The Paths of Marriage by Mala Kumar

Book: The Paths of Marriage

Author: Mala Kumar

Publisher: Bedazzled Ink Publishing

On a late August afternoon in 1984, my corn-fed parents packed up the Delta 88 with all my worldly possessions, and deposited my twitchy little butt into Room 718 of Lawson Hall on the campus of Eastern Illinois University.

American manufacturing at its finest

By-the-by, Oldsmobile’s official tagline for the Delta 88 was, “A nice surprise for families who didn’t think they could afford a car.” Really.

For the most part, it was the first time I’d really left the farm.

For anywhere.

Ever.

My first-year roommate was a born-again, bible-thumping biology major, I had no clue why Wednesday was “Prince Spaghetti Day,” and I rocked the big glasses and home perm. I was a hayseed. An outsider. A freak. I had a South Midland accent that clashed horribly with Chicago’s Northern-City-Vowel-Shift. I had no clue why the dining hall always served fish on Friday, and the only Polish phrase I knew was “Warsaw Falcon,” a spurious brand of kosher pickles stocked in the local IGA.

To say college was a culture shock, is a bit like saying “Black Death cast rather a gloom over the 14th Century.”

But, over the course of that first year, things started to sort themselves out. I met a great gal from Northbrook, who was a fellow outsider and freak. The only difference was that “outsider” and “freak” were badges of honor for her. She was deceptively smart and well read, and her sense of humor could sharpen a shillelagh at forty paces. She took me under her wing, introduced me to REM, and spent more nights than I can remember sitting under the stars with me, talking about life and everything in between.

My glasses eventually got better, but I would endure another decade of increasingly bad hair don’t’s before I finally learned to quit loving the box perm, and get a real hairstylist.

It’s a nice story, I know.

But, as hard as it was for me, I had it easy…by far.

Imagine what it would feel like being that 17-year-old girl, and encountering a cultural chasm where your religion, cuisine, family and gender roles, celebrations, marriages, music, clothing, language, and societal hierarchy—all or in large part—were outside of the excepted norm.

Yeah, kind of daunting, right?

In Mala Kumar’s debut novel, The Paths of Marriage, three generations of Indian/ Indian-American women wage battles against discrimination from within themselves, the outside world, and each other. Lakshmi was born Shudra in the South India city of Chennai. A smart girl, her parents made every sacrifice to see that she would live a better life than they had. Lakshmi faced brutal discrimination from a society that did not value her place in the world, her sex, or her lack of wealth. After the murder of her father, and the suicide of her best friend, the reeling Lakshmi meets Shankar, a kind-hearted young man who is intent upon marrying for love and not for tradition. After a whirlwind romance, the young couple immigrates to the United States, where Shankar takes a job as a doctor. They struggle to learn the ways of their new world, finding success, joy, heartbreak, and discrimination, before eventually settling in a small town in West Virginia to raise their two daughters.

Pooja, their oldest daughter, grows up an outsider in her West Virginia town, and learns upon high school graduation that she is destined for an arranged marriage. While not happy with her parents’ decision, she reluctantly tries to rise to the expectations set for her. After marrying Anand, who takes a residency position in Orlando, Pooja gets an opportunity to follow her dream of studying architecture. But soon Anand must take another position in New Orleans, and Pooja’s dreams are uprooted. Eventually, she enrolls in a new architectural program, and life rights itself again. That is, until she finds herself falling in love with one of her professors, and drifting away from her husband. To make matters worse, the object of her affection is proudly gay, and has no interest in her other than as a friend. Newly single, broken-hearted, and pregnant, Pooja walks away from her academic dreams, and embarks upon a journey to give her daughter the life she never had.

Deepa, is a third generation Indian-American, and a lesbian. Living in New York City, she is out and proud. However, with her mother and grandmother, she remains firmly in the closet—understanding that her grandmother lived a hard life, and that her mother made many sacrifices for her. After meeting the woman who could be the love of her life, she struggles to understand what it means to love someone enough to risk losing everything. Deepa’s eventual coming out is complicated by the circumstances of being a gay minority woman, and it splits the seams of her family wide open. Each woman must then find a way to use her own set of experiences to form empathy for the others.

For the Indian-American community, The Paths of Marriage is a one-of-a-kind story, and its themes are the fundamental and often universal ideas explored in literary works of many cultures.

