Literary Matchmaking: Mary Doria Russell, Meet Laurie King, and Vice Versa

I don't know whether two of my favorite contemporary authors, Mary Doria Russell and Laurie King, are already fans of each other's work. If not, I believe they could be. I'm not quite bold enough to contact either author directly and make the suggestion, but if either or both use Google Alerts or something similar, I may get to play literary yenta.

These authors research diligently, with a great eye for the telling detail; they create or re-imagine memorable characters; and they write beautifully, with especially satisfying dialogue.

So: Ms. Russell, meet Ms. King; Ms. King, meet Ms. Russell. Happy reading!

Book review: A Casual Vacancy by J. K. Rowling

Coming from Rowling's Harry Potter series to her first book for adults, I had not anticipated how much it would remind me of the novels of Jane Austen.  Austen famously worked with a small canvas, focusing on the foibles and concerns of residents of small and insular communities. Rowling does the same. If one imagines Austen transplanted to the present, freed from any pressure to adhere to romantic conventions, and urged to give reign to all her darker and more cynical impulses, we might have something like this novel.

To be sure, the Harry Potter series does showcase Rowling's impressive ability to paint compelling and unflattering portraits. But in those books, characters like Cornelius Fudge and the wonderfully detestable Dolores Umbridge act as antagonists or foils for likable and admirable characters.  In A Casual Vacancy, they comprise most, if not all, of the human landscape. One's response to almost every character is essentially: “My God, I hope I'm not like that.”

Some reviews have stated that the only likable or admirable character in this book is the man who dies at its beginning, and whose death occasions the entire plot. I would qualify this statement in two ways. First, there are a couple of other characters who do worthwhile jobs as best they can, against discouraging odds. However, even these characters are sufficiently flawed and foolish in various aspects of their personal lives as to prevent the reader from wishing to identify with them. Second, this limitation extends to some extent to the soon-departed Barry Fairbrother. While there are reasons (starting with the character's unsubtle name) to believe that we are intended to side with him in the dispute over Pagford's responsibility for the Fields housing project, his view of that project and of certain of its residents could be fairly characterized as somewhat one-sided and optimistic. It is even clearer that his tireless advocacy leads him to neglect aspects of his family life.

 At one point, Rowling has a character recall the W.B. Yeats line, “A pity beyond all telling/ is hid at the heart of love.” For much of the book, one might question whether Rowling feels that pity. In the end, I was more or less persuaded that she does. She ultimately succeeds in making the reader care, to a varying extent, about the fates of these deeply flawed characters. The book is thus eventually moving, rather than merely disheartening.

Preview of Hoosier Gadfly column re Civil Obedience aka Red State Evolution

My extremely knowledgeable husband, The Hoosier Gadfly (HG), is planning to do a blog post about the next step for those who still hope to preserve our republic as per its constitutional framework. However, he may not get to it for a day or three, so I am putting together this preview in the meantime, based on some notes he threw together.

Five secession petitions, concerning five states, have appeared on the whitehouse.gov petition website. Secession is hopeless, and makes for lousy PR -- but there is another state-based approach that may offer a hint of promise, if a sufficient number of states follow it.

Article VI, clause 3 of the U.S. Constitution requires all legislative, judicial and executive officers of the states, as well as of the federal government, to swear or affirm that they will support the Constitution. That Constitution includes the Tenth Amendment: "The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people."  HG paraphrases this as saying: "When we talked about a federal government of limited, enumerated powers, WE MEANT IT."

It is also worth noting, as well, the language affixed by the Speaker of the House and President of the Senate to the proposed Bill of Rights when it was circulated to the states, including the following: "The Conventions of a number of the States, having at the time of their adopting the Constitution, expressed a desire, in order to prevent misconstruction or abuse of its powers, that further declaratory and restrictive clauses should be added . . . ."

Finally, we must keep in mind that at the time the Constitution and then the Bill of Rights were debated and ratified, the citizenry as a whole was expected to be able to read and comprehend them. They were not considered arcane and mysterious documents that only exalted judges in robes could interpret.

Add all this together, and you have an obligation and responsibility for state governments to uphold the Constitution as reasonably understood, even when any or all branches of the federal government have tossed it aside as antiquated or inconvenient.

