolis where he played football, enjoyed annual trips to the time trials for the Indy 500 and generally survived life as a PK: “Preacher’s Kid.” He eventually migrated to California (sort of the opposite of Beamer, who left California for Middle America) where he worked as Theatre Director at Pepperdine University in Malibu. Since then he has imported antiques, worked in the film industry as a story editor and associate producer, been a computer programmer, made architectural models, sold real estate, written radio commercials…and along the way raised three sons.
Rob lives with his wife and family near Los Angeles. He is active in music and dramatic ministries with his local church and frequently appears as an actor with several regional theatrical companies. He can also be found, on occasion, in the tree house shaped like a ship that he built with his sons in the back yard.
There’s a Spaceship in My Tree!
Beamer, age 13, who speaks only Californian, is an alien in the world of Middle America, exiled to a bizarre, ancient house on a mysterious street that may or may not exist on any map. With the help of a nerdy African-American kid named Ghoulie, a gangly tomboy named Scilla, and a miraculous, broken-down tree house shaped like a spaceship, he battles the indigenous life forms in his new home, from bullying creatures to the strange inhabitants of dark castles, subterranean caverns, and a spider web the size of a house, to discover how God gives a distinctive purpose to each uniquely designed human being.
From the Back Cover
Know Your Star-Fighters
Beamer: California transplant to a weird Midwestern town. Feels like hes living on another planet. Scilla: the gangly tomboy next door. Ghoulie: the class nerd.
Add one spaceship-shaped tree house capable of taking them most anywhere in the universe. Hop in and blast off for fantastic outer space adventures in Star-Fighters of Murphy Streetthe quirky, funny, fast-paced new trilogy by Robert West.
Newly arrived from California, thirteen-year-old Beamer MacIntyre feels like an alien in this bizarre Midwestern town. Strangest of all is the spaceship-shaped tree house in his yard. Surprises await Beamer and his two new friends, Ghoulie and Scilla, when they climb inside and blast off to a universe full of adventureincluding a surefire way to make the school bully stop harassing Ghoulie (provided it doesnt backfire!).
Attack of the Spider Bots
Beamer, age 13, who speaks only Californian, is an alien in the world of Middle America, exiled to a bizarre, ancient house on a mysterious street that may or may not exist on any map. With the help of a nerdy African-American kid named Ghoulie, a gangly tomboy named Scilla, and a miraculous, broken-down tree house shaped like a spaceship, he battles the indigenous life forms in his new home, from bullying creatures to the strange inhabitants of dark castles, subterranean caverns, and a spider web the size of a house, to discover how God gives a distinctive purpose to each uniquely designed human being.
From the Back Cover
Newly arrived from California, thirteen-year-old Beamer MacIntyre feels like an alien in this bizarre Midwestern town. Strangest of all is the spaceship-shaped tree house in his yard. Surprises await Beamer and his two new friends, Ghoulie and Scilla, when they climb inside and blast off to a universe full of adventureincluding a surefire way to make the school bully stop harassing Ghoulie (provided it doesnt backfire!).
MARK ANDREW OLSEN whose novel The Assignment was a Christy Award finalist, also collaborated on bestsellers Hadassah (now the major motion picture: One Night With the King), The Hadassah Covenant, and Rescued. His last novel was the supernatural thriller The Watchers.
The son of missionaries to France, Mark is a Professional Writing graduate of Baylor University. He and his wife, Connie, live in Colorado Springs with their three children.
ABOUT THE BOOK:
A failed recon mission deep in the tunnels of Afghanistan has provoked a demonic onslaught that had been brewing for centuries. The mission’s sole survivor is reformed black ops assassin Dylan Hatfield, and he once again teams up with Abby Sherman, now at the helm of the Watchers, an ancient spiritual force. Uncovering and preventing a secret wave of death whispered across cyberspace and threatening to be unleash against civilization will require another level of spiritual power and expertise–the Warriors.
Journeying across the Alps of Europe through the multilayered history of warfare in the unseen world, Dylan and Abby uncover an age-old stone engraving that rouses the church’s Warriors to action, placing them dead center in one of the fiercest spiritual battles of their time!
And once again they are reminded: This is all part of a vast and perpetual war, a war beyond all human conflicts, one that has engulfed heaven and earth since before the dawn of history….
Abby Sherman is headed back to Israel, where a Watcher, the Sentinel of Jerusalem, lies dying. In her last breaths the old woman tells Abby of an ancient document prophesying humanity’s full-scale entry into the ongoing conflict between armies of heaven and fallen angels.
Dylan Hatfield has decided to answer a summons from his old boss and join a secret operation, its mission to reconnoiter the Afghani tunnel complex from which Osama bin Laden escaped in 2001. What he discovers sears his very soul and likely will end his life.
Abby learns of the peril facing Dylan, and she sends out a call for intercession on his behalf. Her frantic email message sets in motion a series of harrowing events, propelling the two on a new mission and quest–one where the stakes are the lives of millions!
The Warriors is packed with high-octane action, featuring exotic international locales, with characters in a clash against spiritual “principalities and powers” with eternal consequences, The Warriors is a story that will enthrall, enlighten, and engage its readers.
If that piques your interest, you can read the first chapter HERE
“Olsen, one of the better writers in this subgenre, delivers powerful, action-packed plots that delve into mystical paranormal worlds.”
~Library Journal, Feb. 2008
“Olsen delivers an entertaining thriller likely to be enjoyed especially by fans of the spiritual warfare genre.”
~PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
And here’s the complete list of everyone posting for The Warriors on this tour! Go visit their sites to see what CFBA bloggers have to say!
