Have Books, Will Travel . . .

Posted on July 22, 2012 by mainecrimewriters

Our new poster, courtesy of the talented Barbara Ross

Hi, it’s Kate Flora, here, starting a conversation about Books in Boothbay, a wonderful event several of us attended last Saturday, and all the other book events we’ll be attending this summer. Because it’s summer, and in the summer, Maine libraries and bookstores are offering a lot of events for locals and visitors, and Maine writers are out there answering the call.

So check out our Appearances section, and see where Maine Crime Writers will be popping up next. And imagine the fun we have, meeting readers, reading from our work, and meeting authors we may have heard of for years, but often have never met before.

Here’s something you may find rather mysterious–although we’ve been blogging together for a year now, and had so many fascinating conversations–our joint table of six authors at Books in Boothbay was the first time that some of our writers actually met each other.

Perhaps it’s because writers are so solitary. Perhaps it’s because Maine is a big state. Because many of us have day jobs. Because we’re so busy with promotion, with exercising our imaginations, listening to the voices of our imaginary friends in our heads, and getting those voices down on the page.

Lea Wait:  Absolutely, Kate. Which is one reason I’m especially looking forward to seeing you and

Lea signs a book for a fan at Books in Boothbay

Sarah (and Katherine Hall Page) in Ellsworth next week, July 26, 6 p.m., at the Ellsworth Library for a panel discussion called “Women of Mystery.”  Eastport, where Sarah lives, is a long way from any of the rest of us, and I haven’t seen her in about a year and half — since she came to Damariscotta to speak at the library there. That time you and she stayed at my house the night before.  Pjs and wine and lots of book talk! Great fun! (And the library talk went well, too!)

For different reasons, I’m looking forward to participating in Maine’s Dooryard Festival — a new arts festival at the Poland Spring Resort in Poland Spring (of course!) Saturday, July 28. It’s special for me because I’ll have a booth with my antique prints (and my books,) while my husband, Bob, who’s an artist, has been invited to have one of his painting in the Dooryard Art Show: the festival is an interesting combination of art and crafts, new and old. Bob and I don’t get to do too many events together, so we’re looking forward to that day. (We’ll also be doing an antique show + books in Damariscotta at Round Top August 29. No modern art there, though!)

And August 9 I’m looking forward to a scenic drive into New Hampshire, where I’ll be speaking at the Meredith Library on Lake Winnepesaukee at 10:30 in the morning. I’ve started writing a new book, but I’ll admit that if I’m going to take a day off — a scenic drive into the mountains to talk about books isn’t a bad way to be interrupted!

Barb Ross:I was especially excited about Books in Boothbay both because it takes place in my

Barb at Books in Boothbay

hometown and because it was my first time there as an author.  It was great meeting James Hayman in the physical world, so to speak, although as he said, “We all feel as if we know one another.” And it’s always great to see Lea, Gerry, Kate and Vicki. And meeting Tess Gerritsen whom I’ve always admired. My biggest challenge at these events is not buying more than I sell, and at Books in Boothbay I failed miserably–though I do now have some Christmas presents tucked away in my cedar chest. (No peeking!)

Thanks so much to Sharon Pulkkinen, this year’s Chair, Barb House from the Boothbay Library, Jeff Curtis from Sherman’s Books and Stationery, and all the organizers and volunteers.

The elegant Tess Gerritsen sitting for a portrait by Charlotte Agell

Kate: Meeting readers at these events is wonderful. For me, there are two big plusses. Along with getting to spend time with my fellow writers, I mean. First is the fun of getting to talk about the process of writing the books, creating the stories, and developing my characters. And sometimes I get questions that are so thought provoking. This week, when I was talking about Gracie, my sometimes bad-acting character from the story “All that Glitters” in Dead Calm, the crime story collection Barb publishes, a reader asked whether writing a sassy rule breaker makes my own behavior veer in that direction while she’s living in my head. Not that I’ve noticed, but what a great question. Now I intend to be more observant.

The second big plus is that I often find new experts among the audience. Who does not need another police advisor when she’s writing crime stories? Or a district attorney? And then, last night–oh the glories of summer in Maine, I met a toxicologist. Here’s a writer’s secret–you think you’re there to watch me, but I’m also there to watch YOU.

Back to Books in Boothbay–Gerry Boyle, James Hayman and I joked about what it would be like if our three Portland cop characters got together in a bar. I hope someday we’ll write that conversation.

I learned about Barb’s deadlines for her new Maine Clam Bake series. Why Gerry decided to write Brandon Blake. When Jim’s new book will appear. I met Sarah Braunstein, author of the great debut book, The Sweet Relief of Missing Children. And watched Charlotte Agell sketch portraits. Getting away from the desk and off to summer book events is fun. You should try it.

And readers–what do you wonder about? What question would you ask one of us if you were in the audience? How do we get you to join the conversation?

Barb, Vicki and Jim at Books in Boothbay

 

Gerry, Kate and Lea at Books in Boothbay

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Wiscasset: That Town Across the Sheepscot River

Posted on July 21, 2012 by mainecrimewriters

Lea Wait, here, thinking it’s time for me to write about Wiscasset. Sarah Graves lives in Eastport and writes about it. Several authors on this list set their books in Portland. Most people I meet assume I live in Wiscasset. Why? Because the historical novels I’ve written for young people (Stopping to Home, Seaward Born, Wintering Well, and Finest Kind ) are set there, and because the fictional Waymouth, Maine, setting for two books in my Shadows mystery series (Shadows on the Coast of Maine and Shadows of a Down East Summer) has a lot in common with Wiscasset, too.  

