Monday, October 29, 2018

Excerpt reveal: 'The Sicilian Woman's Daughter' by Linda Lo Scuro



Genre: Mystery/Women’s Fiction
Author: Linda Lo Scuro
Publisher:   Sparkling Books
Purchase link:  
Follow the author: 


About The Sicilian Woman’s Daughter

When the novel opens, Maria, the novel’s protagonist is living a charmed and comfortable life with her husband, banker Humphrey and children, in London.   The daughter of Sicilian immigrants, Maria turned her back on her origins during her teens to fully embrace the English way of life.

Despite her troubled and humble childhood, Maria, through her intelligence, beauty and sheer determination, triumphantly works her way up to join the upper middle-class of British society.  But when a minor incident awakens feelings of revenge in her, Maria is forced to confront–and examine—her past. 

As she delves deeper into her mothers family history, a murky past unravels—and Maria is swept up in a deadly and dangerous mire of vendetta.  Will Maria’s carefully-constructed, seemingly-idyllic life unravel?  Expect the unexpected in this outstanding new mystery….

The Sicilian Woman’s Daughter is a brilliantly-plotted, exceedingly well-told tale.  Novelist Linda Lo Scuro delivers a confident and captivating tale brimming with tantalizing twists, turns, and surprise, a to-die-for plot, and realistic, multi-dimensional characters.  Thoughtful and thought-provoking, rich and riveting, The Sicilian Woman’s Daughter is destined to stay with readers long after the final page is turned.
PROLOGUE

