Monday, September 23, 2024

Apples and Autobiography

Cortland apples.

This is a classic "writer's autumn" for me: bringing out a novel in print at last, while also working on a book version of the Vermont memoir I began after Dave's death. (Segments piled up on Medium; if you're curious, read them here.)

In writing the memoir as segments that I placed online, I excavated a heck of a lot of trauma. That turned out to be healthy for me -- but only, I think, because I grew through it, and now I'm in a stage of life that I loosely label "getting off the trauma merry-go-round." Life is good, and I want to pull the pieces together and show how that happened.

So the working title for the book is LOOKING FOR THE LIGHT, and today in chapter 2, I'm writing about apples and related recipes and reasons.  Here's a scrap:

Today I still rely on a shelf of traditional cookbooks, but it’s leavened (that’s a baking powder term!) with vegetarian ones, a paleo gem, international and ethnic compendiums, and, most important for this region, the Bentley Farm Cookbook.

This astonishing volume, eight and a half by twelve inches across the front and more than an inch thick, contains the hand-lettered recipes of one of the region’s beloved home cooks, Virginia Bentley. When I complimented a slice of pie at a community dinner last year and (as we do here) asked for the recipe, the baker said, “Oh, it’s Virginia’s, from the book. You have the book, of course.” She wasn’t asking me whether I had it—she knew I must.

Here's the cookbook, with a bit of the apple portion of the index, and a recipe to show you how different Virginia Bentley could be in how she talked about cooking.


 






The Winds of Freedom: How Vermont's Northeast Kingdom Approached Abolition


In this presidential election season, I think it's been clear that the effects of the American Civil War continue to affect beliefs around the country. President Lincoln's long approach to the abolition of human enslavement in America gave us a fundamental piece of today's view of human citizenship in our nation. At the same time, the long delay in getting there, with some 250 or more years of enslavement behind that, contributes to an awareness that we are not always as "good" or principled as we ought to be. And now we have a nation divided on what goodness and principle mean.

In the 1990s, when I began writing my historic novels, I came face to face with prevailing myths in Vermont history that dismayed me. Many of them revolved around the Underground Railroad, one of the heroic efforts in America in the early to mid 1800s. What we know today, historically, is that the Underground Railroad in Vermont might as well have been called the Aboveground Railroad -- because in the theme noted now at Rokeby in North Ferrisburgh, Vermont, if you were Black and reached Vermont in the 1850s (or had lived here for many years already, like the Mero family of Coventry), you were "Free and Safe." No need for hiding places.

But many people couldn't process that idea when I talked about it. So, based on my personal connection with historic fiction, I opted to write about the 1850s here through the voices and experiences of local people, hoping that readers could internalize that experience and reshape their own vision of what happened.

That led to THE LONG SHADOW, book 1 in the Winds of Freedom series, set in North Upton (aka North Danville) in 1850, from the points of view of teenagers enmeshed in adventures there. At the moment, the printed version is out of stock, but you can get the ebook here. Also ask Kim at Green Mountain Books to watch for a gently used copy for you!

More about that story later this week ... and then about books 2 and 3.

If you'd like to hear how the abolitionists of St. Johnsbury, Vermont, and the surrounding towns saw their world in the 1850s and how they entered the movement toward abolition, here's my talk recorded at the St. Johnsbury Athenaeum. I hope you find some fascinating discoveries when you listen/watch it.



Sunday, September 1, 2024

Billy Boyle World War II Mystery #19: THE PHANTOM PATROL, James R. Benn


Sure, autumn is great for crisp air, colorful leafs, and seasonal sports. But when cold rain or darkness (or needing a break) sends you back indoors, one of the big treats of the season is a new Billy Boyle mystery from James R. Benn. And number 19 in the series, THE PHANTOM PATROL, comes out this month. 

Apparently the publisher suffers from mild autumn flu or something, and has pushed back the release date to September 24. Definitely a nuisance for the author, as well as for bookstores hosting release events! But it will all work out. And I've got an advance copy, so I can fill you in and you can place a pre-order now, for delight in three weeks.