Fort Edgecomb, Built Before the War of 1812, to Defend Wiscasset

(Where DO I live?  In Edgecomb, a small town in the mid-coast where there is no “center of town”; just one school that goes from K-6 and a post office. People drive through it on their way to somewhere else. Like — Wiscasset, which is across the river.)

Why set my books in Wiscasset? I wanted to write a group of stand-alone books connected not by characters, but by setting. My stories would take place in one town and would show how that place changed (sociologically, technologically) through the years. I chose Wiscasset because it was a typical  northern New England village.

Old Jail, built in 1809, and attached jailer's house

Settled in 1663, by the 18th century Wiscasset had an active waterfront, with shipbuilding, fishing and whaling industries. By 1800 Wiscasset’s port was the largest east of Boston. From Wiscasset coasters sailed up and down the East coast; its vessels made regular journeys to Europe and the West Indies. Later in the century schooners from Wiscasset rounded the Horn and sailed to California, China, and India.  

Wiscasset was also surrounded by farmland. Lumbering took place upriver, and lumber mills were just outside of town. Wiscasset was on the Boston Stage route; the second major communication line (after the sea) in early years. It was a county seat, complete with courthouse and jail. During the Revolutionary War the British attacked Wiscasset, and, in preparation for the War of 1812, the town built a fort across the river and later fortified it for the Civil War. In the 19th century the railroad came to Wiscasset.Two major fires burned most of the waterfront and commercial district. Several mills offered employment to townspeople. 

Nickels-Sortwell House (1807) on Main Street

My published books cover the years 1806 through 1838; my agent is shopping books covering the Revolutionary War and the beginning of the Civil War. My fictional protagonists are surrounded by minor characters who really lived in Wiscasset, and are involved in events that actually took place there. 

Today Wiscasset is still the center of Lincoln County. It’s known as “the prettiest village in Maine,” at least accordingly to the sign posted at the entrance to town. Historical buildings, like the Old Jail, built in 1811, where many scenes in my Finest Kind are set, are open to the public, as are Tucker Castle and the Nickels-Sortwell House, both built in 1807. In 1807,

Pilings in Wiscasset Harbor where Wharves Used to Stand

when Jefferson’s Embargo kept all ships in port (they filled Wiscasset’s Harbor; history says you could cross the Sheepscot River by walking from deck to deck) captains and ships’ owners in Wiscasset put their mariners to work building houses. Many of the large homes in Wiscasset were built in 1807 or 1808.

The Wiscasset Public Library, where I do most of the research for my books, is on High Street, where many of those large houses can still be found. In the early 19th century the building it is in was the Lincoln and Kennebec Bank.

Lining Up for Lobster Rolls at Red's Eats

And those few empty spaces you’ll see between buildings, especially down on Water Street? And the grayed pilings still standing in the river? They’re the remnants of the old, early nineteenth century, Wiscasset, when there were twelve long wharves on the waterfront, and two shipyards near where the town pier is now. Fires in 1866 and 1870 took them all down. Only a couple of the piers have been rebuilt, and those are much smaller than the originals. Many buildings that were burned were replaced by the brick buildings you see today on Main and Water Streets.

 Tracks were laid where wharves had been, and the first train arrived in Wiscasset in 1871.  

Main Street, Wiscasset, Today

Antique shops and art galleries now fill many of the captain’s homes on Main Street. Water Street offers dining as diverse as Le Garage (with tablecloths,) Sarah’s (a year-round favorite) or Red’s (get in line for what some say are the best lobster rolls in the state.) If you’re looking for wine, or local breads and cheeses, or a gourmet sandwich for a picnic, Treats is the place to go. You can’t miss any of those places. Main Street is only a block long, although if you’re antiquing, you’ll want to walk up Main another couple of blocks to check out all the shops in the houses leading up to the Village Green.

"Castle Tucker," so-called because of its architecture (1807)

On my website, (http://www.leawait.com) under “Books/Novels for Young People” you can see a simplified map of old Wiscasset, highlighting where the buildings mentioned in my books are located.

But whether or not you’ve read my books, Wiscasset is a beautiful little town, and worth a drive or a walk on a summer’s day. It, and the people who’ve lived there, have been inspiring me for years. Who knows? They may inspire you, too.

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The Fix Is In

Posted on July 20, 2012 by mcwarchives

When I first came to Maine and started writing the Home Repair is Homicide mysteries, my husband and I also began fixing up a Very Old House here in Eastport. The writing/house fixup combination worked well because the house reminded me every day of how home repair tasks can lead to….well, you know.

The house also provided plot help. The fact that the shower-curtain rod in the bathroom was held up by a couple of paper clips and a rubber band, for instance, caused me to realize that a story involving a faked suicide in there would not be realistic. Nor was the shower head itself very sturdy; anyone who tried suspending themselves from it risked embarrassment but not much more.

The tragic state of the windows in the third floor’s storage rooms, however, provided a possible exit for my victim that was believable and that, if I wasn’t careful, would also be true to life. Ditto for the cellar stairs, steep and twisty and – usefully for the mystery writer – only partly furnished with a rail. In the cellar itself the massive overhead beams promised head-bumps, and once assaulted me with such a solid one that I saw stars and tweety-birds circling my noggin just like in the cartoons; perfect for knocking out the fleeing perp.

