tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49480689008793557932024-03-13T03:05:33.580-07:00DAVENPORT DIALOGUESFLASHES AND RUMINATIONS FOR WRITERS IN THE ELECTRONIC AGEKiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-60572260601632523342023-07-16T15:18:00.000-07:002023-07-16T15:18:50.347-07:00ALICE WALKER : "MUST-READ PACIFIC STORIES"<p> KIANA DAVENPORT is an extraordinary writer. I knew this years ago from reading her novel "<b>Shark Dialogues</b>." But even that book, which relieved me of considerable ignorance about Hawai'i and Native Hawaiians, did not prepare me for the breathtaking stories and magically precise writing in her "<b>Prize-Winning Pacific Stories,</b>" her three volume collection just published by Audible audio books. (Also on Kindle)</p><p>This is a collection not only about the people of Hawai'i, but also of Fiji, Guam, Easter Island (Rapa Nui), Tahiti, Australia, Aotearoa, and other fascinating islands in the Pacific that I had never heard of. I have never encountered characters like those in these stories, which has felt shocking, as I consider myself well-read.</p><p>It is as if we are finally seeing a third of the planet that we never knew existed, and it is revealing itself to us because the author, a mixed-race Native Hawaiian, has come forward to tell the rest of the world what has been - and is still - going on in the Pacific.</p><p>What has "European Civilization" been like for those who - <b>never inviting it</b> - were forced to <b>endure </b>it? What were they like, these "indigenous civilizations" before the "long pigs" (white men, some of whom were eaten) invaded and stole their islands, and their cultures? Most of these stories are fiction, but they are based on actual history.</p><p>Who added so many vivid colors to Gauguin's paintings of "his" Tahitians, if what he saw was mostly green? (An astonishing story!) Were the natives of Nauru island so rich from bird guano that they actually drove Maserati's? Did the French Foreign Legionnaire's <i>Batarde</i>, finally find her father? And did the Aborigine girl really seek out her white rapists and blow them away? These stories haunt me.</p><p>So many tantalizing observatons, conjectures, quandaries! We are left with the question - What makes writers? Who are we? How do we get to paint pictures in other people's minds so that their minds are <b>expanded.</b> How do we bring time back to be observed, examined and if possible, understood?</p><p>These Pacific stories accomplish that feat. Please, do read this collection. You cannot read Kiana Davenport without being transformed. </p><p> - Alice Walker</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMMqb8dA16U1sExEz6kb1kpCd128nWotkTysSTn6Ewc-47GcRB2EgeHWOXAeGb_TNeMOF69Jd6cJHMjgw8f-CVkKvGtzAk9cYqcZfcJG6YVG2ZivXnMiXW4P53lxfsooZM-NFjfo9U1Osv0NnOGG6GrqmhRYGdwBLyAWLtGF0UOfkRBgiPPBcr2H8oZNeY/s2400/BK_ADBL_060180_Pacific_Stories_10_18_22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="2400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMMqb8dA16U1sExEz6kb1kpCd128nWotkTysSTn6Ewc-47GcRB2EgeHWOXAeGb_TNeMOF69Jd6cJHMjgw8f-CVkKvGtzAk9cYqcZfcJG6YVG2ZivXnMiXW4P53lxfsooZM-NFjfo9U1Osv0NnOGG6GrqmhRYGdwBLyAWLtGF0UOfkRBgiPPBcr2H8oZNeY/s320/BK_ADBL_060180_Pacific_Stories_10_18_22.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-49257117828612188782019-02-20T14:43:00.002-08:002019-02-20T16:48:24.772-08:00 THE ASIAN REVOLUTION...AT LAST!Hello World.<br />
<br />
How retrograde is this: One of the first film producers interested in <b><i>Crazy Rich Asians</i> </b>wanted certain key roles to be rewritten as <b>Caucasian.</b> Shocking? Not if you know Hollywood's history of whitewashing - the practice of casting white actors to play minorities - Asians, African Americans, Native Americans, Pacific Islanders and so on.<br />
<br />
Here's a quick reminder. Referencing back to 1915 when the very white Mary Pickford was cast as Cio Cio San, tragic Chinese beauty in the film, <i>Madame Butterfly,</i> Hollywood has been whitewashing minority characters FOR OVER A CENTURY.<br />
<br />
1937. Paul Muni, white American actor, and Luise Rainer, white German actress, (both previous Oscar-winners) were cast as poor Chinese farmers in Imperial China in the screen adaptation of Pearl Buck's masterpiece, <i>The Good Earth. (</i>Recently viewed, the makeup is ludicrous. Rainer looks like Meryl Streep with her eyes taped.)<br />
<br />
1946. Another Pearl Buck novel about China, <i>Dragon Seed,</i> was adapted to the screen. The Chinese heroine, Jade, was played by an exaggeratedly slant-eyed...Katherine Hepburn. ??? Mind-boggling.<br />
<br />
The practice continued down the decades.Whites in blackface, yellowface, redface. 1949. Jeanne Crain cast as a black girl passing for white in <i>Pinky. </i>Jennifer Jones cast as a Eurasian beauty in <i>Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing. 1956. </i>Marlon Brando ludicrously cast as a Japanese! in <i>Teahouse of the August Moon. </i>Whitewashed films with big Hollywood names never slowed down. They prevailed through the 60s, 70s, 80s 90s, and galloped right into the Millenia.<br />
<i><br /></i>
More recently. 2013. Johnny Depp plays Tonto in <i>The Lone Ranger. (</i>Yes, it was a spoof. But still insulting to Native Americans.) 2015. In the disastrous film, <i>Aloha</i>, set in Hawai'i, the very pale-faced Emma Stone plays a Chinese-Hawaiian in weird, tan makeup. (Especially nauseating to me, a Native Hawaiian.) 2017. Scarlett Johannson plays Japanese cyber-punk Motoko Kusanagi in <i>Ghost in the Shell. </i>Plus dozens more. Fill in the blanks.<br />
<br />
Yes, established movie stars are bankable. Unknowns are not. So maybe it's more than institutional racism. The problem is, 90% of Hollywood film executives are white. Which leaves non-whites grossly under-represented as film makers and actors. Until there is more diversity at the top, for all it's 'progressive politics,' Hollywood will remain stunningly retrograde.<br />
<br />
By my reckoning, from the release of <i>The Good Earth</i> in 1937 to 1993 when <i><b>The Joy Luck Club</b> </i> was released, the only major Hollywood movies with predominantly Asian casts were films about Martial Arts, Triad Wars, and opiated thugs who spit.<br />
<br />
No wonder <b><i>Crazy Rich Asians</i> </b>is being hailed as not just a movie but a <b>revolution</b> powered by phenomenal box office receipts. As of December 2018, the film had earned over $238,000,000 global dollars, against a $30,000,000 budget.<br />
<br />
In spite of its banalities - its rom-com tropes, ear-splitting <i>mandopop</i> soundtrack, and spoofing of trans-national plutocracy, <b><i>Crazy Rich Asians</i> </b>is the first Asian-American-centric story to hit the big screen in a <u>generation</u>. A sexy, funny, shockingly outrageous film with a slangy stew of languages - Malaysian, American, Singaporean, British, Australian - which explains its global appeal. Best of all, it's powered by an <b>all Asian cast.</b> <i> </i>Think of it. For twenty-five years Asian-Americans have had no real presence on the big screen, no representation of their lives.<br />
<br />
Unlike that other breakout film, <i><b>Black Panther</b> - </i>a cathartic film that confronts America's history of slave labor and earned over $1.2 billion global dollars - <i><b>Crazy Rich Asians </b></i>doesn't wage war on America's past neglect of Asian Americans. With their world-wide digital footprint and phenomenal purchasing power, they don't need payback. What they want - and deserve - is representation. Finally, in an over-the-top spoof, it's here. A film that's perceived as universal rather than just Asian because it speaks to each of us - anyone who's ever been an outsider. Anyone who has longed to belong.<br />
<br />
With its eye ever on the bottom-line, Hollywood has always been curiously slow to grasp movie audiences' saturation points (<i>Rocky VI</i>? <i>Batman X</i>?) and changing tastes. Television seems to be quicker on the draw, with prime-time multi-cultural series winning awards and loyal fans. But we're concerned here with big-screen major studio releases on a global scale.<br />
<br />
We live in chaotic, incendiary times. We long for movies that reassure us that we count. Stories that speak to us, to our individual ethnicities. Box office receipts from <i><b>Black Panther</b></i> and <i><b>CRA</b></i> will hopefully jolt Hollywood awake to the financial and moral imperatives to make more films of <i><b>diversity with authentic actors.</b></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Of course, in all candour, there are minuses galore in <i><b>Crazy Rich Asians</b>. </i>It omits<i> Singlish - </i>the patois of Singaporeans. The casting is a mix of Chinese, Japanese, Korea diaspora-actors of different nationalities that excludes real South and Southeast Asians - Malays, Indians, Eurasians - largest populations in Singapore.<br />
<br />
And there is blatant tokenism. The only real South Asians glimpsed are house-servants and Gurkha guards. Invisibility - a form of racism by omission. (Although, again, the film is meant as a selective send-up of wealthy plutocrats. )<br />
<br />
Singaporean critics have condemned the film as representing the worst of their country and completely erasing minorities, the poor, the marginalized. "It's not a film made for Singaporeans, but rather a high-fantasy escapist film made for maximum appeal to rich East-Asians."<br />
<br />
But, still. With its cliched but appealing love story, its regard for the sacredness of family, and its old-fashioned take-off on <i>The Great Gatsby -</i> rich girls in flapper dresses dancing to Singaporean jazz bands - <i><b>Crazy Rich Asians</b> </i>is the highest grossing romantic comedy of the last ten years. And the sixth highest grossing <i>ever. </i>Jon Chu, Director, wanted the movie to convey the old, classic Hollywood movies 'with style and pizzazz.' His synchronized water-ballet is a tribute to the Busby Berkley films of the 1930s.<br />
<br />
Mixed in with the crassness and grossly exaggerated wealth of <i><b>CRA,</b></i> there are genuinely touching scenes: three generations of family wrapping <i>jiaozi</i> dumplings in the old, traditional way. A <i>mahjong </i>scene where a mother and an American 'interloper' compete for her son's love, both fearing they will lose. And predictably, heartfelt lectures on familial responsibilities vs. momentary passions.<br />
<br />
The confession scene between the China-born mother and her Americanized daughter reduced me to tears. Likewise, the over-the-top wedding scene with its 'sappy' Elvis Presley love song. Tears, belly-laughs - there's been such a dearth in recent films, we long for such catharsis.<br />
<br />
And there's definitely laughter. Youtube star, Awkwafina, as Goh Peik Lin, with her hip-hop swagger and killer comedic voice, urges her American friend to never kowtow to her boyfriend's forbidding mother. "She's playing 'chicken' with you! But you can't swerve. Chickens are bitches! You gotta' walk right up to her and tell her, "Bok! Bok! Bitch."<br />
<br />
Again, <i><b>Crazy Rich Asians</b></i> is not <i><b>War and Peace</b>. </i>It's a feel-good rom-com with million dollar props. The excitement here is that the all-Asian cast is a breakthrough, long overdue, which is already paving the way for more - and more realistic - Asian-American films. Thanks to Kevin Kwan, the book's author, and Jon Chu, hopefully there will be no more cliche, racist roles offered to Asian actors - evil dragon ladies, bow-legged uncles pattering in ching-chong - while the major Asian roles are changed to Caucasian, or worse, given to whites made up in yellowface.<br />
<br />
The Hollywood practice of whitewashing minorities (of any color) is a gross anachronism. It has to be abolished. Likewise, the word '<i>minority.'</i><br />
<br />
Finally, I want to address certain mainstream film critics, Americans, Brits, Asians, who - rather than applaud the groundbreaking casting, and the ultra feel-goodness of the film - excoriated<i> <b>Crazy Rich Asians</b></i><b> </b>across the board as "...embarrassing," "...gauche," "...opulence porn," "...revolting film about rich white wannabe's," "disgraceful," "...disgusting," "...an embarrassment to Asians."<br />
<br />
My response to them is this: <i>Fangsong Huo Kefu Ta! </i>Get over it! Revolutions are not about good taste. Or, to quote Awkwafina... "Bok! Bok! Bitch."<br />
<br />
Thanks, and Imua.<br />
<br />
<br />
(This post is dedicated to my beloved uncle, Ayau Kam, Sr. who instilled in me a deep love of films. Once a month we went to the Chinese Cinema in Honolulu. The first adult movie I ever saw was <i>Ben Hur,</i> in Shanghanese.) <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-69874075846665416542016-11-11T13:33:00.001-08:002016-11-11T13:33:07.388-08:00"WE NEED MORE THAN A VAGINA"... WHY HILLARY FAILEDHello World.<br />
<br />
For the past three months I campaigned for Hillary Clinton. I voted for her. I was at Javits Center in New York City on Election Night, thousands of us prematurely jubilant and chanting, prepared to splash champagne and celebrate her victory.<br />
<br />
Hillary chose the massive and modernistic Javits Center for her celebration because of its glass ceiling. Which she would symbolically break that night by becoming our First Female President.<br />
<br />
Then something happened. Voting results started coming in. Hillary was ahead, Trump was trailing. Then suddenly Trump was gaining. Things grew quiet in Javits Center. Thousands of us watched the numbers change. Trump was suddenly ahead. Then a red-faced man stood up on a chair and shouted. "JESUS CHRIST! TRUMP IS SURGING!" People screamed. I saw black women kneel and pray.<br />
<br />
The rest is history. Hillary never appeared that night. At 2:30 A.M. her campaign manager John Podesta appeared onstage and solemnly announced that there would be no fireworks, no celebration. I think he said, "Go home and pray." By then Hillary had called Donald Trump and conceded. Thousands of us stood in the streets at 3 A.M. stunned and literally speechless.<br />
<br />
America is still asking itself WHAT HAPPENED? After a good long cry, I set myself the task of finding out how the polls that predicted Hillary's victory had been so mind-blowingly WRONG. I've talked to friends in Florida, in Iowa, in Texas, in Michigan. I reran documentaries by political watchdogs like Michael Moore warning us that Trump would win the election. I've talked to a senator. And to hardhats working on construction sites.<br />
<br />
Now I understand that EVERYTHING was wrong, not just the polls. Like many East Coast Liberals, and West Coast liberals, and liberals of my beloved homeland, Hawaii, we have not been listening closely. Our country has been in existential crisis for years. Long before 9/11, Americans of the heartland have been crying out for change.<br />
<br />
That's why this Presidential race transmogrified into one long, extended nervous breakdown. The gang fights and blood baths at the rallies, the club-swinging SWAT teams in the streets. Meanwhile, only one bombastic big mouth with over-bottled hair seemed to hear the deep rage pouring out of rural America. Only Trump seemed to heed the burning frustrations of the Heartland. <br />
<br />
Suddenly this Cro-Magnon of a billionaire became the voice of America's Rust Belt, its Root-Worm Belt, its unreconstructed flood towns, its dead factory towns, its unemployed, its uninsured, its disenfranchised, its uneducated, and perennially ignored. And, importantly, its disabled veterans, young men and women who sacrificed their youth, their limbs, their futures for wars they didn't want and never understood.<br />
<br />
Somehow Donald Trump became their champion. He crapped all over our government. He crapped all over the status quo. He became a force for pandemonium, promising to purge the 'garbage in Washington,' bring in fresh blood and start to heal the living scars of towns across our country. This beast of unknown phylum had hit a chord with voiceless Americans.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure America desired Donald Trump as much as it desired CHANGE. The chance to repudiate the status quo. Americans wanted to be HEARD. In their eyes the Democrats offered nothing. Hillary Clinton was 'recycled.' She had been part of Washington's elite 'back-scratchers' for decades. She had not 'worked enough for rural America.' Plus there were too many blips in her moral codes. The email chronicles, the disappeared funds of millions of dollars in the Clinton Foundation.<br />
<br />
Trump attacked her with a vengeance, blaming her and her 'establishment chronies' for the psychic and fiscal carnage in America. It may be that Trump needed the unemployed and the disenfranchised as much as they needed him. Forgotten America gave him a platform, a cause. And Trump gave them a VOICE.<br />
<br />
Then I learned something I already knew, but had not paid attention to. Marching alongside rural America were the New Millennials. Strange bedfellows? No. Because young, smart, ambitious Millennials also wanted CHANGE. Drastic change. That's why they, too, voted overwhelmingly for Trump. Male, female. Whites, Asians, Blacks, even deracinated Native Americans. Their message? <br />
<br />