Amy at sprightly
Amy at My Life
Andie at frommipov
Angela at One Baby, Seven Dogs, and a Mommy
April at Projecting A
April at Living In A State Of Constant Kansas
Becky at Savvy Mom
Beth at The Write Message
Betsy Ann at Betsy Ann “Writer at Large!”
Bonnie at Bonnie Writes
Brandilyn at Forensics and Faith
Brittanie at A Book Lover
Caleb at Reviews Plus+
Camy at Camy Tang
Cara at the law, books, and life
Carol at Blogging With Carol
CeeCee at Book Splurge
Chris at Chris Wells: Learning Curve
Christy at My Life in Words…Books…
Dave at Dave Rhoades
Dave at Novel Spotlight
Deborah at books, movies and chinese food
Debra at Soul Reflections
Deena at A Peek At My Bookshelf
Delia at Gatorskunkz And Mudcats
Dineen at Kittens Come From Eggs
E.J at Sword and Pen
Edyth at Great Reads by Jasmine
Ernie at Writing: My Adventures In Words
Georgiana at Georgiana D
Gina at Upon Reflection
Gretchen at Inspire Me
Janis at The Nearsighted Bookworm
Janna at Cornhusker Academy
Jennifer at So Many Books…So Little Time
Jill at Christian Work At Home Moms
Jim B. at The Bedford Review
Jim T. at One Small Stone–CFBA Book Reviews
Joleen at timetotalk
Karen at Mommy of Three
Karla at Ramblin’ Roads To Everywhere
Kelly at A Disciple’s Steps
Kim at Window To My World
Kimberly at QuiddamChickee To Save The Day
Krista at Welcome To Married Life
Laura at Laura William’s Musings
Lauren at Wren Reviews
Leah at Ponderings From My Heart
Lundie at Lundie’s Life
Lynnae at Lynnae’s Bookshelf
Margaret at Creative Madness
Marjorie at The Writer’s Tool
Michelle at Edgy Inspirational Author
Michelle at Just A Minute
Michelle at Michelle’s Great Blogs
Mimi at Mimi’s Pixie Corner
Pam at Daysong Reflections
Peg at Sips ‘n Cups Cafeteria
Rachelle at Stifled Squeal
Rel at Relz Reviewz
Ruth at Booktalk & more…
Sabrina at Hijinks From The Heartland
Sarah at PrsGodAlways
Sean at Bookmark Cafe
Sherry at Everything Moms
Stacy at Vader’s Mom
Susan at His Reading List
Takiela at Beauty 4 Ashes
Tami at Tree Swing Reading
Tara at Tara’s View Of The World
Todd at A Place Called Fiction
Tricia at It’s Real Life
Trish at Books and Book Reviews
Virginia at CeCe Lane
Be sure and check out my April 25 review.
April 15, 2008 : Lacy Williams at http://www.novelinspirations.com
April 16, 2008 : Donna Moore at http://writebyfaith.blogspot.com
April 17, 2008 : Carolyn Strawder at http://www.quiettimewithcarolyn.com/Serenity
April 18, 2008 : Margaret Daley at http://margaretdaley.blogspot.com/
April 19, 2008 : Debbie Archer at http://debbiearcher.blogspot.com
April 20, 2008 : Brittanie Terrell at http://abookloverforever.blogspot.com
April 21, 2008 : Gina Conroy at http://portraitofawriter.ginaconroy.com http://ginawrites.ginaconroy.com http://writerinterrupted.com
April 22, 2008 : Justin Boyer at http://fantastyfreak.blogspot.com
April 23, 2008 : Charlotte Schofield at http://burnforgod.blogspot.com/
April 24, 2008 : LaShaunda Hoffman at http://lashaunda.blogspot.com, http://blog.myspace.com/lchoffman
April 25, 2008 : Jenny at http://ausjenny.blogspot.com/
April 26, 2008 : Laura Williams at http://laurawilliamsmusings.blogspot.com/
April 27, 2008 : Mrs. Margaret Chind at http://cherryblossommj.blogspot.com
April 28, 2008 : Antionette V. Lee at http://tonivlee.blogspot.com
April 29, 2008 : Myra Johnson at http://myra.typepad.com/randomly_/
April 30, 2008 : Laura Hilton at http://www.shoutlife.com/laurahilton http://www.myspace.com/lightboat http://lighthouse-academy.blogspot.com/
May 1, 2008 : Leslie Sowell at http://footprintsinthesand.us/blog
May 2, 2008 : Kathy Brasby at http://sunballo.blogspot.com
May 3, 2008 : Camy Tang at http://www.camys-loft.blogspot.com/
May 4, 2008 : Karla Cook at http://ramblinroadstoeverywhere.blogspot.com
May 5, 2008 : Carla Stewart at http://www.carlastewart.blogspot.com/
May 6, 2008 : Pamela Morrison at http://daysongreflections.com
May 7, 2008 : Ashley at http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/01charger
May 8, 2008 : Kim Ford at http://berlysue.blogspot.com
May 9, 2008 : Christa Allen at http://www.cballan.wordpress.com/
May 10, 2008 : Heather Thomas at http://misadventuresofthedynamicuno.blogspot.com
May 11, 2008 : Deena Peterson at http://deenasbooks.blogspot.com/
May 12, 2008 : Michelle Kralicek at http://michellesgreatblogs.blogspot.com/
May 13, 2008 : Leah Sande at http://ponderingsfrommyheart.blogspot.com/
May 14, 2008 : Rachelle Arlin Credo at http://zyphe.blogspot.com
May 15, 2008 : Amy Lathrop at http://sprightly-amyanne.blogspot.com
May 16, 2008 : Janna Ryan at www.cornhuskeracademy.blogspot.com
May 17, 2008 : Kristy Walker at http://ineedtoread.blogspot.com/
May 18, 2008 : Amy Riley at http://thefriendlybooknook.com
May 19, 2008 : Mimi Baker at http://www.wovenbywords.blogspot.com
May 20, 2008 : Kathie Nolasco at http://takingastroll.blogspot.com
May 21, 2008 : Julia Graham at http://www.reviewzbyjewelz.blogspot.com
May 22, 2008 : Ashley Rutherford at http://godslightuponme.blogspot.com
It is May FIRST, time for the FIRST Blog Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an author and his/her latest book’s FIRST chapter!
