Graham Storrs's Blog, page 16

Review: Count to a Trillion by John C. Wright

(This review first appeared in the New York Review of Books.)

Over a hundred years from now, after a series of devastating biological wars, North America is struggling to hang on to even third-world status.

A young mathematical prodigy called Menelaus Montrose grows up in what used to be Texas. He works at a variety of menial and sometimes dangerous jobs. While acting as a paid duellist for a firm of lawyers, he is recruited by a man who might just save the world. A spaceship is being built to cross the 50 light years to another star, to harvest the antimatter discovered there and to read the runes on an ancient, orbiting monument left by a Galaxy-spanning super-race.

But Montrose is as reckless and foolish as he is mathematically gifted, and he is barely out of Earth's orbit before he injects himself with an untested concoction that will amplify his intelligence well beyond human levels. The next thing he knows, he is back on Earth, 150 years later, and everything has changed.

Count to a Trillion is essentially a utopian sci-fi novel about a future society created by adventurer-scientists who brought stability and order to a world fractured and failing after almost destroying itself. Yet like most utopias, this version of global peace and world government is held together by duct tape and wishful thinking, as Montrose slowly discovers.

One of the great pleasures of reading utopian sci-fi is that one sees the author play with wild and exciting possibilities, to present futures we might one day have to live, and to juxtapose a vision of a future society with our own less-than-perfect present. That is one of the reasons why Count to a Trillion was so disappointing.

Beyond a description of how the new world order was forced upon the Earth, and some tidbits about the politics and social stratification of this future society, we learn very little about how this world works. With strong echoes of H. G. Wells' classic, The Sleeper Awakes, Montrose wakes to discover he is in a society distorted and stultified by the power of the ruling elite – of which he is now a member. But it is not the economic systems of the new Earth that cause Montrose to reject this world, nor its educational, medical, or child welfare programs. Bizarrely, what bothers our Texan hero—disgusts him, even—is the fact that ordinary people are not allowed to roam the streets armed.

And that is symptomatic of one of the most jarring aspects of the book. It's true that the hero comes from an impoverished, post-apocalyptic Texan home, but when he reaches maturity and he is an established mathematical genius, educated, an elite member of an interstellar space mission, and has his IQ boosted off the scale to become the first transhuman, it is peculiar that he still talks like a caricature of John Wayne in a low-budget Western.

This makes the hero seem a little comical, like Yoda, who can master the Force, but who can't master English sentence construction. In fact, Menelaus Montrose is a bit of a fool, with almost no endearing qualities. To cap it all, when he falls for the heroine, he behaves like a sexist throwback, with endless cracks about "wearing the trousers" and spanking his "girl," and all sympathy for him is lost.

Which is a shame. This is a book that had the potential to be so much more. It is solid, hard science fiction, brimming over with great ideas. Yet it falls into the trap of being overburdened with exposition (much of which is pure techno-babble); and the first part of the novel in particular feels slow and tedious as various characters fill the hero in on what he missed while he was asleep.

Much of the writing is very reminiscent of Golden Age sci-fi writer A. E. van Vogt, not only in its style but also in the use of supposed semantic and mathematical frameworks (mostly derived from alien writings) to understand human and alien behavior.

And then the story stops, quite abruptly, in the middle of an action scene. You may enjoy books that end on a cliffhanger with nothing resolved and every important character on the very edge of triumph or defeat—in which case, you'll love Count to a Trillion.

But for many people, reaching the end of a novel to find you are left hanging is extremely frustrating. The intent may be to persuade the reader to buy the next book in the series (although none is promised) but in this case, the fate of this particular hero might be a matter of indifference to most readers.

Is Being Ignored Worse Than Rejection?

Lately, four of the self-published authors I follow (on their blogs and Twitter) have said that they are giving up. Some are giving up writing altogether, some are giving up their attempts to be successful. Four is quite a rash and I wonder if it is a sign of things to come. The three that gave reasons, said it was because they are tired of putting their books out there and working so hard at marketing their work, only to be ignored by the buying public. They weren't actually "tired" you understand, they were heartsick, they were miserable, they were defeated and broken.