Yes, the new Billy Boyle is a keeper! This series has moved slowly through World War II, digging up extraordinary pockets of history that this young Irish cop turned wartime detective (working for "uncle Ike," General Eisenhower) discovers in assignments, official or not. His powerful friendship with Kaz, a Polish baron also working in his corps, his alliance with his boss Colonel Harding, and his romance with the very British Diana, who has even engaged in espionage behind German lines, have all lit up the books and given them emotional resonance.

In that way, THE PHANTOM PATROL cuts new ground for Benn. Although Kaz and a few others are with him as the book opens in the darkness of a Paris night, December 13, 1944, in the enormous Père Lachaise cemetery, much of the action depends instead on how Billy interprets what's going on a round him. We get to track his experience, his questions, and his choices, smart or not, as he sorts things out.

"I fired at the afterimage of the muzzle flash, then ducked as another burst slammed into the mausoleum. Kaz let off two more shots and I backed up, taking cover behind a tree as a gunman fired into the position I'd just vacated. I didn't have a clear shot at him, but as I scrambled between the graves, I realized these guys must be soldiers." 

Most of these enemies escape—leaving only one behind, neatly executed so he won't talk. "Excellent planning and ruthless approach," comments Billy's friend Kaz. ""Who are we dealing with here?" 

"And what the hell was in that grave?" I asked.

A quick bit of perspective: At this point in the war, the German occupying forces in France knew they'd been licked, and most officers invested in personal aspects of retreating. That included carrying away the spoils of war, which notoriously included priceless artwork. But others may have a stake in the profits. Soon it's clear that the gang activity Billy's hunting down must be engaged with masterful paintings. The obvious questions are, how are they being moved and how can the American team cut the supply lines?

Lightening up the action are cameo appearances from some of the American noncombatants embracing Paris and sometimes reporting for newspapers or enlarging their careers. Watch for J.D. Salinger and Ernest Hemingway, as well as British actor David Niven, drawing on his own military expertise from between the two wars. (I found myself pausing often to look up some of the surprises, and Niven's career was one of the really remarkable ones.)

David Niven (Wikipedia).

Benn is fully trustworthy as a historian and researcher, and deftly braids his details into Billy Boyle's investigations and personal stakes. It's hard to guess how long this series will run, as Benn's been adept at mining the war, month by month—but readers know the war will end, maybe not as soon as Billy and Kaz and Diana would like, but as even the Nazis know, the tide has turned and can't be resisted. Ramping up the suspense of this period is Benn's subtle threat to the relationship between Billy and the love of his (young) life: Will a Boston cop and an English aristocrat find a way to sustain their love and purposes when peace finally arrives?

Billy's own comment near the end of the book sums up what's at stake, and I can quote it without spoiling the plot: "When this is over, it damn well better have been worth it. We deserved a world worthy of both the sacrifice of the dead and those exquisite paintings. We deserved a world of love and beauty."

Don't miss this episode; it's the footing for the remaining Billy Boyle volumes, a rich platform of meaning and suspense garbed in the significant history of our time.

 



Friday, August 9, 2024

Two Poems Recently Published -- Four More "Accepted for Publication"

A poem begins like a wild apple growing -- from a delicate blossom that's around briefly.

 

A good day for me is when I write a poem that I feel is -- yes, good. It's also nice to have them published. That's the whipped cream on the hot fudge brownie sundae. Or, with the upcoming Caledonia County Fair and the Robillard family's historic gifts in mind, the vanilla ice cream on the apple crisp.

If you haven't taken time to follow the links that I place on Facebook, here are the two most recent published poems of mine. I hope they echo in your thoughts to something vital of your own.

In the summer issue of New Feathers Anthology, which I hope you'll visit by tapping here to see the amazing image they've paired with this, is "My Mother, 1937."

My Mother, 1937

 

Bewildered farm girl with a dying mother (cancer, too late):

ignored, she clung to Lucky Lindbergh’s transatlantic flight,

hoarded newspaper articles about Amelia Earhardt,

refused to beg her cocky cousins for attention—

she could claim the future, sky high, better than theirs. When

death landed as predicted, love retreated into

the unreal hardness of one frozen knuckle (they made her

kiss it). Amelia, she told herself. Amelia would do this

without falling. Her cousins watched, whispered.