Chief among them is the challenge of cultural translation—the various narrators (Lakshmi, Pooja, and Deepa) meditate on their inability to translate concepts and sentiments from one culture to another—Indian to American, Privileged to Peasant, First Generation to Second Generation to Third Generation, Straight to Gay. The barriers that exist between the mothers and the daughters are often due to their inability to communicate with one another, sometimes through language, sometimes through life experience, and sometimes through cultural establishment.

The second is the power of storytelling—because the barriers between the Indian and the American cultures are exacerbated by imperfect translation of language and experience: the mothers use storytelling to circumvent these barriers and communicate with their daughters. The stories they tell often warn against certain mistakes, or give advice based on past successes. In effect, storytelling is used to communicate not just life’s lessons-learned, but also to illumine the basis for decision-making and steadfast belief. The problems arise when each of the characters has heard the others’ stories so often that they quit listening, and lose the importance of the message.

The third is the issue of immigrant identity. At some point in Ms. Kumar’s story, each of the major characters expresses anxiety over her inability to reconcile her Indian heritage with her American surroundings. While the daughters in the novel are genetically Indian, they also identify with, and feel at home in, modern American culture. Still, as the novel progresses, the daughters plan a special trip to visit both Paris and the Taj Mahal—showing, perhaps, that they are amalgams of their unique tastes, habits, hopes, and ambitions more so than creatures of their genetic sequences.

And finally, the characters use their own sets of experiences to form empathy toward others. Lakshmi survives a brutal youth. Pooja gives up her dreams to fulfill the dreams of her parents. And Deepa embraces life as a lesbian. Each woman becomes so focused on her personal demons, that she fails to understand and accept the messages she is hearing from the others. As each woman finds herself poised on a precipice of nothingness, she must choose either to change her trajectory, or to step forward. These acts of personal sacrifice speak to the power of the mother-daughter-granddaughter bond—despite being weakened and tested by cultural, linguistic, and generational gulfs. The sacrifices these women make prove that the bonds they share will not be destroyed.  

Author
Mala Kumar

The Paths of Marriage is a richly textured story full of bountiful detail, well-defined characters, and unexpected cultural and social insight. It expresses a rare fidelity and beauty, while having the heart to show both the dark underbelly of Indian and American cultures, as well as the bright lights they share. Ms. Kumar speaks to the ongoing struggle to control our own destinies, the blight of sexism on both historical and contemporary cultures, and the bonds that strengthen when you are willing to sacrifice for love.

In the hands of a less passionate writer, such thematic material might easily have become didactic, and the characters might have seemed like paper doll cutouts from a Bollywood knockoff of The Joy Luck Club. But in the hands of Mala Kumar, who has a wonderful eye for detail, an ear for dialogue, a soul-deep empathy for her subject matter, and a gently colloquial style of writing, they form the beautiful and compelling story we’ve waited a long time to read. The Paths of Marriage is a must read, not just for members of the Indian-American community, but for lesbians, feminists, and women of all sizes, shapes, colors, and beliefs.

The Paths of Marriage is scheduled for an October 1, 2014 release date.

Letters Never Sent by Sandra Moran

Book: Letters Never Sent

Author: Sandra Moran

Publisher: Bedazzled Ink Publishing

The year was 1933.

A severe worldwide economic recession gave way to “The Great Depression,” Adolph Hitler became Chancellor of Germany, a tsunami roared across the pacific island of Japan and claimed 3,000 lives, and an earthquake in China took more than 9,000. 

In 1933, Prohibition in the United States was repealed by constitutional amendment; the Marx Brothers released the iconic film, Duck Soup; FM radio was patented; and Joan Collins, Elly Ameling, Nina Simone, Ruth Bader Ginsberg, Carol Burnett, Julie Newmar, Jayne Mansfield, and Joan Rivers were all born. 

It was also the year that Winston Churchill stood before the world and warned of the dangers of German rearmament. And on Northerly Island in Chicago, The Century of Progress World's Fair opened to more than 48 million visitors.

"I haven't been out of work since the day I took my pants off."

                                                              - Sally Rand, Burlesque Dancer

Sally Rand
Chicago Tribune Archive

With seemingly everything in the world going to hell in a handbasket, the forward thinking organizers of Chicago's 1933 World's Fair used the very idea of progress to buoy national optimism during the years following the Great Contraction and the Stock Market Crash of 1929. The fair implemented a model that envisioned a promising future through the rapid advancement of science and technology, and the application of those advancements to everyday life for everyday people. The fair housed a wide array of experimental buildings that included a spiffy Hall of Science, the U.S. Federal Building, the General Motors Building, and the Sears Pavilion. It also presented futuristic model houses like George Frederick Keck’s twelve-sided House of Tomorrow, and foreign exhibition areas that included the Italian Pavilion, the Belgian Village, and the Streets of Paris—where famed fan dancer Sally Rand performed.

