Matthew S. Cox's Blog, page 16

Book Release | Archon’s Queen

Greetings!

I’m up too late because I can’t sleep from excitement. The second book in the Awakened series is out now as an ebook. (Paperback will likely be up in about a week.) The second book in the Awakened series, Archon’s Queen, follows Anna Morgan (who you may remember from near the end of Prophet of the Badlands as Pixie) five years in the past from the events of Prophet. This is the story of how she went from a barely-alive denizen of the worst part of 2418 London to the right hand of the self-proclaimed master of the Awakened.

You can pick up a copy here: http://amzn.com/B013OBLFF0

I also hope to see you online today (8/10) on Facebook for the release party where we’ve got some lovely prizes made by Rhonda from Justplummy Swagit, as well as books (both signed and e-book) up for grabs.

6pm – 8pm EST online. Chat / comment / post on Facebook.

https://www.facebook.com/events/419465848237712/

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Book Release | Prophet of the Badlands

Division Zero FB Release Party

Lex De Mortuis Release Event

The Summer the World Ended Blog Tour

Greetings!

We’re a few days away from the start of the blog tour for The Summer the World Ended, hosted by Xpresso blog tours.

The tour schedule is  here. Please take a minute to check out these blogs as they post. (Scroll to the bottom of this post to enter the giveaway for a $40 Amazon gift card & signed paperback )

August 10th

–A.E. Albert: A Writer’s Blog >> Review

–nerdychampagne >> Review

–Authors You Want to Read >> ExcerptAugust 11th

–Twisted Book Junkie >> Review

–Mythical Books >> Interview

–Girls With Books >> Excerpt

–Just Us Book Blog >> Playlist

August 12th

–We Do Write >> Interview

–Buried Under Books >> Review

–fuonlyknew >> Excerpt

August 13th

–Fandemonium Network >> Interview

–Fangirls Read it First >> Review

–Evermore Books  >> Review

August 14th

–StarAngels Reviews >> Review

–Suzy Turner, YA Author >> Top 10 List

–Pieces of Whimsy >> Guest post

–CBY Book Club >> Excerpt

Weekend Break

August 17th

–Archaeolibrarian – I Dig Good Books! >> Review

–Reading Away The Days >> Interview

–A British Bookworm’s Blog >> Review

August 18th

–A Book Addict’s Bookshelves >> Guest post

–I Feel the Need, the Need to Read >> Review

–Books and Authors >> Review

August 19th

–Mom With A Kindle >> Review

–Seeing Double In Neverland >> Excerpt

–My Book Addiction >> Review

August 20th

–Book Lovers Life >> Top 10 List

–The Avid Reader >> Review

–James Wymore >> Review

August 21st

–Random Redheaded Ramblings >> Review

–Lisa Loves Literature >> Review

–City of Friendship Fangirl >> Review

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Tour | The Summer the World Ended

Caller 107 Blog Tour

Caller 107 Blog Tour Signup

Cover Reveal | Vicki Leigh’s FIND ME IF YOU DARE

Happy Saturday all

Today, I’m helping  a fellow Curiosity Quills author spread the word about her new cover, by Dean Samed (who’s done a few of mine as well.)

They may have won the first battle, but the Apocalypse has just begun.

Five weeks have passed since the battle that left Rome and Columbus in ruins. Sheltered in the hidden city of Caelum, Daniel and Kayla train alongside over one hundred Magus and Protectors, hoping that their unified ranks will be enough to take down their greatest threat yet: Richard, his followers, and his horde of Nightmares. Then a fallen comrade is returned to Caelum with a message carved into his chest and a note referencing the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and Daniel knows their time for training is over.

Finally understanding Richard’s plans for Kayla and the three other Magus born on Halloween, Daniel and the rest of Caelum’s volunteers scout the U.S. in a desperate attempt to stop their enemy before he can unleash his first Horseman. But when massive attacks claim thousands of lives, people all over the world begin to fall ill—including those Daniel and Kayla care about the most.

With the Horseman of Pestilence released, Daniel knows it’s time to step aside and let Kayla take the lead. Only she has the power to rival her father’s. But when Richard’s plot turns out to be darker than they imagined, their fight is met with more death and destruction—and an enemy who might be unbeatable, after all.

She’s also running a massive 22 book giveaway via her blog – vickileighauthor.tumblr.com, with the following prizes:

20 copies of CATCH ME WHEN I FALL (Book One of the Dreamcatcher Series)
a signed copy of CITY LOVE by Susane Colasanti
a The Vampire Diaries wall poster of Damon Salvatore
a copy of SHADOW STUDY by Maria V. Snyder
5 handmade dream catchers
a poster of the SORCERER HEIR series, signed by Cinda Chima
2 posters of the cover of DOON, signed by Carey Corp and Lorie Langdon.
a poster of the cover of DAMSEL DISTRESSED, signed by Kelsey Macke
a poster of Melissa Lander’s ALIENATED cover


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Division Zero Cover Reveal

Randomness – 7/30/15

 

Book Signing – On August 18th, I’ll be at the Barnes & Noble of East Brunswick from 7-9pm. If you can drop by, please do. The more people who show up, the more B&N likes me.