"The average middle-class white voter has gone the way of the woolly mammoth. Voters today are younger, smarter, more culturally diverse, more progressive and global in their thinking. Our current government has not kept pace. It's an 'old-establishment' corpse waiting for a coffin. It's time to give the corpse a proper burial. Bring in new flesh and blood. Trump will do this. His renegade-ethos is what gave him the election." <br />
<br />
Inevitably, I asked Millennials how they felt about Hillary's failure to break the glass ceiling and become the first woman President. A young female attorney looked at me and shrugged. "I voted for Donald Trump. Sure, he's a bully and a bigot. But he's smart. He'll make important changes. The Democrats should have offered someone fierce and new, not Hillary Clinton. We need more than a vagina in the White House."<br />
<br />
My daughter, Anita, and son-in-law, Robert, voted for Trump. When I asked my daughter why, she reiterated the young attorney's response. "Hillary represents the old establishment. The same worn-out rhetoric. America is dying for new, radical changes. I voted for a President, not a vagina."<br />
<br />
Still, I am sad. I think of important issues Hillary fought for during her decades in politics. Higher wages for women, higher education for underprivileged children, more subsidized child care centers, more support for HIV patients, more research on the HIV virus. The right of every woman to a legal abortion. These were milestones we cannot forget.<br />
<br />
Hilary's election to the Presidency would have been a culmination of the Equality we women marched and fought for in the 1970's. She did not win, but she has paved the way. One day a woman will be elected President. But not today.<br />
<br />
As for Donald Trump. How will he settle into the role of President? Perhaps the way a fakir settles on a bed of nails. Extremely cautiously. Or perhaps his gargantuan ego will prevail, and throw America into chaos in the first one hundred days. My most fervent hope is that he keeps his promise to the Heartland. That he creates millions of jobs and brings our people to their feet.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, I think of the way he garbles English, how he turns sentences into tossed salads with the gravitas of a Nobel recipient. How will he communicate with World Leaders? How will they react to the flying buttress of his Day-Glo hair?<br />
<br />
I think of his temperament, how it swerves from feigned prissiness to projectile-vomiting rage. How will he control it? We can only pray. <br />
<br />
And if the gods are good, he will begin to learn restraint, and maybe gray his hair. And most importantly, surround himself with experienced, level-headed advisors who understand Diplomacy.<br />
<br />
Time will tell. For America, each day is now a leaping. Pray the net will appear.<br />
<br />
I love you all. Mahalo.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-31928345296778484992015-06-28T09:13:00.000-07:002015-06-28T09:13:55.425-07:00HOLE IN MY HEART, BRILLIANT, MEMORABLE...Hello World.<br />
<br />
I want to tell you a story about<b> a secret I carried for years. </b>And about the woman who changed my life. Her name is <b>Lorraine Dusky, </b>and she has written a brilliant memoir, <b>HOLE IN MY HEART</b>, that should be read by everyone.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3njuco3JepXk0aIhGEl1k-QjLFEQ7ckaz_-tNzusYsTFkggPEPo7lTfLuvnuG8iLJQlUwBxkbXi9lTQtSWpA1UaMDAyEix7kjXXl8l-CdiktjEMaY7GUL6eNgUIqHY_UlZCLUhp75pO8/s1600/hole+in+my+heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3njuco3JepXk0aIhGEl1k-QjLFEQ7ckaz_-tNzusYsTFkggPEPo7lTfLuvnuG8iLJQlUwBxkbXi9lTQtSWpA1UaMDAyEix7kjXXl8l-CdiktjEMaY7GUL6eNgUIqHY_UlZCLUhp75pO8/s320/hole+in+my+heart.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Here is my story.</b> Years ago, after I graduated from the University of Hawaii, I came to New York City to become a writer. With me came a secret I had never told, not even to my family. After several years in New York I met <b>Lorraine Dusky. </b>We were both working at a public relations firm, while we struggled to become published authors. I was publicizing wigs, Lorraine was publicizing baby products.<br />
<br />
We became good friends, and used to go for lunch and drinks to an old New York establishment called 'Bill's Gay Nineties.' <b> </b>One day at lunch, Lorraine said to me, "I have something to tell you. I had a child. I was not married. I gave her up for adoption. I don't know where she is." I remember how I sat back, and stared at her. Then I said, "Oh my god. So did I." We fell sobbing into each other's arms and bonded for life.<br />
<br />
<b>Years later Lorraine Dusky helped me find my child. </b>I wasn't searching for her to break up her adoptive family. I simply wanted to know she was healthy and okay, and I wanted her to know her family history and medical history. I searched for years, but <b>all adoption records were sealed.</b> I hit blank walls repeatedly. By then Lorraine was searching for her own child, and she was also working to have <b>sealed adoption records opened, so children could have crucial access to their medical records and to their natural mothers if they so desired.</b><br />
<br />
My daughter was 21 when, with Lorraine's help, I finally found her. I discovered that she and her adoptive mother had begun to search for me, because she was deeply troubled by not knowing her background, who she was, where she came from. They had searched and searched, to no avail. Again - <b>all adoption records were sealed.</b> Until I found my daughter, she had no idea she had Native Hawaiian blood on my side, or Italian blood on her natural father's side. The couple who adopted her were German-American. She is brunette and looked nothing like them. She later told me that for twenty-one years, when she looked in the mirror what she saw was a blank.<br />
<br />
Mine is a rather happy ending. I found my daughter, and became close to her adoptive mother. Not all mother-child reunions are happy, there is often anger and resentment on the part of the adoptee, as well as tremendous guilt on the part of the natural mother. I am still riddled with guilt for having given my child up for adoption, though I had no alternative. Giving a child away is an unnatural act. Even after they are found we grieve, for all the lost years that can never be reclaimed.<br />
<br />
This is essentially the end of my story. I found the child I gave away. But, one thing more. After we grew close my daughter confided this to me. "Until you found me, there was this empty room inside my mind. It was huge, and filled with everything about me, my identity, my DNA, my ancestors, where all my relatives lived in this world. But I could not get into this room, because the door was locked." She said that she had been afraid she would spend her life without ever getting inside that room. She would die without knowing who she was. Thanks to <b>Lorraine Dusky, my daughter was finally able to unlock the door. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Lorraine changed my life and my daughter's life, and her memoir <b>HOLE IN MY HEART </b>will change your life. I<b>t's the powerful story of a mother separated from her child by adoption and the state-imposed secrecy that kept them apart.</b> Defying convention, Lorraine Dusky finally reunited with her daughter in the 1980s when such reunions were rare. The story continues where most adoption memoirs end, giving an inside look at what happens after reunion. Lorraine found redemption not only in advocating for ending secrecy in adoption, she also became a role model for other struggling lost mothers.<br />
<br />
But this is not simply an adoption story of lost and found, its also about one <b>woman's life as a prize-winning journalist,</b> breaking out of 'women's departments' and breaking down the barriers for other women writers. Along the way the reader learns of her rich life as a wife, mother, grandmother and <b>dedicated advocate for reform of American's antiquated adoption system</b>. Lorraine's writing is passionate and eloquent. Her restraint in telling her tragic, timeless, and redemptive story is an extraordinary feat. <b>HOLE IN MY HEART</b> is an American classic and should be read by everyone.<br />
<br />
I'm very proud to know Lorraine. Proud of the work she is doing to reform adoption records. At personal risk, and at great personal sacrifice, she has changed the lives of thousands. Here we are, she and I, at a recent reading of <b>HOLE IN MY HEART </b>at Canio's Bookstore in Sag Harbor, Long Island. I introduced Lorraine. The store was filled to capacity, to Standing Room Only. At the end of Lorraine's reading, the audience gave her a standing ovation. Bravo! To my brave and beloved friend.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7UkIfZogRvuBYioE4WHts7gfrVMWeVREakrWjSDkChP2d2BuBPUsZKvLEehOdNAHADDcwjFL6ZslOdxy7tJtBJWN3vIAXL6m-opBmgNYaprULIffMnB3-zot6Ow1d5ujFhOMsCHNnC5dj/s1600/Lo.Kiana.Canio+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7UkIfZogRvuBYioE4WHts7gfrVMWeVREakrWjSDkChP2d2BuBPUsZKvLEehOdNAHADDcwjFL6ZslOdxy7tJtBJWN3vIAXL6m-opBmgNYaprULIffMnB3-zot6Ow1d5ujFhOMsCHNnC5dj/s320/Lo.Kiana.Canio+%25281%2529.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Thank you all for reading <b>HOLE IN MY HEART.</b> Now Available at Amazon.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hole-My-Heart-Memoir-Adoption-ebook/dp/B00ZQ0ZAQI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1435506535&sr=1-1&keywords=hole+in+my+heart+lorraine+dusky&pebp=1435506537989&perid=0BPGZJN10M18NGYS0M7Z">HOLE IN MY HEART</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hole-My-Heart-Memoir-Adoption-ebook/dp/B00ZQ0ZAQI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1435506535&sr=1-1&keywords=hole+in+my+heart+lorraine+dusky&pebp=1435506537989&perid=0BPGZJN10M18NGYS0M7Z">http://www.amazon.com/Hole-My-Heart-Memoir-Adoption-ebook/dp/B00ZQ0ZAQI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1435506535&sr=1-1&keywords=hole+in+my+heart+lorraine+dusky&pebp=1435506537989&perid=0BPGZJN10M18NGYS0M7Z</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-53643150205985744742015-04-14T18:12:00.000-07:002015-04-14T18:12:43.241-07:00"DORIS DUKE & UNCLE 'ONO...A LOVE STORY"Hello, World.<br />
<br />
Some nights when tradewinds blow I dream of Shangri La, the island home of Doris Duke near Diamond Head, outside Honolulu. It is where Doris should have died. Instead she died far away, essentially alone, with no friends or family. The same way Uncle 'Ono died.<br />
<br />
What I want to tell you is how I, a <i>keiki o ka 'aina </i>(child of the land), a simple native Hawaiian girl, came to know Doris Duke, the tobacco heiress, once considered the ''richest woman in the world."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWKX86sprTrQpfb556QVcBYBvOM96HoBCTRS0F_Yggbt0FxMzak1vWfwspUbvctGy3aDLj1drN4w2BvMU7IwLuKv5XVkScKIysiW9OLyeWqCjYuaMzeXgLATtILoYRQQtBjYek3uNYfcyq/s1600/KianaDD01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWKX86sprTrQpfb556QVcBYBvOM96HoBCTRS0F_Yggbt0FxMzak1vWfwspUbvctGy3aDLj1drN4w2BvMU7IwLuKv5XVkScKIysiW9OLyeWqCjYuaMzeXgLATtILoYRQQtBjYek3uNYfcyq/s1600/KianaDD01.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doris Duke</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_glONTxPcuKsFOt1OMM05f87mu48tSrrKo2jwSkstqpZqvNb-hPXjWUmto92xph76FBiNY_tKwuiYdLEtGnDYB3HurGjxwwc-H8hzW79UZsVrc6-x48-e6_Y5D66c5y_4kSgSbuEKHXs/s1600/KianaDD02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_glONTxPcuKsFOt1OMM05f87mu48tSrrKo2jwSkstqpZqvNb-hPXjWUmto92xph76FBiNY_tKwuiYdLEtGnDYB3HurGjxwwc-H8hzW79UZsVrc6-x48-e6_Y5D66c5y_4kSgSbuEKHXs/s1600/KianaDD02.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shangri La</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I want to tell you how, out of guilt for breaking my uncle's heart, she took me under her wing when I first arrived in New York City from Honolulu. My dream had always been to live in Greenwich Village and write great, galloping novels that made readers weep. My family in Honolulu could not dissuade me from my dream, so Uncle 'Ono wrote to Doris, asking her to look after me.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ATJZ24hEhdXT4gQUC4cNcRc1kPBvNWpT6htAHsvfa9zFi7M0y_KRPLOno4FEqeSDBsCieC0EJNK9zyCJ8D68oDGcx9ElKNBhyphenhyphennk3XWIAa1mzKbntNkWRpNNpIAADdmfgDjxSvu0u3mZN/s1600/KianaDD03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ATJZ24hEhdXT4gQUC4cNcRc1kPBvNWpT6htAHsvfa9zFi7M0y_KRPLOno4FEqeSDBsCieC0EJNK9zyCJ8D68oDGcx9ElKNBhyphenhyphennk3XWIAa1mzKbntNkWRpNNpIAADdmfgDjxSvu0u3mZN/s1600/KianaDD03.jpg" height="283" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shangri La</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
She was sixty when I was first summoned to her Park Avenue penthouse, one of her many residences. Doris was exceptionally tall. Her eyes were startling, set wide apart. She saw immediately that I was in need of guidance. My clothes were wrong, my manners. I was twenty-one, an age when sixty seems very old, when youth gives one a sense of entitlement so we take everything for granted. By then I was so intoxicated with New York, nothing seemed to phase me, not even meeting Doris Duke.<br />
<br />
To me she was just an aging heiress who had offered to ease my entry into the city. Looking back, I marvel at my insouciance, and ignorance. I didn't question how Uncle 'Ono, a simple Hawaiian cowboy, knew Doris, or how he had summoned the nerve to ask such a favor of her, or why she was so kind to me. She was divorced and childless then, and I thought that perhaps she saw me as a longed-for daughter. (Years later she did adopt a daughter, which proved to be a disaster.)<br />
<br />
Doris quietly set out to refine the 'rough island girl' in me. She taught me how to speak without over-gesturing, and to never call a waiter 'sir.' She taught me where to shop, where <i>not </i>to shop, and the importance of wearing expensive shoes. She arranged interviews, and I was hired at <i>Harper's Bazaar </i>as editorial assistant. The salary was laughable, but Doris was generous with her hand-me-downs: barely-worn Halstons, de la Rentas.<br />
<br />
I came from an old, <i>kama'aina</i> Hawaiian family who traced their roots back to King Kamehameha. An uncle, the Honorable George Keli'iokalani Houghtailing, had been the City Planner of Honolulu for over twenty years. Though we were now working-class, my family history gave me a certain confidence, and once Doris felt I was presentable, she began introducing me to the 'right crowd,' which I eventually realized was the <i>wrong </i>crowd for me. A homegirl from Honolulu's tough precincts of Kalihi and Farrington High School, from warring gangs of mix-bloods and Samoans, in New York I was inevitably drawn to the counter-culture - punk rock groups, war protestors, hippies and druggies. I had found my precinct, and it was far from Doris Duke's Park Avenue address.<br />
<br />
Still, I discovered she had a wildly artistic streak and a reputation for being eccentric, flamboyantly zany. She wore designer hats and dresses <i>backward </i>if they looked more interesting that way. She hand-painted orchids and peacocks on her custom-made Italian shoes. With common sewing thread, she mended cushions of Louis XV sofas which her dogs regularly chewed apart. She taught me how to brighten my eyes with orange juice. How to tighten my pores with Elmer's Glue. And above all, to never sunbathe again. "Or your face will end up looking like a testicle."<br />
<br />
Even at sixty she was a rebel, ahead of her time. She had 'bi-racial' affairs, consulted Indian gurus, was a serious student of bellydancing, and basically supported a ragtag band of musicians with whom she played jazz piano. She also sang with the black gospel choir of a Baptist church, which she said were her happiest times. Friends accepted her quirks because of who she was. But, there were few people Doris trusted or loved. One had to earn her love. In truth, I never made the effort.<br />
<br />
By then I was living on Barrow Street, in thrall with the downtown life, and Doris began to seem like an aging elder I was obligated to visit. I think she sensed this, so that she never grew more than <i>fond </i>of me, like a half-mongrel dog she had promised to feed and groom. Long after she dropped me - after I vastly disappointed her - I learned that everything she did for me she was really doing for Uncle 'Ono. A way of asking his forgiveness. She had learned too late - long after she shattered his life, then walked away from him - that what he had offered her was love in all its purity and innocence, and that such love would not come to her again.<br />
<br />
Still, for several years she persevered, prudently excluding me from her more illustrious galas where barons of industry and foreign potentates presided, along with <i>grandes dames</i> like Jane Englehardt, Elizabeth Fondaris, or members of New York's founding families - the Vanderbilts, Roosevelts, Van Burens. But she included me in informal dinners and gallery openings where groups were more colorful, artistic and diverse, so that in time I learned to match names with personalities. Andy Warhol. Rudolph Nureyev. Truman Capote.<br />
<br />