As an aside, the lovely Ms. Rand was once arrested four times in the same day for indecent exposure—curiously, though, she was clothed on each occasion.

And that brings up an interesting point about this wonderful concept of the Century of Progress—and the fact that it had very little to do with social justice, equality, gender-related accomplishments, or personal freedom and expression. The stark pronouncement of the fair's motto, "Science Finds, Industry Applies, Man Conforms," was challenged by women like Ms. Rand, whose provocative fan dance became a persistent symbol of the fair, despite that fact that women were largely ignored by the fair's corporate leadership.

Surprisingly, in advance of the preceding World's Fair of 1893, U.S. federal legislation had mandated the inclusion of women's exhibits in the World's Columbian Exposition. In 1933, no such congressional mandate existed, with the result that women found little to no representation in the Century of Progress Exposition, apart from midway shows where they were represented as commodities. There was no Woman's Building, and exhibits depicting the contributions of women to America's national progress were few and far between.

Unwittingly, the fair showed that progress in the area of women's rights would not automatically follow from the growing power of corporations and advancing technology in American life. And a full eighty years latter, there’s still a 23 percent wage gap between men and women, and angry zealots are finding new and diabolical methods to keep women barefoot and pregnant, and queers running for their lives.

“Century of Progress,” my ass.

In Letters Never Sent, the debut novel by Sandra Moran, the reader follows the journey of three women who traverse the murky waters of societal conventions, familial duty, and self-acceptance. When young Katherine Henderson flees her small Kansas town and an unwanted marriage proposal for the bright lights of Chicago, she finds a career, fast friends, and an independence she has always craved. Not long after getting settled in her job behind the glove counter at Sears & Roebuck, she meets the bold and outspoken feminist and lesbian, Annie. Katherine fights her unexpected attraction to Annie, but finds that some things are stronger than her fears.

Sixty-six years later, Katherine’s estranged daughter, Joan, travels to Lawrence, Kansas to clean out her recently deceased mother’s home and prepare it for sale. Much to her surprise, she finds an old suitcase containing a wooden box full of trinkets, a spent bullet casing, and a packet of sealed love letters written to a person identified only by the letter “A.”  As Joan begins to read these unsent letters, she discovers a woman completely different from the cold and uncompromising mother of her youth—a woman who had loved deeply and lost that love to circumstances both in, and beyond, her control. As the reader goes back in time to discover the secrets that Katherine and Annie shared, a murder is revealed, and Joan learns that lessons of the past go a long way toward helping her unravel the choices she’s made, and ultimately find the strength to have the life she deserves.

The 1933 Chicago World’s Fair makes a brief and exultant appearance in Letters Never Sent, but the metaphor it creates frames the entire story. The metaphor presented by The Century of Progress gets readers to think about the persistent and enduring war on women and the LGBT community. It’s relevant to Ms. Moran’s debut novel, because it brought about amazing and unheralded technological advancements, as well as pockets of understanding and acceptance for things once considered outside of religious and societal convention. However, The Century of Progress did little to ameliorate the long list of inequalities and humiliations that still are being inflicted upon people who do not have the ability to control their gender or sexual orientations.

Letters Never Sent is a crisp, well-written story that is chock full of strong imagery, indelible characters, and conflict that almost any woman can relate to in one way or another. Her transitions between the past and present work seamlessly, and she is able to capture the floodwaters of joy, love, heartbreak, and sorrow with unhurried profundity. Unlike textbook romances that follow ritualistic formulas that lead to a Happily Ever After, Letters Never Sent is more a love story and a cautionary tale—prodding each of us to examine the decisions we’ve made or would have made, had we been faced with similar situations.

Sandra Moran

Ms. Moran skillfully creates early mid-century female characters who challenge societal convention by drinking, smoking, having pre-marital sex, and loving other women. She also makes these women vulnerable, and shows the contrast between two women: one who faces taboos head on; and another who struggles to maintain a balance between the expectations of family and society with her innate desires as a woman and a sexual creature. Beyond that, Ms. Moran also presents a modern woman who is much more like her mother than she ever could have dreamed: a woman who married and bore children more out of blind adherence to societal expectation, than out of love and desire. She, too, is a sexual creature. But it is only after truly getting to know her mother by reading her letters never sent, that she comes to terms with her right to be a happy and contented woman, professional, and mother.