 

Amelia, a borrowed badge, a resonant insistence. Next month

her father said “Your mother’s cousin Ruth arrives on Tuesday,

to be your new mother.” Thrust a photo into her hand. That night

she lay sleepless in the bed, next to where her real mother

used to sit, stroke her hair, sing good night. The next evening

the radio hissed, coughed, spat out news: Earhardt lost. Airplane

vanished. Fog. Feared drowned. Lost, lost, lost.


“Stepmother” came just like Hansel and Gretel’s story, strict, tall,

declining soft clothes or embraces. Never call her Mommy!

Be a lady, little Joan. No more running or jumping. No lady wears

goggles or a helmet. Gloves are for Sundays. Not air controls.

 

Each night, after dark, her heart and mind refused to behave.

Flying, falling, weeping.

 

BK

 

This will also be available in print! Watch for news of that.

 

There's a very different poem in After Happy Hours Review, inspired by the gift of a 3-inch wooden box with hinged lid that contains three sand dollars. (Thank you, neighbors!) It keys in with a very dangerous experience I've described in my memoir pieces on Medium, where someone I now call The Villain hoped to terrify me on a small boat out in Casco Bay, Maine. It was quite effective but not as quickly as he wanted. Well, we all make some bad choices, and learn from them to make better ones.

 

 

Sand Dollars in a Small Wooden Box 

 

This is wealth: three delicate sand dollars, gray, pale,

tucked in a tiny wooden box. Souvenirs of a friend’s

beach rambles. Surfaces shedding fine gold-gray sand

with every touch. See, she whispered, here is the mouth

centered within the five-petaled surface. And here,

the anus. Algae in, remainders out. I, who never held

a live sand dollar, never witnessed one propel itself

through wet sand,  spurting, spined, moist, stroked again

the rough emery finish, the grained surface, and settled these

(three, for luck or love) into their container.

 

The mind, they say, is a curious thing; the brain, surely so.

Wet, questioning, curled in its own tidal pool, saltwater

and moon collaborating. My fingers are sliced open by a net

of knowledge; dampen my morning with dreamy details.

In its dry casket, a sand dollar is a skeleton of a sea urchin

bereft of nourishment and moisture. Of impulse. It had spines.

It digested. It explored, left larvae, expelled exhilaration

plucking a single note of life, life, life. Hunger accompanies

harmony. Lift this to the tongue. The sand dollar tastes of

salt and secrets. See, here is my mouth. Lost on a raw

Atlantic beach, say in Maine, where cold winds rip

and the surge of water overwhelms, I screamed. Once,

someone tried to drown me. Now my fingers, five parts

scratching and scrabbling, spread like the sand dollar—

scrape at the sand, scramble toward skeletal certainty.

When I’m finished, I’ll wait in that little wooden box.

 

BK


 

If you like to listen to a poet's voice with the words, tap here for the read-aloud version

 

And oh yes, I have four more "accepted for publication" in the future. That's like, umm, homemade chocolate chip cookies waiting in the freezer for a special moment.


At the Caledonia County Fair ...



  

Thursday, August 8, 2024

Winds of Freedom Book 3 Is Coming This Autumn!


The Bitter and the Sweet, the third book in my Winds of Freedom series (after The Long Shadow and This Ardent Flame), should be in print by early November -- maybe sooner! -- from All Things That Matter Press. I know it's been a long wait (thanks to, you know, COVID). So I thought I'd give you a bit of a recap of what the young ladies of North Upton (in real life, North Danville) Vermont have been doing in the 1850s, as Vermont is seized by a passion for Abolition ... that is, the legal abolition of slavery in a nation that had profited in many ways from enslavement for two centuries.

But of course, for northern Vermont teenagers, that's not initially the focus of their attention!

Here's what went on in 1850 in The Long Shadow (can be ordered here or as an ebook here):

THE LONG SHADOW Synopsis

 

            ALICE SANBORN, age 15 in March of 1850, is the youngest member of her family and the only one not taking a stand on Abolition. In her Vermont village of North Upton, she and her best friends – JERUSHAH, whose family owns the tavern, and SARAH, a younger black girl who is waiting in Vermont for negotiations to free the rest of her family from slavery down South – are more interested in maple sugaring and the arrival of spring than in politics. Still, Alice sees enough to guess that her married brother WILLIAM is conspiring with messenger SOLOMON McBRIDE to protect fugitive slaves. 