Then there was the old knob-and-tube wiring, its raggedy strands festooned gaily across the cellar ceiling. The house’s entire electrical system had been recently updated so I didn’t worry about those frazzled antique wires until one day I absent-mindedly plugged a lamp into one of the old outlets. And the lamp worked, which was when I realized that when the house’s previous owners turned the new system on, they didn’t turn the old one off. I have yet to sizzle a murder-victim by the forgotten-live-wire method, but I’m working on it.

Lately I’ve been updating that bathroom once more, because an old house is like a wooden boat; you never get done, you just start over again. The first step of course was to take all the removable objects out – oh, hahahahaha –  which is why I’m writing this blog post in an office accessorized with shampoo bottles, a bar of pine tar soap, an electric toothbrush, that shower rod (taken down from where it had been solidly rehung), and two years’ worth of Consumer Reports. Next, the ceiling and walls got skim-coated with plaster, which is like trying to frost a cake without leaving even one teeny, tiny bump or ripple in the frosting.

Although you don’t get to sand the cake once the frosting dries, so that’s something; I think I’ve now gotten most of the plaster dust out of my ears. Paint came next, on the trim and the woodwork and the door and the wainscoting, and did I mention the window? Both sashes got removed, reglazed, primed, and painted, and after that came the biggest job: wallpaper.

Pretty wallpaper: pale blue, faint vertical stripe. And now that it’s nearly done, I’m glad I chose it. But may I simply say right here that the very idea of putting a vertically-striped wallpaper in a room with one exterior and five interior corners, a door, a window, a built-in medicine chest, and a radiator behind which it is impossible to get (thank you, Winston Churchill) but with not a single reliable 90-degree angle or truly level surface was…

Yeah, well. You know that, too. Anyway, fixing up an old house inspires plenty of thoughts about writing and murder, a fact that has actually turned out to be very handy for me, and if I ever get this &%!!*?! bathroom fix-up completed I plan to write down a few of them.

That is of course if I don’t accidentally hang, defenestrate, bludgeon, suffocate, or electrocute myself while re-installing that shower curtain rod.

 

 

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My Fantasy Writing Spot

Posted on July 19, 2012 by mcwarchives
Pitcher Pond Writing Cabin

Hoover hopes it's not going to be a L O N G writing ession...I found the vintage screendoor at a yard sale.

Pitcher Pond, Maine

The view from my desk

Vicki Doudera here, catching up on all of the great posts I’ve missed from my fellow Maine crime writers and our guests. Why am I (and I suspect most of us) so far behind on blog reading? It’s SUMMERTIME, and the living is …. okay, I’d love to say easy, as in the lyrics of the old George Gershwin song, but in my case, the real answer is more like hectic.

That’s okay, because I have my fantasy summer writing spot, and I can go there any time — if not physically, then mentally.
The weird thing is that this fantasy is actually real.  The photos you are seeing are of my honest-to-goodness writing cabin on a very quiet body of water only 25 minutes from my house.  The little building, adjacent to our camp, was once a bunkhouse for my sons, and when they stopped using it, I turned it into my private Shangri-La, complete with musty mystery novels, an old typewriter, and a killer view.
But here’s the thing: I almost never get to write there!  Either we spend time at the camp and, instead of writing, I find myself trimming trees, painting furniture, swimming or boating, or, if I am in creative mode, I just can’t get away from Camden and out to the camp.  My own personal Catch-22.
Nevertheless, I love it that this place exists for me and that there is the possibility, however remote it is right now, that I can spend long summer days hard at work writing in this special spot. This summer, as I juggle real estate clients, book signing trips, three-week-old chickens and a teenage daughter, escaping to my writing cabin is a fantasy.  But some day, things may be just a little less crazy than they are right now.  Then I’ll sit down at that desk, gaze at that view, and let the words flow.
Do I hear the lyrics of another song?
I’ll see you, in September…
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The Mystery of Mysteries

Posted on July 17, 2012 by mainecrimewriters

Hey all. Gerry Boyle here, up bright and early to tell you about the book I was reading into the wee hours.

But first a thought of two about last Saturday’s Books in Boothbay gathering. Never were so many Maine authors in one place, from thriller writers to illustrators to novelists to memoirists to historians. I spent most of my time at my station but it was fun to gaze around at the collection of scribes, sprung from their writing rooms and herded together for all to see.

Of course, there was a good representation of Maine Crime Writers, lined up like employers at a job fair. To my left, Kate Flora and Lea Wait. To my right, James Hayman, Vicki Doudera, and Barbara Ross. And it struck me, watching Lea’s young-adult fans buying her books, Jim talking thrillers, Kate chatting with a passing prosecutor, what a varied lot we are. This was the mystery section of the event and it was a cross section of the genre. A crime at the heart of all these very different stories; invested readers driven by the need to know what will happen next.

Fascinating phenomenon, don’t you think?

I thought of this again last night, reading a book called  Star of the Sea by the Irish writer Joseph O’Connor. My friend Andrea Kuhlthau loaned it to me. She can be counted on for good taste in books and this was no exception. Published in 2002j to great acclaim, it’s a historical mystery/thriller yarn that takes place (sort of) on a famine ship bound for America in 1847. But that’s not quite right. It’s a historical and metaphysical ramble that leads the reader through this sad time in a most marvelous way. But that’s not quite right. It’s like Melville had been told to write a crime novel. “Yeah, you can do the ship thing again, Herman, but leave out the white whale.” Okay, how’ bout this: It’s a novel filled with characters drawn in such delectable detail, it’s like P.D. James hooked up with Charles Dickens. (I’m starting to like this book reviewer thing. Can you tell?)