Those of us who write and submit our manuscripts to the judgement of agents and publishers know the pain of rejection. Some wear the terrible number of rejections they have accumulated as a badge of pride (although that happens mostly after they've been published). It is gruelling and it is soul-destroying. Most writers hate it and wish it could stop. Some writers make it stop by taking their hats out of the ring.

In recent times, self-publishing has been seen as a way around the dreadful and often arbitrary judgement of the "gatekeepers". Why should a writer go on suffering the rejection of publishers and agents, they reason, when they can simply and cheaply publish their own work and "get it out there"? While some see subjecting themselves to the judgement of the gatekeepers as "paying their dues", others see it as an artificial barrier, erected by an old and crumbling system that no longer has the respect of the people of whom it sits in judgement.

But when you self-publish, you offer yourself to the judgement of a higher court: The Market. And don't think for a moment that The Market is the court of public opinion. It is not. The Market is a whore, a gigolo. It has favours to offer, but only at a price. And the price is this: you must woo it, thrill it, entertain it, seduce it, plead with it, and subjugate yourself to it. If you don't catch its fickle eye, its gaze will pass over you and find another, more willing to please it.

There are many panders who will offer the self-published author advice on how to succeed in The Market, but most of them are charlatans or fools. And, besides, so few writers are prepared to make the deals that really work, the ones that are made over buried bones at a crossroads. So the average self-published author sells a book or two a month on Amazon and keeps on writing and hoping – because the panders say you need lots of "inventory".

But for some the awful truth hits them; The Market is ignoring them. And then they know a pain worse than rejection. A pain that squeezes at their hearts every day of their lives, for every book they publish, twenty-four seven. The Amazon KDP report mocks them. The Smashwords dashboard laughs in their pathetic faces. Self-publishing, for so many, becomes a nightmare of disillusionment and self-torment. The world just isn't interested. They're not being rejected because nobody even knows they're there. They're being ignored. Their life's work, their hopes and dreams, they themselves, are beneath notice.

Beneath notice.

How long before this trickle of surrenders becomes a stream? How long before the stream becomes a torrent? I don't know, but I do know I will continue to face rejection until I can face it no more. The alternative may be far worse.

That's me, near the middle, waving.

 

TimeSplash Audiobook Giveaway: 7 Days Left

Just a quick note to mention that there are still seven days left to win one of 3 copies of the TimeSplash audiobook that are being given away at Martha's Bookshelf. And it's not just the book. A short story prequel I wrote and recorded myself will also be given away with each of the three audiobooks.

TimeSplash is a time travel thriller, a fast-paced story about two young people who devote their lives to hunting down the time-travelling terrorist, Sniper. Sandra, his former girlfriend, is driven by fear for her life after a time trip turns into a nightmare of destruction and murder. With no resources and no friends, she doggedly tracks the dangerous and powerful killer. But it is only when she teams up with Jay, an MI5 agent whose best friend was killed in the aftermath of Sniper's worst and most deadly timesplash, that either of them stand any chance of bringing Sniper down. But time is their enemy. They must stop Sniper before his team pulls off its biggest timesplash ever and destroys a major European city in the process.

The audiobook is published by Iambik Audiobooks and read by the amazing Emma Newman.

The prequel is called Party Time and features the moment when time travel is first demonstrated by two unemployed physicists in a slum in the north of England, and their friend who realises the true potential of what is being demonstrated. I read it myself and Iambik Audiobooks have kindly hosted the recording for this giveaway.

Treat yourself to an extra Christmas present this year.

 

 

Last Fare: A Split Worlds Story by Emma Newman

A special treat today! I am very pleased to present a short story by talented author Emma Newman (yes, the very one who narrated the audiobook version of TimeSplash). Emma is engaged in a mammoth project this year, to write five novels set in her Split Worlds universe along with a new Split Worlds short story every week. She asked for volunteers to host each of those stories as they come out and I am lucky enough to have that honour today. So let me stop rambling and let Emma take over.

* * *

This is the fifth in a year and a day of weekly short stories set in The Split Worlds. If you would like me to read it to you instead, you can listen here. You can find links to all the other stories, and the new ones as they are released here.

 

Last Fare

 "How much to drive out to Pinner?"

The taxi driver looked at the drenched girl, mascara down her cheeks, shivering. Night on the town gone wrong.