It is May FIRST, time for the FIRST Blog Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an author and his/her latest book’s FIRST chapter!
Today’s feature author is:
and her book:
Navpress Publishing Group (February 15, 2008)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Lisa Samson is the author of twenty books, including the Christy Award-winning Songbird. Apples of Gold was her first novel for teens
These days, she’s working on Quaker Summer, volunteering at Kentucky Refugee Ministries, raising children and trying to be supportive of a husband in seminary. (Trying . . . some days she’s downright awful. It’s a good thing he’s such a fabulous cook!) She can tell you one thing, it’s never dull around there.
Other Novels by Lisa:
Hollywood Nobody, Straight Up, Club Sandwich, Songbird, Tiger Lillie, The Church Ladies, Women’s Intuition: A Novel, Songbird, The Living End
Visit her at her website.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Hollywood Nobody: Sunday, June 4
Well, Nobodies, it’s a wrap! Jeremy’s latest film, yet another remake of The Great Gatsby, now titled Green Light, has shipped out from location and will be going into postproduction. Look for it next spring in theaters. It may just be his most widely distributed film yet with Annette Bening on board. Toledo Island will never be the same after that wacky bunch filled in their shores.
Today’s Hottie Watch: Seth Haas has moved to Hollywood. An obscure film he did in college, Catching Regina’s Heels (a five-star film in my opinion), was mentioned on the Today show last week. He was interviewed on NPR’s Fresh Air. Hmm. Could it be he’ll receive the widespread acclaim he deserves before the release of Green Light? For his sake and the film’s, I hope so.
Rehab Alert: I’ve never hidden the fact that I don’t care for bratty actress Karissa Bonano, but she just checked into rehab for a cocaine addiction. Her maternal grandfather, Doug Fairmore, famous in the forties for swashbuckling and digging up clues, made a public statement declaring the Royal Family of Hollywood was “indeed throwing all of our love, support, and prayers behind Karissa.” The man must be a thousand years old by now. This isn’t Ms. Bonano’s first stint in rehab, but let’s hope it’s her last. Even I’m not too catty to wish her well in this battle. But I’m as skeptical as the next person. In Hollywood, rehab is mostly just a fad.
Today’s Quote: “It’s a scientific fact. For every year a person lives in Hollywood, they lose two points of their IQ.” Truman Capote
Today’s Rant: SWAG, or Party Favors. Folks, do you ever wonder what’s inside those SWAG bags the stars get? Items which, if sold, could feed a third-world country for a week! And have you noticed how the people who can afford to buy this stuff seem to get it for free? I’m just sayin’. So here’s my idea, stars: Refuse to take these high-priced bags o’ stuff and gently suggest the advertisers give to a charitable organization on behalf of the movie, the stars, the whoever. Like you need another cell phone.
Today’s Kudo: Violette Dillinger will be appearing on the MTV Video Music Awards in August. She told Hollywood Nobody she’s going to prove to this crowd you can be young, elegant, decent, and still rock out. Go Violette!
Summer calls. Later!
Monday, September 15, 4:00 a.m.
Maybe I’m looking for the wrong thing in a parent.
I turn over in bed at the insistence of Charley’s forefinger poking me in the shoulder. “Please tell me you’ve MapQuested this jaunt, Charley.”
She shakes her tousled head, silhouetted by the yellow light emanating from the RV’s bathroom. “You’re kidding me right?” She slides off the dinette seat. Charley’s been overflowing with relief since she told me the truth about our life: that she’s not really my mother, but my grandmother, that somebody’s chasing us for way too good of a reason, that my life isn’t as boring as I thought. We’re still being chased, but Charley can at least breathe more freely in her home on the road now that I know the truth.
Home in this case happens to be a brand-spanking-new Trailmaster RV, a huge step forward from the ancient Travco we used to have, the ancient Travco with a rainbow Charley spread in bright colors over its nose.
“Where to?” Having set my vintage cat glasses, love ‘em, on my nose, I scramble my hair into its signature ponytail: messy, curly, and frightening. I can so picture myself in the Thriller video.
“Marshall, Texas.”
“East Texas?”
“I guess.”
“It is.” I shake my head. Charley. I love her, I really do, but when it comes to geography, despite the fact that we’ve traveled all over the country going to her gigs ever since I can remember, she’s about as intelligent as a bottle of mustard. And boy do I know a lot about bottles of mustard. But that was my last adventure.
“If you knew, then why did you ask?” She flips the left side of her long, blonde hair, straighter than Russell Crowe, over her shoulder. Charley’s beautiful. Silvery blonde (she uses a cheap rinse to cover up the gray), thin (she’s vegan), and a little airy (she’s frightened of a lot and tries not to think about anything else that may scare her), she wears all sorts of embroidered vests and large skirts and painted blue jeans. And they’re all the real deal, because Charley’s an environmentalist and wouldn’t dream of buying something she didn’t need when what she’s got is wearing perfectly well. She calls my penchant for vintage clothing “recycling,” and I don’t disagree.
“Is this really a gig, Charley, or are we escaping again?”
She shakes her head. “No phone call. I really do have a job.”
I feel the thrill of fear inside me, though there’s no need right now. Biker Guy almost got me back on Toledo Island. (Yeah, he looks like a grizzled old biker.) To call the guy rough around the edges would be like saying Pam Anderson has had “a little work done.”
