B.J. Hoff's Blog, page 3

Announcing the River of Mercy Trailer!!

Harvest House, my amazing publisher, just released the trailer for River of Mercy, Book 3 of The Riverhaven Years, and I couldn't be more pleased.  Gant's fiddle, a mysterious bobcat, and wonderful scenes from the community of Riverhaven all make an appearance.

Take a look by clicking the "play" button on the video below.

A Peek at the New Book on the Way

I seldom do this, but because so many of you have been asking for a peek at the new book soon to be released, I thought I'd give you a glimpse of the opening. So here's a brief excerpt from the Prologue of River of Mercy (to be released October 1):

____

         ...November
was a lonely month. Rachel loved to listen to the river from inside her
home, but the nighttime sounds—the distant lapping of the water, the blast from
a ship's horn, the night creatures in communion with one
another—never failed to set off a stirring of remembrance and an ache in her heart. Yet she couldn’t resist sitting by the window night after night, watching and listening, trying not to
let her memories struggle to the surface of her thoughts, trying not to let new
hope ignite the ashes of her dreams...

            Trying
not to think of Jeremiah.

            But
how could she not think of him? How did a woman love a man, even if their love was forbidden, and not see his face in her
mind or hear his voice in her ear or remember the imprint of his smile upon her
thoughts?

            Common
sense told her it should be easy to put the man out of her head. They
couldn’t be alone with each other. They couldn’t even pass the time of day
unless they were in the company of others. If they happened to meet by
accident, they were expected to separate as quickly as possible.

            Yet
even with all the rules and restrictions that kept them apart, Jereemiah Gant
was still a part of her life. He flowed through her heart and traced the current of her days as surely and completely as the
Ohio flowed through the valley, winding its way through the land,
coursing through the days and lives of Rachel and the other Plain people.

            Lately,
there had been talk of leaving. Two years and more of unrest and harassment and
threats—even death—had begun to wear on the Riverhaven Amish. It was rumored
that talks were taking place among the church leaders,
discussions of whether to remain in this once-peaceful valley that had become home to the entire community or to
consider moving on.

There was no thought
of fighting back, of seeking out the unknown adversaries and taking a stand
against them. Even if the People could identify their
tormenters, they would not confront them. The Amish were a people of
nonresistance. They would not fight, not even to protect their own lives. It wasn’t their way. To strike out at another
individual under any circumstances was strictly against the Ordnung, the
unwritten code that guided how they were to live.

            The
only person Rachel had ever known to defy the rule against fighting, even in
self-defense, was Eli, her deceased husband. He’d gone against the Amish way when he defended Rachel against those who ambushed
them on another November night, now four years gone. He had fought with
desperation and all his strength, only to die at the hands of their attackers
while allowing Rachel to escape.

            She
knew it was a grievous sin to have such a thought, but many had been the time
she wished she could have died alongside Eli that terrible night rather than
live through the grief-hollowed, barren days that followed his death. She had been totally devoted to Eli. Their
marriage had been good, for they had been close friends as well as
husband and wife. Rachel had thought she could never love another man after
losing Eli.

            And
then Jeremiah Gant had come to Riverhaven, turning her life around, enabling
her to love again—only to have that love forbidden. Even though Jeremiah had made it known he would willingly
convert to the Amish faith, Bishop Graber had refused to grant permission,
once again leaving Rachel with a lost love and a broken heart.

            Perhaps
it would be better if they were to leave Riverhaven...leave the fear and the dread and the pain-filled memories behind.

            Leave Jeremiah...

            The
thought stabbed her heart. Could she really face never seeing him again? Never again hear him say her name in that soft and
special way he had of making it as tender as a touch? Never again see the smile
that was meant for her alone?

            In
truth, it wasn’t only Jeremiah she would miss if they were to leave this
fertile Ohio valley. She loved the land, the gentle hills, the singing river.
She had come here when she was still a child, come from another place that had never truly been home to her. Here in Riverhaven
though, she had felt welcome and accepted. At peace. At home.

            At
least for a time. It was almost as if she had become a part of the land itself.
Even the thought of leaving made her sad beyond telling.

            She
sighed, knowing she should stir and make ready for bed, even though she felt far
too restless for sleep. Would this be another of too many nights when her thoughts tormented her, circling like birds
of prey, evoking an uneasiness and anxiety that would give her no
peace?

            Finally
she stood, securing the window to ward off the cold, although she sensed that the chill snaking through her had
little to do with the night air. All too familiar with
this icy wind of loneliness, she knew there was no warmth that could ease its
punishing sting ....

(River of Mercy--BJ Hoff)

 _____

 

How Do You Read?

I’m always curious about what others read, but I’m also intrigued by how they read. It seems to me that most readers fall into one of three groups: Those who read as readers. Those who read as writers. And those who read as participants.

The first category includes those who read for sheer pleasure. Lovers of a good story, who spend a lot of time with books and/or magazines, and simply enjoy the process of passing leisure time with a new or old favorite book. 

Those who read like writers usually are writers, and by the admission of many, often find it more and more difficult to "lose themselves" in a story without noting what's good or excellent writing vs what lies near or at the opposite end of the spectrum. Poor writing can shake a writer out of a story in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, so can especially good writing. We find it next to impossible not to take notice of both.