We have seen some movement in this direction in the recent election, where a number of states passed referenda legalizing or decriminalizing marijuana, a drug the federal government has (with no constitutional power as a basis) declared illegal, or proclaiming that health insurance or health care will remain a province of state government, not subject to federal fiat. HG suggests a more comprehensive and coordinated campaign, which could be called "Civil Obedience," and/or "Red State Evolution." As many states as possible should declare that they will neither enforce nor allow the enforcement of any unconstitutional federal statutes or regulations within their borders. Any federal agents attempting the latter will be restrained and escorted hence. If enough states take this stand, it will be impractical to take action against them.

If any "blue states" find this situation intolerable -- let them talk of secession. The states exercising Civil Obedience have no intention of leaving the Union -- nor of letting it be further subverted by those also sworn to defend it.

Hermione Didn't Belong in Ravenclaw

From time to time, I've wondered for a moment why the Sorting Hat didn't place Hermione Granger in Ravenclaw. After all, Ravenclaw is for the intellectual elite of the school, isn't it? And wasn't Hermione "the cleverest witch of her age"?

Pausing on the question for a bit longer the other day, I decided Hermione really didn't belong in Ravenclaw, after all. Ravenclaw is for those of an intellectual and philosophical bent. Remember the entrance riddles for Ravenclaw Tower and their solutions? Somehow I can't see Hermione caring greatly for that sort of thing. She has a brilliant and inquisitive mind, but her interests are more practical. She reads history, but in the magical world, as in ours, history often sheds an important light on current problems. I would imagine that many students in Ravenclaw read and discuss literary fiction. I doubt Hermione even makes time for novels.

Preface and Chapter One of Wander Home

As promised, here's the (very short) Preface and Chapter One of Wander Home.

PREFACE

This book is set in an afterlife: what sort of afterlife, the reader may decide.

Chapter One

  Cassidy stood tall and watched the wave approaching. Fifteen was a good age for confronting the ocean. That morning she had been five years old, playing happily in her sandbox;  from sand to beach, from beach to ocean waves, seemed a natural progression.

  The wave loomed above her, glowing turquoise and green. She dove under the crest, through the surging water, and popped up behind the swell, bobbing in the follower waves. The water held her and rocked her; over the hiss and roar of the waves, she could hear the distant squawk of seagulls. All around was the smell of seaweed and salt and sunshine.

  Once, her mother had held her, carried her, rocked her, surrounded her with love and safety. She had no idea how long it had been, but she remembered. Remembering, she let herself slip younger as she floated on the swells. But larger waves were coming, so she grew again, six, ten, sixteen; then caught a wave and rode it into shore.

  Her grandparents and her great-grandmother were waiting for her. Great-Grandma was young today, slim and blonde and straight, standing like a dancer just before the music starts. Grandma Sarah and Grandpa Jack had chosen to be older, gray-haired, with the comfortable look of a couple who for years have weathered each other’s moods and followed each other’s thoughts.

  Cassidy ran up the beach toward them. She slipped to eight years old as she reached them, so Grandpa Jack could pick her up and toss her in the air. The sun flashed in her eyes as she flew up, and again as she fell back toward his hands. He set her down again and flopped onto the sand, patting the space next to him. She sat, folding her legs tailor fashion; Great-Grandma flowed gracefully down to sit on her other side. Only Grandma Sarah remained standing, younger now, her hair in a long red braid.

  Grandpa Jack and Great-Grandma both put their arms around her. Cassidy looked at Grandpa Jack. He was blinking as if he had something in both his eyes. She swiveled around toward Great-Grandma; Great-Grandma nodded toward Grandma Sarah.

  Cassidy threw her head back, looking up at Grandma Sarah and squinting in the sun. Grandma Sarah squatted down in front of her. "Cassie, love, we have some news for you. Good, important news."

  The seabirds were calling as if they wanted to be first with the message, whatever it was. Grandma Sarah leaned forward to kneel in the sand, reached out and took Cassidy's hands.

  "It's your mother, sweetheart. She's coming. She'll be here soon. We'll all be seeing her again."

  Cassidy felt herself getting smaller, small. She was two years old. She scrambled to her feet. "Mommy!"  Her own shrill voice frightened her, and she called even louder, twisting from side to side, searching the beach and the water. "Mommy!  MOMMY!"