            When a slave-hunter reaches the area, Alice’s father sends the three girls, driven by Solomon, to a nearby large town to stay briefly with the elegant MISS FARROW, herself a former slave.  But the slave-hunter spies on Solomon and follows them. The girls elude danger, as Alice starts their horse and carriage north. Solomon sends the slave-hunter on a false trail, catches up with the girls, and drives them farther, despite snow, bad roads, and a catamount.

            By the time the girls reach sanctuary with the HAYES family of Free Blacks near the Canadian border, Jerushah and Sarah are desperately ill. Solomon leaves on his own mission. Alice meets the challenges of helping Mrs. Hayes nurse her friends. CHARLES HAYES startles Alice by laying hands in prayer onto Sarah; he offers the same for Jerushah, but Alice declines on her behalf, unsure her friend would want this.

            Sarah recovers and is happy to stay with the Hayes household to await her own family. But Solomon visits and persuades Alice that Jerushah, still fretful and frail, needs to return to her own mother. Solomon, Alice, and Jerushah endure a storm, flooding, and wolves to drive home. Along the way, Alice learns about Solomon’s freedom-fighting work and considers becoming an active Abolitionist herself – a role that won’t fit her father’s view that the Union of states is more important than freeing slaves.

            The return proves disastrous: Jerushah suffers a relapse, and blame falls on Alice. Although Jerushah’s family won’t let Alice visit, there is an almost-forgotten tunnel that links Alice’s home to the tavern. With help from Jerushah’s brother MATTHEW, the two girls reconnect and begin to leave messages for each other. Alice is dismayed to realize that Jerushah’s friendship for her includes expectations of long-term affection and living together as “spinsters,” a situation Alice does not desire. At the same time, the girls’ brothers – William and Matthew – ask Alice to help in the risky transport of documents that Solomon needs for men escaping slavery and headed to Vermont.

Alice learns to navigate the tunnel even in the dark. But Jerushah’s too fragile to do that, and when she tries to, she takes a terrible fall. Is it Alice’s fault again? All this guilt burdens Alice, and being part of Solomon’s righteous efforts can’t dispel the darkness.

  * * *         

 To learn how it all works out, of course, you need to read the book! (If I told you here, that would really be a spoiler, wouldn't it?)

 

Watch for news about The Bitter and the Sweet, coming soon!



Thursday, July 18, 2024

Compassion Fatigue? What If It Were a Leg Muscle?


It's been a very hard 8 days here in Vermont's Northeast Kingdom, with losses and grief and discouragement, thanks to terrible flooding from a 6-inch rainstorm.

But it's also been 8 days of being amazed, touched, and proud of our communities, as people have pitched in to rebuild roads, deliver groceries, share water, and yes, provide funding for those whose homes were destroyed.

But Rachael Moragues and her sons didn't know until yesterday that their brookside house would be condemned as unlivable from the flooding, so she's not yet receiving the enormous support that's available. I'm hoping this is your moment to dip into a pocket again -- or for the first time this season -- and give what you'd appreciate receiving if you were in her shoes.

The way you care for a muscle that's overworked is to rub it some, hydrate, then stretch it. Let's stretch our hearts for Rachael. Donate here, and be part of this caring community.


Sunday, July 7, 2024

Book Notes: Dark, No Sugar—from Eli Cranor, Scott Phillips, Stuart Neville


These three crime novels are all from Soho Press: two from the Soho Crime imprint, and one from a new imprint called Hell's Hundred. Brace yourself. And note that the blue links are usually to reviews I've posted earlier, often on our Kingdom Books blog.

BROILER by Eli Cranor came out last week (July 2) so you may have missed it, considering the fireworks both physical and political. I reviewed Cranor's two earlier books, Don't Know Tough and Ozark Dogs, and this new one follows his curve toward increasingly bitter exposure of hard lives in Arkansas. Being ground down by circumstance, poverty, and the power of your boss is a classic situation that breeds thoughts of revenge. "Hardworking, undocumented employees" Gabriela Menchaca and Edwin Saucedo suffer some of life's terrible losses ... and that's before you add the horrors of their work at a chicken plant.