Anyway, it’s a great book and O’Connor, who lives in Dublin, is a highly skilled writer. But what I’m getting to is that the blurbs on the book jacket describe it as a thriller.  A mature novel. “A thoroughly gripping murder mystery.” I would say that it’s an addicting story and O’Connor is a master storyteller.

And that, my friends, is what all of us who are painted by the broad brush of mystery writer set out to do. First and foremost we’re storytellers, up and down the table at the Boothbay book fest, in the mystery and crime section of your favorite bookstore. Storytellers all.

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Sharing Some Favorite Maine Places

Posted on July 16, 2012 by mainecrimewriters

Kate Flora here, thinking about summer in Maine, and some of my favorite places. I’m about to embark on a trip out to Washington County, where I’m sure I’ll add more to the list. For today, though, I’m going to pick the place I see everyday–Bailey Island. When I was a child, we only went two places on vacation–to my grandmother’s house in New Portland, or to my other grandparents in Old Forge, New York. When we went to the beach, it was down to Port Clyde.

Until I stumbled on it, thirteen years ago, after twenty-five years of spasmodic searching along the Maine coast for my husband’s “dream house,” I didn’t know this little chain of islands existed, though I have a vague memory of coming to someone’s cottage off Route 24 once when I was at the University of Maine. But twelve years ago last January, our realtor at Rob Williams Real Estate called and said he was about to list a property he thought we might like to take a look at.

I’d just gotten back home after a day cruising the Portland Harbor islands, looking at a cottage, and remembering my father’s stories of spending his boyhood summers on Long Island, when I picked up the message. The next day, I grabbed my camera and headed back. It was sunny, but icy, and we slithered up a steep driveway, down a very slippery set of stairs, and into a little cottage. On the otherside was a broad porch for sitting, and Ken’s dream view. It was the beginning of our–so far–twelve year love affair with Bailey Island.

Cook’s Lobster House? Mackerel Cove? Land’s End Gift Shop? The photogenic little shack adorned with bouys? BIGS (Bailey Island General Store). Lobster rolls. Hotdogs and self-serve ice cream? The Giants Stairs? Actually, there’s way too much to describe, so I’m going to let you decide for yourself. Here is my Bailey Island.

On a tour of Maine gift shops? Well, many people are. On their way down to Land’s End, to the gift shop, many stop to photograph this iconic scene:

Shack decked with lobster bouys on the shore of Mackerel Cove

Giant's Stairs, off Washington Avenue.

 

Bailey Island is geologically fascinating, granite, and what I believe are basalt intrusions, as well as thin layers of ancient sedimentary rock that have been turned on their sides, and flake like Turkish pastry.

Rocks along the walk to the Giant's Stairs

 

 

 

 

 

One of the best parts of early morning are the lobster boats chugging past, or circling around the cove, surrounded by wheeling gulls, dodging their way around the pleasure boats, the whole thing softened by the lifting fog, and sometimes country music. In the afternoon, we’re sometimes treated to rap instead. I do the rap. I do the LOBSTER rap. The lobster rap.

At the end of the day, there are gorgeous sunsets and cooling breezes, as the bell from L.L.Bean clangs softly, and it’s time for a gin and tonic and a good book. Hopefully, by a Maine Crime Writer.

 

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The Librarian’s View

Posted on July 15, 2012 by mainecrimewriters

We spent a week in Lubec over the 4th of July. In a perfect world, I’d live on a hill by the ocean in Washington County and write in between searches for beach glass and going to book sales. I read 13 books that week and below are highlights of the best.

Half-Blood, Pure and Obsidian by Jennifer Armentrout.

If I hadn’t been on a website where the first chapter was posted, chances are good that I might have missed this author completely. Fortunately that didn’t happen. I read the chapter (Half-Blood) and immediately ordered it, the sequel Pure and Obsidian which is in a different, but similar themed series. Yes, the chapter was that good. Both series are YA paranormal at its best. Let me start with Half-Blood. Alexandria, seventeen, was pulled out of the Covenant three years ago by her mother after mom met with the ancient woman known as the Oracle. Alex never learned what the crone told her mom that caused the disruption in their lives. She spent those years moving around, living among mortals, but being pursued by diamons, creatures who are addicted to aether, the extra life energy that flows through the blood vessels of the Hematoi (pure bloods) and to a lesser extent half-bloods like Alex. Interbreeding between the pures and halfs is prohibited, but it happens and that reality contributes immensely to the plot and tension in this series. Alex’ mom was a pure and she’s never met her dad. Her stepfather is a pure and a member of the ruling council, but she has no use for him.

The story opens while Alex is still on the run and in a decrepit warehouse in GA. She’s being hunted by diamons a couple days after her mom was killed by them. Alex’ training as a sentinel, those who dedicate their lives to hunting and killing these evil creatures was interrupted when she and her mother vanished, but she has enough skill to kill two of them before needing to be rescued by the good guys at the Covenant who have been trying to locate her and her mom ever since they took off.

Once Alex is safe and back at the Covenant, you get to know her as one cool character. She’s hot headed, impulsive, prone to rule-breaking and extremely likable. She also is hell-bent on resuming her sentinel training, even though that’s complicated in major ways by her impulsiveness and her attraction to Aiden the totally hot pure blood assigned to get her up to speed. It is the romantic tension angle between Alex and Aiden that really makes this book such a great read.

Add in a cast of supporting characters who are very nicely drawn including Alex’ best friend Caleb and mystery elements surrounding what really happened to her mother, what the diamons are up to, who is out to sabotage Alex’ training, a kidnapping and you have a great first book in a four book series.