It was when we were alone that I saw glimpses of the real Doris Duke. The young woman Uncle 'Ono first fell in love with. On a drive out to her farm in Hillsborough, New Jersey, she mentioned her lonely childhood - the father who left her millions but did not teach her how to trust; the cold, resentful mother whom Doris had to sue to legally lay claim to her inheritance. Raised by bodyguards and governesses, she had seldom played with other children. She asked about <i>my</i> childhood, how I survived my mother's death when I was ten. I said I didn't cry when Mother died, but that I cried years later, and that I still cried. Doris took my hand and held it for the rest of that long drive. I loved her then. I wish I had told her.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifVXeJEPERalNY-DlxRGWCaaNkostZP88hfq91mUzhUhyaog0HmxhiqQcqRzZuWoOQlf-MMNT7vG1OXjeZZ_gKNR7TcjpvWBqTHoh4Q7U6xVojDWEw8ejdPd3lYGAJfLSty6vGlwsvOT17/s1600/KianaDD04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifVXeJEPERalNY-DlxRGWCaaNkostZP88hfq91mUzhUhyaog0HmxhiqQcqRzZuWoOQlf-MMNT7vG1OXjeZZ_gKNR7TcjpvWBqTHoh4Q7U6xVojDWEw8ejdPd3lYGAJfLSty6vGlwsvOT17/s1600/KianaDD04.jpg" height="263" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duke Farms</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Her place in New Jersey, Duke Farms, was a 3,000 acre estate with a manor house of nearly fifty rooms, each room massive, filled with Flemish and Turkish tapestries, French period furniture, huge canvases by Gainsborough, El Greco. The grounds outside went on for miles, a veritable park full of wildlife, ponds and bridges, plus an entire village imported from Thailand and reconstructed. I was not intimidated by Duke Farms because I didn't understand that Doris <i>owned</i> the place.The grounds were patrolled by security guards, the house protected by alarm systems, and I assumed Duke Farms was owned by the state of New Jersey, the way New York owned Central Park, and that Doris's tobacco millions helped subsidize the upkeep of the place. So, of course, she was free to visit there. At the time, I could not fathom one person owning such vast amounts of real estate.<br />
<br />
It was at Rough Point, Doris's other 'country' residence, in Newport, Rhode Island, that she finally talked about her affair with Uncle 'Ono. Rough Point was even more forbidding than Duke Farms, one of those Gilded Age, English Manor monstrosities of granite and redstone, originally constructed by a Vanderbilt. Set behind boulders overlooking the sea, with more than one hundred and fifty rooms, some rooms so vast our footsteps echoed, the place was like a fortress, medieval, forbidding.<br />
<br />
As with Duke Farms, every wall seemed covered with tapestries, every room boasting ancient Greek and Roman statuary, baronial fireplaces, portraits by the Old Masters. Even the staff quarters, where I preferred to sleep, were patrolled by security guards so, again, I assumed that the place was owned by the state, and in return for vast endowments towards its upkeep, Doris was allowed to visit at her leisure. The way royalty might visit a museum. I did not yet grasp that Rough Point was privately owned<i>, </i>that it <i>belonged</i> to Doris. So, I was puzzled by how her dogs had the run of the place.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhiDqbUk2rsfICrhkYcy7eiQ_muTQ2H-sl8C00Ba9ot6MvzL226ZbFaxNXSLdskqcvIh0ox5hXAfFAnb9wdomi9CPQBzhE0_oqlUN6b0G9WKUytNR3x4R6X1KmIbR7SfvOVMbZvuvUuznB/s1600/KianaDD05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhiDqbUk2rsfICrhkYcy7eiQ_muTQ2H-sl8C00Ba9ot6MvzL226ZbFaxNXSLdskqcvIh0ox5hXAfFAnb9wdomi9CPQBzhE0_oqlUN6b0G9WKUytNR3x4R6X1KmIbR7SfvOVMbZvuvUuznB/s1600/KianaDD05.jpg" height="250" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rough Point</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0sZlxddfYj8zWFvTdBPby21yUoR49cJthmXGRa3pzpi5vInfMWV0hp6_3Mz00trhrU1hDouCIy_l3jGrQz2_KfzIZsD6biexn1gjaKAtrZPmTIUv6dtVYNafwgCmdi6NF_v7b3Bx7oGoq/s1600/KianaDD06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0sZlxddfYj8zWFvTdBPby21yUoR49cJthmXGRa3pzpi5vInfMWV0hp6_3Mz00trhrU1hDouCIy_l3jGrQz2_KfzIZsD6biexn1gjaKAtrZPmTIUv6dtVYNafwgCmdi6NF_v7b3Bx7oGoq/s1600/KianaDD06.jpg" height="286" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rough Point Camels</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><br /></i>
Sometimes even her Bactrian camels, Baby and Princess, found their way inside the house, leaving their droppings on priceless Persian carpets. Much has been written about those creatures, gifts from a fabled Saudi <i>sheikh.</i> They were usually consigned to the back yard overlooking the ocean, where at all hours of the day and night they bleated and honked like laryngitic yodelers. During a heavy storm Doris brought them into the solarium, where we calmed them down with bags of Oreos and Saltines. She said Rough Point was their permanent home. In spite of their musty, fecal smell, I worried about those camels. They were stuck in the wrong geography. Loping around with their dreamy gaits, sometimes they stopped and gazed into the distance as if longing for their Gobi sands.<br />
<br />
Doris never mentioned ex-husbands - the playboys, the yachts, the foreign cars. But one day she spoke of 'Ono. "A long time ago I wanted to bring your uncle here. I wanted to marry him."<br />
<br />
He was really my great-uncle, Grandfather's youngest brother. His given name was '<i>Onohiawa,</i> eyeball of the fish, but he was such a sweet child, the family called him '<i>ono.</i> Delicious. He grew up to be strikingly handsome, with the husky eroticism and fluid grace of our Hawaiian men. His great love were horses; he had a touch that calmed them down. Half the year he worked on ranches as <i>paniolo, </i>the other half at the polo grounds outside Honolulu, training skittish thoroughbreds for the polo season. That was how Doris first saw him, like a dark god riding across the playing fields.<br />
<br />
She had always loved our island men, especially Duke Kahanamoku, Olympic Champ, movie star, our island royalty. But Duke and his handsome brothers would not <i>kowtow </i>to Doris. They were surfers and playboys; they were not her hired help. They showed up late for parties at Shangri La with barefoot, half-naked women. When Doris scolded them, they laughed, unimpressed by her vast wealth. It was said that she intentionally miscarried a child fathered by Duke, and they drifted apart.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipytTgKTFikzHAshuzyCbd0DBdE_xYtSvDtfn0fyYTfLEvhmxfpGfOe4SvI8BsiU2CBmMEPJbEoyIJoyrn5qGStkTEnTdiSN5us2nY0nSGf4Imx-Z1KPCKmIqz1ZpNcjuSR5QpsYKfIXCZ/s1600/KianaDD06b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipytTgKTFikzHAshuzyCbd0DBdE_xYtSvDtfn0fyYTfLEvhmxfpGfOe4SvI8BsiU2CBmMEPJbEoyIJoyrn5qGStkTEnTdiSN5us2nY0nSGf4Imx-Z1KPCKmIqz1ZpNcjuSR5QpsYKfIXCZ/s1600/KianaDD06b.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Doris and Kahanamoku Brothers</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Uncle 'Ono's wife had died in childbirth, and he was left to raise four children. Folks said he was a good and loving father. But when he met Doris, he lost all sense of family, all sense of obligation. He even lost his balance. For the first time in his life, he fell off a horse. Then he abandoned his children, sending them off-island to his parents. They would grow up not knowing him, and would choose to never know him. 'Ono was oblivious to everything, besotted with this creature, Doris Duke.<br />
<br />
On one of my trips home to visit the family, Uncle 'Ono told me how they had fallen in love, how he had 'kidnapped' Doris from her rich life, and turned her into an island girl. She was in her twenties then, ravenous for life, perhaps for the childhood she never had. 'Ono gently drew her out, and taught her the simple verities: that the secret to living was Life itself! To be alive to every minute, every hour. And that the greatest miracle was Nature. Its cycles, and seasons.<br />
<br />
He taught her how to ride Western, how to shoot from the saddle. He took her wild-boar hunting and showed her how to skin the carcass. They rode out to the west coast of the island, where they surfed with the fabled Water Men of Makaha. And when they felt she had earned it, the elders tattooed a tiny surfboard on her hip. For weeks they lived in the rainforests where 'Ono taught her to survive by scooping up termites from hollow trees, spitting out the bitter heads and swallowing the bodies.<br />
<br />
He taught her how to suck out the fetuses from gecko eggs, to place the living things inside her bottom lip, which kept them warm and wriggling until he pierced them with a fishing hook. This always attracted parrotfish. Afterwards, they sat gutting and skinning their day's catch. Doris grew so proficient with a gutting knife, she would take the sharp edge and expertly run it down 'Ono's chest, arms and legs, shaving each fish scale from his skin without drawing one drop of blood. At night he rubbed her with <i>kukui</i> oil to shield her pale skin from the sun. Eventually, she turned a golden bronze and looked like a pale-eyed <i>hapa</i> girl. A mixed-blood. Months passed, a year, then another. She traveled, collecting Islamic art for her home, Shangri La. When she returned, 'Ono was waiting.<br />
<br />
When did she begin to miss Duke Farms? Rough Point? When did she grow bored with simple island life? Uncle declared his love for her, asked her to give up her inheritance, donate it all to charity, sell her many homes. They would live a simple life, raising horses on a ranch. By then Doris was deeply in love with him, perhaps because her wealth meant nothing to him. He looked upon it with disdain, refusing all gifts from her. He loved Doris for herself, his blonde and pale-eyed 'island girl.' One night she proposed to him, and asked him to move back east with her.<br />
<br />
I have tried to imagine 'Ono at Duke Farms. Rough Point. The NewYork penthouse. Her many residences, her help-staff of several hundred. Like her camels, Baby and Princess, he would be stuck in the wrong geography. Doris's friends would regard him as a joke. A glorified bodyguard. Her bronze, island trophy. She would no doubt school him in his dress, his manners, and in time he would lose himself, become something else, perhaps someone impeccable and ruthless.<br />
<br />
Hawaiians are not by nature ruthless. We cannot be honed or molded. 'Ono tried explaining it to her. Great wealth often engenders arrogance, so perhaps Doris was more insulted than heartbroken when Uncle said he could not marry her. That he could not leave his islands, even for her. One week later, she sailed from Hawaii on the <i>Lurline.</i> After that she returned to Shangri La every year, but she refused to see 'Ono ever again.<br />
<br />
That day at Rough Point, I summoned the courage to ask if, after all these years, she still loved him. She looked away before she answered. "I always will. He was the finest man I ever knew." I asked why she refused to ever see him again. She answered simply. "Pride."<br />
<br />
Months later, I was arrested at a sleazy downtown club. Possession of cocaine and marijuana. Eight of us were arrested, including a famous rock star, so of course it made the evening news with pictures of us handcuffed in a police van. A family lawyer from Honolulu flew in to bail me out, then flew me home until the hearing. Two years later I returned to New York City, humbled, sober, more mature. I wrote Doris a letter of apology; there was no reply. One day I approached her at a gallery-opening. She glanced at me, then abruptly turned her back. We didn't speak for twenty years.<br />
<br />
I was in my forties when I got word that Uncle 'Ono was very ill. He was in his eighties, and I had always loved him. I flew home to Honolulu. In the weeks before his death, I spent days holding his hand in his sad, little cabin up in the mountains. By then he didn't even own a horse. We reminisced for hours, and in that time he talked again about Doris, their love affair, how it was like getting struck by lightening. How he had forever dishonored himself by abandoning his children. And then his heartbreak when Doris walked away from him. "Like having my skin pulled off over my head." I called his children to tell them he was failing. By now they were adults with children of their own. I left several messages; no one ever answered them. One day I ran out of gas and got to uncle's cabin late. He had died that afternoon, alone.<br />
<br />
After we buried him, I called Doris and left a message. The next day she called me back. She was frail and sickly then, and would die within a year. I had heard that she was wealthier than ever, that she had increased her father's fortune many times. That she surrounded herself with eccentrics who amused her, but that she had lived all those years alone, trusting no one. She asked how 'Ono died, and how his life had been. I was candid.<br />
<br />
"After you left him, his life was over. He had already lost his children. Then he lost his jobs, his reputation. He couldn't seem to bounce back. He never remarried. He said he never loved again, he still loved you. He stayed heartbroken and alone for all these years." Doris was silent at the other end. A small sound came out of her throat, then finally she whispered. "I was wrong."<br />
<br />
A year later I read that she died in a coma in her Los Angeles mansion, reportedly from large amounts of morphine administered by unlicensed doctors and a drunk butler, all arguing over who would be the trustee of her will. She was cremated, with no friends or family there for her.<br />
<br />
I think of the two of them galloping across the land, young and selfish, madly in love. I think of how they paid for that love, for the rest of their lives. It may be that they had no choice, that their story was written millenia ago in ancient clay. Or, perhaps theirs is a cautionary tale, reminding us that love without honor, or with too much pride, leaves us warped and ultimately damned.<br />
<br />
Still, I want to believe in fairy tales. I want believe that, at last, at last, Doris and Uncle found each other. That they abide in that other Shangri La, that mythical place where no one grows old, where all sins are forgiven.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDN9XlN2LMiUsHrq1f027HaoD_6d4TxSlPW6g_bbR3Ia-9DzX38CsI-STW-KWagxQbuVRiI9aJAD4dkRIRGm2EIZ2sEndXYMFEXlg_6Hi_0eZH5VZcKVbmKlaFxF6SaFKyXXxsxQ2u3sZA/s1600/KianaDD07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDN9XlN2LMiUsHrq1f027HaoD_6d4TxSlPW6g_bbR3Ia-9DzX38CsI-STW-KWagxQbuVRiI9aJAD4dkRIRGm2EIZ2sEndXYMFEXlg_6Hi_0eZH5VZcKVbmKlaFxF6SaFKyXXxsxQ2u3sZA/s1600/KianaDD07.jpg" height="400" width="291" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Lovers in Doorway of Shangri La.</span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
(This memoir is condensed from a longer memoir, "Shangri La," which will appear in my forthcoming collection, <u>Tsunami Love: Prize-Winning Pacific Stories, Volume IV)</u><br />
<br />
<i>Mahalo Nui Loa. </i>Thank you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-26341547631948564462014-11-12T18:37:00.002-08:002014-11-13T10:58:08.016-08:00"UPCHUCKING HAIRBALLS...THE WRITER'S LIFE"Hello World.<br />
<br />
In my travels I sometimes meet people I want to forget. But more often, there are characters I want always to remember! On my last trip to Russia, finishing research on my new novel, <b>THE SOUL AJAR, </b>I<b> </b>spent long nights beside the Black Sea throwing back shots of vodka with an old bear of a Russian who claimed to have been a prisoner of war during WWII. <br />
<br />
To my reckoning Nazdi Khabarovsky would have to be at least 90 years old to have fought in that war. He looked a mere youth of 80, but he was born in the Caucasus Mountains that tower over the Black Sea region of Russia, where people are known for their amazing longevity, so maybe Nazdi's war tales were true. The story I loved most was why he became a writer. <br />
<br />
As he told it, once during combat his plane was shot down. "You were a pilot?" I asked. "Not important," he said. And where was his plane shot down? "Not important." What he wanted to stress was that he was shot down over a forest buried in ice and snow. That a ravine of soft, deep snow had kept his plane from exploding on impact with the earth. And that everyone was killed but him. Thus, he lay semi-conscious in sub-zero weather for days, during which he lost all feeling in his feet, his legs and groin.<br />
<br />
And that is how the enemy found him, patched him up and threw him in a prisoner-of-war camp. "The Germans?" I asked. As usual, Nazdi waved his hand. "Not important." After several weeks, he slowly regained feeling in his limbs. But no feeling returned to his testicles. "Frostbite. But not important." What was important was that after four years of torture and starvation he was liberated by the Yanks. And in a Red Cross hospital, several of his toes "and other things" were surgically removed.<br />
<br />