What they can't imagine is that the rich and powerful in their lives might also have wounds. And it takes the women to sort this out. There's a lot of "ugly" to wade through in this very new take on a kidnap crime -- but there's a lot of beauty, too, in Cranor's resolution of the hot mess.


THE DEVIL RAISES HIS OWN (August 6 release) is  Los Angeles noir at its richest and funniest, set in 1916 as photographers fumble with the new film technologies available—and the shocking delights of the mild porn called blue movies. Scott Phillips is known for his Midwestern noir but his 2020 That Left Turn at Albuquerque was already shifting the locale westward ... and isn't the classic noir often rooted i n LA?

When the photo would-be professionals cross paths with Bill Ogden and his studio, not to mention Bill's strong-willed granddaughter Flavia, complications multiply. Still, each of the men in this tangle has his own ways of keeping calm:

On the streetcar home from Pasadema Bill sat next to a handsome woman wearing spectacles, a basket full of vegetables at her feet. After a while she turned to him and spoke. "You hurting, mister?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You keep wincing."

He hadn't been aware of it. "I pulled a muscle in my back."

She looked him up and down, mouth pinched tight. "You look like a man's been up to some mischief. ... You have a look I recognize. A cheat. ... I can smell her eau de cologne on you. And I'll bet she's married, too, isn't she?"

Love noir, especially LA noir? Or dipping back into the start of the Golden Age of film? Pull this one onto your summer reading shelf and get ready for a lot of sneaky grins.

I would read almost anything by Belfast author Stuart Neville. His Belfast Noir books have been compelling, often threaded with the paranormal, and fisted with the generation-to-generation wounds and darkness of The Troubles. So I grabbed BLOOD LIKE MINE without realizing the shift of genre. It's quickly obvious: This is an all-American Western plus horror crossed into crime fiction, with that bloody tang of the Donner party in the background. (If you don't recall that from history class, take a moment to look at what took place back then.) It's compelling and gruesome ... and I hope that Neville isn't going to take this as an ongoing theme for a series about the historic burdens of growing up in the United States!


Almost anything else I could tell you about BLOOD LIKE MINE would be a spoiler -- you need to roll into it and figure out the twists as you go. I'll just tip my hat to Neville's unusual positioning of a mother and daughter and their very unusual motives for their Western journey. Shudder ....

The book's release (August 6) marks the second of the "Hell's Hundred" collection (it started in June with youthjuice by E.K. Sathue. Follow, pre-order, do all that important planning if the mingling of horror with crime and noir is your cup of ... certainly not tea!

Saturday, July 6, 2024

Book Notes: Fresh Books from Hugh Laurie and Rex Stout

1996 hardcover



When I heard Hugh Laurie's crime novel THE GUN SELLER was being re-released this summer by Soho Press (which published it originally in 1996), I found the advance review copies were missing the hyped "introduction by the author" and "foreword by Stephen Fry." I bought one of the first edition hardcovers -- marked up by a library -- and dug into the story. 

Laurie is a noted actor, and in the US best known recently as Dr. House in the eponymous TV series House. I was tickled to find that his sense of plot and pacing in this book, his first novel, is first rate. Either he absorbed the rhythms of his performances (also including Blackadder on TV, and 101 Dalmations among films), or he's been reading and soaking up crime fiction for a long time. Or both.

2024 softcover
When former Scots Guard officer Thomas Lang receives a pitch for contract murder, he declines immediately and goes above and beyond the ethical call by going to see the prospective victim. That gets him into several kinds of trouble, from legal to physical, and at the same time makes him the target of an old-fashioned "honey trap" enterprise. The first half of the novel plays out as expected, with plenty of that familiar wry humor familiar from Blackadder. The second half is frankly unbelievable, but still a fun and lively read.

And now that the new edition's in print, you can read the very short intro material. But if you can grab the earlier edition, you might as well, because there's nothing of note in those added segments. The "Discussion Questions" in the new version are pretty funny, though. 

