StanleyWheeler

Someone posted this rating (but no written review) for my new book Clamorous Harbingers:

A written review would have been nice, but I'll gladly take every 5 star rating that comes my way. I only need about a thousand more of these.

In related news, someone else, a young man of 15, got a paperback copy of Clamorous Harbinger's last night, and had read all three hundred pages by this morning. He said he stayed up reading until after 2:00 a.m. -- That's the kind of dedication I like from fans. The power of interesting characters and exciting action in a compelling story has captured his imagination.  He has of course read the whole trilogy and now wants the second trilogy. He has good taste. That kind of dedication is what every author craves.

***

I'm not sure whether it was Tracy, Chris, Danny, Laurie, or Keith - but I saw one of the members of the partridge family die yesterday.

When I opened the garage door, I heard some chicks chirping outside, but I couldn't see the birds. When I walked out to get the gas for the mower, I saw the momma partridge in the grass by the front door. The youngsters, sans instruments, came scurrying from somewhere and she led them into a long ornamental bush we had. We've had partridges here ever since we moved here a number of years ago. They're not uncommon in the countryside. We also get pheasants, deer and other wildlife on the property.

A short time later, after I had gassed up the mower and was getting ready to coil a hose, I heard the momma partridge clucking with all the understated drama one finds at the community theater. She came bursting from beneath the bush with one of the growing kittens on her tail. The kitten, the one I call Shadow, had one of the partridge family seized in its jaws. Momma turned to face the cat, but the cat broke for another bush. Momma gave chase, but Shadow disappeared. Momma turned away, her feathers all ruffled, and that little feather on the top of her head hanging sideways like the up swept bangs on a frazzled dame. When Shadow raced to another bush, letting the chick go to catch it once more, momma veered back toward her brood member, but quickly realized the futility of the matter and returned to watch over the remaining band members.

Later, I thought I heard Shadow meowing, "I think I love you."

***

Finally, not really a book review, because I'm not even half way through it yet. I picked up The House of the Wolfings by William Morris--a free ebook. It predates the Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, being published in 1889--that's just 8 years after the Earps and Clantons had a wee disagreement in the Arizona Territory, and the same year as the Russian Flu Pandemic, or the Tyler Grippe. The fumes of Tolkien-inspiration waft from the work so strongly that if one were to strike a match the ensuing explosion of hobbits, Dunedain, orcs, and Riders of Rohan would "big bang" a trilogy into existence. It seems to be a tale told from the point of view of the Goths, against the invading evil empire of Rome. Most of the dialog is written in verse, and the pattern of the prose rings with a pleasant ping. That's all I got to say about that--for now.