Rumour had it that Ziuzza, my grandmother’s sister, on my mother’s side, carried a gun in her apron pocket – both at home and when she went out. She wore her apron back-to-front, resulting in the pocket being propped up against her belly. She kept her right hand poised there, between her dress and apron as if she had bellyache. I had noticed this suspicious behaviour when on holiday in Sicily with my family when I was twelve. At that stage, never could I have imagined that she was concealing a gun, while she stood there in my grandmother’s kitchen watching me have breakfast. I never saw her sitting down. She brought us thick fresh milk, containing a cow’s hair or two, in the early mornings and often stayed to chat.
She had a dog, Rocco, white and brown, which she tied to a wooden stake in my grandmother’s stable downstairs. It was a lively animal, snapping at whoever passed it, jumping and yapping. The mules, the rightful inhabitants of the stable, were out in the campagna with my grandfather from the break of dawn each day.
A tight silver bun stood proudly on Ziuzza’s head. Her frowning face always deadly serious. Fierce, even. An overly tanned and wrinkled face. Skin as thick as cows’ hide. Contrastingly, her eyes were of the sharpest blue – squinting as she stared, as if viewing me through thick fog. I was scared of her. Truly scared. And all the other women were frightened, too. You could tell by the way they spoke to her, gently and smiling. Careful not to upset her, always agreeing with her opinions. They toadied up to her well and proper. An inch away from grovelling.
And, I found out the rumours about the gun were true. Ziuzza would come and bake bread and cakes at my grandmother’s house because of the enormous stone oven in the garden. I helped carry wood to keep the flames alive. Did my bit. One day the sisters made some Sicilian cakes called cuddureddi, meaning: ‘little ropes.’ They rolled the dough with their bare hands, into thick round lengths in the semblance of snakes. Using a sharp knife, they then sliced the snake-shape in half, longways, spread the lower half of the butchered snake with home-made fig jam. They put the snake together again, slashed it into chunks. Then the chunks were dealt with one-by-one and manipulated into little ropes by pinching them forcefully into shape with their nimble fingers.
As Ziuzza bent over to wipe her mouth on the corner of her pinafore, I caught a glimpse of her gun. I was sitting at the table sprinkling the first trayful of cuddureddi with sugar. No doubt about it. It was there in Ziuzza’s big inside pocket of her pinafore. While I was looking at the bulge, she caught me out. We exchanged glances, then our eyes locked. She narrowed her hooded eyelids into slits and crunched up her face. I blinked a few times, then looked around for some more wood to replenish the oven, grabbed a few logs and vanished into the garden.
After she received a sickening threat, Rocco’s bloodied paws were posted to her in a box, she, like her dog, came to a violent end. Ziuzza was shot in her back, in broad daylight, by someone riding by on a Vespa. People with line of sight, from their windows to the body, hurried to close their shutters. Nobody saw who it was. Nobody heard the gunshots, though the road was a main artery from one end of The Village to the other. And nobody called a doctor. It would be taking sides. Which you certainly didn’t want to do. Added to that was the fact that Ziuzza at that moment was on the losing side. She was left to bleed to death in the road like an animal. It wasn’t until the dustcart came round that they removed her body because it couldn’t get by. But nobody commented, it was as if they were removing a big piece of rubbish. It was nothing to them. But instead of throwing it away, they took the body to her home. Nobody was in. So they brought it to my grandmother’s house instead.
This was the lowest point in our family’s history. With time, though, Ziuzza managed to triumph through her son, Old Cushi, who began the escalation. And, later, her grandson, Young Cushi, completed it by becoming the undisputed boss of our village, of the region, and beyond. But the transition was not easy. A bloody feud ensued. Lives were lost on both sides. Some might know who Ziuzza’s enemies were. I didn’t get an inkling. Most of the information I came across was from listening to what the grown-ups in our family were saying. And they never mentioned her rivals by name. Some faceless entity fighting for control of the area.
This is just one of the episodes I remember from our holidays in Sicily. There are many more. Every three years, I went to Sicily with my parents. Those I remember were when I was nine, twelve, fifteen and eighteen. The last time we went my mother was ill and we travelled by plane. All the other times we travelled by train because poverty accompanied us wherever we went. I think we had some kind of subsidy from the Italian Consulate in the UK for the train fare. It was a three-day-two-night expedition. I remember setting out from Victoria Station carrying three days’ supply of food and wine with us. Especially stuck in my mind was the food: lasagne, roast chicken, cheese, loaves of bread. We’d have
plates, cutlery, glasses, and an assortment of towels with us. At every transfer all this baggage had to be carried on to the next stage. No wheels on cases in those days. Then we’d get the ferry from Dover to Calais, and so began the first long stretch through France, Switzerland, until we finally pulled into Milan Station. Where our connection to Sicily was after a seven-hour wait.
We used to sleep on the waiting-room benches, though it was daytime, until someone complained about the space we were taking up. The Italian northerners had a great disdain for southern Italians. They saw us as muck, rolled their eyes at us, insulted us openly calling us “terroni”, meaning: “those who haven’t evolved from the soil.” Even though I was young, I noticed it, and felt like a second category being – a child of a minor god. There was the civilised world and then there was us. My parents didn’t answer back. And it was probably the time when I came closest to feeling sorry for them. For us.
            The journey all the way down to the tip of Italy – the toe of the boot – was excruciating. The heat in the train unbearable. When there was water in the stinking toilets, we gave ourselves a cursory wipe with flannels. Sometimes we used water in bottles. Every time we stopped at a station, my father would ask people on the platforms to fill our bottles. Then came the crossing of the Strait of Messina. At Villa San Giovanni, the train was broken into fragments of three coaches and loaded into the dark belly of the ferry. My mother wouldn’t leave the train for fear of thieves taking our miserable belongings, until the ferry left mainland Italy. While my father and I went up on the deck to take in the view. But we had orders to go back down to the train as soon as the ferry left. Then I’d go up again with my mother. She became emotional when Sicily was well in sight. She would become ecstatic. Talk to any passengers who’d listen to her.
Some totally ignored her. She’d wave to people on passing ferries. Laughing and, surprisingly, being nice to me.
Reassembled together again, the train would crawl at a tortoise’s pace along the Sicilian one-track countryside railway, under the sweltering heat. Even peasants who were travelling within Sicily moved compartment when they got a whiff of us. Another event that excited my mother was when the train stopped at a level crossing. A man got out of his van, brought a crate of lemons to our train and started selling them to the passengers hanging out of the windows. My mother bought a big bag full and gave me one to suck saying it would quench my thirst. Another man came along selling white straw handbags with fringes, and she bought me one.
By the time we reached The Village our bags of food stank to high heaven and so did we.

Monday, October 15, 2018

Aren't the Emperor's New Clothes Grand by Philip M. Fishman





If you love Trump, sorry, this book is not for you.  If, on the other hand, you are horrified at what this man is doing,  I think you will enjoy it.   I read a very interesting book recently that discussed despots and their common characteristics. What, then, are the characteristics of a despot? They attack free speech and the press. They threaten political opponents with prison. They scapegoat certain minorities to rally their base and divert attention from other problems. They engage in nepotism and use their office for personal and family enrichment. They attack and vilify the judiciary, legitimate law enforcement, and essentially anyone in government who is not considered absolutely loyal.  And, through a type of mass hysteria, they create a cult following.

Does any of this sound familiar? No, our President is not a despot..yet; but individuals do not become despots spontaneously- they evolve. My  book, AREN’T THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES GRAND, is a satirical critique.   As a satire, the book is humorous; but the subject is dead serious. Without hyperbole, I truly believe Trump is a threat to our Constitution and Republic; and I think if you read my book objectively, you will probably come to the same conclusion.