Espionage fiction shelves and British humor shelves should both include THE GUN SELLER.

*

As a devoted fan of Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe series (if you ever met my darling extra-large husband, you can appreciate one reason), I rushed to pre-order HOW LIKE A GOD when it was announced in January that a never-published Stout book would be released by Hard Case Crime. It arrived as promised at the start of June. After several attempts, I've passed it along elsewhere. It's a cross between an existential exploration of a potential murderer's mind, and a grim LA-style noir, narrated as if it were an existential pseudo-novel. Not my cup of tea. If you like very dark noir and can put up with a slow pace and many diversions, give it a try and let me know your thoughts afterward. I'm going back to the Nero Wolfe series, which often warms my heart, as well as providing classic mystery narrative.


Wednesday, June 26, 2024

Little Fish, Big Pond: An Honorable Mention from the National Federation of Press Women


Writing is such an emotionally fraught sort of journey, at least if you're not one of the Big Fish. There's no certainly that any given piece will get into print, and if you're doing it right (at least, for me), there's a bit of your heart in each one. You really want to see it be welcomed.

So I'm "bookmarking" for myself that this is a Good Week. Although I haven't seen a poem move into publication this week, I got another very generous "hey you almost made it" rejection letter from a publication that I value. That's huge encouragement.

Plus some of my writing DOES regularly get into print -- the one-a-month feature articles on Northeast Kingdom people, traditions, and explorations that I write for The North Star Monthly. This week the National Federation of Press Women -- professional "communicators" from all over the United States -- gave an Honorable Mention award to my 2023 article on Bob Peters of Granby. It's a thrill to know that people across the country are taking a look at this story. He was a wonderful person to interview and I'm delighted to know that the judges caught that feeling.




Thursday, June 20, 2024

Book Thoughts: World-Building and Suspense in SPIDERWEB ALLEY and EDGE OF THE KNOWN WORLD


"Book One of The Elverie Road"

When I learned that author Verlyn Flieger has been called "the world's foremost scholar on the works of J. R. R. Tolkein, of course I wanted to read her new novel, SPIDERWEB ALLEY. Scheduled for June 25 release from Minnesota publisher The Gabro Head, it's printed in a compact chunky form, 5 by 7 in ches and about an inch thick -- which immediately suggests tucking it into a pocket or modest carrier bag, for reading between stops or efforts.

The frontspiece offers an almost poem describing a chilly seacoast with nearby mysterious forests and "curious patterns of stars." Kath and Mick, who've bonded over the search for an old book at the library's Special Collections, are driving along the coast at evening, headed to an inn, when strange things begin to happen. Kath finds herself drawn to the eccentric people and their quaint folkways, feeling as if she belongs, in a way that the odd persons she connects with seem to confirm. Is this an Otherworld, a faerie place? Kath will come to know it as Elverie.

Her particpation in several faerie-related or pagan festive occasions here puts her into danger -- and perhaps even more so for Mick, suddenly in competition with a powerful mythic man who seems to know things about Kath that don't make sense to him. Soon he's denying her experience, sure she's having some form of breakdown.

The book's small shape allows a count of 362 pages for what's really a novella, or part I of a three-part longer novel. The ending's irritating in that sense, because things have really only just begun to knit together. I can't tell when the other parts of "Elverie Road" will reach print, but if you, like me, need to read this one in honor of the specialty of its author, brace for some frustration.

Flieger's novel is clearly built from the old British tales (English? Irish? Scottish?) told at firesides and on becalmed ships. Her creative aspect is the entwining of such tales with a modern and conflicted marriage. I'm holding off on deciding whether it "works" until I see the rest of the story in the sequels.


Dictatorships, Expanded Conflicts, and Genetic IDs

EDGE OF THE KNOWN WORLD (SparkPress, Sept. 2024)  is described as the debut novel by Sheri T. Joseph, but from the level of expertise involved in world-building here, I'd have to guess she's written plenty of other material while learning her craft. 