Pure picks up right where Half-Blood left off with the romantic tension getting even more complicated when Seth, the Apollyon with incredible powers and an insouciant personality enters the picture. Love triangles in YA are pretty common, but this one is above the norm by far. Seth’s persona is perfect, a mix of smugness and ironic self-humor. This time, Alex has to deal a lot more with how others perceive her and it isn’t always easy, particularly when some blame her for situations that were beyond her control. Her attraction to Aiden ramps up as well, creating some really agonizing moments.

When all three young people have to go to upstate New York for a major conclave meeting so Alex can testify about what happened during her second abduction, she must face some pretty treacherous treatment at the hands of those who want her out of the picture either as a drugged slave or dead. Who helps her and how they do so, particularly when the diamons pull out all the stops in a concerted attack on the conclave make for some rip-through-the-pages reading with gore and great fight scenes. You’re left really wishing the third book (due in November) were here yesterday.

 

Obsidian: Book one of the Lux series is similar in tone to the Covenant series, but with some differences worth mentioning. Here, the main character, Kate, has no super powers and finds herself still grieving for her dad who died of cancer and at loose ends after her mother moved them from the Florida beaches to a very small town in West Virginia. Her passions are her YA book blog and gardening, and she mildly obsesses about her looks and body image. Her mother, a workaholic nurse, encourages Kate to go next door and meet the teen brother and sister who live there.

Kate’s initial conversation with Daemon, the brother half of the twins doesn’t go at all well. He’s rude, arrogant and demeaning, but Kate holds her own and the narrative between them is a great introduction to how their relationship will alternate between porcupine prickly and satin-sheet smoothness. Once again, Jennifer Armentrout demonstrates her superior ability to create romantic tension between teens. When Kate meets Dee, the other twin, they hit it off immediately, which only makes Daemon’s reactions worse, but he has good reason for his ambivalence. You soon learn that the twins, along with a number of others in the small town aren’t from around here, as the saying goes. They’re aliens whose world was destroyed by a competing alien race and that other race is not only mega-badass, but they’ve followed the good guys to Earth.

As the story progresses, you learn a lot more about how the two alien races have altered the small West Virginia town through a battle or two, gradual revealing about what happened to the third alien sibling and you get an interesting look at aliens attending a small rural high school. While softer in some ways than the Covenant series, this book was equally addictive and I am eagerly anticipating the next in the series Onyx which will be released on August 14th.

Angel Eyes (9781401686352) by Shannon Dittemore is an intriguing entry in the YA paranormal genre. Aside from Travis Thrasher’s great Solitary Tales series, it is the only Christian-themed entry in this very popular segment of YA fiction. I bought it after reading a rave about it in an email newsletter by Lindsay Cummings. I need to state up front that there is a pretty significant religious component to the story. However, being a spiritual soul, this didn’t feel at all uncomfortable, probably because the author has woven it into the plot extremely well.

Brielle left the small town of Stratus, Oregon when she was spotted by a talent scout who arranged for her to attend a prestigious art high school, based upon her skill as a ballet dancer. The choice wasn’t difficult, in part because she was living with her dad because her mother died of cancer when she was very small. She made friends with an awesome young actress named Ali who found a soul mate in a young movie producer named Marco.

The book begins with Brielle returning to Stratus, numb both physically and emotionally, three weeks after a horrible event that she believes she could have prevented. Her reunion with her dad and her awkward reintegration into her old high school are tempered by her interest in the strange new guy, Jake, who first spots her dancing alone very early in the morning to a CD her old ballet instructor left her as a welcome home present.

While Jake intrigues her, he has a bucket of his own mysteries that create a sense of ambivalence in Brielle. Jake can banish the ever-present cold in her body that appeared following the tragedy, while his smile and interest in her and their shared passion for photography are beginning to thaw the ball of ice surrounding her heart.

Would that things be so easy and simple. As Brielle discovers more about Jake and the mysterious Canaan, the individual who is Jake’s guardian, sh begins to realize that she has been pulled into an epic battle between good and evil that really does extend into Heaven and Hell. How that battle plays out, coupled with the development of her relationship with Jake, make this another great first novel.

As I noted in the opening paragraph, some readers will be put off by the religious elements to the story. Those who can accept them, or already believe in the tenets behind this book will be in for a treat. A sequel, Broken Wings will be published in February, 2013.

On The Fringe (9780982500552) is the first book by Courtney King Walker and it is a dandy debut in the YA paranormal genre. Fifteen year old Claire has just realized that she has a major league crush on her best friend Addie’s older brother Daniel. She is going to tell him, or at least broach the subject on the afternoon he comes to pick up her brother Matthew beforte they go to a party. Unfortunately, she gets cold feet and Daniel is shot and killed that night, dying in her brother’s arms.

Claire goes into an extended period of emotional shock, withdrawing and mourning Daniel’s death. Her brother copes by going off to college and pretty much cutting all ties with the family. On the night of her sixteenth birthday, at a party put together by Addie, Claire falls into the lake behind her house and nearly drowns. In fact, she’s clinically dead for 4 minutes and fifty-five seconds. Daniel’s ghost, which has been shadowing her ever since he realized how strong his feelings had been for her before his death, rescues her and brings her to the surface where he breathes into her mouth until she resumes breathing on her own.

Thus begins a reconnection between them, one that starts with their ability to see each other and which soon expands to a window matching the time she was ‘dead’ where they can speak and embrace each other.