ORDER YOUR COPY:

Excerpt


Chapter 4
Inferiority Complex

          Mirror, mirror on the wall; who is the fairest one of  all?” 
          Donald has certainly started out the new year (2018) with a bang.  Here are his latest quotes, apparently triggered by Wolfe's just published book, Fire and Fury, questioning his fitness for the Presidency.  I am a very stable genius” 1 and “Actually throughout my life, my two greatest assets have been mental stability and being like, really smart.” 2  One needn't be a psychiatrist or have a PhD in psychology to recognize that Donald may have an ego problem.  And to a great many, that assertion is a gross understatement. 
        “...I will tell you this in a non-braggadocios way... there has never been a 10-month president that has accomplished what we have accomplished. That I can tell you. That I can tell you...And the numbers going up are going to do much better than anybody anticipates. In fact, they're going to say that Trump is the opposite of an exaggerator -- the exact opposite...They're going to start saying .. that he <Trump> ought to be a little bit more optimistic because his predictions were low, can you believe it? You know, a year and a half ago they were saying, oh he can't do that. Now they're saying, hmm, that was quick...And remember, I was the one when I was here the last time, I said, we're going to have Christmas again; I was the one that said you go to the department stores and you see Happy New Year and you see red and you see snow and you see all these things. You don't see Merry Christmas anymore...With Trump as your president, we are going to be celebrating Merry Christmas again, and it's going to be done with a big beautiful tax cut. Thank you everybody. God bless you. Thank you. Thank you everybody. Thank you very much.” 3
       In case you haven't noticed, Donald seems to rely on certain words an awful lot.  He apparently likes the words great, greatest, best, and very.  His most repeated phrase, “Make America Great Again” is continually  echoed by his supporters.  But what's that got to do with the title of this chapter?  It is simply that an individual that obsesses about himself and is always defensive to criticism is a very insecure person.  He needs that continual assurance that he is important.  It has been reported that Donald watches TV at least four hours a day, switching channels when he is not the main news.
           If bragging was the only problem with an insecure person; it wouldn't be so bad.  One could always turn him off;  but a person with an inferiority complex has to prove it. He needs to prove it to himself as well as others.  He does that by bullying. 
         Bullies like to intimidate and take advantage of people they perceive to be weaker than they, which serves to enhance their own self-worth.  They want to feel superior; and they want other people to feel that they (bullies) are superior.  
             Trump's alleged sexual harassment of women fits the pattern.  He, of course, has strenuously denied the allegations; but, interestingly for someone not unacquainted with lawsuits, has never bothered to sue for libel.  At the time of this writing there are nineteen women who have alleged sexual harassment or worse. 
          And, as would be expected, he has not confined his bullying to sexual aggression.  Donald habitually denigrates women that refuse to kowtow to him or those he considers unattractive.  During the first debate of the primaries, Megyn Kelly, one of the moderators, asked him about his put down of women.  She followed up, referring to his comment to a contestant on The Celebrity Apprentice show, that... “it would be a pretty picture to see her on her knees.  Does that sound to you like the temperament of a man we should elect as president?”
          He evaded the question but later in a tweet attacked Kelly as unprofessional and “not very good.”  He obviously was not very happy with Kelly's questions and later referred to her as a “bimbo” and “highly overrated.”
         In an interview with Rolling Stone Magazine after the debate Donald denigrated Carly Fiorina, one of the seventeen Republican candidates.  Look at that face.  Would anyone vote for that?  Can you imagine that, the face of our next President?” 4
          And then there was one woman, Jessica Leeds, who accused Trump of groping her on a plane.  His comment, “Look at her. She would not be my first choice.”5
          During the campaign, he viciously mocked a disabled reporter. And then there are the small contractors and employees mentioned in the previous chapter.  As mentioned, there have been numerous lawsuits, but the independent contractor generally finds himself out-gunned by Trump's lawyers, who are on retainer.
          There's another thing about bullies.  They are generally cowards.  That is the reason they prey on those they presume are weaker.  Their inferiority complex shows up very clearly when the person being bullied stands up to the bully.  Typically, the bully fades away because he is really a coward.   Was the bone spur really the reason for Donald's avoiding military service or was there possibly another reason?
           Furthermore, Donald's alleged history of aggressive behavior toward women not only fits the pattern of an individual suffering from an inferiority complex; but that of a coward as well.   One can only imagine what the outcome would be if a woman he ever accosts has training in martial arts.  Of course, since he focuses on attractive females; women of his own size need have no fear. 
        In January 2016, one week before the Iowa caucusses and two days before the second Republican primary debate, Trump announced that he would be boycotting the Fox News sponsored event.   A few days earlier, he had hinted that he just might do that after it was announced that Megyn Kelly would again be a co-moderator.  Trump tweeted that Kelly was biased and should not be a moderator.  Senator Ted Cruz chastised Trump and asked if he couldn't stand up to Kelly, how could voters anticipate that he would stand up to Putin and the Ayatolla.  Following a public backlash against his decision, Trump announced that he would be hosting an event to benefit Wounded Warriors on the same night as the debate.  Cruz responded by challenging Trump to a one- on- one debate “any time any place” prior to the Iowa caucusses.  Trump's campaign manager replied that Mr. Trump would be happy to have a one-on- one debate with Cruz if and when he was the last man standing.  As it would turn out, Cruz challenged Trump twice more, once prior to the Wisconsin primary; and then again, just prior to the Indiana primary.  At that point in time, the race had come down to essentially two men, Trump and Cruz; so, the condition of “last man standing” had been met.  Nevertheless, there was no debate.   
          Finally, a coward doesn't have the courage to own up to his  shame and frequently covers his cowardice by resorting to fanciful depictions of heroism.  After the horrific school shooting of February 2018 in Parkland Florida where a sheriff's deputy failed to enter the school and confront the shooter; Trump said he would have run in unarmed and tackled the assailant.6  What a hero!  We can only wish that he had been there.