Whether by great intent or good story telling, Sandra Moran gets us thinking about the evolution of women and lesbians in America. If you’re looking for a compelling love story that is not formulaic, or if you’re looking for a story that is well researched and intellectually provocative, then Letters Never Sent is one to pick up and take out for a spin.

The Willing Suspension of Disbelief - TRR Reviews Marquette & Bigelow

Across the wide world of fiction, readers are often asked to believe a premise that they would never accept in the real world. This is especially true in genres such as Fantastika, science fiction, space opera, and paranormal, where things and events happen in the story that most people would not believe for a second if they were presented in a newspaper as fact.

Of course, one could make the argument that it holds true for a large portion of the lesbian erotica hitting the market these days.

In order to fully engage in and enjoy such stories, readers participate in a phenomenon known as "willing suspension of disbelief.” This is a semi-conscious decision in which we put aside our disbelief, and accept the premise as being real and plausible for the duration of the story.

Apt examples of the willing suspension of disbelief include menopausal werewolves, hot lesbian couples having simultaneous orgasms in a rainstorm under a double rainbow, and the fact that I’m forty-six and just bought my first pair of flip-flops.

The very concept of willing suspension of disbelief is a product of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. In 1817 he published what has become one of the landmark examples of literary criticism with his Biographia Literaria; or Biographical Sketches of My Literary Life and Opinions.

"In this idea originated the plan of the ‘Lyrical Ballads’, in which it was agreed, that my endeavours should be directed to persons and characters supernatural, or at least romantic, yet so as to transfer from our inward nature a human interest and a semblance of truth sufficient to procure for these shadows of imagination that willing suspension of disbelief for the moment, which constitutes poetic faith." 

                                                                                 — Samuel Taylor Coleridge

And this is why the willing suspension of disbelief frames the premise for my review of the newest episode of a classic lesbian space opera and the launch of a fresh new Fantastika series—Andi Marquette’s The Edge of Rebellion and Susan Jane Bigelow’s The Daughter Star.

Book: The Edge of Rebellion

Author: Andi Marquette

Publisher: Bedazzled Ink Publishing

Andi Marquette’s The Edge of Rebellion is book three in the feisty little Far Seek Chronicles. Trader Torri Rendego keeps her ear to the ground as she runs merchant routes, and the chatter tells her that a rebellion is simmering across the Coalition. Her former Academy bunkmate and inamorata, Commander Kai Tinsdale, receives orders to post to the Koto military base on the planet Hanzey. Kai hears the rumors of rebellion, but knows that one is unlikely on the virtually impassible jungle planet. Once there, her orders suddenly change, and she is tasked with training a battle squadron. Clearly something is going on, and Kai must use her wiles and wisdom to seek answers from those around her. But the fates conspire to bring Torri and her Far Seek shipmates to Hanzey, as they deliver an unexpected visitor. As Kai and Torri reconnect on a physical and emotional level, they begin to piece the puzzle together, and learn they are being used as pawns in a game of chess that could bring the Coalition to its collective knees.

Typical of the genre, The Edge of Rebellion is set in a far future space faring civilization, where the technology is ubiquitous and entirely secondary to the storyline. It has two dashing, epic heroines, the universe is huge, there are diverse, sprawling civilizations and fleets of space ships capable of interstellar travel, and there are political conflicts, rebel attacks, black markets, heinous crimes, and intrigue galore.

Since The Edge of Rebellion is the third book in the Far Seek Chronicles, readers have had ample opportunity to get familiar with the pasts and presents of Kai and Torri, the Far Seek and her crew, the Empire, and the Coalition. Still, it is refreshing to see Kai and Torri advancing their relationship with the caution that is expected of two women on different life missions, but sharing one like mind. As a reader, I found the setting and the construction of dialogue to be fascinating, adding depth and definition to both primary and secondary characters. Whether describing the planet, the BetaSuns, the Far Seek, or Major Vic’s office, there was always a visual reference to make the scenes come to life. Additionally, I truly appreciate the care taken by the author to create different languages (i.e., Empire and Coalition,) and then religiously write dialogue that follows the rules established for their use, while saving contemporary dialogue for intimate and familiar situations.