This would be confusing enough for Claire, but there are other spirits involved who have sinister or hidden motives regarding the relationship. How these play out in regards to Claire and Daniel and later, Matthew and Addie form the bulk of the plot. Told in alternating chapters from Claire’s and Daniel’s viewpoints, this story is very likely to keep readers turning pages well into the night. There is plenty of action, romantic angst and an unsettling (to me at least), but logical ending to this story. I certainly hope Courtney Walker keeps writing as this is an excellent first effort.

Shift by Jeri Smith-Ready is the middle book in a YA paranormal trilogy that I snagged a while back to review for the 5 for 5 program. I purchased, but didn’t read the first one for the Hartland Public Library, but after reading this one, I promptly ordered Shine the third in the series and plan to read Shade out of order. One of the hallmarks of a really good trilogy is the ability of the second or third installment to be read without any frustration that you haven’t read the previous one(s). Shift is that in spades. I was immersed almost immediately because the author gave me enough very quickly to get what had happened before.

In Shift you meet Aura, Logan and Zachary, the three sides of a love triangle. Aura and Zachary were born moments apart, the only two babies born around one particular solstice. She can see and communicate with the growing number of ghosts as can everyone else born after what had come to be called the shift. Zachary cannot, but has an energy that drives off ghosts immediately. Logan, who was Aura’s boyfriend, overdosed on alcohol and cocaine just before they were to make love on his birthday. He returned as a ghost, but turned to a shade, a more violent type of spirit that prevented him from passing completely to the next world. Logan vanished when that happened. In the ten week interim, Aura and Zachary have begun growing closer. Now Logan is back, not as a shade, but as a ghost again.

The bulk of the story involves several mysteries that the three main characters, along with Logan’s siblings, Aura’s aunt Gina, some interesting government types, a researcher and teens from Aura’s school need to sort out in order to make sense of Logan’s ability to return to ghost form after becoming a shade. Among the questions needing answers; what really happened to Aura’s mother, who was her father, what is the connection between Zachary’s father and Aura’s mother that started during the solstice before either teen was born at a mysterious cavern in Ireland. Can Zachary and Aura have a relationship without it creating some sort of monstrous shift in the equation between the living and the dead?

Jeri Smith-Ready does an amazing job of revealing the answers to all of the twisted threads while creating one of the best teen love triangles around. Even better, she wraps up the middle book in such a way that the reader isn’t banging his/her head in frustration, waiting for the next installment.

I first encountered Kate Constable when I picked up the first book in her Chanters of Tremaris series over a decade ago. I’ve bought everything she’s written since because I love her style and elegance. Her latest Crow Country (9781742373959) is a juvenile mystery set in her home country of Australia and is a very quick read. That, however, doesn’t mean it’s not up to her usual standards. Kate has woven aboriginal mythology into a coming of age mystery that will keep younger teens (and many adults) engrossed.

Sadie is sad and at loose ends after her mother Ellie uproots her from Melbourne and settles in Boort, a remote town where she spent summers and had her first romances. Those, tangled then and still tangled many years later play a big part in the story. Ellie tries to reconnect with David, an aboriginal man she had a thing for at a time when prejudice was far too strong for it to be successful. He is now a social worker and has responsibility for his nephew Walter. Then there’s Lachie, son of Ellie’s other old flame. He’s a budding football star on the local team which is having a terrible season.

Sadie is exploring when she sees a sign for a lake her mother used to mention before they moved. Curious, she follows the faint path, only to discover that it has dried up and is now a bowl of yellow mud. When she crosses it to see what the cluster of stones near a grove of gum trees might be, she finds an abandoned cemetery, that the stones, when cleaned have sacred marks and most mysterious of all, crows begin telling her she must help them unravel the portion of a mystery and injustice that they can only see part of.

Sadie moves back and forth between herself and her great aunt by the same name who knows much of the early part of the mystery that has murder, injustice and righting a wrong that involves ancestors of Sadie, Lachie and Walter. Young readers will get a taste of aboriginal mythology done in a way that well may have them looking for more on the subject.

Through to You by Emily Hainsworth (9780062094193) will be published on 10/2/12. It is an excellent first novel about choices and their consequences with some interesting twists.

Camden Pike has been stuck in limbo since he dropped a cigarette lighter and his girlfriend Viv was killed when she bent over to retrieve it while driving. Cam can’t shake his grief and anger, feelings that started well before Viv’s death when his high school football career was shortened by a severe leg injury. Viv dropped off the cheering squad at the same time and they created a cocoon of mutual support and reality that blew up when she died. Cam spends most of his time mourning her death and pushing everyone who cares away.

One night, while standing by the light pole where flowers, stuffed animals and photos have accumulated as a memorial to Viv, he sees a green light and the faint figure of another girl, one he doesn’t recognize., but the next time he sees the strange light, the same girl reappears and calls him by name. It turns out this girl lives in a parallel world.

Nina Larson is very real in both worlds as are/were Cam and Viv. The choices each made, however are very different and it is how these play out as Cam desperately tries to reclaim what he and Viv had in our world when he enters this other one that make for a terrific and compelling story. As he tries to sort out what he wants in that world and how his withdrawal in this one has affected everyone close to him, he comes to some pretty painful realizations. These force him to do the growing up that got put on hold when Viv died. Readers will find themselves pulled in, placed on an emotional rollercoaster and then guided to a gentle landing when the book ends in a very promising way.

