What to Read?
Every once in a while I catch up on my to-be-read pile. It doesn’t happen often. Conferences and book fairs and friends’ recommendations mean disaster when it comes to yard work and vacuuming, but you gotta have priorities and the story stack incessantly summons.
There have been those odd moments, however, when the mound of volumes ran low and the carpet was more or less clean and the grass wasn’t all that long and, as a result, I’ve looked around and wondered “what next?”
This ever happen to you?
Never fear. It turns out there’s true delight in the reread. Sure, diving into old favorites can make me feel guilty about all the new stuff I’m passing by, but seriously, sometimes wallowing in a familiar world, comfortable that you know which way the current is heading, can be exactly what you need. So off I head to the bookshelves.
Um, now what? Why isn’t this working? Good grief, when did I accumulate so many books? There’s Dashiell Hammett and Churchill and Rowling and Stevenson and Asimov and—argh, now comes the dreaded selection process. Am I due for some non-fiction? Well, yeah, but I don’t wanna. Looking for escapism today. Hmm, this one is too familiar, having visited their world not long ago. That one, no, I remember not liking the writing as much as other stuff, though the story was great. Ooh, this . . . no, wait, that’ll make me cry. Feeling too manly for that. I’ll wait till I’m more vulnerable, like when one of the kids makes a bone-headed move and gets hurt.
On I paw, looking behind the first row of books to those hidden behind. Ah, yes, that’s why I hid them. Really low priority for the second time around, much less a third. So why did I keep them? Don’t libraries take donations? Or schools? This room is a rat trap of verbiage.
Darn it, I need something to read!
Out comes the laptop, and up goes the social media. Skimming, surfing, seeking suggestions from all those people I follow. Agents or editors, libraries or publishing companies, writers or readers or—
Well, shoot, what do you know? Here’s a great idea. And there’s another one. And, wait, where’s a pencil? Yeah, yeah, I know, I should cut and paste and use the word processor and print out what I’m finding, but frankly, modern tech is too slow. I can scribble faster than that.
So now what? I’ve got, er, seventeen new things that look intriguing, and three of them are the start of a series. And I haven’t even checked Amazon. Whatever happened to that rereading plan? Maybe I shouldn’t get any of these books, I should do those stupid chores after all. I mean, the leaves are piling up, I can’t even see the driveway, and the birds made a mess of the deck, and . . . .
Huh, would you look at that? My fingers took care of the problem. I’ve ordered a cool half dozen from the local indie bookstore, and two are in stock. Car keys plus windbreaker, and the doorway beckons.
The dishes try to wink at me from the counter, and the open, empty pantry cries for attention, but my resolve is firm. I ignore their whining and steal away. And as I accelerate down the road, I wonder:
Would I be considered an inspiration to others, or just a really bad example?
Scourge by Charley Pearson
Medical Thriller
2018
Financially independent, biochemistry genius Stacy Romani grows up off the grid, while her Roma family takes advantage of her knowledge for their own gain.
Watching his family farm struggle, and traumatized by mass slaughter, Aatos Pires wants to heal animals but gets seduced by industry and goes to work for a big pharmaceutical company.
When Aatos’ co-worker Trinity creates a deadly doomsday virus, it puts the world population in jeopardy as it spreads exponentially. . .with no cure in sight.
Stacy and Aatos work alone to find a cure, as the CDC and FBI close in. Will they find a way to stop the plague or will it be the end of humanity?
About the Author:
Charley Pearson started in chemistry and biology, then moved on to bioengineering, so the Navy threw in some extra training and made him a nuclear engineer. This actually made sense when his major task turned out to be overseeing chemical and radiological environmental remediation at Navy facilities after the end of the Cold War, releasing them for unrestricted future use. Now he writes fiction.
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