Brunswick Square Mall

753 Rt 18 Brunswick Square Space 318 East Brunswick, NJ 08816

732-432-0100

Things have been pretty busy lately, between writing and editing, so I haven’t set aside much in the way of time to post something here. With Hand of Raziel (Daughter of Mars 1) signed a short time ago by Curiosity Quills, I’ve been working on part three. Ghost Black (the current working title) is one chapter from finished.

Normally, after I complete a first draft, it’s hard not to dive right back in and do another pass. I feel a bit like a kid sitting next to a jar full of dark chocolate brownies… unable to resist. At the moment, there’s enough going on to keep me distracted and give me the chance to let it sit. Taking a break to clear the mind lets a writer look at something with fresh eyes. Much better to let a manuscript sit for a while before going back through it, but it’s so damn hard to resist.

I should be getting final production copies of Archon’s Queen to review any day now (Awakened II), which is due for release on August 10. (Speaking of which, please join me on Facebook for the release party here.) A number of edits for CQ are waiting in line, as well as a handful of beta reads for friends. Hopefully, it won’t be too difficult to stop that kid from grabbing a brownie for a few weeks while I catch up.

 

Holy Eighties, Batman.

It’s hard not to feel nostalgic lately. I recently read Ready Player One by Ernest Cline. If you’re somewhere between 35 and 50, and have even mild geek tendencies, this is a must read. It picked at a lot of old memories, and made me want to spend a few hours on an emulator site playing 30 year old video games.

On top of that, my all-time favorite cartoon strip, Bloom County, is back. Berkley Breathed has come out of the dark and resumed his beloved strip via Facebook. Apparently, the long hiatus he’d taken was due to growing tired of the overbearing PC police and fighting with skittish newspaper editors. I can’t wait to see where he takes the denizens of Bloom County with the freedom of publishing on Facebook.

Add to that we’ve got a Bush hoping for the White House, unrest overseas, Mad Max, Terminator, Star Wars, and Jurassic Park in the theaters… televangelists losing their grip on reality… egads. If leg warmers and big hair comes back, dive for cover and grab a helmet.

Looks like we’re in for a hell of a ride.

 

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Release Party | Division Zero Thrall

Division Zero FB Release Party

Post Apocalypse and me – 1988

With the recent release of The Summer the World Ended, I’ve had a lot of people ask me how I got interested in the post-apocalyptic genre. I have to admit that my fondness for the setting predates even my love of cyberpunk (which is due in large part to the Sprawl trilogy by William Gibson).

Commodore 64

In 1988, I was 15 and the proud owner of a Commodore 64 computer. I’d been a fan of the Bard’s Tale games (fantasy RPG) for some time. When I spotted an advertisement in a computer magazine for Brian Fargo’s Wasteland, I thought ‘holy crap! Bard’s Tale with guns!’ I’d been a fan of the original Mad Max film for a while at that point, so I possessed a nascent interest in the idea of a post-apocalyptic scenario. It didn’t help that during the Eighties, nuclear paranoia was high. Some friends and I had come up with a paper and pencil role-playing game set in a post-nuclear world. Of course, being twelve or so when we made it, the best title we came up with for it was ‘Road Warrior.’

(Bard’s Tale 1 – This was once considered kick-ass graphics.)

Anyway, I’d managed to scrape up enough money to buy Wasteland, but had no easy way to go get it. Opportunity came when a friend next door, Joey, randomly announced he was on the way to the mall with his parents. I asked if he could stop in Electronics Boutique and nab me a copy of Wasteland. He did, and there went my summer. Back then, computer games came on 5 & ¼ inch floppy disks, with many minutes lost at “loading” screens, and swapping disks. Wasteland was the first game I played with a ‘persistent world,’ where things you did stayed ‘done’―as opposed to each ‘map’ resetting whenever you went in. Because of this, the game manual asked you to create a copy of one of the disks before playing to preserve the game in its original state if you wanted to play it again.

(Ahh, poor Rad Ghoul. You’ve inspired much. Pity you died so fast–and often.)

Wasteland blended a style of RPG combat and party mechanics similar to that used in the Bard’s Tale games, with a top-down world view similar to Ultima-4. Moving around and skill use occurred on a map view, while interacting with NPCs [hiring or attacking them] happened in the party interface.

(Top down view – It was not a good idea to go into the Citadel too early.)