  Great-Grandma had slipped old, white hair shining in the sunlight, her cheeks pink, soft wrinkles in her face, smelling of flour. She pulled Cassidy close, crooning, "Hush, hush. It's all right, baby. Shhhh."  Cassidy burrowed against her and breathed the comforting scent. She thought she might feel better if she got big again, but nothing happened.

  She heard Grandpa Jack speak. "Mama, Sarah, let's go somewhere cozier."  Then the sun, the waves, the seabirds were all gone, and they were in Great-Grandma's living room. She was snuggled up next to Great-Grandma on the big shabby couch. There were shortbread cookies on the coffee table. Grandma Sarah sat on Grandpa Jack's lap in the big armchair, Grandpa Jack playing with Grandma Sarah's hair.

  "Cassidy, honey, it's time to be a big girl. We have more to talk about."  Great-Grandma stroked her cheek, then kissed it.

  Cassidy squeezed her eyes tight. "I'm trying. It's hard. Why is it hard?"

  Grandpa Jack spoke. "Well, baby, you were just this age when your mama left. You're remembering it so hard, right now, that you're maybe a little stuck. Relax, honey, and know that everything's all right. It'll come."

  Cassidy took a deep breath, and another, and another. Great-Grandma skootched away to give her room. Cassidy opened her eyes. She was thirteen years old. She reached for a cookie.

  "There, that's better, isn't it?"  Great-Grandma picked out a cookie for herself and took a hearty bite.

  "When will she be here?  When can I see her?"

  Grandma Sarah brought Cassidy a glass of milk, then sat back down on Grandpa Jack's lap. "Honey, those are two different questions. She'll be here very soon, and you can see her just a little while after that. It's going to be —"

  "Why can't I see her right away?"  She didn't want to yell at Grandma Sarah, but she felt like yelling. It was always harder to be patient at thirteen. She slipped to twenty, but it felt wrong, too big, too grown up for a little girl missing her mother. She slid back to ten.

   "Cassie, you were so young when you got here, only six years old. You weren't set in your ways yet — you expected to learn new things every day, to have adventures and surprises. Coming here was just another and bigger adventure. But it's different for older people. It's more of a shock. We think it'd be best if Great-Grandma welcomes her first, and explains things."

  "How long will that take?"  Cassidy swallowed tears and washed them away with a gulp of milk.

  Great-Grandma moved back over and hugged her.  "Not as long as it will feel to you. I'll bring her to see you as soon as I can."

  Eleanor felt very strange. Where was she? The pain that had seized and crushed her heart had vanished. She had been in an ambulance; but wherever she was now, the space was not in motion, and everything was quiet. And she could breathe again, freely and easily — no longer gasping for air, but breathing in and out as she had done for twenty-nine years.

  And the room around her kept changing. One moment it looked like a Red Cross donor center, one of the many at which she had given blood from time to time. Then the cot became a bed in a motel room: a room with orange and brown plaid curtains, a tan shag carpet, a small television, a double bed and one hard chair. She had been in that room just once, years ago, and had never wanted to see it again. And now appeared a room from long ago, with pale blue walls and a white window shade, white wooden furniture, a small and overflowing bookshelf; and Eleanor found herself sitting up in a single bed with a wooden bedstead, feather pillows, and a lavender quilt.

  Grandma's house!  Whenever she spent the night at Grandma's, it had been in this room. A room in a house that someone had bought and torn down, years ago, to put up a big modern showpiece, a blue and copper box with patios instead of grass.

  Something lay lightly on her shoulder. It was her hair, long again, its chestnut color restored. And her shoulder and arm were curved, cushioned — no longer gaunt from months of neglecting her needs.

  Eleanor felt a sudden urgency to get out of bed, to get up and go downstairs while this was still Grandma's house, before she found herself back in the horrible motel room. She pushed back the quilt and stood up, looking around wildly; then ran to the door, threw it open and stood, breathing hard, in the hall near the worn wooden stairs. She waited to stop trembling before walking slowly to the stairs and down to the lower floor. She could hear someone moving around downstairs, in the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards or drawers.