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Blueberries for Katherine

Posted on July 14, 2012 by mainecrimewriters

Katherine Hall Page on the steps of the Deer Isle library

It was a bit startling recently to realize that my first summer in Maine was in 1951— in Readfield near Augusta— and that I’ve been here on Deer Isle for part or all of each summer since 1958. This long association started, as much else did, with my parents. They came to Maine to as camp counselors near Camden in the early 1940s. Dad was teaching at a private boarding school and they literally had no place to live when the school year ended. Their quarters was two small Dickensian rooms on the top floor just below the attics, so when a fellow teacher suggested they get jobs

Moonlight on pointed firs. Deer Isle

in Maine camps as he did each summer, they leapt at the chance to solve their housing problem and breathe some fresh air.“Had they but known”—it was the start of a lifelong love affair with the state.  Dad went off to a boys camp, Frank Poland’s Medomak in Washington and Mom to nearby Katharine Ridgeway , for girls, in Coopers Mills. “Katharine Ridgeway” was the stage name of Katharine Hunt, a popular figure on the Chautauqua circuit who gave dramatic and humorous readings. She started the camp with her husband in her retirement and I was named for her, although my parents changed the spelling slightly.Dad was not a beach person, an inquisitive and active man, so the Jersey shore close to our home was out. Even Cape Cod where many of my mother’s family went only satisfied him for two summer vacations.Maine kept calling—particularly the coast. Once immersed, quite literally as Dad swam here every day, as do I—no one ever mentioned when I was a kid that the water was cold—Dad found plenty to explore on Deer Isle with its rich history and natural beauty. Occasionally this meant crossing the bridge or taking to the water. We went out to Matinicus Rock to see the puffins, to the woods to meet Louise Dickinson Rich, and to the Camden Hills while Dad recited Millay’s “Renascence”—“All I could see from where I stood/Was three long mountains and a wood”—as we climbed. Ferns, shells, birds, marine life—we learned all their names and later taught them to our children. Just as we introduced them to the walk out to Barred Island, Neva Beck and penny candy at The Periwinkle, her uncle’s former cobbler’s shop, photographed by my father. As were the quarries, working when we first started coming; the cannery; and us, especially my yearly July 9thbirthday photo. Neva’s Periwinkle was also where we would occasionally run into Robert McCloskey. Maine has always meant writers: E.B. White, Elizabeth Coatsworth, Rachel Carson, Sarah Orne Jewett as I was growing up.

And painters. My mother was a painter and I still see her in my mind’s eye sitting

"Dingy" A painting by Katherine's mother

on the shore doing watercolor s of the always changing view, some of which she translated into oils during the winter months. My parents were friends with John Heliker and Robert LaHotan, who were on Cranberry in the summer. Both Fairfield Porter and photographer brother Eliot were also nearby on Great Spruce Head. John Marin had lived on Greenhead in Stonington and Dad photographed his landlady, Nellie Webster and wrote down her reminiscences.

Eventually they bought a piece of land and built a small cottage overlooking a cove. Mom paced off exactly the frontage she wanted,  from the huge black oak to a large birch that was supposed to come down that first winter, but has lasted, along with those shallow rooted tamaracks, for over 45 years of storms. My sister is there now and we are next door, watching the same ebb and flow of the tides my parents did.

The magic of Katherine's Deer Isle

When I started writing mysteries, I knew that I wanted to set one on the island. The Body in the Kelp is the second in the series and has been followed by others on my “fictitious” Sanpere Island in Penobscot Bay—The Body in the Basement, The Body in the Lighthouse, The Body in the Sleigh, and for kids: Christie & Company Down East. If indeed, as I believe, the writing of a mystery novel is essentially an act of revelation—the proverbial peeling back the layers of an onion— then Maine provides the perfect setting; its people the perfect characters. You need patience to get to know both and begin to discover what lies within. Preferably a lifetime.

My favorite Maine poem is Robert Lowell’s “Soft Wood” from the collection, For the Union Dead. He writes: “Here too in Maine things bend to the wind forever.” Alice and William Page are buried here on the island in the Mt. Adams cemetery, the plot bordered by birches.

I’ll join them there at some point. But today the wind that has sculpted those birches into gentle arches means a good day for a sail and, at the end, time this evening to watch the moon rise over the pointed firs.

Katherine Hall Page’s series features amateur sleuth/caterer, Faith Fairchild. The Body in the Belfry (1991) won an Agatha for Best First; “The Would-Be Widower” (2001) won Best SS ; and The Body in the Snowdrift (2005) won Best Novel when Katherine was Malice XVIII’s Guest of Honor . She has also written for young adults, bringing the total of her books at present to twenty-six.

 

 

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Maine Guide Tips

Posted on July 13, 2012 by mcwarchives

Paul Doiron here—

It’s happened more than a few times now that a journalist has mistakenly referred to me as a Maine game warden. I am always quick to correct the record and say that I am, in fact, a Registered Maine Guide, not a warden. (The last thing any author needs is to be seen exaggerating your life story.) Wardens are cops with all the training, discretion, and powers of conventional law-enforcement officers. They are graduates of the Maine Criminal Justice Academy and the Advanced Warden Academy; they rescue lost hikers, and investigate boat and snowmobile crashes. They catch very bad people doing very bad things. In the process, many have lost their lives.

Registered Maine Guides, on the other hand, are what people out west refer to as “outfitters,” although we are more than that. Maine is one of the only states to require anyone who leads commercial trips into the wilderness to be tested and certified by a panel of experts. The state defines the term this way:

“Guide” means any person who receives any form of remuneration for his services in accompanying or assisting any person in the fields, forests or on the waters or ice within the jurisdiction of the State while hunting, fishing, trapping, boating, snowmobiling or camping at a primitive camping area.