I played that game so much the floppies had visible grooves in the substrate. For hours on hours I’d search every space within every abandoned building, hoping to stumble on some rare treasure. Of course, aside from one Proton Ax, all I found were rats and snakes. (Poison sucketh.) I still remember random bits and pieces from the game – the nightmare ghoul in Finster’s head, the password (M****IM) to open the nose of the ICBM under the Blood Temple, running in and out while lobbing LAW rockets at Brother Goliath in the Guardian Citadel… and of course the Scorpitron bot in Las Vegas.

I still have no damn idea what the “combat shooting” skill did.

Wasteland, given the limited disk space at the time, made use of a ‘paragraph book,’ which contained narrative text the game would refer to from time to time. You’d enter an area and the computer would prompt you with something like: read paragraph 174. This would lead to a narrative describing the scene almost like a game master running a tabletop game. While I doubt people would have the patience for this sort of thing today, the mixed media worked to bring the player into the world in much the same way a reader plunges into a novel. Worth mention as well, the devious minds responsible for Wasteland littered the paragraph book with red herrings to mess with anyone trying to cheat by reading ahead. (Some of those were quite funny.)

The experiences I had from that game created a deep-seated fondness for the post-apocalyptic genre, leading to touches of it in many of my novels. The Badlands, part of the world in which Division Zero, Virtual Immortality, and the Awakened series take place is one example. Prophet of the Badlands contains two references to Wasteland for the sharp observer. At one point, Althea (the main character), is being taken to a crime lord in what’s left of Las Vegas named “The Freddy.” This is an homage to a character from Wasteland (Fat Freddy.) The other reference is a wheeled android that Althea finds trapped in a stream. In Wasteland, the sewers under Las Vegas are filled with similar cyborgs (though their goals and reason for existing are not the same.)

A post-apocalyptic Earth setting, be it a nuclear event, zombies, virus, alien attack, or natural disaster, is a verdant field from which to grow stories. Themes of survival, human nature (light and dark), the evils of runaway technology, and the innocence (or bloodlust) of a reinvented society, abound. Almost anything goes in terms of the ‘feel,’ from heavy use of crude melee weapons and a ‘fantasy’ tone, to a gritty ‘counting bullets and bandaids’ world. Heck, throw in psionics or magic and another dimension opens up. (Apocalypses don’t have to be nuclear.)

Writers can explore the way characters deal with the lack of the protection afforded by civilization, or the absence of modern medicine. Icons of our consumerist society abound. Familiar and safe images become eerie. Consider the all-too-familiar sight of a Starbucks, but replace the people and coffee with broken windows and vegetation growing up through the floor. A squeaky vent, rats the size of housecats, and something moving in the back room. How haunting is the sight of a crumbling grade school fifty years after any child has set foot in it. (Chernobyl pictures anyone?)

In post-apocalyptic Earth, the ordinary becomes the fantastic. Items we don’t think twice about (a working iPhone or bottle of medicine for example) would become a priceless treasure. Regardless of how your fictional world got sent back to the proverbial stone age, the story concept of characters emerging from the rubble offers endless possibilities. Wasteland started my love of the genre, has inspired much of my writing, and I will forever be fond of it.

(P.S. – after many years, inXile has released Wasteland 2, the official sequel. If you love post-apoc, and you love video games, it is a must-buy.)

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Tour | The Summer the World Ended

8 Days left to VI

Inspiration is everywhere

Writers often draw from their life’s experiences to create their stories. Inspiration comes from everything around us: from tiny idiosyncratic habits of our co-workers we notice during the most boring day at the office, to an adrenaline-pumping disaster, to the most emotional events, good or bad. In some novels, like memoirs or fictionalized accounts of an event the writer lived through, most or all of the narrative is based on the author’s own ordeal. Those of us who haven’t been caught up in a war or survived a harrowing calamity worthy of being an entire novel’s story still have a myriad of smaller past experiences to draw from. With a twist and a squeeze, they can be rearranged to fit the scenario we’re working with, and bring depth to our characters and scenes.

In writing The Summer the World Ended, I pulled from an event that happened when I was around seventeen. (I am pretty bad remembering dates, so it might’ve been when I was anywhere from 16-18.) Suffice to say, I was still in high school. I grew up in a two-level house that had been in the family since it was built in 1908 or so. (Alas, it no longer is, but that’s another story entirely.) My grandfather (mother’s side) lived in the downstairs section, while I lived upstairs with my mother. Some years prior, my grandfather’s second wife passed away, leaving him alone. At the time, no one really talked about depression―especially not a man, especially not one from his generation. He got into the habit of coming upstairs to eat at night.

Again, I’m bad with dates, but I think it was getting close to summer. On one particular night, I had two friends over for dinner and my mother had put out an enormous communal salad plate in the middle of the table. She only did the ‘salad thing’ when it was warm out. The five of us settled in and proceeded to attack the salad with varying degrees of enthusiasm. My grandfather had worked as a teacher in a reform school, and even at 83, he had an imposing presence that kept me and my friends uninterested in conversation. However, within a few minutes, it became apparent something was wrong.