  At the foot of the stairs, she stopped, clutching the banister. For four years she had stayed away, in hotel after friend's couch after cheap apartment, assuming that home and family would always be there waiting for her. And then, after the car crash, when it was too late and they were gone, she had longed so desperately and hopelessly to see them all again — Cassidy most of all, of course, but also Mom and Dad and Grandma. She had wanted so much to tell them how she loved them, to apologize, to try to explain. Now, in this impossible place, she might have that forfeited chance — and she had no more idea than ever what to say.

  The stairs ended in the front hallway. The kitchen was toward the back, past the living room. Eleanor walked with small hesitant steps into the living room, stopping to touch the armchair, the couch, the coffee table. There was the framed poster from Grandma's ballet company, advertising one of their galas. Under the poster, on the mantelpiece, stood the row of photographs.

  Dad and his brother, camping in their back yard, lying in the blue tent with their heads sticking out of the flap and grins on their grimy faces. Mom and Dad on their wedding day, with Mom in her gown and Dad in his tuxedo, both in climbing harnesses, hanging from a cliff wall somewhere in Argentina. Grandma and Grandpa on their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Then a much older photo of a much younger couple: Amanda and Stan, no one's grandparents yet, in black and white, standing near an old-fashioned car.

  And then the picture that made her turn away, turn back, and walk closer, reaching out:  Eleanor, on the living room couch, holding tiny baby Cassidy, just two weeks old.

  "Is that you, dear?"

  Eleanor froze in place. She forced herself to speak. "G-Grandma?"

  "In the kitchen, Nory. Come on. It's all right."

  Eleanor headed on into the kitchen. There sat her grandmother, looking just the same — soft white hair, soft wrinkled face, flowered apron, thin rounded shoulders. Eleanor stumbled forward as Grandma got up from her chair. They stood for a moment, face to face, Eleanor speechless, Grandma seeming to feel no need for speech.

  Eleanor found her voice. "Grandma. I'm so sorry. Oh, God, I'm sorry."  She started to cry.

  Grandma opened her arms. "Oh, Nory. We'll talk about that later. Come here and hug me just as hard as you can! and then sit down. I've made some good strong coffee. Pour yourself a cup. I've got things to tell you."

New novel Wander Home now available!

Well, my new novel, complete with title and cover (finally!), is now available as an ebook on Amazon, the Nook Store and Smashwords. :-)

Wander Home is a family drama with mystery elements, set in an afterlife of my own devising. Here's the description that will probably end up on the back jacket of a paperback edition:

-----------


Death is what you make it. . . .

Eleanor never wanted to leave the daughter she loved so much. The overpowering urge to wander -- to search, without knowing what she sought -- drove her away. She left little Cassidy in her family's loving care. But Cassidy and the others died in an accident before Eleanor could find her way home.

Now, they are all reunited, in an afterlife where nothing is truly lost: places once loved may be revisited, memories relived and even shared. Surely this is a place where they can understand and heal. And yet, the restlessness that shaped Eleanor's life still haunts her in death. Somehow, she must solve the mystery of her life -- or none of them will be at peace.

-------------

I'll be posting the first chapter separately (as part of signing up with 1 Chapter Free.com).

If anyone would like a free copy in return for a review, please contact me at kawyle@att.net.

Happy release day to all! :-)

PBS Funding and the Boston Tea Party

As Boswell to my husband Paul Hager, who blogs too infrequently, I wanted to report his latest political observations.

Romney has taken some criticism for focusing on PBS' funding, given that it apparently amounts to $1.25 per family. (I'm not sure whether Biden made this point during the vice-presidential debate.) Notes Paul: the British did not predict, and could not understand, why the colonists would throw perfectly good tea into Boston Harbor when the price of tea had been cut in half, and only a very small tax imposed. Principle? Did these colonists actually care so much about principle, when their pocketbooks would be spared by the change?

We've drifted very far from our founding foundations, but perhaps there are some vestiges remaining.

In the interest of accuracy, Paul also notes that Romney may not have been thinking of federal government overreach or the constitutional limits on federal power, the founding principles involved. However, a similar analysis may apply to what Romney did say, which was that any federal expenditure at this point should pass the test of whether it's worth borrowing money from China to pay for it.

American Feminists and Malala Yousufzai

It may not have been reported -- many things aren't, these days -- but I've heard nothing about any American feminist organizations expressing outrage at the Taliban attack on Malala Yousufzai.