"Forty quid love."

He waited until she was strapped in before pulling off, glancing at her in the rear view mirror.

"Filthy weather," he said.

She'd slumped down, resting her head on the back of the seat. "Yeah."

"I'll turn the heater up for you."

"Thanks."

Early twenties he figured, she reminded him of his daughter. He'd see her home safely then call it a night. Most of the pubs were empty now and he'd made good money from the sudden storm. "Funny thing happened the other day," he said, hoping to take her mind off whatever was making her look so upset. "I've been cabbin' since 1968, and I tell ya, I never seen a movie star queuing at Paddington for a cab." She stopped biting her nails. "So I watched him move up the line as I was waiting for a slot, and he gets into mine! It was Morgan Freeman!"

"What was he like?"

"Nicest bloke you could meet. He'd come in to Heathrow, I said 'Would've thought they'd pick you up in a limo.' And he says 'I try to be as normal as I can be. When I come to London I get a train, then a cab, just like anyone else' in that lovely voice of his, you know?"

"Yeah." She was twisting round to look out the back window. He wondered if she'd been taking something, she seemed twitchy and paranoid.

"You alright love?"

After a long pause she said "You must like being a cabby then, to do it for so long."

"There are worse ways to earn a living. 'Course there were less muppets on the road then." He pulled onto the North Circular and saw her twisting round again. "You sure you're alright?"

"I think that taxi is following us."

"That only happens in films love," he said with a smile, but started to keep an eye on it. He indicated to pull off and then didn't at the last minute, it did the same. "You have some trouble in town tonight?"

In the dim orange light he could see her chewing her nails again. "I split up with my boyfriend."

"Sorry to hear that. Not treating you right was he?"

"He was too full on. I liked him to start with, but then he wanted to know where I was all the time and… well, you know."

"Sounds like you're better off without him."

"My Mum'll be upset, she loved him because he's rich. There's more to life than that though, isn't there?"

"Sounds like you've got your head screwed on. Still live with your Mum do you?"

"Yeah."

Good, he thought. He was definitely going to see her to the door, and keep an eye on who came out of that other cab if it followed that far. "Plenty more fish in the soup," he said, and winked at her via the mirror. He caught a gleam of white as she smiled through the gloom. "Nearly home, soon you'll be warm and dry and it'll all feel better, I'm sure."

She kept quiet until they got to Pinner then directed him to her street. All the while he kept an eye on the cab following them, there was no doubt now.

"It's number 20, up there on the right."

He parked as close as he could. "Your Dad at home is he?"

"Yeah, but he'll be in bed."

"How about you call him? Don't want to worry you love, but that cab has followed us, and if that ex of yours sees your Dad at the door, he'll think twice about making any trouble."

"My Dad'll freak if I phone at this time in the morning."

"Let me walk you to the door then," he said. "I'll give him what for if he starts anything."

"Thank you," she paid him with a generous tip.

He grabbed his jacket from the front passenger seat and got out, making a point of giving the other cab a hard stare as he shrugged it on. Its engine was idling, the windscreen wipers working hard. He escorted her down the street, both of them glancing back at the taxi frequently, but nobody had got out. They passed the high hedges, all neatly clipped, many of the houses with large gates. It was a nice area, they weren't short of a bob or two.

"I really do appreciate this," she said.

"It's nothin' love. I got a daughter about your age, I'd like to think a cabby'd do the same for her if she needed it."

She fished in her bag for keys, he checked back on the taxi. Still there. Her gasp made him snap around, a figure had stepped out from round the corner of her parent's hedge.

"Christ! How did he get here before me?" she said, clutching the cabby's arm.

"We didn't finish our conversation," the ex-boyfriend said.

"She don't want to talk to you," the cabby cupped his hand over the top of hers protectively.

The man peered at him. "This is none of your business."

"It's late, she's wet through and she don't need this right now," the cabby persisted, feeling her trembling.

The ex-boyfriend came closer, prodded him in the chest. "You, be quiet." His breath smelt sweet, like he'd been eating Parma Violets. "Rebecca, come back to London with me now."

The cabby felt her arm slip from his and she stepped towards her ex, when he tried to ask her what she was doing, he just couldn't work his tongue.