My grandfather, who had up until that moment been a pillar of health, was attempting to stab a slice of tomato from the serving platter with his fork―only he was missing it by a few inches. The repetitive clink, clink of the tines hitting the plate got everyone’s attention. His expression of grim determination (I’m going to get this tomato, dammit) melted away to one of bewilderment after the fifth or sixth miss. Such a change in a formerly confident, powerful persona filled the air with a tangible weight.

My mother asked if he was okay. He looked up, as if he couldn’t understand what she’d said. The whites (sclera) of his eyes had gone deep red. He stared into space for another moment with a look of utter confusion, and slumped face-down over his plate.

To my left, my friends sat dumbfounded – like that deer in the middle of the road watching the truck inexorably speeding toward them. My mother came unglued and panicked. Where he sat was right under the wall phone, so anyone going for it would have had to get close to him. Something my friends were clearly uninterested in, and my mother was in no state able to comprehend what a phone even was.

I remained relatively calm―I suppose it helped I was still a bit angry with him for kicking my cat a week or two ago―and moved to the phone to call 911. (There were no cell phones then.)

He was still technically alive when they wheeled him out on a stretcher. A swollen aneurysm had exploded deep within his brain, inflicting enough damage to destroy the person he had been. His brain stem kept the basic functions going for a bit. A little more than two hours later, he passed away quietly at the hospital. There was nothing to be done for him at that point.

I don’t remember feeling much of anything about the event. However, since I remember it in such detail more than twenty years later, I suppose it did leave a mark. Life is full of inspiring moments, be they tragic, joyous, thrilling, or tedious. Drawing upon these moments can bring a scene to life, allow a writer (and reader) to relive a time of happiness or perhaps cope with loss.

(By the way, those friends never did come over for dinner again.)

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Tour | The Summer the World Ended

Writing | On Filtering

A Dangerous Trend

What the hell is going on?

At what point did the concept of being ‘offended’ lay claim to the same weight as actual harm? One of the aspects of free speech is that every now and then (okay, perhaps a lot) people are going to say things that other people disagree with. That sort of thing happens in a free society. Whether it is a dystopian governmental regime or an off-the-rails political correctness machine pulling the strings, when people’s opinions are steered not by truth but by fear of how others will react, we’re on a slippery slope.

Where does it end? If I let a four-letter word slip, and someone with “religious objections” to that sort of language tells me it’s offensive, can I then tell them that I find their attempt to force me to adhere to their belief system by altering my language offensive? Of course, that would probably ‘offend’ them too. I’d like to think adults are capable of handling differing opinions.

Let me be clear about one thing: I am not advocating hate speech. Directed, hateful comments about an individual or a group intended only to harm are not something that an enlightened society should tolerate.

What I’m worried about is the damaging effect such a mindset has on the arts: movies, television, and writing. Take for example the recent decision by TV Land to pull Dukes of Hazzard due to the Confederate flag in reaction to the recent controversy surrounding it. Perhaps I’m thinking in too-simple terms here, but I see a distinct difference between flying that flag in the real world over a government building, and a fictional character painting it on the roof of a fictional car in a fictional setting.

No one can argue that Dukes of Hazzard was advocating an agenda beyond showing a pair of backwoods idiots going on ridiculous forays against equally idiotic (and corrupt) local lawmen. Because the characters chose that symbol for their car doesn’t mean the show’s producers, writers, or sponsors believe in whatever ideology a person associates with that flag. The characters do. Or, maybe they don’t, maybe (to paraphrase Jules from Pulp Fiction) they just thought it was some cool shit to paint on their car. In the time period of the story, that symbolism was common in the area where the story takes place. It’s true to the period and the setting.

By the same logic TV Land has pulled Dukes of Hazzard, should we expect that every World War II movie with a depiction of a nazi flag will be banned because it could offend people? Should every movie, TV show, or book that depicts some historical evil such as slavery, war, serial killers, Japanese internment, or anything that anyone anywhere might possibly be offended by be pulled? That would make for some seriously bland airwaves. If something ‘offends’ you, the freedom our country provides gives you the best option: don’t pay for/watch/read it.

The removal of Dukes of Hazzard sets a dangerous precedent. Attempting to sanitize everything to please everyone is a fool’s errand. First, a silly show about silly people doing silly things, but what comes next? Are authors and screenwriters soon to be forbidden from portraying characters that have “offensive” traits? What of more serious stories than Dukes? Should someone call for a ban on movies like Schindler’s List because it portrays nazis? The characters in that movie believe a lot more in the offensive flag than Bo and Luke believe in the Confederate Flag. I hope this is a case of runaway trend-chasing and not a herald of a new age of censorship.