Malala, a fourteen-year-old Pakistani girl, became famous -- or from the Islamic extremist point of view, notorious -- three years ago when she blogged, and later spoke publicly, about extremist attacks on girls' schools. Last year, she received a national peace award from the Pakistani government, and was nominated for the International Children's Peace Prize. Yesterday, the Taliban boarded a school bus and shot her in the head.

American feminists have been conspicuously silent about the Islamist desire to keep women powerless, subservient and uneducated. For essentially historical reasons, our feminist organizations tend to be left-wing in character, and leftists are nothing if not respectful of other cultures -- even those whose values they should, according to their own fundamental values, abhor. And of course, it's safer not to criticize homicidal zealots.

I would guess that American feminists feel (without necessarily having examined the feeling) that they can afford to stay away from the vexing subject of Islamist misogyny, even its murderous variant, because there is no danger of this ideology becoming powerful in the United States. I also think it unlikely that American public schools will start excluding girls or requiring them to wear burqas, or that our courts will give American men -- in general -- carte blanche to beat and confine their wives and daughters. I do not expect to see these trends even in Europe, with its growing and increasingly militant Islamic population. However, I consider it a good deal more likely that in Europe and the United States, there will be growing pressure to accommodate Muslims by allowing them to apply sharia law within their own communities.

Our constitutional guarantee of freedom of religion, and our equally longstanding respect for the freedom of contract, arguably allow a Muslim woman to enter into a marriage agreement that severely limits her rights during marriage and in the event of divorce. However, one needs freedom to contract freely, and we should not hold anyone to a contract she was coerced into making. Similarly, parents have a constitutional right to determine the upbringing of their children -- but that right has limits, and if the parent 's decision greatly reduces the chance that a girl will be prepared for full citizenship, those limits may have been reached. These issues need attention and discussion -- and feminists should take part in that process.

Meanwhile, at the time I write this, Malala is still alive. She may be flown to the United Arab Emirates or to London for further treatment. If she survives, it might lift her spirits if those women in our country who claim to value women's freedom most highly would acknowledge what Malala has done for that cause. Perhaps they will find the courage to acknowledge hers.

Short story review -- "Iphigenia in Aulis"

If anyone knows of a website where one can post short story reviews, please let me know in the comments -- because I'd like to tell as many people as possible about this wonderful short story by Mike Carey. I found it in the anthology An Apple for the Creature, edited by Charlaine Harris and Toni L. P. Kelner, subtitled All-New Tales of Unnatural Education. Most of the stories are paranormal fantasy. "Iphigenia in Aulis," on the other hand, is essentially science fiction. I checked Amazon and see no evidence that Carey has written other SF (most of his novels belong to one of two paranormal series) -- but I hope he writes more of it! Ultimately, however, it makes little difference: Carey's beautiful way with characters, plot and language will no doubt be evident whatever his genre.

The title refers to a Greek legend, previously immortalized in a Euripedes play. How the subject matter of that play is woven through the story is just one of Carey's many masterful touches.

I am particularly anxious to avoid spoilers where this story is concerned, so I will say only that it provides an unusual take on a fairly common theme, and that it will break your heart -- "in a good way," as my daughter might say. This is a story that clutches at you and stays with you. I haven't yet finished the anthology; so far, I have enjoyed some of the other stories, and leafed through others. But this one story, at least, is not to be missed.

Input time -- two versions of cover of new novel

Well, I finally picked a title for my upcoming novel -- Wander Home. And I have a cover -- almost.

Here are two versions of the ebook cover. (Neither is totally cleaned up -- my designer and I produced these mockups for discussion and comparison purposes.) Please comment with your preference, if any! (If you hate both of them, you are free to say so -- but I probably won't listen.) Thanks!

The Left and Civil Liberties This Week

I grew up in a home where liberal politics and defense of civil liberties were thoroughly intertwined. I like to tell people that I grew up in the ACLU the way some people grow up in the Catholic church. It took some years for me to realize that there are plenty of people on the leftward end of the political spectrum who have either no great attachment to civil liberties, or only a thinly rooted attachment to same, easily dislodged. The events of the last week have provided plenty of examples of liberals and leftists whose commitment to civil liberties is fickle at most.