The ex stroked the girl's wet hair. "Why run out into the rain? Silly girl." He was definitely a weirdo; the cabby resolved to go and get her parents, no way he could go home after leaving her with him.

A car door slammed, he turned to see a man in a long rain-coat approaching, collar turned up and shoulders hunched against the rain. His eyes were close-set, it looked like someone had smashed his nose into putty and he'd let it set in a malformed lump.

"Mr Viola!" the ugly man called out and the ex swore under his breath, noticing him for the first time. "Step away from the girl and state your business here."

"Arbiter," the ex's voice was trembling. "I was simply… returning a pair of gloves."

"Which implies previous fraternisation with an innocent, that's a poor defence." The man came closer and peered at the cabby. "Are you alright sir?"

He tried to speak again, but nothing emerged.

The putty nose wrinkled as he sniffed. "You need to come with me, Mr Viola. I've seen and smelt enough."

"Is that really necessary? Couldn't-"

"Don't bother. There's a taxi waiting over there, the one with a driver. Get in it. And don't try anything, I've already informed my superiors of your movements this evening. I'm not the only one watching you right now."

The ex left in silence. "Sorry about that," he said to the shivering girl. "He won't bother you again. Stay away from him and his family, they're dangerous."

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Police," he replied, and handed her a card. "Any more problems with him, call that number right away." He looked at the cabby. "You should get home now, you need some rest."

"I need to see her to her door," he said, delighted to find he could speak again. The policeman nodded and went back to the waiting cab.

The girl thanked him on the doorstep, when the front door was shut and locked, he went back to his taxi. As he flopped into his seat, he realised he hadn't asked the policeman for any ID, and the arrest was far from normal. "Leave it," he muttered to himself and set off for home.

—

Thanks for hosting Graham! I hope you enjoyed the story. If you would like to find out more about the Split Worlds project, it's all here: www.splitworlds.com. If you would like to host a story over the coming year, either let me know in the comments or contact me through the Split Worlds site. Em x

 

 

 

 

 

Sunshine

Sunshine is inimical to writing. The grass grows and has to be cut. The weeds grow and have to be killed. The fruit grows and has to be coddled like a baby. The dog staggers to the shadows, and drops. That seat among the tress beckons like a favourite vice. You take your laptop but the flashing rosellas and the spiralling eagles, the fidgeting thornbirds and flitting fairy wrens, the tumbling butterflies and swooping dragonflies, all take their toll. The horseflies and mud wasps zip around your head and snatch ideas as they struggle to find their way down to the screen. Like the lizards and the red-bellied blacks, your proper place is lying prone, letting sunlight seep through you. Like the wild orchids and the granite bluebells, your proper job is to nod in appreciation. This is why you came. This is why you found this place in the forest. Writing must wait for the rain.

Review: Bringer of Light by Jaine Fenn

(This review first appeared in the New York Journal of Books.)

When a book opens with our heroes running from a planet, having just been shot at while trying to smuggle a war criminal off world because they're hard up and need the money, you know you are squarely in space opera land. And there you stay as Captain Jarek Reen and his two companions—one of them a female Sidhe, the other her human lover, and both of them flying assassins with various deadly abilities—steers us between the galaxies to find Aleph, home of the last Sidhe males, to bring back a shiftspace beacon so that the backward planet Serenein can join the rest of humanity.

If it sounds like a good old-fashioned space adventure story, that's because it is. Jaine Fenn is arguably part of the British "new space opera" movement (along with writers such as Peter F. Hamilton and Alastair Reynolds), a group that has led a massive revival of the genre in the past twenty years or so.

A part of Ms. Fenn's Hidden Empire series, this intergalactic saga includes many old favorite tropes—even to the extent of the mysterious and powerful Sidhe females having extensive psychic powers.

The Sidhe (named after the Irish magical creatures who lived underground in fairy mounds) are evil females who once had the human race enslaved, and oddly pedantic and squabbling males (we discover in this volume) who once helped humanity gain its freedom but now hide out in a separate galaxy and practice a kind of feudalism. None of this is really clear until you are well into the book.