Art is a reflection of the society in which it is created. Are we, as a people, so afraid of looking in the mirror we need to cover it with a curtain? We cannot selectively omit events and symbols from our group consciousness. Censorship, be it by a rapid upwelling of forced indignation or by the government serves only to harm us all. People need to deal with the reality that not everyone in the world shares their opinions. As a society, we need thicker skin. We need to stop reacting to “Oh, I’m offended” as if someone just threw a baby in a pool without floats, because we will never be able to please everyone.

-Matt

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” – George Santayana

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Review | Willem of the Tafel

Willem of the Tafel by Hans M. Hirschi

Willem of the Tafel by

Hans M. Hirschi

Published by

Beaten Track Publishing

Genres: Adventure, Fantasy, LGBT, Post-Dystopian, Young Adult

194 pages

Release Date: May 28, 2015

The world we know is gone, destroyed by greed and ignorance. On a post-apocalyptic Earth, centuries into the future, few have survived the Great War. Some have taken refuge deep inside a mountain. One of them, Willem, is exiled to the surface… Alone and struggling to survive, Willem embarks on an epic journey, making a discovery that could once again alter the future of humanity. Willem of the Tafel is an epic tale of survival, second chances, hope and undying love.

Check out the trailer for Willem of the Tafel

Review

Overview

Willem of the Tafel by Hans Hirschi is a post-apocalyptic novel set some four centuries after a mixture of global-warming induced flooding and nuclear war eradicated the majority of the population. Willem is a young man who has spent his entire life among the Tafel, a society who lives within a bomb shelter beneath the Table Mountain in South Africa. Initially a part of a distrusted and mistreated minority, he becomes a pivotal figure in the future of humanity.

The good:

This is a unique take on the post-apocalyptic story, which often find themselves set in nameless deserts with faceless hordes of rampaging lunatics bent on killing (or doing other things) to anything that moves. The world vision presented in this book presents a hopeful vision of an Earth essentially sent back in time by virtue of the loss of almost all technology. Bleakness, so often a theme in the post-apocalyptic setting gives way to an overriding sense of hope.

Willem is likeable character who the reader comes to empathize with over the course of the story. While the omniscient narration felt as though it kept me at arms’ length, I did get a good sense of his isolation, fear, and wonder at the world outside, distrust of surface dwellers, love, longing, and eventual joy. Some of his dialogue felt strange given his upbringing, such as using phrases and colloquialisms that didn’t seem likely. Overall Willem was a well-rounded character with enough innocence, strength, and intelligence to make the reader want to root for him.

His relationship with Hery (barring the suddenness of it) was well portrayed, believable and emotionally touching, especially the sacrifices each had to make.

While I enjoyed this new take on a post-nuclear Earth, some things felt a little strange. It’s unclear if the mention of poisoned parts of the planet where no one can go are the result of superstition or fact, as some aspects of a post-nuclear society as described (chiefly the length of time radiation hazards remain) felt more Hollywood than factual.

The not so good:

The prologue is unnecessary, as all of the information contained within is repeated when Willem has a conversation with Stephane.

Omniscient POV – With a title like Willem of the Tafel, I expected this novel to delve deep into the story of the protagonist for whom it is named. Alas, the author took on an omniscient narration with frequent focus shifts to characters (some rather ancillary) other than Willem. While this did provide a thorough sense of everything going on around Willem, I think overall it detracted from much of the story’s chances at emotional scenes.

The romance between Willem and Hary seemed to come out of nowhere, a ‘love at first sight’ situation. Much of Willem’s evolution from lonely, isolated cave dweller to a person capable of loving and being loved is glossed over in the distance of omniscient narration. We’re not really with Willem during this process, so the reader misses out on a lot of the experience of watching him grow. I felt it was a wasted opportunity to immerse the reader in Willem’s story.

At several points, new chapters leap to relatively minor characters, showing the motivations and schemes of those around him… things that Willem could not know. Allowing the reader to see the actions of the antagonist is often done to create tension for the reader (the reader knows what’s coming but the character does not). The problem here is that the schemes in question don’t imperil the main character much at all for most of the story. When they do, a confrontation occurs, but it feels rushed and―due to the omniscient narration―occurs “at a distance” from the reader. The final conflict between Willem and his greatest antagonist (an antagonist that Willem largely doesn’t even recognize as an antagonist) felt forced and brief. It ended before the reader can comprehend what happened… and the reader never does understand exactly who did what.

Also, during these focus switches to side characters, ideas that had already been presented to the reader were repeated unnecessarily (to the reader) from the head of another character. I thought the character of Willem was compelling, and this would have been a more engaging story if we could have spent more time with him, rather than watching from afar vis a vis omniscient narration.