I’ve been looking over my shoulder ever since.
But more on that later. We need to get on the road. And I need to get on with my life. I’m so sick of thinking about how things aren’t nearly what I’d like them to be.
I mean, do you ever get tired of hearing yourself complain?
I flip up my laptop, log on to the satellite Internet I installed (yes, I am that geeky) and Google directions to Marshall, Texas, from where we are in Theta, Tennessee—actually, on the farm of one of Charley’s old art-school friends who gave her some work in advertising for the summer. Charley’s a food stylist, which means she makes food look good for the camera. Still cameras, motion picture cameras, video, it doesn’t matter. Charley can do it all.
“Oh, we’ve got plenty of time, Charley. Five hundred and fifty miles and . . . we have to go through Memphis . . .”
My verbal drop-off is a dead giveaway.
“Oh, no, Scotty, we’re not going to Graceland again.”
The kitsch that is Graceland speaks to me. What can I say?
And you’ve got to admit, it’s starting to look vintage. Now ten years ago . . .
I cross my arms. “Do you have cooking to do on the way?”
Yes, highly illegal to cook in a rolling camper.
“Yeah, I do.”
“And do you expect me, an unlicensed sixteen-year-old, to drive?” Again, highly illegal, but Charley’s a free spirit. However, she refuses to copy CDs and DVDs, so in that regard, she’s more moral than most people. I guess it evens up in the end.
“Uh-huh.”
“Then I think I deserve a trip through the Jungle Room.”
She rolls her eyes, reaches down to the floor, and throws me my robe. “Oh, all right. Just don’t take too long.”
“I’ll try. So.” I look at the screen. “65 to route 40 west. Let’s hit it. And we’ll have time to stop for breakfast.”
Charley shakes her head and plops down on the tan dinette bench. The interior of this whole RV is a nice sandy tan with botanical accents. Tasteful and so much better than the old Travco that looked like a cross between a genie’s bottle and the Unabomber cabin. “You’re going to eat cheese. Aren’t you?”
“I sure am.”
And Charley can’t say anything, because months ago she told me this was a decision I could make on my own.
Freedom!
“I’ve rethought the cheese moratorium, baby. I know you’re not going to like this, but three months of cheese is enough. I can’t imagine what your arteries look like. I think it’s time to stop.”
“What?” Cheese is my life. “Charley! You can’t do this to me.”
“It’s for your own good.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Why?”
“Because summer’s over, baby, and we’ve got to get back to a better way of life.”
I could continue to argue, but it won’t do any good. Charley acts all hippie and egalitarian, but when push comes to shove, she’s the boss. However, I’m great at hiding my cheese . . . and . . . I’m going to convince her eventually.
But still.
“This isn’t right, Charley, and you know it. But it’s too early to argue. And might I add, you have no idea what it’s like to have a teen with real teen issues. You ought to be on your knees thanking God I’m not drinking, smoking, pregnant, or”—I was going to say sneaking out at night, but I’ve done that, just to get some space—”or writing suicidal poetry on the Internet!”
We stare at each other, then burst into laughter.
“Just humor me this time, baby,” she says. “We’ll come back to it soon, I promise.”
I don’t believe her, but I hop into the driver’s seat, pull up the brake, throw the TrailMama into drive, and we are off.
Six hours later
I pull through Graceland’s gatehouse at ten a.m., park near the back of the compound’s cracked, tired parking lot, and change into some crazy seventies striped bell-bottoms, a poet shirt, and Charley’s old crocheted, granny-square vest. Normally I go further back in my vintage-wear, but I’m trying to go with the groove that is Graceland.
I kiss Charley’s cheek. “I’ll be back by noon.”
“When will that put us in Marshall?”
“By six thirty.”
“Because I’m not sure where the shoot is.”
“Please. Marshall’s small. Jeremy and company will make a big splash no matter where they set up. Besides, growing up around this, I have a nose for it.”
She awards me one of her big smiles. “You’re somethin’, baby. I forget that sometimes.” She puts her arms around me, squeezes, pulls back, then smacks me lightly on my behind. “Tell Elvis I said hello.”
“Oh, I will. He’s one of the groundskeepers now, you know.”
I’ve seen computer-generated pictures of what he would look like now, in his seventies. Scary.
I jump down from the RV, head across the parking lot, over the small bridge leading into the ticketing complex and walk by Elvis’s jets, including the Lisa Marie. Gotta love anything with that name. Don’t know why. Just has a nice ring to it.
Banners proclaim, “Elvis Is.”
Is what? Dead? A legend? What? Because he isn’t “izzing” as far as I’m concerned. Present tense, people! If the person’s not alive, “is” can only be followed by a few options: Buried up in the memorial garden. Rotting in his casket. Missed by his family and friends. Not exactly banner copy, mind you.
Still, you’ve got to admit the name Elvis wreaks of cool. Perhaps the sign should read, “Elvis Is . . . A Really Cool Name.”
But it’s not nearly as cool as my name. You see, my real mother loved the writer F. Scott Fitzgerald. And that’s my name: Francis Scott Fitzgerald Dawn. Only Dawn’s not my actual last name. I don’t know what my real last name is. My real first name is Ariana. Being on the run, Charley renamed us to protect our identity. So she honored my mother by naming me after Mom’s favorite novelist. More on that later too.
It sounds fun, traveling on the road from film shoot to film shoot, never settling down in one place for too long, but honestly, it’s very sad.
I always knew Charley lived with a sadness down deep, and when I found out why this spring, her sadness became mine. See, my dad is dead and my mother, Charley’s daughter Babette, is too. Or we think she must be, because she disappeared under questionable circumstances and never came back. Learn that when you’re fifteen and see where you land.