About the Author



At 79, Philip M. Fishman has a dual role since his wife’s stroke ten years ago.  The main one is as a caregiver; but when he is not busy with her, he is a writer.

He loves to blog on Face Book; but he has also self-published four books.  The first was a memoir of a brief teaching career after retirement, titled, Teacher’s Gotta Dance.  The second was a rebuttal to Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth.  His title is A Really Inconvenient Truth- The Case Against the Theory of Anthropogenic Global Warming.  For that book, he relied on his scientific background as well as a lot of research.  His third was a near future political novel, titled, Secession- A Republic Reborn.  Several sub-plots include the subject of his previous book as well as some innovative approaches to dealing with Islamic terrorism, our drug problem, immigration, and tax reform.  His latest is his most controversial of all, titled, Aren’t the Emperor’s New Clothes Grand.  It’s a    
satirical critique of our President and is a take-off of Hans Cristian Andersen’s fable, The Emperor’s New Clothes.  The reference is to Trump’s cult-like following, which seemingly ignores all his lies and broken promises.  Fishman gives an iron-clad guarantee that if you like Trump; you will hate his book.

SOCIAL LINKS:

 TWITTER | FACEBOOK








 


Tuesday, October 2, 2018

On the Spotlight: 'Honolulu Heat' by Rosemary and Larry Mild




Honolulu Heat, Between the Mountains and the Great Sea
By Rosemary and Larry Mild
(ISBN 978-0-9905472-3-5, Trade Paper and e-Book, 298 pages, $14.95)
Find out more on Amazon 

Honolulu Heat, the latest mystery by Rosemary and Larry Mild,  is a tantalizing tale brimming with action, suspense, and intrigue.

About Honolulu Heat:  After surviving Hurricane Iniki on the island of Kauai, Alex and Leilani Wong move to Oahu for safety and peace of mind. Fate, however, is unkind. Alex and Leilani anguish over their son, Noah, an idealistic teenager who teeters on both sides of the law. Noah’s life takes an unexpected turn when he meets his dream girl, Nina Portfia. But Nina has dangerous family ties—and the romance turns ugly when she and Noah unwittingly share horrific secrets.

Facing a murder charge, Noah flees and finds himself swept up in a bloody feud between a Chinatown protection racketeer and a crimeland don who, ironically, is Nina’s father.

Violence cuts a wide swath in the Island paradise, leaving in its wake innocent real estate agents, a Porsche Boxster Spyder, a stolen locket, and an odd pair on a freighter to Southeast Asia. Noah, now relentlessly pursued by two mob leaders and the police, is in grave danger. Torn between loyalty and betrayal, only he can unlock his own freedom and bring peace to his family—and Honolulu’s Chinatown.

With its compelling cast of characters, pulse-quickening plot, and to-die-for setting, Honolulu Heat sizzles.

About the authors:



Rosemary and Larry coauthor the popular Paco & Molly Mysteries and the Dan & Rivka Sherman Mysteries—and most recently, Unto the Third Generation, A Novella of the Future. They call Honolulu home, where they cherish time with their children and grandchildren. The Milds are members of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and Hawaii Fiction Writers. Find out more about their books on their website.