I'm getting tired of hearing people say that making an offensive anti-Muslim movie is "like yelling 'fire' in a crowded theater.' " Even on its own terms, that example is not exactly an unquestioned ancient legal truism. Most commentators will reluctantly accept that yes, actually using language to cause a panic with immediate physical danger to numerous people is probably something the state can prohibit and punish. Extending this example beyond literal application to the realm of metaphor is inappropriate for anyone who values freedom of speech to any significant extent.

What kind of speech needs protecting? "I love sunshine and flowers"? Only speech with potential to offend, upset, and disturb some listeners requires protection, and allowing a mob-violence version of a heckler's veto would thoroughly undermine the principle.

Why now: Obama and the Muslim protests

Whether the wave of violent Muslim protests around the world, including multiple attacks on American embassies and the murder of our ambassador and several former Seals, is a response to an offensive anti-Muslim video or a coordinated wave of attacks predating the release of that video is really beside the point. Why are these attacks happening now? Is it a coincidence that they're occurring on Obama's watch? I highly doubt it. (And BTW, it is utterly outrageous that a President sworn to uphold our Constitution, including our Bill of Rights, is capitulating in a backhand manner to Muslim demands that we "punish" the maker of that video.)

Quite likely some of the protesters would be happy to be martyrs on behalf of their religion -- but I doubt that every member of all these mobs has that immediate ambition. They're breaching our embassy walls, tearing down and burning our flags (and in some cases replacing them, on September 11th, with the flag of the organization that attacked us on that date), and murdering our people because they believe they can get away with it, without triggering the sort of retaliation that the world might once have expected. They believe that militant Islam's time has come, that Islam is in the ascendancy as a worldwide imperial movement, and that the West is in the process of capitulating.

I wonder why? . . .

P.S. The mobs may have been pleasantly surprised (if they didn't already know) that embassy security consisted of nationals of the host countries plus American security prohibited from carrying live ammunition. Now there's a symbolically telling detail.

Pondering 2008 - Voters Saw Obama as Shortcut to the Future

I've been pondering how Obama got elected in 2008.

During a crucial portion of the campaign, he presented himself as a trans-racial candidate. That idea had such appeal that voters overlooked the way he pivoted and started scolding people about their supposed racism (not to mention his association with Rev. Wright). Obama became a symbol of what people of good will wanted this country to become. More than a symbol, voters tried to use him as a shortcut to the future: a future in which Americans would indeed, as Martin Luther King Jr. foresaw, be judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. But shortcuts have their shortcomings.

Ironically, Obama's success proved that we had not, in fact, attained that admirable national state of mind. I certainly could be wrong, but I very much doubt that a white man Obama's age, and with his very limited experience, would have had much of a chance. As I know others have said before me, he became our first affirmative action president.

I had hoped that four years would be long enough for this symbolic appeal to decline in importance. But I'm not sure it has. And if we pay for our impatience with four more years of fumbling, then God help us.

Tag, I'm It -- Answering Eleven Questions

Well, Danusha Goska of the blog Save Save Send Delete tagged me to answer the following questions, and I'm doing it. . . .


1.) If you could not be a writer, and you had to be some other artist – a singer, a painter, a mime, a puppeteer – what kind of artist would you be and why? (For Kim and anyone else who is primarily a visual artist who also writes: reverse the question. If you could not be a visual artist, what other art would you choose?) 


--I would probably choose to be a singer, if I had that talent. I've always liked singing, and loved listening to good singers. I have a range that allows me to sing about two songs well, and I sing them in the shower with great enjoyment. It's also an easy talent to share with others.

2.) Who would be the dream interviewer to quiz you about your work? Sixty Minutes' Mike Wallace? Fresh Air's Terry Gross? Johnny Carson? Larry King? Entertainment Tonight?