Similarly, Jarek and his two assassin friends have complex and relevant histories that might take the reader some time to come to grips with. And then there is the planet Serenein, backward and primitive, cut off from the rest of humanity, run by a theocracy under the thrall of the Sidhe females, existing as a breeding ground for humans with special magic abilities that the Sidhe need.

And Captain Reen happens to be married to the ruler of this world after meeting her in an earlier book—one of the reasons why he is risking a visit to the Sidhe males to help them integrate with the rest of the galaxy.

It is a lot of history and a lot of backstory to convey within the current plot. Ms Fenn makes a good job of it, but it does slow down the pace and she does not entirely succeed. Gollancz tells us that Bringer of Light can be read as a standalone novel, but it is the fourth in the series and it does help to have read the others.

But don't worry that the backstory is a little convoluted or that some of the plot devices seem a bit strained (our heroes just happen to be on good terms with a male Sidhe who can negotiate with his fellows to get them the shiftspace beacon they desperately need). The story still romps along at a good pace, and it is helped enormously by Jaine Fenn's writing.

Her characters are nicely drawn and the whole delivery is in a punchy, casual style that suits the story. The "voice" of the book is reminiscent of the comic space operas of Harry Harrison (particularly the Death World series), and that is no bad thing. The contrast between the action in space and that on the almost medieval planet, Serenein, prevents either from growing stale, and the different sets of characters in each setting are sympathetic and convincing.

If you like rollicking space adventures, this book will not disappoint. If you like a bit of preindustrial fantasy blended in, you will definitely love Bringer of Light. But you should seriously consider reading all four books in the series rather than just this one.

The Kindle App on My Smartphone

A profound change has come upon me. No, it's not the male menopause, although I'm long overdue for a red sports car and a dab of Rogaine. No, this change is based on the realisation that from this week onward, whatever I'm doing, wherever I am, I will never be without a book to read.

What happened to me is this: I bought a smartphone.

I got the phone about a week ago. It took me a few days to footle around with it, setting settings and playing with its various bells and whistles. Then, while I was in a vet's waiting room, waiting, I downloaded the Kindle app and fired it up. If you don't know how the Kindle works, let me explain. There is a central repository "in the cloud" where books that you buy from Amazon are held – they call it the Archive. You can download books from your archive into your device and then read them. You can also download books from other sources into your device, but they don't end up in the archive. So, when I looked at my new Kindle app, there was every book I had ever bought from Amazon, just waiting for me. I picked "Welcome to the Monkey House" by Kurt Vonnegut – something my wife had bought recently, meaning to re-read, and I started re-reading it myself.

The display on my new phone is small (about 10 cm – that's 4 inches in old money) but the text is clear and steady and I was quite pleased with the readability. The touch screen makes turning the page simple – a single touch with the finger (or thumb) to left or right turns the page that way (you can "swipe" to turn pages too if you're feeling flamboyant). After ten minutes or so, the vet called us in and I popped the phone in my pocket and thought nothing more about it.

Until today.

I was in a coffee shop. I ordered my usual large cappuccino to go and settled in for the usual fifteen minute wait. To while away the time, I took out my new phone – and remembered I had a book I was reading. So I clicked through to the app and carried on with it. The coffee came. I put the phone away. A couple of hours later, I was waiting again – this time while my wife went to the library (oh, irony). So I whipped out my phone and started reading again.

And that's when it struck me. I carry my phone with me whenever I go out. Even as I write, it is within hand's reach of me. And now my phone is an ereader, connected to the largest online bookshop in the world. I will never, ever, have to spend another idle moment without a book to read. Old favourites, new adventures, are just a couple of clicks away. A collection far larger than my local library's is there in my pocket whenever I want to dip into it.

I find this idea profoundly moving. It is a quantum leap improvement in my quality of life. I still can't get my head around how significant this is.

I've been reading ebooks for years. I have a Kindle which is in constant use around the house, or in hotels on overnight trips. I've had a smartphone for years too – just not one with a large enough screen to make reading feasible. But, somehow, the combination of big screen phone and Kindle app has given me access to a capability far more significant than the sum of its parts.