Alexandra Tashen is super bright and has earned her PhD early enough to be a postdoc student at age 23. She's also surprisingly naive, considering how much grief she's witnessed already, with a missing father and a genetic inheritance that puts her in danger daily. Any random ID screening could show up the not-quite-erased tagging gene that her father tried to spare her, and she'd be instantly a criminal and lose her career and lifestyle as well as freedom. And self-respect.

The professor she's working with, Kommandant Burton, is part parental and part mentor and mostly, although Alex doesn't quite realize it the implications, militaristically in charge of a lot of the almost-free part of the world. Wars familiar to us today have multiplied, fractured, and realigned the nations; the Kommandant is a general and a West Point alum and is in control of her group of factions.

The most significant aspect of this "world," though, is clearly built from today's American and even global politics: Someone's exerting unusual hacking skills on behalf of those who need asylum. The entire world of politics and conflict is balanced on who'll be allowed movement between which regions.

Alex is sometimes less interesting than her Kommandant, Suzanne Dias Burton (authors beware: that's a risky framework). Here's my favorite half page, as Suzanne interacts with a Russian-style counterpart who's just suggested that global instability justifies continued control:

"Gallows humor," said Bulgakov. He had the tranquil composure of a tortoise. "For many here, the refusés in the Netcast are separated family. They remember the kindertransports."

Suzanne stiffened, and checked for implied criticism. The kindertransports had smuggled children out of the Federation for several years following the Treaty, until the g-screens made it impossible to hide them. The children were returned. with scenes of screaming families that still rose in Suzanne's worst dreams. But Bulgakov's face remained serene. Suzanne wondered if it was possible for him to be outraged or shocked. Perhaps nothing surprised him anymore.

The book's finale is a strange one, half soft, half provocative. If there's a sequel, which seems likely, I'll be lining up for a copy. By the way, EDGE OF THE KNOWN WORLD will surely be compared with Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale -- but I think it's much closer to pushing today's politics to a believable extreme.  Nicely done.

 


Sunday, June 16, 2024

And More Poems ...

 Such a pleasure to enter the pages of RockPaperPoem with "The Next Stage of Grief": link here.

I've been having a great time sharing my poem "Rocks," which was the first runner up for the Steve Kowit Poetry Prize -- I flew to San Diego to accept the award and meet some of the other poets.

My moose went with me to the Pacific Ocean.

Rocks

 

In New England, we grow them—harvest them, stack them

along the edges of fields. Good crop? Not bad this time.

After spring’s lines of lavender and late roses

 

half a year of long lament, laid as a line of stones. My life in

widow world: Would he have watched this season’s harvest? Praised

fat tomatoes in a bowl, purple berries, pinecones?

 

He would. So I carry him close, as his spirit snuggles

in my hip pocket, speak his name, sing louder, share a smile.

When night falls, I shoulder silence, dinner for one:

 

which drove me to delve and define “inselberg,”

tongue-tossed by a mining geologist in east Africa seduced

by the Serengeti, where lions hunt from high crags—

 

rock knobs risen through weather and resistance. On my

tongue next, the term “monadnock,” indigenous form for lone

mountain surviving. In New England we live with our past:

 

words absorbed from Abenaki assertion, stones heaped as walls

around our burial grounds. We witness forests reclaim farms.

Find old foundations of granite and grit

 

dark, cold, exhaling radon remnants. I gave my love

a marble marker for his grave, engraved with names. Geology

rasps rough on this rainy evening, looking up

 

igneous, formed from fire, blazing birth of coarse-grained rock

laid down in wide intrusions at this world’s skin. I grasp:

granite grows a wrap of lichens, palest green, rooting

 

in the grains from which the stone steals its name. Words wrestle,

weathered stones subsiding into soil. Widow world wanders,

walking steep slopes; in loss, the gray-green lichens linger.

 

-- BK

 

And if you missed my St. Johnsbury poem "I See  You," you can listen to it again (and read it below the audio part) -- at Gyroscope Review: click here


Plus you can both see AND listen to this poem, "TEEN SUMMER," at The Post Grad Journal -- click here.


There, I'm a little bit caught up, and I'll fill you in on summer publications very soon. Thanks for reading along!

Apples and Autobiography

Cortland apples. This is a classic "writer's autumn" for me: bringing out a novel in print at last, while also working on a bo...