--I'll go with Terry Gross. I enjoy her interviews, and I actually listen to her occasionally, unlike the other choices.
3.) Your favorite childhood fictional hero or heroine.
--Probably Sara Crewe in Frances Hodgson Burnett's A Little Princess.
4.) Have you lived up to what you dreamed when you read about your favorite childhood fictional hero or heroine?
--I don't think I would ever have dreamed up my own rather hodge-podge conglomeration of careers and accomplishments.
5.) Your happiest moment as a writer.
--I'm not good at picking favorites in anything, including moments, but candidates include "winning" National Novel Writing Month (by completing the rough draft of my novel) for the first time, actually publishing my first novel, and getting my first rave review.
6.) Are you a tuxedo / evening gown writer, a broken-in jeans writer, a nude writer, a flowing caftan writer … ?
--Broken-in jeans on the weekends, more businesslike slacks during the week; or (in summer) comfortable skirts.
7.) Your personal writing deity?
--I'm not the worshipful sort, but I admire many authors, including Mary Doria Russell and Elizabeth Moon (current), and Jane Austen and George Eliot (deceased).
8.) Hard copy, screen, handwritten in ink, typewriter & whiteout?
Screen, followed by hard copy at the umpteenth-edit stage.
9.) If you had to choose between your writing moving people deeply, or your writing educating people factually, which would it be?
--I feel I should prefer the latter, but I actually would choose the former.
10.) Has being a writer helped or hurt your romantic life?
--Given that I first quit writing as an unattached college student, and resumed it when I'd been married for decades, it hasn't had much effect.
11.) How do you reward yourself? 
--By reading, or by modest amounts of dark chocolate.

I'm also supposed to post eleven facts about myself:
1.) I'm getting shorter as I get older.
2.) I'm getting heavier as I get older, which I should be able to control, but am not controlling very successfully.
3.) My politics have become very different than those of my very political parents, which makes for some awkwardness all round.
4.) I could eat breakfast food for almost every meal without tiring of it.
5.) I enjoy and admire historical fiction, but am intimidated at the thought of tackling it myself.
6.) My most serious and abiding character flaw is impatience, which manages to creep into many aspects of my life.
7.) I'm a first-generation American. (My parents were born in Poland and Germany, and left Europe just in time to escape the Holocaust.)
8.) I'm delighted when one of my daughters masters some skill I never had.
9.) I've read science fiction for so much of my life that I have trouble keeping track of what's actually been invented.
10.) I took sign language (both ASL and Signed English) in college, and might have become a sign language interpreter if I'd been more talented at it.
11.) When I'm bored or irritated, I mumble to myself in fingerspelling (aka the manual alphabet).

And finally, I'm supposed to tag eleven other people. This is the tough part, for me -- tough enough that I'm going to stall, and try to come up with a list in a separate post. (I also break chain letters. So it goes.)

The Unseen Convention, or How Romney Can Win

I must preface this post with an acknowledgment of my own conflict on the subject.

I believe another presidential term for Obama may well be disastrous, not only for this country but for the world -- as I also believe that the vitality of both our representative democracy and our economy is crucial not only within our borders but far beyond them. Yet I cannot ignore that Mitt Romney is willing, and some of his allies are eager, to roll back full civil and human rights for our GLBT citizens, one of whom is my marvelous and admirable older daughter.

I both hope and believe that the societal trend, at least in this country, toward full GLBT rights is sufficiently strong that even a Republican sweep of the institutions of federal government will not reverse it, or not for long. On balance, therefore, I believe that my daughters and their generation will overall, and eventually, benefit from a Romney victory.

Those who heard the Tuesday and Wednesday night speakers at the Republican National Convention may well be excited and optimistic about the future of the Republican Party. A host of past, present and potential Governors and members of Congress, female and/or from various ethnic minorities -- including Mayor Mia Love, Rep. Cathy McMorris Rodgers, Sen. Kelly Ayotte, Gov. Mary Fallin, Senatorial candidate Ted Cruz, Former Rep. Artur Davis, Gov. Nikki Haley, Gov. Luis Fortuno (pardon my ignorance of how to insert a tilde), and Gov. Susana Martinez -- showed that Republicans are by no means an exclusive collection of old white males.

Similarly, those hearing the speeches Thursday evening have reason to be excited and optimistic about the Republican presidential candidate. Speaker after speaker spoke from personal knowledge of Mitt Romney's drive, decisiveness, and business acumen, as well as his warmth and caring as a human being, his willingness to step forward and intervene with all his energy when he knew that help was needed.