When I thought Charley was my mother, I had such high hopes for who my father might be. Al Pacino was number one in the ranking. Don’t ask.
Okay, Elvis, here we go. Let’s you and me be “taking care of business.”
I hand over my money to the lady behind the reservations counter. I called thirty minutes ago on my cell phone, compliments of my mother’s friend Jeremy, and reserved a spot.
“You’ll be on the first tour.”
Yes! More time amid the shag carpeting and the gold records. And the jumpsuits. Can’t forget the jumpsuits. I want a cape too.
The gift shop calls to me. Confession: I love gift shops. They even smell sparkly. Key chains dangling, saying, “You can take me with you wherever you go!” Mugs with the Saint Louis Gateway Arch or the Grand Ole Opry promising an even better cup of coffee. Earrings that advertise you’ve been somewhere. That’s exactly what I choose while I wait for the tour, a little pair of dangly red guitars with the words Elvis Presley in gold script on the bodies, and how in the world they put that on so small is beyond me. See, gift shops can even be miraculous if you take your time and look.
A voice over the loudspeaker announces my tour number, so I stand in line. By myself. Just me in a group of twenty or so.
Okay, here is where it gets hard to be me. I know I should be thankful for my free-spirited life. But especially now that I know my parents are dead, it feels empty all of a sudden. I shouldn’t be standing in line at Graceland alone. My mother and I should be giggling behind our hands at the man nearby who’s actually grown a glorious pair o’ mutton-chop sideburns, slicked back his salt-and-pepper curls, and shrugged his broad shoulders into a leather jacket. Really, right? My father, who was an FBI agent the mob shot right in a warehouse in Baltimore, would shake his head like a dad in a sixties TV show and laugh at his girls.
We’d get on the bus like I’m doing now, each of us putting on our tour headphones and hanging the little blue recorders around our necks in anticipation of the glory that is Elvis.
The driver welcomes us as he shuts the hydraulic doors of the little tour bus with its clean blue upholstery, a bus in which an assisted-living home might haul its residents to the mall.
It smells new in here, and my gross-out antennae aren’t vibrating in the least like they do when I go into an old burger joint and the orange melamine booth hasn’t been scrubbed since the place opened in 1987.
In my fantasy, my dad would sit beside me. And Mom, just across the aisle, holding onto the seatback in front of her, would look at me as we pass through those famed musical gates, because she would have introduced me to Elvis music. According to Charley, my vintage sentimentalism comes from my mom. I’ve learned a little about her this summer.
Charley said, “She’d wear my cousin’s old poodle skirt and listen to Love Me Tender over and over again while writing in her diary.” She became a respected journalist, loved books as much as I do. I pat my book in my backpack, looking forward to tonight when I can cuddle into my loft and get into one of Fitzgerald’s glittering worlds. “She was different from me, Scotty. I tried to change the world through protest. Your mother wanted to build something completely different and much better.” She sighed. “All my generation could do, I guess, was tear apart. It’s going to take our children to put the pieces back together. Babette was a very careful person. Very purposeful.”
If it drove my freewheeling grandmother crazy, she doesn’t let on.
“I could try to describe how much she loved you, baby. But I don’t think I could begin to do her devotion to you justice. I was so proud of her, for how much she loved and gave away. She was amazing.”
So in May I found out she existed, the same day I found out she is dead, or most likely dead. And now I’m going into Graceland alone, truly an orphan. Who wants to be an orphan?
We disembark from the bus—me, Elvis Lite, some folks from a Spanish-speaking country, and a lot of older people. I miss Grammie and Grampie right now. More later on them, too. And you’ll get to meet them. Like the waters of the Gulf Stream, we seem to travel in the same general direction. I spent a week with them this summer in Tennessee. Yeah, we did Nashville right. They’re loaded.
Standing beneath the front porch, my gaze skates up and down the soaring white pillars and comes to rest on the stone lions that guard the steps. My father was a lion. That’s why he ended up with a bullet in his chest. Speaking in very broad terms, the story goes as follows:
Dad, undercover, worked his way into a portion of the mob, or mafia if you prefer, that was heavily financing the campaign of a Maryland gubernatorial candidate. When they discovered him, they shot him on site, in a warehouse in the Canton neighborhood of downtown Baltimore. My mother watched, gasped, and a chase ensued. She hid in a friend’s gallery, called Charley and told her to keep watching me. (Charley had kept me the night before because my mom and dad had some glamorous function to attend.) And then she disappeared.
The Graceland tour recorder tells me to look to my right into the beautiful white living room with peacock stained-glass windows leading into the music room. This room really isn’t so bad, I’ve got to admit. A picture of Elvis’s dad hangs on the wall. He really loved his parents.
I’ve toured this house at least seven times before, and I’ll tell you this, Elvis’s love for his family soaked into the walls. A girl that lives in a camper, has dead parents, and is being chased by someone from the mob who knows my grandmother knows what went down, well, she can feel these things.
Charley thinks someone’s trying to kill us. This guy is always trying to find us, but Charley’s really great at evasion. She said the politician who won the governor’s seat all those years ago just announced his candidacy for president and—oh, GREAT!—he’s probably trying to make sure nothing comes back to haunt him and sent Biker Guy to finish off the entire matter.
The thing is, he seems to be after me too. And what in the world would I have to do with all of that?
I’ll bet Charley’s back in that camper shaking in her shoes because I’m over here by myself; I’ll bet she’s figuring out more ways to be utterly and overly protective of me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s wondering whether locking a kid in an RV is child abuse.
But I love Charley. I really do. I know she’s scared back there, and despite the fact that I would be no real help if Biker Guy caught us, I can’t leave her there so frightened and alone for long.
Elvis dear, I can only stay a little while. So love me tender, love me sweet, and for the sake of all that’s decent, don’t step on my blue suede shoes.