Antagonist – The story’s antagonist felt like a stereotypical megalomaniac, with little character development other than being an opposing force to Willem. His desires were purely rooted in his craving for power, and there was little to nothing redeeming about him. A good antagonist doesn’t see himself as the antagonist, and there is usually some grain of ‘hey, maybe he’s got a point’ to the bad guy’s ideas―not so in this case. Mavuto was, without a doubt, the bad guy. Add to that, his presence in the book is brief: a little in the beginning, and a little closer to the end where his opposition is out of character (a scheming politician type flings violent) and largely ineffective.

Repetition – Many story elements, themes, and facts are repeated unnecessarily. Examples of this include multiple mentions of there having been 50 years since the doors opened, that banishment above ground meant death, an almost heavy-handed battering of the evils of racism, that the Tafelians were vegan and didn’t eat meat, and continuous reminders of how devastating global warming was, among others.

Racial tension – Within the Tafel, the issue of racial animosity is brought again and again to the forefront. The prologue mentions that no one could remember who started the nuclear war, but the tattered group of survivors still managed to remember to hate each other because of skin color? It comes out later in the narrative that a library existed, which presumably allowed the leaders to mold opinion to their desires, but I couldn’t see any purpose for this. The leaders of the Tafel society had nothing to gain by fostering racial animosity among their own people, as it would only serve to weaken them as a whole. With so few humans left in their group, that seems reckless at best and foolish at worst.

Cliché – The dystopian tropish treatment of Tafel women (those of breeding age being kept sequestered from the general population like prisoners) seemed contrary to their goal of increasing the population. Initially, I was confused how there remained such distinct populations of Shadows and Ghosts (Black and White people), especially given the frequent statements that they were running out of DNA combinations and women were required to ‘have as many babies as possible with as many different fathers as possible.’

It’s never clear until much later that there had been some manner of prohibition on interracial procreation, which again struck me as counterintuitive to the survival of the group (worse given that these were all supposed to be scientists and engineers.) It often felt like the black/white issue in the beginning parts of the story was an artifice forced over the backdrop of a desperate survival situation for the sake of telling a moralistic tale of eventual racial acceptance, even though the situation (300 or so people left alive and spending four centuries underground) makes such animosity unlikely. Over four centuries, I think it would have either boiled over to outright murder or faded to acceptance.

Weak editing – While the story is good despite a few oddities, the book needs the attention of an editor. The major issue was repetition of concepts. Actual typos were rare, but I found frequent word echoes, some awkward sentences, misplaced (or missing) commas, bad dialogue tags, and a few instances where dialogue lacked needed attribution to make it clear who was speaking.

Overall, if you’re looking for a post-apocalyptic “mad max” style story with stuff blowing up every few pages, this isn’t the book for you. This is an emotional, cerebral tale of how one seemingly unimportant boy can make a difference. While the “we are killing the Earth” and “can’t we all just get along” morality undertones are far from subtle, this is a captivating story of a boy’s journey from a nonentity to a man who changes the course of human history.

AUTHOR SHOP/BEATEN TRACK SHOP/AMAZON/B&N/KOBO/INDIGO/ALIBRIS/iBOOKS/GOODREADS

Follow the Willem of the Tafel Virtual book tour here

Hans M Hirschi (b. 1967) has been writing stories ever since he was a child. Adulthood and the demands of corporate life efficiently put an end to his fiction writing for over twenty years.

A global executive in training and channel development, Hans has traveled the world and had previously published non-fictional titles.

The birth of his son and the subsequent parental leave provided him with the opportunity to unleash his creative writing once again. With little influence over his brain’s creative workings, he indulges it, going with the flow.

A deeply rooted passion for faith in a better world, in love, tolerance and diversity are a red thread throughout both his creative and non-fictional work. His novels might best be described as “literary romance, engaging characters and relevant stories that won’t leave you untouched, but hopeful.”

Hans is a proud member of the Swedish Writers’ Union and the Writers’ Center in Sweden.

Website • Blog • Twitter • Facebook • Goodreads

The giveaway for Willem of the Tafel has 11 randomly chosen winners; 10 will receive $15 Gift codes to the author’s shop, but the grand prize winner will receive a free ticket to GayRomLit retreat 2015, in San Diego, CA, happening October 15-18th, 2015. Ticket value is $175, but if you win the grand prize, you’re responsible for travel and accommodations. Please notify the author in advance should you win and be unable to attend, so we can choose another recipient to enjoy the prize!

Entry-Form

Good luck and happy reading and winning!

Willem of the Tafel Tour brought to you by…

Happy Geek Media

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Writing | On Filtering

New Release | The Summer The World Ended

Hi all

This coming Monday, 6/29, my second foray into the world of young adult writing is coming out. The Summer the World Ended is an emotional rollercoaster ride. Fourteen year old Riley McCullough has been looking forward to the “most epic summer ever” between eighth grade and high school. An introvert by nature, she was eager to spend countless hours online with her best (and only) friend Amber Nelson, playing video games into the wee hours.