The problem: almost no one heard these speeches. NBC and MSNBC generally cut away from the Tuesday and Wednesday speeches I've listed, perhaps finding them too challenging to the preferred liberal narrative about Republicans. Not even Fox News covered all the speeches by those whose businesses Bain Capitol  saved, or who witnessed Romney's hands-on turnaround of the 2002 Olympics or recounted his community and charity work. And how many potential voters waited until Romney was due to speak to tune in, or never bothered at all? Only those attending the convention and those who watched C-SPAN throughout it got the full benefit of this expertly crafted presentation. (Of course it was planned to present Romney and the Republicans in the best possible light. To the extent the Romney campaign was involved, the competence of that effort is its own kind of testimonial.)

For those who want Mitt Romney to win election -- those for whom his positions on social issues are either unobjectionable, or are not an insuperable objection -- there is a simple way to substantially increase the chances of that victory.

Get on YouTube, or your favorite search engine, and find videos and/or transcripts of some of these speeches. Share the links on Facebook, Twitter, your blog, or any other social media outlet. (Of course, you can do the same for any inspirint narratives that may emerge from the upcoming Democratic convention.)

It's that easy for each of us to increase voter knowledge of the alternatives in this election.

Update re book whose author I interviewed in January

Back in January 2012, I posted an interview with author Terri Morgan about her novel Playing the Genetic Lottery. So here's an update: the book is now available in paperback on Amazon and on her website (at http://terrimorgan.net). Check it out!

Refinements for the Lifesaving Car Seat Idea

My husband and daughter had some good suggestions to add to the idea of a car seat with thermometer and cell phone built in:

--The seat should phone the parent(s) first, at a lower temperature, and if no one comes and extracts the child, then phone the EMT's.

--Since it may take some time for help to arrive, the car itself should somehow be part of the setup so that after the first call, the car windows could be rolled completely down. (This might be a feature one could turn off, depending on the neighborhood where the car will be left -- although the risk of kidnapping or other harm to the child from an accessible interior is probably far less than the risk of leaving the windows up.)

Someone needs to produce this car seat and save some lives

Another summer, and more children's lives lost when parents -- generally parents whose routine has been disrupted in some way -- forget a young child in the back seat of a car, and don't remember until too late. I've done a bit of reading about this horrific situation, and it can happen to loving, conscientious parents under particular circumstances.

I read something somewhere about the idea of having cars that would sound an alarm if there were weight in a car seat and the interior temperature went above some set amount. That's a beginning -- but current technology would let us do better. Why not have a car seat with a built in thermometer and a built in cell phone (GPS included)? If there's a child-shaped object in the seat, AND the temperature gets too high, the phone could call 911 or some other emergency responder with a pre-programmed message explaining that the situation and inserting the location.

I'm not trying to patent this idea. I'm hoping people will re-post it until someone with some connection to the right company can take it and run with it. If you think this idea makes sense and could save lives, please spread it around!

Republicans Need to Stop Defending Akin

Since Representative and would-be Senator Todd Akin came out with his moronic comments about how women's bodies reject the sperm of rapists (I paraphrase, but do not distort), I've seen a number of tweeted attempts at damage control. Most of these compare the harmful effects of Democratic policies and opine that these dwarf the importance of Akin's statement.

I know how important it is for Republicans, and for Independent fiscal conservatives, to get a majority in the Senate. But there's a limit. Akin revealed ignorance of a dangerous, offensive and toxic nature. Unless he demonstrates that he has learned something profound from the public reaction -- and I'd love to see that happen -- he should lose any election in which he's running.

First look at blurb for my next book

Here's the most recent draft of the jacket copy/blurb for my upcoming (and still untitled) novel. Comments are welcome! -- as are title suggestions . . . .

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Cassidy has her grandparents, Jack and Sarah, and her Great-Grandma; and they have her. And all of them have what may be eternity. Memories can be relived, or shared. The wonders of the world they left behind are only a thought away. And the one-way tyranny of aging is no more -- a white-haired and stooped great-grandmother one moment can be a laughing young playmate the next.  But nothing can ease Cassidy's longing for her mother, Eleanor; and Jack and Sarah know better than to hope that Eleanor's life has been a happy one.

Eleanor never wanted to leave the daughter she loved so much. The overpowering urge to wander -- to search, without knowing what she sought -- drove her away. She left Cassidy in her family's loving care. But Cassidy and the others died in an accident before Eleanor could find her way home.

Now, they are all reunited, with the chance to understand and heal. But the restlessness that shaped Eleanor's life still haunts her in death. Somehow, she must solve the mystery of her life -- or none of them will be at peace.