I hurry past the bedroom of Elvis’s parents, decorated in shades of ivory and purple, very nice, and through the dining room—a little seventies tackiness I’ll admit—into the kitchen with dark brown cabinetry and the ghosts of a million grilled peanut butter and banana sandwiches, then on down into the basement. Okay, I admit, I’ve got to just stand for a second in the TV room and admire the man’s ability to watch three TVs at once on that huge yellow couch with the sparkly pillows.
I shoot through the billiard room, which is, honestly, truly beautiful with its fabric-lined walls and ceiling, up the back steps and into the Jungle Room, probably Graceland’s most famous room. Green shag carpet overlays the floor and the ceiling, and heavily carved, Polynesian-style furniture is arranged around a rock-wall waterfall at the end of the room. It really defies the imagination, folks. Google Jungle Room Graceland and see what I mean.
The second floor of Graceland is closed off to the public because Elvis died up there. On the toilet. Wise decision on the part of Priscilla I’d say.
Out the door, into the office building, down to the trophy hall, I whiz through all the gold and platinum records, the costumes, the awards, and even a wall full of checks he’d written for charity. According to my recorder, Elvis was an active community member in Memphis. And he obviously didn’t care what race or religion people were. He supported Jewish organizations, Catholic, Baptist. Pretty cool.
Of course, this recorder isn’t going to tell of the dark side of the man. But Elvis Isn’t, despite what the banners say. So why drag a dead man through the mud?
I hurry through the racquetball court, more gold records, the infamous jumpsuits, back outside to the pool and memorial garden where Elvis has been laid to rest.
An older lady cries into a handkerchief. I don’t ask why.
Good-bye Elvis. Thanks for the tour. Maybe one day I’ll do something great too.
A few minutes later . . .
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Jenny B. Jones is the author of A Katie Parker Production series. The other books in the series are In Between and On The Loose. Though now an adult, she still relates to the trauma and drama of teen life. She is thrilled to see her writing dreams come true, as her previous claim to fame was singing the Star Spangled Banner at a mule-jumping championship. (The mules were greatly inspired.)Jenny resides in Arkansas, where, as a teacher, she hangs out with teens on a regular basis.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Sometimes there’s a fine line between comedy and tragedy—and Katie Parker is walking it.
School is winding down for the summer but Katie Parker is having a bad day. After leaving the drive-in, where her imploding love life was the main attraction, Katie arrives home to a big surprise on the Scott’s front porch.Her mother, Bobbie Ann Parker, a former convict and recovering addict, wants to take Katie away from her family, friends, and church. Now Katie’s life will be changed by a series of dramatic choices as she struggles to understand what family and home really means.Katie is forced to walk away from In Between, leaving behind a family who loves her, a town drive-in to save, and a boyfriend who suddenly can’t take his eyes off his ex. When the life her mother promised begins to sink faster than one of Maxine’s stuffed bras, Katie knows she needs to rely on God to keep it together.But where is he in all this? Can Katie survive a chaotic life with her mother—and one without the Scotts? And if God is there, will he come through before it’s too late?
A Katie Parker Production series offers teen girls real-world fiction balanced by hope and humor. The The Big Picture helps us realize that the difficult chapters in our journey are only part of God’s big story for our lives.
You can read the first chapter HERE
“A heroine to love. Jones just gets better with every book, and The Big Picture is her best one yet.”
~BARBARA WARREN, author of The Gathering Storm
“Such inspiration in a package of fun and faith!”
~EVA MARIE EVERSON, author of the Potluck Club series
MY REVIEW: In The Big Picture Katie has finally found her place in life, a place where people love and support her, good friends, and normalcy. When her mother comes back into her life and takes her away from everything she has come to depend on, Katie must rely on God to help her cope.
The Big Picture tells Katie’s story beautifully with all the humor and angst that can be so much a part of a teen’s life. The story is honest contrasting Katie’s life with her addicted mother with the care and support of Katie’s Christian friends. Even though everything is not all tied up with pretty ribbons (and when is life ever that way?), God’s love and intervention are evident. I would recommend The Big Picture for teens and young adults.
Jenny can be reached through the Contact link on her Website
And here’s the complete list of everyone posting for The Big Picture on this tour! Go visit their sites to see what CFBA bloggers have to say!
Amy at Simple Folk Schoolhouse
Amy at sprightly
Amy at My Life
Andie at frommipov
Angela at One Baby, Seven Dogs, and a Mommy
April at Projecting A
Becky at Becky’s Christian Reviews
Becky at Savvy Mom
Beth at The Write Message
Betsy Ann at Betsy Ann “Writer at Large!”