Nazdi understood he could never have children. So he decided he would have stories instead. He would write about all the absurdities and tragedies of war. About prisoners eating 'shit sausages,' from the cut-up intestines of dead comrades. About a stolen radio, men weeping at the sound of violins. About sadistic guards, knocked out and thrown on ice floes, and how prisoners cheered as the ice floes slowly sank. About bare-assed girls from distant villages backing up to link fences so prisoners could have sex with them. About tubercular men tenderly dancing together, coughing up blood on each other's shoulders. And about how even survivors were afraid to go home, knowing Stalin would execute them as 'traitors.'<br />
<br />
After decades of writing stories that were never published - Russians did not want to read about war - Nazdi decided that NOW was the time for his big book. After 9/11, Iraq, Syria, the bloody revolutions of the Middle East, war was fashionable again! And so he began his POW memoir, the title of which broadly translates into English as HOW I SAVE MY LIFE BUT LOSE MY TESTICLES. "Many years in writing," Nazdi said. "Many false starts and detours."<br />
<br />
In his struggle to turn random stories into his OPUS, Nazdi had finally found the perfect role model, a writer whose books were guiding him. "Real genius who help me upchuck this hairball of novel stuck in throat for decades." When I asked who, Nazdi threw out his arms like a man greeting heirs. "Your American! Most famous writer in all world! Real Einstein of words!" "Ernest Hemingway?" I asked. "Nyet! Nyet!" Nazdi shouted. "More better than Hemingway." I searched my brain. "Saul Bellow? Stephen King?" "Nyet! Nyet!"<br />
<br />
He stared at me in shock. "You don't know who was true American genius?? Was like American Shakespeare! Wrote many dozen books!" "Okay. Then give me a title." Nazdi sat back, struggling to translate titles into English. He finally leaned forward. "He write about... nickles. Da! Many nickles." I frowned, groping for some genius book about nickles. Or metals. Nazdi downed two shots of vodka, stared at his glass, then whispered. "Was like Star Wars...nickles... Martian...nickles." I sipped my vodka. Upchucked hairballs. Martians. Nickles. Then, like an epiphany, it came to me. <br />
<br />
I turned to Nazdi and smiled. "You mean Ray Bradbury. THE MARTIAN CHRONICLES. He jumped up from his chair and danced. "Da! Da! Great American genius! Bradbury. Loved by all the world!" He waved his arms and kissed the air. "He say novel is like big hairball. Takes patience. Many years to upchuck." After a while, Nazdi sat down again. "Now we live in age of terror. Mass killings everywhere. May be my war not so great, too long ago. So. I write book about surviving. How old prisoner of war lose toes, lose testicles, lose mind. But still could <b>not </b>be brainwashed. Not be destroyed. Good lesson for soldier today. Maybe also good for writers."<br />
<br />
The day we said <i>da svidanya</i>, goodbye, he introduced me to his son, a big strapping man in his sixties. "Your <i>son</i>?" I said. "Da! Four sons, two daughters, many grandkids!" I stood there thinking of frostbitten testicles, which, presumably, had been surgically removed, which, presumably, is why Nazdi decided to father books instead. He waved and drove away, but in that last moment he looked back and <b>winked</b>. So maybe none of it was true. Still, it makes great fiction. <br />
<br />
Months later Nazdi sent me a chapter of his novel, translated into a ripped-to-the-tits Caucasian-Russian version of English. Included was a kind of survival kit, based on 'four grueling years as a prisoner of war.' (Memoir? Fiction? Who can know?) Either way, he's right: it's also an excellent guide to surviving as a writer. Herewith, for your pleasure. <br />
<br />
<u><b>The POW's Guide to Surviving:</b></u><br />
<u><br /></u>
1. <b>Never give up hope.</b><br />
2. <b>Never scale down your dreams</b> (of liberation, or success).<br />
3. <b>Create a routine</b>: a time to work, a time to read, a time to sit and think, even pray.<br />
4. <b>Get Physical</b>. Jogging, stretching, sit ups. It toughens the mind as well as the body.<br />
5. <b>Be prepared for torture, thirst, starvation.</b> This is why you toughen your body and mind.<br />
6. <b>Keep a secret space for yourself.</b> Don't give things away, your thoughts or dreams. (Your plots!)<br />
7. <b>Say the opposite of what they expect.</b> Keep them guessing and unsure. (Readers like mystery)<br />
8. <b>Go back to daydreams and childhood, when you were innocent.</b> It keeps you pure.<br />
9. <b>Your brain cannot be washed</b>. In spite of torture, pain, starvation. Don't change what you believe in. Don't give in! (For writers, that means not quitting. Ever!)<br />
10. <b>Find humor where you can. Laugh, even if it kills you.</b> Laugh out loud. It shocks the brain.<br />
11. <b>Find three people to trust, love and care for.</b> In return, they will love and care for you when you are down and out. You don't need more than three. More is a burden.<br />
12. <b>Be patient.</b> Good things (liberation, or success) will come if you believe. <br />
13. <b>Lying is important to survival. Lie your head off. </b> (The best liars are the best storytellers.)<br />
14. <b>Always act dumber than you are.</b> Hide your intelligence. Use it as a secret weapon.<br />
15. <b>Never give up. Never!</b> When you give up, you die.<br />
16. <b>When your stomach is full</b> (or, your rent is paid) <b>give thanks.</b><br />
17. <b>You were born. You are here. That in itself is a miracle. Again, give thanks.</b><br />
<br />
Happy Writing, Happy Reading! Please add to the above list in your comments!<br />
Alohas, Kiana <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiv-GAJ2NyhK6xlK6ohaTsG5O0ZU_IST33-zNh6Xwq7uXds5RKFads_js57si2XqV0RWbJW_TjEFhbTT2-0-A4ngswMwohhxaL-rS1nHDyC5TF4ujGkzIXozF_maA1eEtCx3IJUZ9vrmf0/s1600/SoulAjar2-2000px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiv-GAJ2NyhK6xlK6ohaTsG5O0ZU_IST33-zNh6Xwq7uXds5RKFads_js57si2XqV0RWbJW_TjEFhbTT2-0-A4ngswMwohhxaL-rS1nHDyC5TF4ujGkzIXozF_maA1eEtCx3IJUZ9vrmf0/s320/SoulAjar2-2000px.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
(Now available at Amazon) <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-21615540290047648762014-11-04T20:49:00.001-08:002014-11-04T20:49:15.367-08:00 "BREAKING BAD"...A LOVE LETTERHello World.<br />
<br />
This is a <b>love letter to Vince Gilligan</b>, creator of the brilliant AMC hit series, <b>"Breaking Bad.</b>" It was a show that astonished audiences with its mind-blowing premise, its genius visuals, its brilliant cast. It was, and still is, the gold standard for a TV series. Television as God meant it to be.<br />
<br />
We all remember Walter White, the anti-hero in the series, a chemistry teacher who transmorgrifies from Mr. Chips to Scarface! But what intrigued me most was <b>Walter's son</b>, a boy handicapped with <b>cerebral palsy</b>, played by the heartbreakingly handsome<b> R.J. Mitte, an actor who in real life has cerebral palsy,</b> a neurological condition that affects muscle development, therefore control of the body's movements.<br />
<br />
Vince Gilligan was a genius into introducing this physically handicapped character, Walter, Jr., whose inclusion in the series was groundbreaking on many levels, especially because his presence in almost every episode of "Breaking Bad" alerted audiences to the dearth - in fact, the near-absence - of physically and mentally challenged characters on television, in feature films, novels, and even live theatre. (Unless they are portrayed as villains, vampires, demented freaks.)<br />
<br />
Watching weekly episodes of "Breaking Bad," I realized that when writers choose to omit such characters from our novels, we are inadvertently rendering the physically and mentally handicapped people of the world "invisible." We are consigning them to the shadows. And, thus, our stories suffer from that lack of richness and diversity.<br />
<br />
"Breaking Bad" provided me with the impetus to finally write about my dear friend, Andre, a handsome and talented man who happens to suffer from <b>albinism </b>(the preferred word to 'albino') and its attendant limited vision in one eye. Thus, was born Adam Fleming, the CIA intelligence operative in my new novel<b>, THE SOUL AJAR. </b>(Written with Andre's approval.)<br />
<br />
Though the character is fictional, I labored to accurately portray the isolation of an albino child, the terrible fear of sun that scarred skin lacking pigment, the unspoken envy of snakes who shed their skin each year. And later, the adult years of albinism with the attendant loss of vision in one eye, the awareness of being an eternal 'outsider,' and the sense of being 'unworthy' of love. <br />
<br />
Of course, Adam Fleming, is psychologically complex, but <b>THE SOUL AJAR</b> is a political thriller and a love story, not a clinical study. I leave that to the medical experts. Still, with the creation of his character I made a vow: to create more fictional characters in my novels who reflect the actual world we live in - a world enriched with beautiful, creative, ingenious, and loving humans who happen to be burdened with mental or physical challenges.<br />
<br />
My hope is that more of my fellow writers will join me in that resolution. And I hope my readers will help us by recommending books they have read that portray such heroic characters. In researching <b>THE SOUL AJAR</b> I read many clinical books on albinism. Alas, there are not many fictional adult books on the subject. Maybe readers can recommend whatever books I missed.<br />
<br />
One novel I did discover and highly recommend is <b>'Ghost Boy,' by Ian Lawrence. A beautiful YA novel about a boy with albinism who runs off to join a circus! </b>It's available on Amazon, and was recommended to me by NOAH: The National Association for Albinism and Hypopigmentation. I thank them for their help and the information on their website.<br />
<br />
Herewith, a scattering of other wonderful novels I recommend. Becoz of space I have only listed a few. But please write in your suggestions in the Comments space at the end of this posting. <br />
<br />
1. FLOWERS FOR ALGERNON, Dan Keyes - A mentally challenged man. A classic.<br />
2. JEWEL, Brett Lott. - A child with Down's Syndrome. Beautifully rendered.<br />
3. HOUSE RULES, Jodi Picoult - An autistic child. Another beauty!<br />
4. FORREST GUMP, Winston Groom - A fantasy about an 'idiot savant.' But I loved it.<br />
5. UNTO THE FEAST OF THESE, Alison Winfree Pickrell - A child with cerebral palsy.<br />
6. DEN OF LIONS, same author - Asthmatic librarian and handicapped man. Wonderful!<br />
7. ALL THE LIGHT WE CANNOT SEE, Anthony Doerr - Blind girl during WWII. Recent.<br />
<br />
Again, please add your suggested books in the Comments space. And I will list them in a further blog. In closing, now and then remember to stop and look around. See who might need help. Hold out your hand.<br />
<br />
Once more, A Big Shout Out to Vince Gilligan!<br />
<br />
And I hope you enjoy <b>THE SOUL AJAR. (At Amazon.)</b><br />
Happy Reading, and Alohas. Kiana<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoqnqZYHOkotVpmgUysz6BkPzIDW5pZeOOeKIZ0GOg83v7v9IzgoH2j3Dals42M1Uz18e_GXD2_KIc1fth99_5978J8KJN5pml_gw7YeQqo4Ib1wy0gOBYGqe2Zu2FH8c160xAs-ZEMurI/s1600/SoulAjar2-2000px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoqnqZYHOkotVpmgUysz6BkPzIDW5pZeOOeKIZ0GOg83v7v9IzgoH2j3Dals42M1Uz18e_GXD2_KIc1fth99_5978J8KJN5pml_gw7YeQqo4Ib1wy0gOBYGqe2Zu2FH8c160xAs-ZEMurI/s1600/SoulAjar2-2000px.jpg" height="320" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-86574083838996372522014-11-03T20:05:00.000-08:002014-11-03T20:05:27.098-08:00THE SOUL AJAR, A LOVE STORY (continues...)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="authorBlogPost stacked" id="authorBlogPost-7272379" style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 4em;">
<div class="title" style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; line-height: 1.1; margin-bottom: 0.5em;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/7272379-the-soul-ajar-a-love-story" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">"THE SOUL AJAR, A Love Story"</a></div>
<div class="body mediumText reviewText" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.3; margin-bottom: 1em;">
Hello World.<br />
<br />
I'd like to announce publication of my new novel, THE SOUL AJAR, A Love Story. Its now out in ebook form, and in two days as a paperback, published by 'Iolani Press. It's my first attempt at writing a political thriller, and was an exhilarating experience to attempt another genre. But I do think writers should expand and experiment, isn't that what artists do?<br />
<br />
I also wanted a platform to write about my friend, Andrei, who is afflicted with albinism. ("Albino" is really not the preferred word.) I think more books should be written about physically challenged characters. In a following blog I will go into detail about this subject and how R. J. Mitte, the wonderful actor with cerebral palsy in the brilliant TV series "Breaking Bad," deeply influenced me in the writing of THE SOUL AJAR. For now, here's a synopsis of the novel and I hope you will enjoy it!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/SOUL-AJAR-Love-Story-ebook/dp/B00OKRQRI8/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1414866723&sr=1-1&keywords=the+soul+ajar" rel="nofollow" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/SOUL-AJAR-Love-...</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8g8PSHx-eHQ069o2H9M4zBFXHFDkSeqfiWa3caLrXbBj63A6gg_K-LCg_7m-VrtYQx1HNRL78iZJEIWonv1V_A3rUQPzDowe5XFRsZdh120KHjDHjfO0GI3YnGzgigFiaoz__FMp4B2HB/s1600/SoulAjar2-2000px.jpg" rel="nofollow" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: underline;"><img class="escapedImg" src="https://p.gr-assets.com/540x540/fit/hostedimages/1414972728/11712408.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; float: left; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 613px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>"From the bestselling Hawaiian author of 'Shark Dialogues' and 'The Spy Lover' comes a riveting political thriller and haunting love story. Based on a real-life friend of the author, here is the story of Adam, a handsome, Russian-American CIA operative afflicted with albinism. On undercover assignment in Honolulu, he meets Lily, a young Hawaiian journalist, who ultimately follows him to New York City. While struggling to gain his trust and love, she discovers his secret 'shadow life,' and that, as an albino, Adam feels undeserving of love. He grows increasingly distant until, heartbroken, Lily leaves him and makes her way in the city alone as a hard-hitting journalist. </strong><strong> </strong><strong>It is only when Lily meets Bazil, Adam's colleague in the intelligence world, that she learns the terrible secret of Adam's past: his mother's execution by a Russian assassin,Yakoviev, an act Adam witnessed as a child. She learns why Adam's mother was murdered, and of his life-long obsession to avenge her death. While helping Bazil track his own love, Zahira - a beautiful Afghani girl running from the Taliban - Lily becomes inexorably enmeshed in Adam's search for Yakoviev, now a world-class killer financing Muslim fanatics. </strong><strong> </strong><strong> Based on today's global terrorism and the unspeakable torture of women in the Middle East, 'The Soul Ajar' transports readers from Honolulu to New York City, from the wilds of Afghanistan to Georgian and Russian resort towns on the Black Sea, until finally - near a monastery deep in the Caucasus mountains of Russia - Adam confronts the monster, Yakoviev. It is here that Lily discovers the depths of her courage in an unthinkable act she commits to save Adam's life. </strong><strong> </strong><strong>In scenes both beautiful and harrowing, 'The Soul Ajar' unflinchingly examines the chaos of the present world we live in, while illuminating our timeless desire for human dignity and love."</strong><strong> </strong><strong> </strong><br />
<strong> </strong><br />
<strong> ~ Praise for Kiana Davenport ~</strong><strong> </strong><br />
<strong>"Davenport is a brilliant writer." -- The Huffington Post.</strong><strong> </strong><br />
<strong>"Her prose is sharp and shining as a sword." -- Isabel Allende</strong><strong> </strong><br />
<strong>"You can't read Kiana Davenport without being transformed." -- Alice Walker</strong><strong> </strong><br />
<strong>"Davenport is a superb storyteller." -- The Seattle Times </strong><strong> </strong><br />
<strong><br /></strong>
<strong>Thank you, and happy reading!!</strong><strong> </strong><strong><br /></strong><strong><br /></strong><strong><br /></strong></div>
<div class="mediumText" style="font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<a href="http://kianadavenportdialogues.blogspot.com/2014/11/the-soul-ajar-love-story.html" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">View more on Kiana Davenport's website »</a>www.kianadavenport.com</div>
<div class="meta greyText" style="clear: left; color: #aaaaaa; text-align: left;">
<div class="right" style="float: right;">
• <a class="flag" href="https://www.goodreads.com/flagged/new?resource_id=7272379&resource_type=AuthorBlogPost&return_url=%2Fauthor_blog_posts%2F7272379-the-soul-ajar-a-love-story" id="flag_link7272379" rel="nofollow" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; background-position: 0% 50%; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; color: #aaaaaa; padding-left: 15px; text-decoration: none;" title="Flag this blog post as inappropriate.">flag</a></div>