Andi Marquette offers up another satisfying slice of her space opera, Far Seek Chronicles, and The Edge of Rebellion unabashedly makes me feel like a kid again. It tells a compelling and exciting story of intrigue with solid characters, smart dialogue, best buddies, sexy women, and zooming space ships that whiz by shooting lasers that go “Pew! Pew! Pew!” A lot of readers will bypass books like this because they don’t take them seriously. But, here’s the thing: you don’t have to be a kid to feel like a kid, and books like this are all about having fun. Andi Marquette writes a grown up story with grown up themes, but she can still find a way to let her readers have fun and feel like kids. 

Book: The Daughter Star

Author: Susan Jane Bigelow

Publisher: Candlemark & Gleam

Freighter pilot Marta Grayline has a great life doing what she loves, a smoking hot military pilot girlfriend from a desirable sister planet, and an excuse to avoid her home planet, her sexist home country, and her overbearing parents. But it all begins to crumble when an illogical intrasystem war forces her employer to disband, and she is required to return to her home planet. Marta doesn’t belong in the world of her birth, and her parents do not support her profession or her choices.

Along with her youngest sister, Beth, Marta sneaks off and joins the Novan Emergency Fleet as a way to break free and return to her beloved space. However, Beth isn’t the same young woman she remembers. As Marta slowly begins to decipher the connection between her sister and the mysterious Abrax, she is forced to confront unexpected alien forces, overcome her internal doubts and fears, complete an ill-defined mission, and unravel centuries old lies, deceptions, and masterful illusions.

As a proprietress of Fantastika, Susan Jane Bigelow is unquestionably skilled at writing epic pieces full of mythic themes—The Daughter Star is a worthy example of her ability. She captures and maintains an honest sense of relationships, even as she writes characters who are nonconformists, and longing to have closer, deeper involvements.

The character of Marta is smart, sexy, interesting, and capable, but she is unable to truly appreciate and understand all that she has to offer. While her restrictive and uninspiring upbringing is partially to blame, so too is her overwhelming lack of self-confidence—an odd yet well-plotted personality trait for a highly capable pilot. Her relationship with her younger sister is multi-faceted, at times presenting mutual interest and engagement, and at others revealing self-absorption and non-confrontational tendencies—it is as if Marta cannot control the need to protect and shelter her younger sister any more than she can stop pushing away those that try to do the same for her.

While The Daughter Star starts out a bit slow, a necessary byproduct of character design and plot development, the pace accelerates into a speeding, taut story full of political, moral, intellectual, economic, environmental and societal metaphors relevant to myriad issues now facing mankind. Ms. Bigelow confronts a familiar dichotomy in the LGBT community by placing Marta, a lesbian who fears her family and home country knowing the truth, in a greater human and alien culture that accepts these relationships as part of societal norm. In essence, Marta has a foot in two disparate worlds, leaving her struggling to achieve and maintain a healthy balance.

Ultimately, The Daughter Star is an engaging story that leaves the reader much in the same position as Marta—unbalanced. While we get to know Marta, Beth, and the Abrax, we are never truly allowed to connect on an emotional level with any of them. Still, this is only the first book in a series, and it feels somehow intentional that we are not allowed to know more about the characters than they know about themselves. And, as a reviewer, I believe that readers who are patient and trust Ms. Bigelow to complete the journey she and her characters have started will be well rewarded when this series reaches its conclusion.

The Ghost and the Machine by Benny Lawrence

Book:  The Ghost and the Machine

Author:  Benny Lawrence

Publisher:  Bedazzled Ink Publishing

I suck at chess.

Not the kind of suck that has me struggling to recognize myriad variations in the Italian Game, or even the kind that has me botching up the classic Ruy Lopez opening salvo of 1. e4 e5 2. Nf3 Nc6 3. Bb5.

It’s not even the kind of suck that has me referring to “birdbaths,” “horsies,” or “those little medieval dudes.”

No.

My suck is extra special. 

It’s the kind of suck that has me digesting things like Vukovic’s Art of the Attack in Chess, Heisman’s Elements of Positional Evaluation, and Shirov’s Fire on the Board and still losing in three moves to a drunken goat in plaid lederhosen chain-smoking Pall Malls.

And it’s not a recent suck, this one dates back to my fifth birthday when my highly skilled and very patient father finally patted me on the shoulder, and kindly suggested a lively game of Animal Rummy instead.  I tried to hold out, but he used my affinity for Hoppy Hippo to talk me off the edge of my kitchen chair and into a better mood.