Just for the record, I still prefer reading on the Kindle to on the phone (a Samsung Galaxy S, by the way, running Android). The Kindle was literally made for reading books. When I have them side by side, I will always pick up the Kindle. However, the awesomeness of having a not-quite-Kindle there in my pocket, wherever I go, has changed everything. I no longer go to where the books are, or where my ereader is; now the books come to me.

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Interview Monday

Interviews are clearly like buses: you wait ages for one and then two turn up at the same time. That's what happened today.

An Interview with Alaskan Bookie

You will remember the Alaskan Bookie site recently gave my time travel thriller, TimeSplash, a five-star review. Well, afterwards, Dorothy, who runs the site, asked me over for an interview. You can see the result on the Alaskan Bookie website. This is a particularly good interview in a couple of ways. Firstly, the questions were really enjoyable. I'm not sure quite why, but each one sparked a little excitement – which you might notice in my enthusiastic responses Secondly, I am very impressed with Dorothy's professionalism. You can see some of this just in the way the interview is laid out. It is one of the best-organised interview formats I have ever seen, with all the right information available but presented in a very palatable format. Again, I'm not quite sure why I think this. I will have to sit down and analyse my aesthetic response to what Dorothy has done here. Anyway, if you want to see me in excited and enthusiastic mode, talking right at you, visit the Alaskan Bookie today.

 

An Interview with Kayelle Press

As part of the continuing launch and publicity efforts for the Hope anthology, Kayelle Press is running a series of brief author interviews with each of the contributors. Today is my turn and you can find my interview on the Kayelle Press blog. For me, this series of interviews is very interesting. Hope brings together some of my favourite Australian writers – including at least three I'd call friends – so it is nice to get a quick peek at what they say about themselves and the story they have contributed. You might not have the same level of interest, but if you want to hear from over a dozen writers, all at different stages in their careers, talking about a particular piece of work, it is a fascinating snapshot. And while you are over at the Kayelle Press site, why not pick up a copy of Hope? It is full of good stories and interesting articles. It is there to raise suicide awareness, something our society needs. Besides, Christmas is not far away and a book is always a great gift.

 

 

"Gaming" Amazon is Despicable

Please excuse me. I'm about to rant. It's not a pretty sight and I wouldn't blame you if you went somewhere else right now. (And, if you're wondering where would be a good place to escape to, try the Hope anthology online book launch - it's in a very good cause.)

I've just been followed on Twitter by another jerk with another book marketing scam. In this one, thousands of "independent" (self-published) authors, with books on Amazon, are signing up to "like", "tag", "rate" and "tweet" each other's books in an orgy of deception and back scratching. They aren't reading each other's books, merely recommending them to others in return for their own book being recommended.

Arseholes like this seem to think there is no harm in "gaming" sites like Amazon to give their own work an advantage. For some reason, they don't see it as lying to people and cheating people for pecuniary gain, they see it as "marketing" or "book promotion" or some other euphemism. Well it's not, you tossers, it's lying and cheating. It demeans you. It brings every book rating and recommendation system you touch into disrepute and makes the whole system worthless.

And if you think this is going to give you anything other than short-term gain, you are even bigger fools than you seem to be. Anyone who buys your books on the basis of these fraudulent recommendations, is going to be very annoyed if your books are a load of crap – and if they're not a load of crap, why are you resorting to this kind of subterfuge to trick people into buying them? Frankly, I wish that each of you could be exposed to as many people as possible for the worms that you are. Public humiliation is the least you deserve.

As for the jerk who followed me and tried to get me to join his disgusting little scam, I blocked him and reported him as a spammer. I'd have liked to have done more but that was all that was in my power to do. If enough of us do the same, maybe some of these guys will lose their accounts.

OK, rant over. Normal service will be resumed shortly.

The Hope Anthology is Available Now

I've been looking forward to this launch, partly because the book contains some of my favourite Australian SFF writers, partly because the whole point of the book is to raise awareness of suicide, and partly because it contains the first story of mine ever to be published that features one of my favourite creations, Broome.

Broome is a robot that will be assembled some three hundred years from now. It will appear in two space opera trilogies of mine (only two and a half volumes of which have been written so far). At the time of the story in Hope (called The God on the Mountain), Broome is 11,000 years old and many light years from Earth. It's had various names during that long time, but it chose the current one because of the old joke about the broom that's lasted for years, and has only had three new heads and two new handles.