Amber’s parents surprise her with a surprise Mexico vacation as a graduation present, throwing a wet blanket of suck over Riley’s first two weeks of freedom. From there, things only get worse, and soon she’s on the other side of the country with a father she hadn’t seen since she was eight.

Of course, trying to fit in to a new town, adjust to the new routine of living with dad, and being thousands of miles away from anything familiar all seems trivial when the world plunges into nuclear war.

Please join me on Facebook Monday for a release party – https://www.facebook.com/events/800375976744247/

Prizes include:

2 signed paperbacks of The Summer the World Ended

3 ebooks (winner’s choice) from my released titles.

2 $10 Amazon gift cards

1 The Summer the World Ended 24×36 poster (signed if desired)

(As yet undetermined cool trinkets made by Justplummy Swagit)

Other ebook prizes:

The Curse Merchant – by JP Sloan

The Curse Servant – by JP Sloan

Fairy Keeper – by Amy Rhoades Bearce

Catch Me When I Fall – by Vicki Leigh

Night of Pan – by Gail Strickland

How to Date Dead Guys – by Ann Noser

Exacting Essence – by James Wymore

The Undead – by Elsie Elmore

The Black Oracle – by Michael Cristiano

Add the book on Goodreads here: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25732546-the-summer-the-world-ended

 

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Tour | The Summer the World Ended

The Summer the World Ended

VI Release Party (Facebook Event)

Caller 107 | Chapter One

Note: The below excerpt contains strong language. If you can’t handle it, don’t read

roken glass crunched underfoot; every third step, her foot slipped to one side or the other almost sending her to the ground. Natalie stumbled through the alley behind the others, struggling to keep the pace demanded by the hand around her wrist. The clamor of boots on the wet pavement made her feel as if the eyes of the entire city fell on her. Something bad was in the air tonight, something worse than ripping off the corner store or pinching a Beemer for a joyride. Wet brick and fire escapes, highlighted in moonlight, passed overhead; she ran through the shadows to a part of the city she had never been.

In time, the pack slowed to a quiet walk and came to a halt just shy of where the glow of streetlamps invaded the alley. Natalie covered her mouth with her left hand, both to shield herself from some awful smell in the air and to quiet the sound of her breathing. The others leaned against the wall of an old brownstone. Each time a car went past, she froze as if the driver might hear her over the sound of his engine.

What the hell am I doing here? Mom is gonna lose her damn mind if I get caught.

Jason, despite his size, had a boyish face that made him seem less like a criminal than the rest. If there was any of this lot of misfits she trusted, it would be him. Most nights, he had a harmless, urgent look to him that felt at odds with everything the others were doing. Tonight was no different. This was, however, the first time he had squeezed the feeling out of her hand. She tugged at her arm, wanting to sink into the cover of darkness against the building.

He thinks I’ll run.

Kevin, white-painted face aglow in the streetlights, shot a hard look at those assembled. Natalie cringed inside, trying to evade his glare. The last time he had that glint in his eye, he almost stabbed some kid from Long Island. He peeked out of the alley, looked around, and came back pacing.

“Yo, where’s Etan?” Cory emerged from a sunken stairwell on the sidewalk, as calm as if he owned the basement apartment. He paused at the top, a red glowing dot brightened in front of his face for an instant before he entered the alley through a cloud of cigarette smoke. “He was supposed to be here.”

Everyone tensed at his sudden appearance; a few knives got put away when they realized who it was. Natalie shivered. Cory had a deep voice that sounded ten years older than he looked, the kind of voice they use to sell stuff on TV. He took another drag, laughing the smoke into a cloud. The collar of his long, dark coat flapped up against the back of his neck in the breeze; his eyes stood out against his dark face. He was either going for Wall Street or Blade.

“He’s in fuckin’ Jersey, trying to score some rocks. We need a cash infusion.” Kevin tapped his fingers on his arm as if prepping a vein.

Natalie flattened against the wall, heart pounding. She looked at Kevin, at his shitty impersonation of The Crow with spiked hair. Jason had the face paint too, but he skipped the overdone bit around the eyes. Cory frightened her more; he never liked her, too young, too white, too Jewish.

Jason pressed her into the cold brick, kissing. The smell of his makeup teased her anxiety into full-blown nausea. Neck, cheek, lips. Hand on her shoulder, down her side. She stood stiff as a mannequin, palms flat against cold stone.

“What’s wrong with you, Nat? You need some E? Relax, girl. It’s not like Rosario’s gonna call the police coz we hit his stash.”

Everyone laughed.

“No… If my mo―” A loud wooden bang from the street made her jump. She buried her face in Jason’s chest, trembling.

“Jay, man. You don’t got the green, man. That scrawny little JAP can smell your poverty.”