It worked then and it works now. 

Really—ask my wife and our gay husbands every time Game Night rolls around.

But seriously, chess is a game that combines the basic fundamentals of strategy, vision, calculation, pattern analysis, pruning and prophylaxis. Just about anyone, other than me, can win at chess some of the time, but it takes a true savant to harness the finer elements of theoretical and applied tactical pattern recognition such that any given game is theirs to lose.

Author Benny Lawrence, well known in backroom reading parlors like The Athenaeum and The Royal Academy of Bards as Zipplic, masters both the game of chess and the art of storytelling in her debut novel, The Ghost and the Machine. The year is 1838, and while the Spaniards are focused on the Battle of Peñacerrada, the rest of Europe is obsessed with gizmos, gadgets, and all manner of mechanical contraptions.  Most impressive and entertaining among them is the chess-playing machine known as the Rajah.

Rajah’s Mistress of Ceremonies is inventor, Diana Rushmore, also known as “Rush.”  The drunken, jowly lackey, Caroline Von Hausen, and the diminutive, agoraphobic chess master, Kit, are Rush's companions as they travel across Europe in search of fame and fortune. Kit has toured with Rush, Von Hausen, and the Rajah since she was a child, and knows the rules and the secrets of the show all too well.  But after more than twelve years, the act is growing stale, and Rush is forced to book a private engagement at the Vienna manor house of an eccentric Countess who is a collector of oddities. 

Rush rules the act with an iron fist, but the slightest slip in judgment by Kit brings her face-to-face with the Countess’s mysterious niece, Eleanor.  This violates rule number one that no one is to ever see Kit but Rush and Von Hausen.  Still, the deed is done, and Eleanor begins to insist that Kit attend meals and the obligatory social calls prior to and including chess matches.  As the relationship between Eleanor and Kit twists and turns, Rush and Von Hausen are sucked deeper into the vortex of their individual psychoses, and everything begins to fall apart.  As Rush initiates a strategy for them to flee the engagement, the thin lines between truth and illusion and love and hate suddenly begin to blur, and Kit finds herself a helpless pawn in a deadly game.

I’ll openly admit that on occasion, my reviews fall victim to Shiny Object Syndrome.  That is, I abandon my normally regimented and prioritized list of books for review, and grab one because it has a pretty cover.

The Ghost and the Machine is one of those books.

The simple fact is that the cover art is clean yet striking, and accentuated with great typography.  Still, as nice as a quality cover is, something else has to grab your imagination if the pages are going to keep turning. 

In this case, it was the first three sentences: “People sometimes ask me what it’s like to travel inside a box. I don’t like to answer with sweeping statements, because I think it depends on the box.  Mine was quite nice, as boxes go.”

Ah, there it is, totally and completely hooked in 2.3 seconds.

Written in the first person, The Ghost and the Machine is a smart, cunning, original, and well-written story dotted with dollops of droll observation, dry wit, and gripping pathos.  The characters are by turns quirky, insolent, insightful, deceptive, and all together brilliantly flawed. In addition, the storyline is fresh and tight, and manages to surprise, even though the end game is revealed to the reader early in the narrative.

The writing style and cadence are both consistent with, and apropos to, the Victorian era, and evoke a delightful Dickensian aura rife with vivid description, similes, metaphors, personification, and wonderful imagery to capture the essence of character personalities and traits.  This particular story element is dramatically illustrated by the irrepressible Kit, who we come to learn has lived the majority of her life both as a ghost—and a machine. And, it's backed by the inquisitive Eleanor, who knows more about ghosts and machines than anyone would ever dare guess.

Author Benny Lawrence has a joyously unique voice in the world of lesbian fiction, and The Ghost and the Machine is an utterly fascinating and fantastic read.  

In an effort to circumvent testy letters from readers of traditional lesfic romance, I want to clearly state that this book features only the subtlest suggestion of romance, and mere hints and allegations of lesbian sexual activity—most of which are predatory and clearly not consensual.  There are no heaving bosoms, turgid clits, or moist panties, and the absolute sexiest and sweetest parts of the story take flight in the form of witty banter and shy glances between Kit and Eleanor.