<a class="actionLink right" href="https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/7272379-the-soul-ajar-a-love-story" style="color: #215625; float: right; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; width: auto;">2 comments</a><br />
<div class="right" style="float: right;">
<a class="facebook_connect" href="https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/7272379-the-soul-ajar-a-love-story?comment=108794464#" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="Facebook_icon" src="https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/icons/facebook_icon-bd5a3eece94591d40c68053110f114fc.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; height: 22px; vertical-align: middle; width: 22px;" /></a><br />
<div class="twitterLogoButton">
</div>
<iframe allowtransparency="true" class="twitter-share-button twitter-tweet-button twitter-share-button twitter-count-none" data-twttr-rendered="true" frameborder="0" id="twitter-widget-0" scrolling="no" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets/tweet_button.d58098f8a7f0ff5a206e7f15442a6b30.en.html#_=1415073280154&count=none&id=twitter-widget-0&lang=en&original_referer=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.goodreads.com%2Fauthor_blog_posts%2F7272379-the-soul-ajar-a-love-story%3Fcomment%3D108794464%23comment_108794464&size=m&text=liked%20Kiana%20Davenport%27s%20blog%20post%3A%20%22THE%20SOUL%20AJAR%2C%20A%20Love%20Story%22%20&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.goodreads.com%2Fauthor_blog_posts%2F7272379-the-soul-ajar-a-love-story&via=goodreads" style="height: 20px; vertical-align: middle; width: 56px;" title="Twitter Tweet Button"></iframe><br />
<div data-track_tweet="" id="tracker">
</div>
• <span id="ratingResults7272379"><span class="likeItContainer" id="like_container_author_blog_post_7272379"><span class="loadingLinkSpan"><a class="jsLike like_it button smallButton loadingLink" data-like-container-id="like_container_author_blog_post_7272379" data-method="post" data-remote="true" href="https://www.goodreads.com/rating?format=json&lc=0&rating%5Brating%5D=1&rating%5Bresource_id%5D=7272379&rating%5Bresource_type%5D=AuthorBlogPost" id="like_action_author_blog_post_7272379" rel="nofollow" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgb(243, 243, 231), rgb(231, 226, 197)); background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(144, 113, 100); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(144, 113, 100); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(144, 113, 100); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(144, 113, 100); border-top-left-radius: 5px; border-top-right-radius: 5px; border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; box-shadow: rgb(221, 221, 221) 0px 3px 3px; color: #222222; display: inline-block; font-family: arial, verdana, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.6; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 7px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; white-space: nowrap; zoom: 1;">like</a><span class="loadingError"></span></span></span> </span> • </div>
Published on <span class="date">November 01, 2014 11:50</span> • 4 views</div>
</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4948068900879355793" name="top" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;"></a></span><br />
<div style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">
<div class="left" style="float: left;">
Comments <span class="normalText">(showing 1-2 of 2) </span> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/7272379-the-soul-ajar-a-love-story?comment=108794464#comment_form" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">post a comment »</a></div>
<div class="right" style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; text-align: right;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/7272379-the-soul-ajar-a-love-story?order=d&page=1" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">date<img alt="Down_arrow" src="https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/down_arrow-7362f0f123828ffd56f71e2a8e866219.gif" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" /></a> <span class="greyText" style="color: #aaaaaa;">newest »</span></div>
</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><br class="clear" style="clear: both; display: block; font-size: 1px; height: 0px; line-height: 0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" /></span>
<div id="comment_list" style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">
<div id="ajax_errors">
</div>
<div class="comment" id="comment_108794464">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4948068900879355793" name="comment_108794464" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4948068900879355793" name="comment_number_1" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;"></a><br />
<div class="brownBox " style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #ebe8d5; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 0px; width: 625px;">
<div class="left" style="float: left;">
<strong>message 1:</strong> by <span class="commentAuthor"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/157228-val-wilkerson" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;" title="Val Wilkerson">Val</a></span></div>
<div class="right" style="float: right;" title="11 hours, 54 min ago">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/7272379-the-soul-ajar-a-love-story?comment=108794464#comment_108794464" rel="nofollow" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">11 hours, 54 min ago</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-67976729075749578682014-11-01T20:16:00.001-07:002014-11-01T20:16:39.675-07:00GOODREADS GIVEAWAY: "THE SOUL AJAR"Please sign up for a free Autographed Paperback of my new novel, THE SOUL AJAR, A Love Story. Just follow the link to the Goodreads Giveaway Page. Happy reading!<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/113918-the-soul-ajar-a-love-story">https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/113918-the-soul-ajar-a-love-story</a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpfxO3zYgQM90u5jimccNvEaCUUwRQBPlnrcxWIPHQpZkvNKcmC_tnDx3e1hsPi1hKjxQOEkheRjlr8qtPCIuxK5AdOq_I14tA6ArSd5iUZwbhN3gHTMKgPQHf5ueX6MPnLV-ifr_EAoO5/s1600/SoulAjar2-2000px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpfxO3zYgQM90u5jimccNvEaCUUwRQBPlnrcxWIPHQpZkvNKcmC_tnDx3e1hsPi1hKjxQOEkheRjlr8qtPCIuxK5AdOq_I14tA6ArSd5iUZwbhN3gHTMKgPQHf5ueX6MPnLV-ifr_EAoO5/s1600/SoulAjar2-2000px.jpg" height="320" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-31819317757868068312014-11-01T11:50:00.001-07:002014-11-01T11:50:55.296-07:00"THE SOUL AJAR, A Love Story"Hello World.<br />
<br />
I'd like to announce publication of my new novel, THE SOUL AJAR, A Love Story. Its now out in ebook form, and in two days as a paperback, published by 'Iolani Press. It's my first attempt at writing a political thriller, and was an exhilarating experience to attempt another genre. But I do think writers should expand and experiment, isn't that what artists do? <br />
<br />
I also wanted a platform to write about my friend, Andrei, who is afflicted with albinism. ("Albino" is really not the preferred word.) I think more books should be written about physically challenged characters. In a following blog I will go into detail about this subject and how R. J. Mitte, the wonderful actor with cerebral palsy in the brilliant TV series "Breaking Bad," deeply influenced me in the writing of THE SOUL AJAR. For now, here's a synopsis of the novel and I hope you will enjoy it!<br />
<br />
http://www.amazon.com/SOUL-AJAR-Love-Story-ebook/dp/B00OKRQRI8/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1414866723&sr=1-1&keywords=the+soul+ajar<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8g8PSHx-eHQ069o2H9M4zBFXHFDkSeqfiWa3caLrXbBj63A6gg_K-LCg_7m-VrtYQx1HNRL78iZJEIWonv1V_A3rUQPzDowe5XFRsZdh120KHjDHjfO0GI3YnGzgigFiaoz__FMp4B2HB/s1600/SoulAjar2-2000px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8g8PSHx-eHQ069o2H9M4zBFXHFDkSeqfiWa3caLrXbBj63A6gg_K-LCg_7m-VrtYQx1HNRL78iZJEIWonv1V_A3rUQPzDowe5XFRsZdh120KHjDHjfO0GI3YnGzgigFiaoz__FMp4B2HB/s1600/SoulAjar2-2000px.jpg" height="320" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<b><span class="yiv1933599018Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">"From the bestselling Hawaiian author of 'Shark Dialogues' and 'The Spy Lover' comes a riveting political thriller and haunting love story. Based on a real-life friend of the author, here is the story of Ad</span>am, a handsome, Russian-American CIA operative afflicted with albinism. On undercover assignment in Honolulu, he meets Lily, a young Hawaiian journalist, who ultimately follows him to New York City. While struggling to gain his trust and love, she discovers his secret 'shadow life,' and that, as an albino, Adam feels undeserving of love. He grows increasingly distant until, heartbroken, Lily leaves him and makes her way in the city alone as a hard-hitting journalist. </b></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<b>It is only when Lily meets Bazil, Adam's colleague in the intelligence world, that she learns the terrible secret of Adam's past: his mother's execution by a Russian assassin,Yakoviev, an act Adam witnessed as a child. She learns why Adam's mother was murdered, and of his life-long obsession to avenge her death. While helping Bazil track his own love, Zahira - a beautiful Afghani girl running from the Taliban - Lily becomes inexorably enmeshed in Adam's search for Yakoviev, now a world-class killer financing Muslim fanatics. </b></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<b><span class="yiv1933599018Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"> Based on today's global terrorism and the unspeakable torture of women in the Middle East, 'The Soul Ajar' transports readers from Honolulu to New York City, from the wilds of Afghanistan to Georgian and Russian resort towns on the Black Sea, until finally - near a monastery deep in the Caucasus mountains of Russia - Adam confronts the monster, Yakoviev. It is here that Lily</span><span class="yiv1933599018Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"> discovers the depths of her courage in an unthinkable act she commits to save Adam's life. </span></b></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<span class="yiv1933599018Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<b><span class="yiv1933599018Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">In scenes both beautiful and harrowing, 'The Soul Ajar' unflinchingly examines the chaos of the present world we live in, while illuminating our timeless desire for</span> human dignity and love."</b></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<span class="yiv1933599018Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<span class="yiv1933599018Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><b><span class="yiv1933599018Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> ~<span class="yiv1933599018Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Praise for Kiana Davenport ~</b></span></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<span class="yiv1933599018Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<span class="yiv1933599018Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><b>"Davenport is a brilliant writer." -- The Huffington Post.</b></span></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<span class="yiv1933599018Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<span class="yiv1933599018Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><b>"Her prose is sharp and shining as a sword." -- Isabel Allende</b></span></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<span class="yiv1933599018Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<span class="yiv1933599018Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><b>"You can't read Kiana Davenport without being transformed." -- Alice Walker</b></span></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<b>"Davenport is a superb storyteller." -- The Seattle Times </b></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<b>Thank you, and happy reading!!</b></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><b> </b></span></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div id="yiv1933599018AOLMsgPart_1_4a4c8493-afc9-479a-8136-828fd8a1e5a8" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
</div>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-49445126552863903092014-08-12T20:29:00.001-07:002014-08-12T20:29:45.002-07:00RUSSELL BRAND ON ROBIN WILLIAMS SUICIDEHello World...<br />
<br />
Here is the Sometimes Frantic, Sometimes Serious, Russell Brand Speaking Eloquently and Rather Brilliantly on the Suicide of Robin Williams. <br />
<br />
http://www.google.com/#q=russell+brand+what+should+we+think+robin+williams+the+trews<br />
<br />
I urge you all to download and listen! What he says affects us all.<br />
<br />
Thank you!<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com49tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-38912865061725441952014-07-02T08:13:00.001-07:002014-07-02T08:13:04.369-07:00CONSERVATION? OR COLD-BLOODED KILLING?Hello, World...<br />
<br />
I have just seen these photos of a teenager from Texas gleefully posing with majestic African wild life which she has slaughtered with assorted firearms. She allegedly learned her expertise from her father, a big game hunter.<br />
<br />
They call it 'conservation,' culling animals that are crowding already over-crowded preserves in Africa. I call it cold-blooded killing. As the human population explodes all over the planet, wildlife is being crowded into smaller and smaller preserves. Their extinction is inevitable, so why prolong their agony?<br />
<br />
According to Kendall Jones and her ilk, the answer is quite simple. Just shoot them. The depths of her ignorance is stunning. <br />
<br />
Animal-lovers, take a stand. Sign one of the many petitions circling the Internet urging that her cold-<br />
blooded killer photos be removed. Thank you.<br />
<br />
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/kendall-jones-the-19yearold-cheerleader-from-texas-provoking-worldwide-fury-over-hunting-pictures-on-her-facebook-page-9578836.htmlKiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-43057774351925670482014-06-13T10:17:00.000-07:002014-06-13T10:17:15.330-07:00BOXED SET: PRIZE-WINNING PACIFIC STORIES NOW .99SUMMER SALE! Prize-Winning Pacific Stories. "House of Skin," "Cannibal Nights," and "Opium Dreams." All three volumes are now a boxed set. On sale reduced from $3.99 to .99! <br />
<br />
Stories within have been awarded the O'Henry Awards, the Pushcart Prize, and The Best American Short Story. Now available on Amazon Kindle. The sale will run for a month.<br />
<br />
Thank you, and Happy Reading! Alohas! Kiana<br />
<br />
http://www.amazon.com/PRIZE-WINNING-PACIFIC-STORIES-SPECIAL-CANNIBAL-ebook/dp/B00ATQVTGO/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1402678465&sr=1-1&keywords=boxed+set+kiana+davenport<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-13802933519546290792013-06-05T07:31:00.000-07:002013-06-05T07:31:15.424-07:00THE BI-RACIAL BLUES: WHO AM I?Hello, World.<br />
<br />
I have been traveling across the country, looking at America. And America has been looking at me.<br />
<br />
On book tour for my novel, THE SPY LOVER, I read to Mexican and Latino audiences in California and Florida, articulate book lovers who, in spite of my half-Hawaiian heritage, posed questions to me as if I were a pure-blood white woman, perhaps because my skin was not brown enough for them. Conversely, I've been amongst white Texans, Georgians, and Alabamans (my white father's home state), some of whom I felt regarded me as not-quite authentic American, perhaps because my skin was not pale enough. <br />
<br />
Alone in motel rooms, I stared into mirrors asking the old, worn-out question I have asked all my life: "WHO AM I?" That is, where do I belong in society? To what group do I owe my allegiance? With my white heritage? Or with my brown-skinned heritage? And why does it have to be either, or? This is a song all multi-cultural, bi-racial, half-breed, mulatto, mixed-bloods have been singing all our lives: Who am I?<br />
<br />
We don't belong in any one group, and thus are forced to 'blend,' to resort like chameleons to 'cryptic coloration.' That is, to consciously slip into the cadences and vernacular and dress-codes of each group we encounter, to adapt ourselves to each environment, each situation, each racial and cultural gathering in order to be accepted, to belong. (A friend calls it 'working both sides of the street.') This is not an intelligent way to live because one rarely feels authentic, even to one's self.<br />
<br />
At home in Hawaii, I am often thought of as too 'haolefied' that is, too white, too mainland America. But in New York City I'm considered an islander (replete with shark fin tattooes circling my ankles), the token 'exotic' of which there is one in every hip NewYork gathering. This confusion has often resulted in a shizophrenic self-image while I juggle two totally different personas: the island girl and the city girl, neither of whom really fits in.<br />