You can join in the launch on Facebook, if you're quick, and you can find details of the book on the Kayelle Press website. Whatever you do, please buy the book. It's got terrific stories and useful information about suicide but, more than that, it's in a good cause and the people who put this together have all given their time and energy to try to help. And pass on the message to everyone you know. Someone in your circle of family and friends may be glad that you did.

Here is a summary and something about the stories:

FORMAT
RRP


Paperback
A$17.99, US$17.99, ₤8.99, €8.99


*Ebook
A$3.99







Genre:
Speculative Fiction


Binding:
Paperback & Digital


ISBN:
978-0-9808642-2-9 (pbk.)

978-0-9808642-3-6 (eBook)


Publisher:
Kayelle Press


Date Published:
7 October 2011


Language:
English


No. of Pages:
288


Product Dimensions:
229 x 152 x 9 mm


Shipping Weight:
480 grams




Table of Contents:
Preface by Karen Henderson

Introduction by Simon Haynes

High Tide at Hot Water Beach by Paul Haines

Suicide: An Introduction by Warren Bartik and Myfanwy Maple

Burned in the Black by Janette Dalgliesh

Australian Suicide Statistics

The Haunted Earth by Sean Williams

The Causes of Suicide

Eliot by Benjamin Solah

Warning Signs

Boundaries by Karen Lee Field

Indigenous Suicides

The Encounter by Sasha Beattie

Drugs and Alcohol

The God on the Mountain by Graham Storrs

Suicide Around the World

Deployment by Craig Hull

Suicide: The Impact by Myfanwy Maple and Warren Bartik

Flowers in the Shadow of the Garden by Joanne Anderton

Helping a Friend Through Loss

Blinded by Jodi Cleghorn

Myths and Facts

The Choosing by Rowena Cory Daniells

How to Help Someone at Risk of Suicide by beyondblue

Duty and Sacrifice by Alan Baxter

What You Can Do to Keep Yourself Safe by beyondblue

A Moment, A Day, A Year… by Pamela Freeman

Where to Get Help

About the Authors
The Stories:
High Tide at Hot Water Beach by Paul Haines

A man dying of a terminal disease bets his life on one last chance at survival, a chance that looks like certain death from the perspective of his family.

Burned in the Black by Janette Dalgliesh

A jaded starbeast herder, with more secrets than she cares for and a difficult task ahead, is swept into an uneasy alliance with a troubled technobard whose unique gifts could mean her salvation … or her downfall.

The Haunted Earth by Sean Williams

Not all aliens are evil, but every first contact comes at a cost.

Eliot by Benjamin Solah

Eliot hides his dark memories in the pages of journals. But there is one memory he needs to uncover once the face paint washes away.

Boundaries by Karen Lee Field

With cursed blood running through his veins and boundaries touched by magic, an escaped slave battles for life as a Freeman.

The Encounter by Sasha Beattie

A woman's desperation finds her in a small town where she learns of a dark secret that threatens to take away her only hope of happiness.

The God on the Mountain by Graham Storrs

An ambitious scientist's career may be over if she dare not seek the god on the mountain and confront it.

Deployment by Craig Hull

After choosing the loneliness of deep space, a woman must confront her painful past to save the life of a child.

Flowers in the Shadow of the Garden by Joanne Anderton

In the ruins of a dying magical Garden, two people from opposite sides of a dangerous clash of cultures must learn to trust each other to survive.

Blinded by Jodi Cleghorn

The past and present collide for exo-biologist Dr Thaleia Halligan when the most recent addition to her exploration team is revealed as something other than a field medic for hire.

The Choosing by Rowena Cory Daniells

In a harsh,  tropical paradise, a world of scattered islands where the  poor live on boats and whole tribes live the canopies of sea- growing trees,  two boys set off to prove they are worthy of being called men.

Duty and Sacrifice by Alan Baxter

In endless grasslands an assasin works her way towards the biggest job of her life, and maybe the last.

A Moment, A Day, A Year… by Pamela Freeman

The Oracle ordains everyone's role in the Yearly Round, but there are more choices to be made than anyone knows, and some of them are deadly.