Registered Maine Guides have been around in this capacity since 1897, and in fact the first person to be formally certified by the state was a woman, the estimable Fly Rod Crosby [at right]. Today there are more than 4,000 of us, specializing in five categories: hunting, fishing, recreational, sea-kayaking, and tidewater fishing (whitewater rafting guides must also be registered, but it’s a different process and panel overseeing the testing). Very few of these guides make a living from their work in the woods and on the waters. Many of them, myself included, have other jobs that preclude us from guiding. The great irony of my life is that it was a love of the Maine woods that motivated me to write my first novel, The Poacher’s Son, but it was the success of that same book that’s kept me stuck in front of a computer ever since.

These days I exercise most of my guiding expertise by teaching a friend to fly cast. While out on the stream myself, I might pass on a piece of advice to a hapless stranger about the specific caddis flies that are rising or a certain pool where salmon are holding. Recently, I helped my young niece catch her first fish—a six inch brookie. (Catching a trout augurs well for her life as an angler; my own first fish was a pumpkinseed sunfish.)

I also hang out whenever I can with Master Maine Guides, the wisest of the wise. I’ve learned a thing or two from reading wilderness first aid guides and old issues of Field & Stream, but no survival manual or magazine can take the place of having a veteran guide show you how to dead drift a pheasant tail nymph beneath a cut bank at the precise depth to catch a monster brown trout. Or teach you the best knot to secure a kayak to a roof rack (i.e. the trucker’s hitch). Or even bake biscuits by a campfire using that unsung culinary wonder, the folding reflector oven.

In the future, if time ever allows, I hope to do more guiding because, as much as I enjoy learning, I enjoy teaching more. Until that day comes I’ll share a few tips I’ve picked up over the years that you might try on your next camping trip.

Dead Air: It isn’t clothing per se that keeps your body warm. Instead it’s a thin pocket of dead air between your skin and your first layer of clothing. Patagonia’s R1 pullover has an unusual grid pattern on the inside that creates numerous tiny pockets of air close to the skin for this purpose (I own three). Old-time Registered Maine Guides tell stories of having to spend nights in the woods and stuffing their wool underwear with dead leaves to create the same effect. Leaves—or crumpled newspapers—won’t keep you warm but they do trap body heat and keep it circulating where it will keep your skin warm.

Drugstore Fuel: Cottonballs are inexpensive, compact, and will easily catch a spark so include them in your survival kit as a ready source of fuel. (You can pre-soak them in petroleum jelly and they’ll ignite instantly.) In the wild, birchbark and old man’s beard moss are reliable alternatives, and birchbark will ignite even when damp.

Up in Smoke: If you light a campfire and the smoke hangs close to the ground, it’s usually a sign of unsettled weather moving in and an increased probability of rain. Low pressure prevents the warm air from rising into the atmosphere. During periods of fair weather, with a high pressure system in control, smoke will rise directly into sky.

A Sharp Knife Is a Safe Knife: At first glance, a scalpel-sharp knife seems more dangerous to use than a blunt blade, but that’s usually not the case. A sharp knife will catch easily on the item it’s meant to cut while a dull knife will slide off the surface, causing you to lose control as it slips (and then it’s a question of how good your reflexes are). This principle is even more important when it comes to axes and hatchets. A dull axe can bounce off a log when swung. That’s how many inexperienced woodsmen end up chopping into their feet.

Know Your Knots: It’s better to know a few knots really well—by which I mean you can tie them in the pitch dark—rather than feel like you have to master every bend and hitch in the book. For freshwater fly fishing, you can handle nearly every situation you’ll ever encounter on the stream by knowing how to tie an Orvis knot, a surgeon’s knot, and a nail knot. I know a bunch of others but find myself defaulting to these three almost all the time.

PS. On a different, but not altogether unrelated note I am the guest blogger today at JungleRedWriters.com discussing how Jack London’s story “To Build a Fire” inspired my new book, Bad Little Falls, which will be published on August 7. Check it out!

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Boothbay Harbor in Bloom

Posted on July 12, 2012 by Barbara Ross

Speaking of Boothbay, Maine Crime Writers Gerry Boyle, Vicki Doudera, Kate Flora, James Hayman, Lea Wait and I (along with lots and lots of other great authors) will all be in Boothbay this Saturday from 12:30 to 3:30 at Books in Boothbay, a celebration of Maine writing. We’d love to see you there!

Hi. Barb here.

CLAMMED UP, the first book in my new Maine Clambake Mystery series takes place in a harbor town in mid-coast Maine, in June. I was lucky enough to be writing my book in Boothbay Harbor exactly in that time frame–so inspiring!  But then I looked up, and it was late June. The early June flowers were starting to fade.  How was I going to remember what was blooming during the eight-day period in which my book is set?

So I grabbed a camera and went for a walk. Here’s what I saw.

Irises in our backyard-a little off their peak by the time I took the pictures

Rhubarb--also from our backyard. If it looks a little scruffy, it's because my husband had already picked and cooked a fair amount by this point. BTW-I'm looking for a rhubarb recipe for my book. Gifts of recipes gratefully accepted!

By this point I was out of our yard and walking around town. What are these? They look like thistles to me.

Peonies and irises-so beautiful

The roses were spectacular

A (mostly) annual garden

Flower boxes and hanging plants everywhere

Also, rhododendrons, a little off peak by the time I took the photos, a riot of annuals, tons of wild flowers and lupines, of course! Too many to show.

June’s sometimes a little cool for typical summertime pursuits in Maine, but it’s the best month for flowers in my opinion.

 

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