<br />
Oh, I grow weary! My hyphenated friends grow weary - all my Asian-American, African-American, Native-American, East Indian-American friends with a mother from one race, a father from another. We are tired of adapting, tired of the subterfuge, the cryptic coloration. We long to be ourselves. Maybe we should take lessons from the youngsters: multi-colored, multi-tongued hip-hoppers who are beating the 'established' English language into submission. Perhaps this is their urgent dispatch to the world, that the mixed blood coursing through our veins is precisely Who We Are: Hybrids of the Future. And the future is here. It's now.<br />
<br />
In one of his brilliant novels, John Le Carre wrote that "Everything must wear a disguise in order to be real." Except when it applies to undercover agents, this strikes me as oxymoronic. The only thing real is the skin that covers us, and the deeper truths summoned from our soul.<br />
<br />
So, the next time someone stares at my kinky hair, my tattooed ankles and tan complexion, and asks me what I am, what my 'background' is, I have resolved to gaze at them with an unblinking fixity and respond that I am simply - unapologetically - me.<br />
<br />
There will be more to come on this complex subject. I welcome your comments. <br />
<br />
Thanks and alohas, its good to be back! Kiana<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-9075144357287556152013-03-21T11:04:00.001-07:002013-03-21T11:04:27.087-07:00NORMAN MAILER AND THE 'BLUES'Hello World. <br />
<br />
I'm thinking just now of Norman Mailer, one of the Literary Lions of the second half of the 20th century. He was a wildcat, a brilliant thinker, whether you loved him, or hated him. He wrote brilliant books like "Advertisements for Myself," "Fire On the Moon," (Pulitzer), and "Ancient Evenings," an Egyptian epic that few critics or readers understood, but somehow we knew it was brilliant. I loved reading him because he always shocked me into new realizations about the human psyche, about how pain has a purpose, about how, if we are born to write, it is a sacrilege not to. <br />
<br />
It is true, Mailer stabbed one of his six wives, fathered nine children, squandered his talents on self-made vanity films, and publicly belittled and tormented legendary Feminists like Germaine Greer and Gloria Steinem. But he was also a loving (though philandering) husband, a devoted father, supporting all his kids through college, and - a little known fact - he was incredibly generous and patient with younger, up and coming writers. To my knowledge he answered every note he ever received.<br />
<br />
I had the privilege of knowing Norman Mailer as a teacher and mentor. In long, instructive letters, he scolded me about over-writing, warned me about using too many adjectives as scaffolding. And constantly reminded me to always ALWAYS respect my readers, because they are generally more intelligent than we are! Mailer died two years ago and the media was chock full of his notorious life - his drinking, his fistfights, his women, his love of giving the world the finger - and most of all his enduringly brilliant mind. But no one talked about his doubting side, the side of the author who was often hurt, even ignored by book reviewers.<br />
<br />
Recently a writer-friend who was also mentored by Mailer sent a me letter he wrote her in his later years, trying to console her when sales of her book were lagging. Its a wonderful letter that ALL writers should read, and maybe readers should too, because it talks about the pain and loneliness of writing, and how that pain and loneliness can be transformed into beauty, and how - no matter what - we must soldier on. <br />
<br />
"Dear Kathy,<br />
That was a fine and lovely letter you wrote on "Harlot's Ghost" [one of his novels about the CIA] and came on just the right morning, since I'd just finished reading a couple of dull and dumb and snide reviews about my book and was sitting on my anger, so you saved me from one of those days of gloom and inner wrath.<br />
<br />
I know the results of your book have been disappointing, and all I can tell you...is that on nine out of ten works for all of us, it's like that. We never get what we put into it, and the only way we can keep going is to tell ourselves that the reward, ironically, is in the writing, in all those bad awful days of hating the book, being lost in it, knowing the limitations of one's talent - and all those depressions.<br />
<br />
But nonetheless, we do have the experience. We write the book. That's probably the only reward we're going to get. We get published, there are hassles, and it never turns out the way you hope. But then over the years it's all right. The books are there; people occasionally read them, and we can feel halfway decent about ourselves. Such is the wisdom of the part of me, a small part, I hope, that has turned to stoicism in my later years."<br />
<br />
It is a wise and beautiful letter that encourages us writers to press on, no matter the sacrifice, no matter the cost. No matter the loneliness. And it's a valuable reminder that even Literary Lions get the blues.<br />
<br />
Thank you, Norman Mailer!<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-8071073551516270462013-02-07T10:48:00.000-08:002013-02-07T10:48:31.486-08:00Kindle Fire Giveaway!Hello everyone! I'm participating in another great giveaway, sponsored by "<a href="http://www.iamareader.com/2013/02/kindle-fire-hd-amazon-gift-card-or.html">I am a Reader, Not a Writer</a>." This giveaway is a promotion for The Spy Lover & Prize Winning Pacific Stories. My books are part of this giveaway, and there are a few other authors participating, too.<br />
<br />
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">The winner will have the option of receiving a Kindle Fire HD (US Only)</b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; clear: both; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh80v-BdNE2FPi3okEHtCYC3ukUtzfsB-Npf4mt5aiO7goazUIbROZ_AOD-spDg-rvDKNvqvnOlB6L7ht_KbM5UsYT9xb-pT8KUfqrcDiQ7NNkrOmdKIKUa4LorP7ybToYn5uYbvAJD6GE/s1600/kindle+fire+hd.jpg" style="color: #7f7f7f; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: initial;"><img border="0" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh80v-BdNE2FPi3okEHtCYC3ukUtzfsB-Npf4mt5aiO7goazUIbROZ_AOD-spDg-rvDKNvqvnOlB6L7ht_KbM5UsYT9xb-pT8KUfqrcDiQ7NNkrOmdKIKUa4LorP7ybToYn5uYbvAJD6GE/s320/kindle+fire+hd.jpg" style="border: 0px solid rgb(204, 204, 204); padding: 4px;" width="320" /></a></div>
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Or $199 Amazon.com Gift Card (International)</b><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; clear: both; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8EvIMFKhM-0udZqXjD7QYYFOHWDrue3MFenBxAI2RgZ0ITGvhQZ6sErwfXFZR-bWW_wJTW_xSHcK0VqVGa9sU3CdVjZH2fYiguDysC5ljol_aeZot3zBvmGyDD4SCtkGSZ8RRkznp8Nw/s1600/amazon+gift.jpg" style="color: #7f7f7f; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: initial;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8EvIMFKhM-0udZqXjD7QYYFOHWDrue3MFenBxAI2RgZ0ITGvhQZ6sErwfXFZR-bWW_wJTW_xSHcK0VqVGa9sU3CdVjZH2fYiguDysC5ljol_aeZot3zBvmGyDD4SCtkGSZ8RRkznp8Nw/s320/amazon+gift.jpg" style="border: 0px solid rgb(204, 204, 204); padding: 4px;" width="320" /></a></div>
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Or $199 in Paypal Cash (International)</b><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; clear: both; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs58kF9KXan86qfnrrc7PZHSwYyp366ekyTSccF3meaSdztGPF2cnm4m_84zzsMJVtfFI18pGfixtPMDxb3Moc4fSENLVO07y1jXsLXcgDl2d3vxC5gfAnmfbI1ZkQqd-KNR2gqmPLgl8/s1600/paypal.png" style="color: #7f7f7f; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: initial;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs58kF9KXan86qfnrrc7PZHSwYyp366ekyTSccF3meaSdztGPF2cnm4m_84zzsMJVtfFI18pGfixtPMDxb3Moc4fSENLVO07y1jXsLXcgDl2d3vxC5gfAnmfbI1ZkQqd-KNR2gqmPLgl8/s320/paypal.png" style="border: 0px solid rgb(204, 204, 204); padding: 4px;" width="320" /></a></div>
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">This giveaway is sponsored by these Authors:</span></b><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Reluctant-Bachelorette-Romantic-Comedy-ebook/dp/B0096T6IQQ" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #7f7f7f; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">The Reluctant Bachelorette</a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><a href="http://rachaelreneeanderson.blogspot.com/" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #7f7f7f; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">Rachael Anderson</a><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Classic-Latin-Lover-Please-ebook/dp/B00B6CPH9A" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">One Classic Latin Lover, Please</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://distractionsink.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Marcia Lynn McClure</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17287952-betrayal" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Betrayal</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.annepatrickbooks.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Anne Patrick</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bellyache-Delicious-Tale-Crystal-Marcos/dp/0984389903" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Belleyache</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.crystalmarcos.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Crystal Marcos</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Ethan-Justice-Origins-Adventure-ebook/dp/B0087S6AA6" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Ethan Justice: Origins</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://simonjenner.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Simon Jenner</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/I-Have-People-ebook/dp/B009O0NSWE" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">I Have People</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.taylordeanbooks.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Taylor Dean</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/What-Its-Worth-Karey-White/dp/1462110665" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">For What It's Worth</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://kareywhite.blogspot.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Karey White</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Kiss-Ashen-Twilight-No/dp/1449504043" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">A Kiss of Ashen Twilight</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.raelori.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Rae Lori</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Unraveling-Sage-Seed-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B00AY5WGYO" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">The Unraveling</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://hollybarbo-books.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Holly Barbo</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fateful-Cheri-Schmidt/dp/1461103991" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Fateful</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://cherischmidt.blogspot.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Cheri Schmidt</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16007175-dracian-legacy" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Dracian Legacy</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://priyakanaparti.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Priya Kanaparti</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cascade-Brides-Complete-ebook/dp/B00ARY7ZUC" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Cascade Brides</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://bonnieblythespureromance.blogspot.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Bonnie Blythe</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/World-Apart-Camelia-Miron-Skiba/dp/1466226676" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">A World Apart</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://cameliamironskiba.wordpress.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Camelia Miron Skiba</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Reality-Bites-Shaunda-Kennedy-Wenger/dp/0615614299" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Reality Bites, Tales of a Half-Vampire</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by <a href="http://www.shaundawenger.blogspot.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Shaunda Wenger</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Face-Off-Book-One-Stacy-Juba/dp/1466216832" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Face-Off</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://stacyjuba.com/blog/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Stacy Juba</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Two-Equals-Marta-Szemik/dp/0987877259" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Two Equals</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.martaszemik.blogspot.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Marta Szemik</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Josiah-Grimshaw-Morgan-Sisters-ebook/dp/B00A37SE0I" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">The Ghost of Josiah Grimshaw</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://suzyturner.blogspot.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Suzy Turner</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/One-for-Kami-ebook/dp/B00ARU2Z6A" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">One for Kami</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by <a href="http://charleneawilson.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Charlene A. Wilson</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Freak-Nature-Julia-Crane/dp/162411024X" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Freak of Nature</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://juliacraneauthor.blogspot.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Julia Crane</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Grace-Doll-Jennifer-Laurens/dp/1933963107" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Grace Doll</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.jenniferlaurens.blogspot.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Jennifer Laurens</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Secret-Scarlet-Stone-Gabby-Adventure/dp/0984499318" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">The Secret of the Scarlet Stone</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://tlclarke.blogspot.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">T.L. Clarke</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gallaghers-Hope-Book-Montana-Gallagher/dp/0615638791" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Gallagher's Hope</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://mkmcclintock.blogspot.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">M.K. McClintock</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Spy-Lover-Kiana-Davenport/dp/1612183417" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">The Spy Lover</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>&<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/PRIZE-WINNING-PACIFIC-STORIES-CANNIBAL-ebook/dp/B00ATQVTGO" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Prize Winning Pacific Stories</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://kianadavenportdialogues.blogspot.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Kiana Davenport</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rejected-Bible-Becoming-Studies-ebook/dp/B0085F6JDY" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Rejected</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://heatherbixler.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Heather Bixler</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rapunzel-Untangled-Cindy-C-Bennett/dp/1462111564" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Rapunzel Untangled</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://cindybennett.blogspot.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Cindy Bennett</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hard-Act-Follow-Henry-Bushkin/dp/0988257408" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">A Hard Act to Follow</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://johnnycarson360.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Henry Bushkin</a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20.796875px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Starseed-Liz-Gruder/dp/1937178293" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Starseed</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.lizgruder.com/" style="color: #7f7f7f; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">Liz Gruder</a></div>
<br />
<br />
Enter using the Rafflecopter below:<br />
<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/0a0096755/" id="rc-0a0096755" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script><br />
<br />
Good Luck!
Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-65441937626296058042013-01-31T12:42:00.002-08:002013-01-31T12:45:51.241-08:00The SPY LOVER book blastI am pleased to be a part of a great book blast for my book The SPY LOVER, hosted by <a href="http://iamareader.com/">I Am A Reader, Not a Writer</a>. If you scroll down to the bottom of the post, you can enter to win a $50 Amazon gift card. Good luck!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIEO4r4ogreaFXDOvd-GRJybZxcSSXjZLS-rvryjWB2AIJEzT-RYl1WGJDMAXIF4naq0x6DyZOdpm0sT1dpl9M5c2pdj8GjtfDqUHzc2zEgSYMWqW1wSQ08DlORv99BI2AR-Cv2jc9Qg/s1600/spylover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIEO4r4ogreaFXDOvd-GRJybZxcSSXjZLS-rvryjWB2AIJEzT-RYl1WGJDMAXIF4naq0x6DyZOdpm0sT1dpl9M5c2pdj8GjtfDqUHzc2zEgSYMWqW1wSQ08DlORv99BI2AR-Cv2jc9Qg/s320/spylover.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">The Spy Lover by Kiana Davenport</span></b><br />
<br />
Thrust into the savagery of the Civil War, a Chinese immigrant serving in the Union Army, a nurse doubling as a spy for the North, and a one-armed Confederate cavalryman find their lives inextricably entwined.<br />
<br />
Fleeing drought and famine in China, Johnny Tom arrives in America with dreams of becoming a citizen. Having survived vigilantes hunting “yellow dogs” and slave auction- blocks, Johnny is kidnapped from his Mississippi village by Confederate soldiers, taken from his wife and daughter, and forced to fight for the South. Eventually defecting to the Union side, he is promised American citizenship in exchange for his loyal services. But first Johnny must survive the butchery of battles and the cruelties inflicted on non-white soldiers.<br />
<br />
Desperate to find Johnny, his daughter, Era, is enlisted as a spy. She agrees to work as a nurse at Confederate camps while scouting for the North. Amidst the unspeakable carnage of wounded soldiers, she finds solace in Warren Petticomb, a cavalryman who lost an arm at Shiloh. As devastation mounts in both armies, Era must choose where her loyalties lie—with her beloved father in the North, or with the man who passionately sustains her in the South.<br />
<br />
A novel of extraordinary scope that will stand as a defining work on the Chinese immigrant experience, The Spy Lover is a paean to the transcendence of love and the resilience of the human spirit.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Review from the Huffington Post</span></b><br />
"...A great story told with such beautiful prose I am hoping The Spy Lover will be picked up by Ang Lee or Steven Spielberg. Kiana Davenport is a brilliant writer. [Based] on her ancestors from the American South and global East, The Spy Lover takes the incredibly difficult...topics of race, gender, slavery and war and artfully weaves them into a specific story. Davenport is genius at capturing complex times, and complications of the heart. It's been a long time since I cried while reading a novel, and that happened several times while reading The Spy Lover...I couldn't wait to finish the story, but grieved when it ended. That's exactly how I felt when I finished reading Gone With The Wind so many years go. If you need a holiday escape...or want to spend time in a different world read... The Spy Lover!" - Ellen Snortland for The Huffington Post<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Purchase</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Spy-Lover-Kiana-Davenport/dp/1612183417/">Amazon</a> * <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/spy-lover-the-kiana-davenport/1112485125?ean=9781612183411">Barnes & Noble</a></b></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGp146H5Lk4qJ8wBhAQN_Ein8AZzxKF-IMEEiaT3s4r8HkqIlRiLNg84monGhrbiQraXTcOSXHS7Xao-gWZrajDZtPuCKCLEAJ_pRv3cXC4TSNBAWs8d4vySsSh9Vqj5nPgmWkTjIKF0/s1600/kiana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGp146H5Lk4qJ8wBhAQN_Ein8AZzxKF-IMEEiaT3s4r8HkqIlRiLNg84monGhrbiQraXTcOSXHS7Xao-gWZrajDZtPuCKCLEAJ_pRv3cXC4TSNBAWs8d4vySsSh9Vqj5nPgmWkTjIKF0/s320/kiana.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Author Kiana Davenport</span></b><br />
<br />
KIANA DAVENPORT is descended from a full-blooded Native Hawaiian mother, and a Caucasian father from Talladega, Alabama. Her father, Braxton Bragg Davenport, was a sailor in the U.S. Navy, stationed at Pearl Harbor, when he fell in love with her mother, Emma Kealoha Awaawa Kanoho Houghtailing. On her mother's side, Kiana traces her ancestry back to the first Polynesian settlers to the Hawaiian Islands who arrived almost two thousand years ago from Tahiti and the Tuamotu's. On her father's side, she traces her ancestry to John Davenport, the puritan clergyman who co-founded the American colony of New Haven, Connecticut in 1638.<br />
<br />
Kiana is the author of the internationally best-selling novels, SHARK DIALOGUES, SONG OF THE EXILE, HOUSE OF MANY GODS, and a new novel, THE SPY LOVER, now available in paperback and on Kindle. She is also the author of the collections, HOUSE OF SKIN PRIZE-WINNING STORIES, CANNIBAL NIGHTS, PACIFIC STORIES Volume II, and OPIUM DREAMS, PACIFIC STORIES, VOLUME III. All three collections have been Kindle bestsellers. She has also been a guest blogger on Huffington Post.<br />
<br />
A graduate of the University of Hawaii, Kiana has been a Bunting Fellow at Harvard University, a Visiting Writer at Wesleyan University, and a recipient of a National Endowment for the Arts grant. Her short stories have won numerous O. Henry Awards, Pushcart Prizes, and the Best American Short Story Award, 2000. Her novels and short stories have been translated into twenty-one languages. She lives in Hawaii and New York City.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.kianadavenport.com/">Website</a> * <a href="http://kianadavenportdialogues.blogspot.com/">Blog</a> * <a href="https://twitter.com/BRAXTONRO">Twitter</a> * <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kiana-Davenport/188967351153560">Facebook</a></span></b></div>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Praise for Kiana Davenport</span></b><br />
<br />
“An epic feminine saga! Davenport’s prose is sharp and shining as a sword.”<br />
-Isabel Allende on Shark Dialogues<br />
<br />
“Deeply Moving. You can’t read Kiana Davenport without being transformed.”<br />
-Alice Walker on Song of the Exile<br />
<br />
“A powerful and moving experience.”<br />
-The Washington Post on House of Many Gods<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">THE SPY LOVER</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">By Kiana Davenport</span></b><br />
<br />
Kiana Davenport’s latest novel is a powerful epic about the American Civil War, which extends this beloved writer’s vision to an entirely new level. Based on her family history, it is at once an historical novel, a haunting love story, and a brilliant expose on the treatment of minorities during the Civil War. Meticulously researched, it is finally a story of human sacrifice and personal redemption. A magnificent novel that crosses all genres, THE SPY LOVER is a work of astonishing beauty that promises to become a classic. <br />
<br />
Johnny Tom, a Chinese immigrant, and his beautiful Creek Indian wife, and daughter, Era, live in Shisan, a Chinese settlement along the Mississippi River. Their life is simple and idyllic, until Confederate soldiers invade the town, kidnap the men and force them into service, fighting for the South and slavery. At the first opportunity, many Chinese soldiers defect to the Union Army. In revenge, the Confederates return to Shisan to rape and torture their wives and daughters. Defiled and half-mad, Era sets out to find her father and is plunged into the full savagery and horror of the War. Lured by Union officials to pose as a nurse while spying on the Confederate army, she falls in love with a wounded Confederate cavalryman, and her loyalties become divided between her beloved father in the North, and the gallant soldier who sustains her in the South.<br />
<br />
THE SPY LOVER is ostensibly a novel about the abiding love between a man and a woman, between a father and daughter, and the love of a man for his country. Ultimately, it is a meditation on the ethical choice, on honoring one’s moral obligation. <br />
<br />
“I never planned to write an historical novel, or a love story, or a spy thriller, or a story about how brave Chinese soldiers were used as throw-aways in the Civil War. I simply set out to tell the story of my ancestors, who fought on opposing sides of that War.”<br />
- Kiana Davenport<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Points of Interest</span></b><br />
<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>U.S. Civil War Research – Kiana’s research for THE SPY LOVER was exhaustive. For five years she studied correspondences and documents and traveled to the battlefields of the Civil War, discovering facts that she hoped would fascinate her readers. She learned about Southern women collecting urine from which to distill niter for making gunpowder. And she learned how women planted and harvested poppies, then scored and gathered from poppy-pods the sap known as opium. She read books on spy-codes used in the War, what spies were paid, and how they were executed when caught by the enemy. She lived and breathed the Civil War, letting it engulf her as she wrote her novel.<br />
<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Kiana’s Heritage – Kiana’s ancestor, Warren Rowan Davenport, was a cavalryman who rode for the Confederacy in the Civil War with a famous unit known as the Prattville Dragoons, of Prattville, Alabama. Her research on Warren Davenport entailed reading over forty books on the War, then basing her fictional character, Warren Petticomb, on her Southern ancestor. Johnny Tom is based on another of Kiana’s ancestors, John Tommy Kam, who emigrated from Canton, China, to Hawaii and finally to the East coast of the U.S. While Kiana had access to tattered correspondences and documents from Warren Davenport, she had little but word-of-mouth stories from her Chinese uncle about his ancestor, John Tommy Kam. Eventually, she uncovered articles about Chinese soldiers who had fought valiantly in the Civil War, including two articles about John Tommy Kam. Finally, she discovered his war records, and the grounds at Gettysburg where he is buried with his comrades, the Excelsior Brigade of New York State.<br />
<br />
•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Multicultural Themes - THE SPY LOVER is the story of Chinese soldiers who fought valiantly for a country that, afterwards, refused them American citizenship. It also unveils the gross mistreatment of Native Americans, African Americans, “mix-bloods” and other minorities who served honorably in the American Civil War. Importantly, it is also the tragic story of Native American women - mothers and daughters - kidnapped and raped by slave-owners who used them as breeders of a more “superior” kind of slave.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">MORE PRAISE FOR KIANA DAVENPORT</span></b><br />
<br />
“Torrid, yet intelligent…her writing compares with Toni Morrison.”<br />
—Glamour on Shark Dialogues<br />
<br />
"The strengths of this novel are many. Davenport is a superb storyteller!”<br />
—The Seattle Times on Song of the Exile<br />
<br />
“Davenport mines the depths of emotion…Readers who enjoy a Doctor Shivago-like saga will appreciate the broad scope of this novel”<br />
-Library Journal on House of Many Gods<br />
<br />
“Complex, resonant … handles the sweep of history and the nuance of the personal equally well.”<br />
— San Francisco Chronicle on Shark Dialogues<br />
<br />
<div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">BookBlast $50 Giveaway</span></b><br />
Ends 3/14/13<br />
<br />
Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader, Not A Writer http://iamareader.com and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script>
</div>
<a id="rc-0a0096733" class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/0a0096733/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script>Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-30620457633878762022013-01-14T13:59:00.001-08:002013-01-14T13:59:17.331-08:00Prize-Winning Pacific Stories: Boxed Set Available Now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8azgB_fivqUJTmncJLND4qzqrCLeo9wQ__N1qsGVJtGJt1sYOsSp4rQ_3NbXaCy7Ilsk2JUyi_elvFhQzTWuL5s3jqD_m8S4wwkapejvZU9YU8j4sTjCmv1P97JwyDWDxMZUDlgxd1bgM/s1600/KianaBoxedSet-1-Prize+Winning+Stories.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8azgB_fivqUJTmncJLND4qzqrCLeo9wQ__N1qsGVJtGJt1sYOsSp4rQ_3NbXaCy7Ilsk2JUyi_elvFhQzTWuL5s3jqD_m8S4wwkapejvZU9YU8j4sTjCmv1P97JwyDWDxMZUDlgxd1bgM/s320/KianaBoxedSet-1-Prize+Winning+Stories.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
A boxed set for all my prize-winning short stories is now available on Amazon. The download <a href="http://www.amazon.com/PRIZE-WINNING-PACIFIC-STORIES-CANNIBAL-ebook/dp/B00ATQVTGO">is free for Amazon Prime Members</a> for a limited time.<br />
<br />
These volumes were featured on <a href="http://www.theindiespotlight.com/?tag=house-of-skin-prize-winning-stories">The Indie Spotlight</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-9638620665566141922012-12-16T12:50:00.000-08:002012-12-16T12:50:09.864-08:00THE SHOOTER'S BIBLE: A KILLER'S GUN GUIDE Hello World.<br />
<br />
I confess that my father was a hunter. He collected guns. He once joked that the only Bible in his house was "The Shooter's Bible: The World's Bestselling Firearms." It was his favorite book. It's still a bestseller across America. When my father passed away, we sold his rifles and handguns, and I burned the book. <br />
<br />
For the past few days, I've thought of "The Shooter's Bible" while I watched the news. Twenty-eight people shot dead in Newtown, Connecticut. Twenty of them innocent little children. The eighteenth mass murder event of 2012 across America, all of them involving guns. <br />
<br />
Here in Hawaii, one often sees bumper stickers on cars. "GUN CONTROL: REMEMBER XEROX"<br />
<br />
On November 2, 1999, Byran Uyesugi, a 40 year-old copy-machine repairman at Xerox Hawaii, walked into the Xerox Corp. Building in Honolulu, and killed seven co-workers - husbands, fathers, brothers - innocent men who spent their days repairing photocopying machines. It was, and still remains, the worst mass murder in Hawaii's history.<br />
<br />
At Uyesugi's trial, a forensic psychiatrist for the defense testified that he was a schizophrenic, a man suffering from delusional disorders, desperately in need of hospitalization and supervision. Yet he had been at large in the community, he was employed by a major corporation. Though he pled 'not guilty on grounds of insanity,' after ninety minutes deliberation, the jury found Uyesugi sane, and guilty on seven counts of murder. Because Hawaii has no death penalty, he was sentenced to life imprisonment, with no possibility of parole. (He is believed incarcerated in Louisiana. Hawaii is not safe for him.)<br />
<br />
When asked why he gunned down seven co-workers, Uyesugi's answer befitted his troubled mind. Copy machines were becoming more sophisticated; he feared he would fail the new training and lose his job. His co-workers constantly belittled him and laughed at him. If he killed them, they would not witness his forced departure. <br />
<br />
But put more simplistically, Uyesugi murdered his co-workers because he could. He possessed the gun-power.<br />
<br />
On that morning of November 2, he drove to the Xerox Building in a van, chose a 9-millimeter Glock semiautomatic handgun from his arsenal of NINETEEN WEAPONS in the van, entered the building and gunned down his co-workers. (All of the nineteen firearms in Uyesugi's possession were found to be legally registered.)<br />
<br />
After killing his co-workers, Uyesugi casually waved goodbye to other workers crouched in the corridors, then fled in the van. He drove up Tantalus Drive, a picturesque drive through a rainforest to the top of Mt. Tantalus, overlooking the city of Honolulu. Pursued by squad units of police, he held them at a standoff for five hours while he shouted, toyed with his weapons, and smoked cigarettes.<br />
<br />
Uyesugi had parked near the Hawaii Nature Center, where thirty-five children were gathered that day to study various ecosystems of Hawaii's rainforests. Alerted by police and the FBI, the Nature Center immediately went into lockdown. For the next five hours, thirty-five little children were forced to lie flat on a wooden floor, and to be silent. For five hours their parents wept and prayed. Mercifully, Uyesugi finally grew bored, and surrendered.<br />
<br />
Our children of Honolulu survived. The children of Newtown, Connecticut did not. <br />
<br />
What will it take, I wonder, for the pro-gun politicians in Congress, and the National Rifle Association, to wake up? When will they stop equating new gun-reforms with the 'loss of American Freedom?' What does that 'freedom' mean in a country where schools are forced to become armed fortresses? Where children - our future - are afraid to go to church, to the movies, to the mall. They are afraid to fall asleep at night.<br />
<br />
It is said that our hearts are tough muscles, that hearts mend. I do not believe the hearts of the parents in Newtown will mend. What I would hope for them is that they rise up and, in the name of their slain children, demand of our federal government radical new gun-reforms. Demand that no one but a law enforcement officer be allowed to own a firearm. <br />
<br />
If that is construed as a curtailment of our Constitutional rights 'to bear arms,' then maybe its time for extreme Constitutional updating. <br />
<br />
Because, what good is American Freedom when your child lies dead? <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-38163362524866225522012-11-16T13:08:00.000-08:002012-11-16T13:08:05.521-08:00THE WHISKEY BOTTLE IN THE WALLHello, World.<br />
<br />
I've been thinking how, in this age of quick-read novels with thin plots, we yearn
for bigger, deeper novels we can sink into, a universe we can enter and be part
of. Kathleen Valentine has created such a novel in THE WHISKEY BOTTLE IN THE
WALL: VOLUME 1 - 3, SECRETS OF MARIENSTADT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The town of Marienstadt is fictional, but is based on the
Pennsylvania Dutch town she grew up in, populated with fascinating descendants
of German immigrants.<br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:DocumentProperties>
<o:Template>Normal.dotm</o:Template>
<o:Revision>0</o:Revision>
<o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime>
<o:Pages>1</o:Pages>
<o:Words>1199</o:Words>
<o:Characters>6839</o:Characters>
<o:Company>same</o:Company>
<o:Lines>56</o:Lines>
<o:Paragraphs>13</o:Paragraphs>
<o:CharactersWithSpaces>8398</o:CharactersWithSpaces>
<o:Version>12.0</o:Version>
</o:DocumentProperties>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>
<w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>
<w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
</w:Compatibility>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276">
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Valentine is the author of fabulous short stories and such
novels as THE OLD MERMAID'S TALE, EACH ANGEL BURNS, DEPRAVED HEART,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and her many fans will be thrilled with
THE WHISKEY BOTTLE IN THE WALL, now available as an ebook boxed-set and in
paperback through <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Whiskey-Bottle-Wall-Marienstadt/dp/0978594088"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Amazon</span></a>
and <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-whiskey-bottle-in-the-wall-kathleen-valentine/1113803561"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Barnes &
Noble</span></a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Volume I, we
are introduced to characters named Mulligan Wolfe, Peeper Baumgratz, Wenzeslaus
Opelt, and beautiful, lonely ladies who run strudel shops, and fabric shops,
shops for homemade breads, sausages and sauerkraut. One shop has the mysterious