Bonnie at Bonnie Writes
Brittanie at A Book Lover
C.J. at C.J. Darlington.com
Camy at Camy Tang
Cara at the law, books, and life
Carla at Carla’s Writing Café
Carol at Blogging With Carol
Carolyn at Serenity
CeeCee at Book Splurge
Cheri at Kudzu and Koolaid
Christy at Christy’s Book Blog
Courtney at A Mom Speaks
Dave at Novel Spotlight
Dawn at Book Junkie Confessions
Deborah at books, movies and chinese food
Deborah at Country At Heart
Debra at Soul Reflections
Deena at A Peek At My Bookshelf
Delia at Gatorskunkz And Mudcats
Georgiana at Georgiana D
Gina at Portrait Of A Writer
Gretchen at Inspire Me
Heidi at Reviews by Heidi
Jackie at Journey Into Grace
Janis at The Nearsighted Bookworm
Janna at Cornhusker Academy
Jenn at Blessed is She…
Jennifer at Musings on This, That, & The Other Thing
Jennifer at So Many Books…So Little Time
Jenny at Come Meet AusJenny
Jessica at Praise, Prayers and Observations
Jill at Christian Work At Home Moms
Jo at Life Sparks - Jo’s Journal
Joleen at timetotalk
Karen at Mommy of Three”
Karla at Ramblin’ Roads To Everywhere
Katie at Christian Novels
Kelly at Scrambled Dregs
Kim at Window To My World
Kimberly at QuiddamChickee To Save The Day
Krista at Welcome To Married Life
Kristy at I Need To Read
Lacy at Novel Inspirations
LaShaunda at See Ya On The Net
Laura at Laura William’s Musings
Leah at Ponderings From My Heart
Linda at Mocha With Linda
Linda at Faith In Love
Lynnae at Lynnae’s Bookshelf
Margaret at Creative Madness
Michelle at Edgy Inspirational Author
Michelle at Just A Minute
Michelle at Michelle’s Great Blogs
Michelle at Raising Little Women
Mimi at Mimi’s Pixie Corner
Pam at Mom’s Mutterings
Pam at Daysong Reflections
Peg at Sips ‘n Cups Cafeteria
Pepper at Great Christian Fiction
Rachelle at Stifled Squeal
Rel at Relz Reviewz
Ruth at Booktalk & more…
Ryan at loves to read
Sean at Bookmark Cafe
Shauna at Shaunarumbling
Stacy at Vader’s Mom
Susan at New Every Morning
Tabitha at 123pizza’s Weblog
Tami at Tree Swing Reading
Tara at Tara’s View Of The World
Amber at Amber Miller
Tracy at Pix-N-Pens
Tricia at It’s Real Life
Victoria at Footprints In The Sand
ABOUT THE BOOK:
The Parker twins, Brad and Charlie, didn’t want to join their parents on vacation in Hawaii. A little sister can be annoying, but little sister, Zoey, was over the top. “The three of us aren’t going to Hawaii,” she told them. Her parents were shocked by her statement even though it was true. This was not the first time Zoey offered surprising knowledge of future events, nor would it be the last. Arriving at their grandparent’s cattle ranch in Oklahoma, the twins learn of the disappearance of cattle from the ranch. This knowledge would set of a series of events that would challenge any detective. There were the mysterious neighbors, the strange lady at church, a psychic lazy dog, and a weird little sister to keep the twins totally confused in their efforts to solve this strange mystery.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
D.C. Stewart grew up in Thomas, Oklahoma. She began writing short stories in high school, and won a writing competition at Southwestern Oklahoma State University at age 17. After graduating, she attended Northwestern Oklahoma State University and earned a degree in History. She worked for a church in Maumelle, Arkansas as the Communications coordinator for five years, and after returning to Oklahoma, she chose to pursue her dream of being a full-time writer. D.C. Stewart lives near Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, and is a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, and the American Christian Fiction Writers.
MY REVIEW: Where Would Cows Hide? is an entertaining, humorous mystery written for ages 9-12, otherwise known as “tweeners”. Twins Brad and Charlie try to solve the mysterious disappearance of their grandfather’s cattle while visiting their grandparents ranch. Their investigation leads them into dangerous situations while trying to avoid their “weird” little sister Zoey. The story has enough action, humor, and suspense to keep a child’s interest while getting across some valuable spiritual lessons.
This week, the
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Athol Dickson’s university-level training in painting, sculpture, and architecture was followed by a long career as an architect then his decision several years ago to devote full time to writing. Athol Dickson’s writing has been favorably compared to the work of Octavia Butler(Publisher’s Weekly), Daphne du Maurier (Cindy Crosby, FaithfulReader.com) and FlanneryO’Connor (The New York Times).His They Shall See God was a Christy Award finalist and his River Rising was a Christy Award winner, selected as one of the Booklist Top Ten Christian Novels of 2006 and a finalist for Christianity Today’s Best Novel of 2006.He and his wife, Sue, live in Southern California. Visit AtholDickson.com for more information.
ABOUT THE BOOK:
Boys who never age, giants lost in time, mist that never rises, questions never asked…on the most remote of islands off the coast of Maine, history haunts the present and Vera Gamble wrestles with a past that will not yield. Will she find refuge there, or will her ghosts prevail on…Winter Haven
Eleven years ago, Vera Gamble’s brother left their house never to be seen again. Until the day Vera gets a phone call that his body has been found…washed ashore in the tiny island town of Winter Haven, Maine. His only surviving kin, Vera travels north to claim the body…and finds herself tumbling into a tangled mystery. Her brother hasn’t aged a day since last she saw him.
Determined to uncover what happened in those lost years, Vera soon discovers there are other secrets lurking in this isolated town. But Winter Haven’s murky past now seems bound to come to light as one woman seeks the undeniable and flooding light of truth.
MY REVIEW:
Winter Haven is a brooding, emotional, suspenseful tale that kept me absorbed to the end. Vera’s quest to discover the cause of her brother’s mysterious death leads her on a journey to the remote island of Winter Haven, Maine where she is soon immersed into the secrets, legends and history of the island. As she questions and explores the island, she soon finds herself in fear for her own life with no idea who she can trust.
Dickson has superbly crafted a novel that equals the best of gothic fiction and has skillfully woven a story that proves that nothing is really as it seems. I would highly recommend Winter Haven to everyone who enjoys a good mystery.
Click here to purchase Winter Haven .
While The Begotten has all the elements that compose a good novel, it also caused me to reflect on similarities of the historical setting of the book and our present day lives. I definitely don’t claim to have all the answers (far from it), but these are some of my thoughts brought to the surface by this book.