Still, The Ghost and the Machine is an intelligent and unexpected treasure, and Ms. Lawrence is an up-and-coming lesbian robot samurai pirate / author with a solid literary future.  This one is worth a read, and I’m giving The Ghost and the Machine a 5.1 out of 6.0 on the Rainbow Scale—if I ever get to meet Benny Lawrence, I’ll most assuredly ask her to sign my copy in red crayon.

Aftermath by Ann McMan

Book:  Aftermath
Author:  Ann McMan
Publisher:  Bedazzled Ink Publishing

Note to readers from Salem West: Before it was even released, many followers of The Rainbow Reader wrote to me requesting a review of Aftermath by Ann McMan, who I married earlier this year. As much as I would love to climb on my bully pulpit to tell you what I think about her latest release, it's hard for me to maintain a fair and impartial position regarding anything she writes. So, I reached out to the respected author, Susan X. Meagher, and asked if she would step in and share her thoughts on this novel.  

Please welcome Special Guest Reviewer, SUSAN X. MEAGHER, author of the I FOUND MY HEART IN SAN FRANCISCO series, ARBOR VITAE, ALL THAT MATTERS, CHERRY GROVE, THE LIES THAT BIND, DOUBLECROSSED, SMOOTH SAILING, HOW TO WRANGLE A WOMAN, and her newest title, ALMOST HEAVEN.

Special Guest Reviewer,
Susan X. Meagher

Recently, my wife and I made a trip to Italy. I have not one drop of Italian blood, but I feel as comfortable there as I do in my own town. I’m not certain why it resonates with me, but I have a few guesses.

Italy is as steeped in Catholicism as I was as a child. The nineteen years I spent in Catholic school was a minor influence compared to how the faith was the backdrop of every aspect of my life—from Catholic newspapers, magazines and comic books to Catholic camp, Girl Scout troop and sports teams. It was so deeply infused that I didn’t notice until I left that environment that everything had been imprinted on an underlayment of Catholicism.

Italy is a bit like that. Catholicism is everywhere; the art, the architecture, the calendar, even the food.

What struck me during my recent trip was how different the Italian experience must be for someone who knows little or nothing about Catholicism.

Botticelli's The Trial of Moses
from the Sistine Chapel

One day, we were on a small tour, just six people—of the Sistine Chapel. For me, who spent countless hours in an almost bare, utilitarian church in a lower-middle class town in the Mid-west, looking at the exuberant art that covered the walls and ceilings was overwhelming. A Technicolor dream that delighted me in ways I can barely describe.

But the people we toured with that day had no frame of reference. They were Americans who’d never been to Europe and had no faith background. 

One of the men actually looked around, only vaguely interested, and said, “The Pope lives here, right?”

While I applaud people who try to get out there and take a peek at the rest of the world, I have to acknowledge that you’re not going to get a hell of a lot out of the Sistine Chapel if you have no context for the place. Clearly, you don’t have to be Catholic to love religious art. But it has to help—at least to get your feet wet.

I’d apply that same analogy to Aftermath, the eagerly awaited sequel to Jericho. A reader could pick up the book with no prior knowledge of Ann’s work and easily get into it. There’s no complicated backstory that requires notes and flowcharts. But I’d recommend a different, more pleasurable tack. 

I met Ann McMan this summer at the Golden Crown Literary Society’s conference in Minneapolis and decided I had to read Jericho, given that she and her spouse were both so quick, erudite and side-splittingly funny. But I got involved in my own work and soon that pledge escaped my short-term memory.

Recently, upon being asked to write this review, I decided I’d better get busy and catch up. Reviewing the sequel without having read the urtext seemed like an unwise shortcut.

I spent a few days (big book!) with Maddie, Syd, David, Michael, and a cast of characters large enough to make Cecil B. DeMille a bit jealous, and was delighted to see Ann’s wit, energy and charm vividly displayed through her words. When I finished, I truly understood why so many people quickly became vocal fans of her writing and also why the demand for a sequel was so high.

In Jericho, Ann created a world filled with unique characters who rather effortlessly worked their way into your heart. In Aftermath, she gives readers a chance to sit down and visit with the whole gang once again.

It was fun to experience the build-up and dramatic tension of Maddie and Syd coming together in Jericho, but being able to jump into the action in Aftermath with their relationship strong and true has its own rewards. In my view, the drive behind every good romance is the reader’s desire to have the characters build a lasting partnership. Aftermath allows the reader to see that partnership in action, and experience how a real love-match can guide a couple through the peaks and valleys of life. That’s something that is satisfying in a way that the “will they or won’t they” period can’t reach.