Natalie gave Cory the finger. “Fuck you, Blade.”

Her trembling lofted audible in her voice. Again, the group laughed.

“No thanks,” said Cory. “If I’m gonna bite on jailbait, it’s gonna have a shape. Ain’t suckin’ on four-to-ten for some flat-ass white bitch that thinks she’s street.” He whirled on Kevin, pointing two fingers. “No tits, no ass… shit, she wouldn’t know what to do with this monster.” He gestured at his crotch.

For an instant, she thought he went for a gun and gasped. Then she wanted to die of embarrassment.

Cory made a dismissive ‘pff’ sound, sidestepping. “Shit, man. Why the fuck you even bring her here? Bitch is gonna be nothin’ but trouble. She ain’t even real.”

Kevin leaned at him with a scowl. “You were a scared little punk ‘fore you stole that Brooks Brothers coat.” Cory glared. “Etan wants her to get her hands dirty. Gave her a choice of bendin’ over or pull a job, and she’s stiff as a rod. She ain’t wanna put out, she’s gotta do something serious.”

“You think I had to steal this?” Cory pulled at the lapels of his coat as he stepped up on Kevin. “None of you motherfuckers knows a damn thing about distribution.”

Natalie folded her arms and shivered into the wall, ignoring the continuing argument. I’m no whore, I’m not gonna be another Traci. I’m not like Mother. I can do this. Just stealing drugs from a drug dealer, not like anyone’s gonna get hurt. Maybe they’ll respect me if I―

Jason ran a thumb over her bottom lip, no doubt removing a smudge of his black lipstick. “Relax, kid. No one’s home. We’ll be long gone before the cops even know what happened.”

Natalie met his gaze, calmed by the image of a gothic prince staring down at her. The look her mother would give her if she showed up with face paint and black lipstick would make just about anything worth it. All she had to do was find the nerve to actually do it. “Cops got me twice at the mall already, if this goes―”

“It won’t.” Jason winked. “Traci babysits for them, knows they’re out of town this week and right where they keep the shit. Dude’s got two pounds. Word is he’s the source for his whole damn brokerage.”

Jason laughed. “And they got the money to get the good shit.”

Kevin stepped over and wadded her shirt into a fist, then lifted her on tiptoe. “Look, kid. This is big-girl time. You wanna go home to your mother, do it now before we get started.”

She punched him in the gut.

His lip curled into a grin. “Cute.”

Her boot scraped on glass as she shifted her weight.

“Any part of your leg comes within six inches of my junk, your face and that wall are gonna be good friends. We copacetic?”

Natalie glared. “Yeah… asshole.”

He let go; she stepped back and adjusted her shirt.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Jason got between them.

Kevin shifted his eyes. “Just a bad feeling. She won’t put out, won’t touch any shit, got trashed on two drinks, and almost coughed herself puking when she tried weed.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? She’s no cop.” Jason laughed. “She’s a kid.”

Natalie stepped up on Kevin. “Why do you think criminals always get caught? Coz they get fuckin’ high and then do stupid shit.”

“Cut her a break, she’s thirteen.” Jason pulled her back.

“Traci knew her way around a dick pretty good at that age,” said Ernesto, the grin of a fond memory on his face.

Corey made a dismissive wave. “Yeah, but that bitch from Jersey, not uptown like this J―”

“Something’s fucked.” The tip of Kevin’s finger hovered at her nose. “She’s just usin’ us to piss off mommy and daddy. She don’t wanna be here, just wants to be seen here.”

A boy leaning on the other wall stepped into the light. “Etan said it was time to―”

“Alright, everyone just shut up.” Kevin spun with enough force to flare his leather trenchcoat. He pointed at her again, then the street. “Since you’re still a child, you get the easy job.”

Natalie bristled. Indignation did little to trap the butterflies in her gut.

“Your skinny ass is goin’ through the window and lettin’ us in.”

“It’s clear,” said Lucas, from the street.

The others moved around front, leaving her and Jason alone in the dark. I’m gonna throw up. She shivered, huddled against the wall as he attacked a street-level window. The taste of freezer-burned meatballs and cheese came back. Natalie cringed each time his boot hit the glass, every crunch felt like it hit her in the stomach. Jason scraped his foot across the bottom to chase away the last of the shards and covered the lower edge with sheets of cardboard from the dumpster.

“You’re up, kid.”

Natalie wiped a line of bile from the corner of her mouth, and approached the window where she sank into a squat by the small opening. The butterflies got bigger as she peered into a half-basement full of dusty things covered in cloth. With one shaking hand on the cardboard, she slid her head through the gap and looked around. The floor waited about six feet down. It was dark, scary, and the opening was a tight squeeze, even for her.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Jason held her hand.

She peered into his eyes, closed hers halfway, and kissed him. No. “Y… Yeah.”

 

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