In medieval Italy, the church frowned on individual citizens possessing a copy of the Bible, stating that only the “church” could properly interpret it. Today the Bible is the best selling book in the U.S., yet how many of us actually read it for ourselves? Even though we are free to interpret it for ourselves, we rely on our pastors, our Sunday school and Bible study literature, Christian television and radio personalities, and the wealth of Christian books available to us. How do we know what to believe if we don’t test the scripture for ourselves?
We have many different views on just the one subject of spiritual gifts. On one hand we have well known dispensational teachers and authors telling us that spiritual gifts are not relevant for today. On the other hand we have charismatic and pentecostal teachers and writers stating that the gifts are very much still active. Who do we believe? Do we blindly follow everything we are told by whatever leaders we follow? Do we accept what meets our personal comfort levels or do we seek the leading of the Holy Spirit through careful study of Scripture?
It is easy to understand the confusion of the characters of The Begotten as they struggle with the teaching of the church and the leading of the Lord because we face similar issues ourselves. We only have to watch the news to know that evil is still active and increasing. We are surrounded by lost and hurting people who need the hope that we possess. Heaven only knows that we need the power of God in our lives to meet these challenges. Just maybe, we should step out in faith like Daria, Father Piero, Gianni, and the others to see where and how the Lord leads us. Could it be that we are also among the Gifted?
Lisa’s Web Site: http://www.lisatawnbergren.com/home.html
Participants’ Links:
Brandon Barr | Jim Black | Justin Boyer | Jackie Castle |
Karri Compton | CSFF Blog Tour | Gene Curtis |
D. G. D. Davidson | Jeff Draper | April Erwin | Karina Fabian |
Beth Goddard | Marcus Goodyear | Todd Michael Greene |
Michael Heald | Christopher Hopper | Joleen Howell | Jason Joyner |
Kait | Carol Keen | Mike Lynch | Terri Main | Margaret |
Melissa Meeks |Pamela Morrisson | John W. Otte | Rachelle |
Steve Rice | Ashley Rutherford | Chawna Schroeder |
James Somers | Rachelle Sperling | Stuart Stockton |
Steve Trower | Speculative Faith | Robert Treskillard |
Laura Williams | Timothy Wise |
It’s April 21st, time for the Teen FIRST blog tour!(Join our alliance! Click the button!) Every 21st, we will feature an author and his/her latest Teen fiction book’s FIRST chapter!
and his book:
Chosen (The Lost Books, Book 1) (The Books of History Chronicles)
Thomas Nelson (January 1, 2008)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Ted is the son of missionaries John and Helen Dekker, whose incredible story of life among headhunters in Indonesia has been told in several books. Surrounded by the vivid colors of the jungle and a myriad of cultures, each steeped in their own interpretation of life and faith, Dekker received a first-class education on human nature and behavior. This, he believes, is the foundation of his writing.
After graduating from a multi-cultural high school, he took up permanent residence in the United States to study Religion and Philosophy. After earning his Bachelor’s Degree, Dekker entered the corporate world in management for a large healthcare company in California. Dekker was quickly recognized as a talent in the field of marketing and was soon promoted to Director of Marketing. This experience gave him a background which enabled him to eventually form his own company and steadily climb the corporate ladder.
Since 1997, Dekker has written full-time. He states that each time he writes, he finds his understanding of life and love just a little clearer and his expression of that understanding a little more vivid. To see a complete list of Dekker’s work, visit The Works section of TedDekker.com.
Here are some of his latest titles:
Adam
Black: The Birth of Evil (The Circle Trilogy Graphic Novels, Book 1)
Saint
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Our story begins in a world totally like our own, yet completely different. What once happened here in our own history seems to be repeating itself thousands of years from now,
some time beyond the year 4000 AD.
But this time the future belongs to those who see opportunity before it becomes obvious. To the young, to the warriors, to the lovers. To those who can follow hidden clues and find a great
treasure that will unlock the mysteries of life and wealth.
Thirteen years have passed since the lush, colored forests were turned to desert by Teeleh, the enemy of Elyon and the vilest of all creatures. Evil now rules the land and shows itself as a painful, scaly disease that covers the flesh of the Horde, a people who live in the desert.
The powerful green waters, once precious to Elyon, have vanished from the earth except in seven small forests surrounding seven small lakes. Those few who have chosen to follow the ways of Elyon now live in these forests, bathing once daily in the powerful waters to cleanse their skin of the disease.
The number of their sworn enemy, the Horde, has grown in thirteen years and, fearing the green waters above all else, these desert dwellers have sworn to wipe all traces of the forests from
the earth.
Only the Forest Guard stands in their way. Ten thousand elite fighters against an army of nearly four hundred thousand Horde. But the Forest Guard is starting to crumble.
one
Day One
Qurong, general of the Horde, stood on the tall dune five miles west of the green forest, ignoring the fly that buzzed around his left eye.
His flesh was nearly white, covered with a paste that kept his skin from itching too badly. His long hair was pulled back and woven into dreadlocks, then tucked beneath the leather body armor
cinched tightly around his massive chest.
“Do you think they know?” the young major beside him asked.
Qurong’s milky white horse, chosen for its ability to blend with the desert, stamped and snorted.
The general spit to one side. “They know what we want them to know,” he said. “That we are gathering for war. And that we will march from the east in four days.”
“It seems risky,” the major said. His right cheek twitched, sending three flies to flight.
“Their forces are half what they once were. As long as they think we are coming from the east, we will smother them from the west.”
“The traitor insists that they are building their forces,” the major said.
“With young pups!” Qurong scoffed.
“The young can be crafty.”
“And I’m not? They know nothing about the traitor. This time we will kill them all.”
Qurong turned back to the valley behind him. The tents of his third division, the largest of all Horde armies, which numbered well over three hundred thousand of the most experienced warriors, stretched out nearly as far as he could see.
“We march in four days,” Qurong said. “We will slaughter them from the west.”