Aftermath showed clearly that Maddie and Syd have each other’s backs. They’ve become an anchor for so many people in the town of Jericho and beyond; showing by example how love and commitment can help a person grow to their fullest potential. That’s a wonderful message, and Ann McMan sells it with the zeal of a true believer.

Read Aftermath after you’ve read Jericho. Context is everything, and I’m confident you’ll agree that reading about the strength of Maddie and Syd’s pairing is significantly more satisfying once you’ve experienced the first flickers of their attraction for one another. Or as Nadine Odell might say, Jericho is the chicken-fried steak and Aftermath is the white gravy.

Coach Bum Phillips

They’re best enjoyed together.

I'm not able to assign a Rainbow Scale rating for Aftermath because I think it's sui generis--a work with unique characteristics, rendering it incomparable. 

To paraphrase what Bum Phillips once said about a stellar quarterback, 'Aftermath might not be in a class by itself, but whatever class it's in, it don't take long to call the role.'

Happy Halloween from TRR

Happy Halloween from The Rainbow Reader

Those of you that are regular visitors to The Rainbow Reader know that I usually start out each book review with a short essay that somehow, at least in my humble opinion, relates to a theme, plot point, or cavernous leap-of-faith residing deep within the story.  I've talked about beady little eyes influencing my faith, bearded women, the base-4 notational system, and life in a small town.  

I've raved about a few books, and had to find a way to politely say that few others didn't really do it for me.  

I had the good sense to ask a few special guests to write reviews, and the better fortune that many of them accepted. 

I was honored to be asked to write pre-release reviews for Carol Anshaw, John Irving, and our very own Susan X. Meagher. 

I even got to unveil TRR's inaugural Very Best Awards in December of 2011.

But one moment stands out for me as truly the very best, and that happened on Halloween.

Let me slow down and explain a little of the backstory first...context is everything.

You see, for quite a while now, authors and publishers have been contacting me about reading and reviewing their books.  I try hard to accommodate everyone, and keep a running list of stories to review. On occasion, just as I'm about to do a review, the author or publisher will contact me and ask that I hold off on my review for one reason or another.  In that case, I almost always go to the next book on the list.  However, sometimes, if someone has just slipped a new book into my hands, I work it into the open slot.

That's where this whole story started...

It was October 25th, and I got an email from Casey at Bedazzled Ink.  After a few lovely compliments, she got down to business, as she is wont to do—she had two books that had just come out, and she wanted to know if I could review them.  I told her that wasn't a problem, and mentioned that I might just be able to slide one of them into the slot for the coming week, since I had a pending cancellation.  

She jumped on that little opportunity like a vegan on a lavendar cake...

By nightfall I had the book on my beloved Kindle, and even though I didn't know it at the time, I started to read the story that would change my life. 

It began like this:

"By faith the walls of Jericho fell down..."
                       — Hebrews 11:30

Many of you know the book I'm talking about, but for those of you who don't, it was Jericho by Ann McMan.  While the book had a handful of technical and editorial flaws, I couldn't deny the fact that there was something special about it—I knew the town, I knew the people, and I knew the love story.  Somehow it resonated deep within me, and it made me feel like someone had slipped a ruby into my pocket.

It was a pretty amazing experience, especially given that I'd never heard of this Ann McMan before.  

Still, I had a review to write, and I did my best to give it the review it deserved—that little ditty debuted on this site on All Hallows' Eve, a year ago today.

Quite often, authors contact me after a review to say "thanks," or to challenge something I said—that's part of the process.  Still, it would be over a month before I heard anything from Ann McMan, and that was only because I awarded her the TRR trophy for "Sexiest use of jagged verbal jousting and intellectual tête-à-tête in a mountaintop romance," and I happened to see my name scroll by in the left hand column as I logged onto Facebook—and you just know I had to say something about it.

The rest, as they say, is herstory...

I can't say I was ever a believer in love at first sight, and I sure as heck didn't believe in the concept of "soul mates."  But, when I really and truly met Ann McMan, it was all over for me.  We were legally married in North Hero, Vermont in April of 2012.  

Make no mistake, it was the best thing I EVER did.

So, this post commemorates the book and the review that changed everything.  

The only truly sucky thing to come of this is that I can't review Ann's books anymore.  

Thanks for stopping by and sharing this special moment with me.

Salem West
October 31, 2012
Winston-Salem, NC