It borders on reading like an editor might read. I suppose I fall into this category most often, as well as the next group (more on that below). I've discovered that after years of avid reading as a reader, it's become more difficult to find stories that draw me in and hold my interest so completely I'll actually finish a book. Consequently, it's become more and more of a challenge to find books I'm willing to commit to. But they're still out there. I look for writers with whom I'm already familiar and fairly certain they're going to provide me with a riveting, enjoyable experience. I still read new writers, but not as often as I used to--mostly when a friend or colleague is exceedingly enthusiastic about a book and highly recommends it ... and if the time frame and setting sound intriguing and are ones I'm drawn to. I find myself frequently reading old favorites because I know the quality of the writing and the appeal of the story. A couple of examples: I couldn't count the times I've reread To Kill a Mockingbird or some of Ray Bradbury's short stories.

The third group--those who read as participants--also fits me. Although the more one reads the more difficult it can be to find stories in which you can lose yourself, in which you fall into the writer's created world and live the story with the characters, it still happens. That's one reason I sometimes return to my old favorites, but I'm also always on the lookout for a new book that can become an "old favorite." 

I'd be curious to learn which group you think fits you well--and learn the titles of some of the books you've discovered in your category.  

BJ

 

An Oldie-but-Goodie

Watched a great movie over the weekend--an oldie-but-goodie--Stars and Stripes Forever, a somewhat abbreviated biography of John Philip Sousa (who rates in the top third of my favorite composer list). The late Clifton Webb, known more for his dramatic roles than musicals, although he was also a dancer and a singer, played the part of Sousa, with Ruth Hussey as his wife. A (very) young Robert Wagner also appears. (Webb and Wagner also starred together in the film, Titanic--the early version).

I have no idea how many times we've watched this--but many--and admittedly almost entirely for the music. By today's standards, of course, the dialogue and sentiments are fairly schmaltzy, but the music and Webb's dandy, dapper portrayal of Sousa make it worth all the replays. Many of our favorite Sousa marches are featured. 

What it is, is a feel-good movie that leaves you humming a little and maybe even wanting to march through the house for a few days after watching it. 

BJ

What We Celebrate

I have been heartened and gratified to hear from a number of you via email and FB that you're reading for the first time, or re-reading, a series I wrote a few years ago titled *American Anthem.* This has always been a very special story for me, in part because of the nusic than runs through the entire series, but also because many of my own beliefs about and hopes for our country are brought to light. At the end of the final book, Michael Emmanuel, the anchor character, a musician, conductor--and an immigrant--introduces his signature work to an audience of thousands in Central Park: "We are different kinds of people, we Americans. We come from different countries. We share different beliefs, different traditions, different dreams, and different music. But one thing we share in common: We are all God's children, all blessed by His love and His grace. For truly God has bestowed grace to this nation and its people, so that with all our differences, we might yet exist in unity. May we never cease to be mindful that we will exist as a great nation only as we are faithful to our great God ... So please, as we first sing America's song, our national anthem, and then as the orchestra offers you my own American Anthem, join with us and let us celebrate the birthday of the greatest nation in the world."

That said, I hope you'll join with me as we celebrate again-- and with a common prayer in our hearts that God will protect our freedom--the birthday of the greatest nation in the world.

BJ

 

Special EBook Sale for Two of My Books

  Just wanted you to know about a special sale going on for A Distant Music from my Mountain Song Legacy series and Heart of the Lonely Exile from my Emerald Ballad series. Harvest House Publishers is doing a special promotion for these at the price of $2.99 from your favorite eBook distributors--including Kindle, Nook, Kobo, Apple, and the Sony Reader. That's a great sale,  and I wanted to make you aware of it.

 

 

Ray Bradbury

Ray Bradbury was not only one of my favorite writers, but also one I admired and respected most. I never considered him a "science fiction writer"--and indeed, he said he wasn't one--and fantasy has never been one of my preferred genres. Yet for years I've loved his books and short stories--especially the short stories.

He invented worlds and invited us to share them. And who could resist? His stories were mutli-layered and multi-textured, wonderful woks to say the least, but that simply doesn't say enough about why we read them so eagerly. His people were real, his places fascinating, and he had a way of making us want to be a part of his world--whichever world he was in at the moment. 

From the time I read his first short story I have been in awe of his incredible gift--and the fun he had using it. You see, Ray Bradbury loved to write. More than anything else. And it showed. He created because he loved to create, and, I suspect, couldn't help but create. His readers seldom stayed on the sidelines, watching, but became participants in his creation. We had fun and had adventures and made discoveries right along with him. 

He died at the age of 91, leaving a timeless, rich legacy that will live on. If  you know of anyone, young or old, who has never read Ray Bradbury's work, give them a gift: introduce them to the works of this master storyteller. Let them enjoy what he wrote as much as he enjoyed writing it.

R.I.P. Ray Bradbury. We are, all of us, richer for the life you lived. 

BJ 

Five Miles South of Peculiar

One of the reasons I enjoy Angie Hunt's novels so much has to do with her gift for creating knowable, likable, lovable people. People I'd like to be friends with. People who make me feel at home. Five Miles South of Peculiar is the perfect story for allowing her gift of characterization to shine. All the way through her latest novel, I felt as if I could have moved in to the Sycamores and become a member of the family--or at least a close family friend. Even Hunt's dogs make me want to walk them and hug them! But no matter how brilliant her writing or how winsome her characters, she never fails to tell stories of timeless values and truth, stories about forgiveness and destiny, pain and healing, courage and love. When I put down one of her novels after reading the final page, I always feel as if I've made new friends and learned something well worth knowing ... and keeping. That's a lot to expect of a book--and Angie always delivers.

For Those Who Have Already Asked ...

My Next Book?

Think the Amish Meet the Irish.

Yes, really.

BJ

 

Memorial Day 2012

Give thanks ... for those who gave the ultimate sacrifice that we might keep our freedom. 

Give thanks for the greatest nation in the world and wear the name 'American' with grace and pride.