name, "The Bearded Lady Hometown Treats." </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And there are a host of fascinating characters based on the
author's memories of her hometown: Nuns who run a snowplow business. A
handsome, virile chief-of-police, whom married women fantasize being handcuffed
to. A three hundred-pound giant who loves to waltz and polka, a veritable
legend on the dance-floor. How can you not be drawn to such fabulous
characters? And best of all, the three volumes comprising WHISKEY BOTTLE
contain a rotating cast of characters, people we grow to love. So it is not
just random, unconnected vignettes that made LAKE WOBEGON DAYS, although a
bestseller, a somewhat disjointed and disappointing book.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first story in Vol. 1, "Peeper Baumgratz and the
Sisters' Snowplow,"seems a light-hearted, hilarious, home-spun tale. But
each tale in the collection takes the reader to darker, deeper depths, such as
the journal found in the second story, "The Whiskey Bottle in the
Wall," wherein a character learns the tragic truth of who his grandfather
really was. In the third story,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"The Great Dumpling War and Dance Competition," there is a
hilarious scene where two women argue with righteous indignation over the
proper ingredients for a variety of dumplings - <i>knadles, niflies, spaetzles,
semmelknodels, kartoffelkloses</i>. Here the author is brilliantly eulogizing
the dumpling! The most representative food of Pennsylvania Dutch heritage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From her earlier novels Valentine has proven she understands
the darkest aspects of human nature, as well as the abiding goodness in each of
us. As the stories progress in Vol. 2, she once again<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>transports us to the highs and lows,
the hilarious and tragic, aspects of humans, from unwanted pregnancies,
and drug-dealing, to bear-hunting, same-sex love, even cross-dressing. Along
the way, she gifts her readers with fascinating bits of local history, old
Seneca Indian legends, the documented story of the highest viaduct in the
United States, and wild elk who protect children lost in blizzards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Vol. 3, "The Legend of Father Cuneo's Grave,"
we learn the tale of a priest wrongfully accused of seducing a young girl, and
the story behind his tragic death. "The Reluctant Belsnickel of Opelt's
Wood" starts off humorous, with a touch of the erotic (a woman pinning a
costume on a handsome, virile man),<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but then quiets down to a deeply sorrowful tale of Oliver, whose boys
were taken from him, and his years of loneliness and grief. The scene where he
is reunited with the boys as grown men left this reader in tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The last story in the collection,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> "</span>A Long Day's Journey into Light," fittingly sums
up the beauty and frustration of small-town life: people caring for and looking
out for each other, but also trying to keep their secrets from each other. In
the search for two elderly lost men, we learn the background of the handsome,
virile town sheriff, Henry Werner, and why he is driven to womanizing and
living his life alone. Its a humdinger of a story, involving a life-long desire and a murder long-overdue!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reading Valentine's stories, I realize that this is not
just an entertaining collection about a fabulously rich culture. She is
memorializng her people, and her town. Thus, this becomes a fascinating and
educational look at a region and culture relatively unsung in American
literature. THE WHISKEY BOTTLE IN THE WALL, VOL. 1-3, SECRETS OF MARIENSTADT,
is a tribute to a people and a place, the Pennsylvania Dutch, and their
contributions to American history.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With compassion and satire, and beautifully detailed
writing, Valentine has delicately chiseled out of these seemingly ordinary
lives, the unique, profound, and quixotic traits that make each character
memorable, even epic. Read these stories slowly, then read them again: while we are reading about life, love, birth and death, we are also
learning the culture and traditions of one of the most fascinating
communities in our United States.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I've asked Kathleen to chime in and tell us where
she grew up in Pennsylvania, and how the region influenced her, leading her to become the
well-loved author that she is today.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="color: black;">Thank you, Kiana. The town I
grew up in, St. Marys, Pennsylvania, in the Seneca Highlands, was founded by
Bavarian immigrants and is the home of the first Benedictine convent in the
United States and Straubs Brewery, the only pre-Prohibition micro-brewery still
in operation. Growing up in a mostly Pennsylvania Dutch family, I was
surrounded by story-tellers. Sharing stories was central to every gathering of
friends and relatives. Whether it was picnics, birthday parties, or just
sitting on the porch on a Sunday afternoon, everyone always told stories and,
as a kid, I loved them. My dad and uncles told hunting stories. My grandmother
told stories about her parents coming from the “Old Country.” My mother and her
friends told stories about their children. I loved those stories and kept a
mental collection of them. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="color: black;">There is a scene in my first
novel,<u> </u></span></i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Old-Mermaids-Tale-Kathleen-Valentine/dp/0978594061"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">The Old
Mermaid's Tale</span></a><i><span style="color: black;">, in which the heroine,
Clair, attends a harvest party where the old men sit around telling stories and
she realizes that those stories have formed her destiny. She goes on to study
folklore and oral tradition and eventually meets Baptiste, the musician who
writes songs based on the lives of the people he knew when he was a mariner. I
didn't realize it at the time but now I know that Clair's profession has also
become mine. </span></i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Whiskey-Bottle-Wall-Marienstadt/dp/0978594088"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">The Whiskey
Bottle in the Wall </span></a><i><span style="color: black;">is my contribution
to the folklore of my people.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="color: black;">Now that I think about it, my
second novel, </span></i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Each-Angel-Burns-Kathleen-Valentine/dp/0978594037"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Each Angel
Burns</span></a><i><span style="color: black;">, also grew out of a story my
mother told me about a man she knew when she was a girl who went on a mission
to find two missing statues of angels. If I hadn't listened to story-telling
all my life I wouldn't have had much to write about.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="color: black;">I have loved your Pacific
Island stories, which I suspect grew out of your people's story-telling
traditions so we got our starts as writers in similar ways. Thank you for that.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kathleen Valentine writes of her people with great PRIDE.
Her very heart is in her words. I predict the entire collection of THE WHISKEY
BOTTLE IN THE WALL will become a classic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What a wonderful Xmas offering to the German descendants of St.
Mary's.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you, Kathleen
Valentine!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Links:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The Whiskey Bottle in the Wall</b>-</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Paperback: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Whiskey-Bottle-Wall-Marienstadt/dp/0978594088"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">http://www.amazon.com/The-Whiskey-Bottle-Wall-Marienstadt/dp/0978594088</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kindle: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Whiskey-Bottle-Wall-ebook/dp/B00A6YESVM/"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">http://www.amazon.com/The-Whiskey-Bottle-Wall-ebook/dp/B00A6YESVM/</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Web Site: <a href="http://kathleenvalentine.com/"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">KathleenValentine.com</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Blog: <a href="http://ParlezMoiBlog.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">ParlezMoiBlog.blogspot.com</span></a></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-6486882664451394192012-10-17T15:44:00.002-07:002012-10-17T15:44:41.459-07:00PHILP ROTH: AN EMERGENCYHello World.<br />
<br />
Recently I've been chastised for calling Philip Roth a misogynist. Yet, I think most women agree with me. Show me a female character in one of Roth's novels who is not a misfit, a dropout, or someone to be stalked by his male characters with the forward-swimming determination and energy of sperm.<br />
<br />
Still, through the decades Roth has been brilliant, a dazzling wordsmith. Starting at university, I devoured each of his books through the 70's and 80's, and early 90's. But finally, a reader wants a female character with depth, someone teetering on the knife-edge of grit and hope. We want a woman who matches, even surpasses, the 'heroics' of the men.<br />
<br />
I recently brought up Roth's name because, once again, he was mentioned for this year's Nobel Prize. Then I discovered an interview with Roth that fills me with unleavened admiration...and a little fear. His work ethics, his daily discipline, though jaw-dropping, are an object lesson for all serious writers, and interesting insight for readers, too.<br />
<br />
First, the facts: all writers have a DIRTY SECRET. Added up, we waste YEARS of precious time. We tell audiences that most days we write from dawn to dusk. That we have no other life, no love, no money, no dreams. (This is partially true.) So readers tend to think of us as semi-saints, engulfed in the long swoon of inspiration, obsessively tapping out our stories day after day, year after year.<br />
<br />
In truth, most of us live in a state of near-paralysis, wondering if we have enough brain-cells left to write another book, if our house will be foreclosed, if the dog will die from starvation. We waste hours triaging the mail, sweet-talking creditors, staring at strewn carcasses of manuscripts we never finished. We tap our fingers, waiting for our Muse, that moody broad who shows up late, or not at all. Or, we dilly-dally over a single, mediocre paragraph then sit back, stretch, and call it a day.<br />
<br />
For serious writers, these are days of famine. We don't produce because we don't bear down, we've grown soft and distracted by what's outside our sphere of concentration: The Arab spring, the global climate, the Harvey Wallbanger of digital doodads. We've lost our hubris. Our Spartan animus. We've forgotten that barnacled, old word DISCIPLINE. <br />
<br />
So here is Philip Roth to remind us what Real Drive is, what unalloyed discipline is. His regimen may scare the hell out of you, but it may fire your pistons, and inspire you to knuckle down again with blind determination. (Credit to David Remnick from his book, REPORTING. Knopf, 2006.)<br />
<br />
From "Into The Clear: Philip Roth" <br />
"He wakes early and seven days a week walks fifty yards to a two room studio [beside his house.] There's a lectern where he writes standing up, the better to preserve a bad back. There are free weights, a lifting bench, an exercise mat. He had quintuple-bypass surgery eleven years ago and is determined to keep in shape. He stays out there [writing] all day and into the evening. No telephone. No Fax. Nothing gets in. In late afternoon, he takes long walks, trying to figure out connections and solve problems in the novel that's possessing him."<br />
<br />
"I live alone," Roth says, "There's no one else to be responsible for, or to. My schedule is absolutely my own. Usually I write all day. If I want to go back to the studio in the evening, I don't have to sit in the living room because someone else has been alone all day. I don't have to sit there and be amusing or entertaining. I go back out and work for two or three more hours.<br />
"If I wake up at two in the morning...and something has dawned on me, I turn the light on and I write in the bedroom. Then I read till all hours if I want to. If I get up at five and I can't sleep and I want to work, I go back out [to the studio] and I go to work. So I work. I'm on call.<br />
" I'm like a doctor and it's an emergency room. And I'm the emergency."<br />
<br />
<br />
A selfish life? Of course. Artists are, by nature, selfish. A solitary life? For serious writers, solitude is considered a sacrament. Roth is over eighty now. Rumor has it he still follows the same daily regimen. One can only sit in awe. Or, one can be inspired. <br />
<br />
Imua! Onward! And thank you!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-52734283580737452312012-10-13T22:07:00.001-07:002012-10-13T22:07:44.319-07:00FAULKNER'S NOBEL ACCEPTANCE SPEECHHello World.<br />
<br />
My prediction for the 2012 Nobel Prize Recipient in Literature was a resounding dud. Kalamai! Apologies! Mo Yan, the Nobel recipient, has written several brilliant novels, RED SORGHUM, and THE GARLIC BALLADS, about life in repressive China, which I highly recommend. But I still iterate with conviction that Haruki Murakami is the writer who is leading us with unabashed inventiveness into the 21st century. He should have won.<br />
<br />
Reading one of Murakami's novels (listed in previous blog) I am often apprehensive, not sure I will fully understand him. His words are booby-trapped. He abounds in non sequiturs and trilingual puns, and launches readers into science-fiction, futuristic theories, classical music, calculus and contemplation of modern man's abyssal void. His intelligence burns the fat off our brain and makes us really THINK. I am always exhilarated and inspired. Plus, his body of work is larger than Mo Yan's. <br />
<br />
Some writers are ahead of their time. Perhaps this is the case with Murakami. Maybe the Nobel Selection Committee Members found their aging body chemistry couldn't tolerate his stimulation. No worries, his time will come! Meanwhile, I am posting William Faulkner's Nobel Acceptance Speech from 1949. Sixty-three years ago! He was another visionary/renegade who stood literature as we knew it on its head. His speech, now compared in its eloquence to Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, is brilliant and prescient. A speech for us in 2012.<br />
<br />
"Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: When will I be blown up? Because of this the [writer] writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself, which alone can make good writing, because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat.<br />
<br />
"The writer must learn this again, leaving no room for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart, the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed - love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice. Until he relearns this he will write as though he stood among, and watched, the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny, inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this.<br />
<br />
"I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The writer's duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The writer's voice is not merely the record of man, it must also be the pillar to help him endure and, thus, prevail."<br />
<br />
<br />
Amen! And thank you, William Faulkner. May we all be inspired.<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-44752066329522068352012-10-08T20:47:00.000-07:002012-10-08T21:18:02.043-07:00HARUKI MURAKAMI... NOBEL SHOO-INHello World.<br />
<br />
Its that time of year again. For those of you who care - which should encompass everyone except those indentured to dragon-lore and vampires - the high-stakes boys are placing their bets on who will be Thursday's recipient of the NOBEL PRIZE in LITERATURE. I'm placing my bet on HARUKI MURAKAMI, the favored author, with odds 2 to 1. Here are the other odds for nominated authors.<br />
<br />
The Chinese author Mo Yan and Dutch writer, Cees Nooteboom are tied (12 to 1.) Britain's Ian McEwan (50 to 1.) Bob Dylan (33 to l.) Philip Roth (16 to 1.) Cormac McCarthy and Amos Oz are tied. <br />
<br />
I am not that familiar with Mo Yan, and have only read one book by Nooteboom Ian McEwan writes so seamlessly and effortlessly, he puts me to sleep. It's like hearing one of Chopin's more stately etudes played over and over. Bob Dylan is our aging premier troubadour of Hippiedom, Vietnam and joint rolling-paper. But, the Nobel???<br />
<br />
Philip Roth was brilliant in his day. But he never liked women, not on the page, and not in real life.You have to love humanity to be a great writer. His male characters have always regarded women as mere prey. Cormac McCarthy's 'Blood Meridian' was brilliant, but so utterly, unrelentingly violent, I felt eviscerated, sodomized and dismembered all on one page. Yes, he writes in the grand manner with Biblical sweep, but time and again I found myself physical backing away from the pages of his books.<br />
<br />
Amoz Oz is lovely. A brilliant and international writer. I marvel at the ingenuity of his thinking, and his prose. He would be my second choice. But MURAKAMI is my first choice because.... <br />
<br />
He has taken literature out of the doldrums, the worn-out end of the spectrum. Even back in the 1990's he was ushering literature into the 21st Century, pulling readers out of the strait-jacket of 20th century writing (which by now seemed left over from the 19th century.) Well, yes, we had innovative writers, think Faulkner, but by now even he seemed dated. Occasionally a renegade author surfaced, one of unabashed gristle and shocking concatenations. But where did they go? Where did their books go?<br />
<br />
I loved Kurt Vonnegut. He was one of those brilliant alchemical artists who gave us Art as Magic, rather than Art as War. I'd like to think he fathered Murakami, whose genius is that he keeps digging down and taking risks, re-inventing himself with each book. Whether its about war, mass gas attacks, our human sexuality, or hunting sheep, Murakami throws everything at us: music, fantasy, science-fiction, particle physics, futuristic fairy tales, and especially ethical inquiry. He constantly shocks, turning literature as we know (or knew ) it into an implicit rebuke of the complacency of the officially known and accepted. When I finish one of his novels, I feel smarter. <br />
<br />
Here are some of his best works. The Reader's Guide into the 21st century. (And I promise your thinking will be changed forever!)<br />
<br />
1) WILD SHEEP CHASE<br />
2) NORWEGIAN WOOD<br />
4) WIND-UP BIRD CHRONICLE<br />
5) KAFKA ON THE SHORE<br />
6) HARD-BOILED WONDERLAND & THE END OF THE WORLD.<br />
<br />
Thank you. And Happy Reading.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-10292322835184695582012-08-20T14:31:00.000-07:002012-08-20T14:31:31.289-07:00CHINESE SOLDIERS... CIVIL WAR HEROESHello, world.<br />
<br />
I have been thinking how, since the dawn of civilization, women have always been the throw-aways of war. Victims of rape, kidnap, murder. Ironically, as man became more 'civilized,' the throw-aways came to include anyone outside the tribe whose language, or skin-color, varied from the accepted norm. In my new novel, THE SPY LOVER, about the American Civil War, I address the issue of racism, especially toward Chinese soldiers, in both the Confederate and the Union Army.<br />
<br />
In that War, men and women 'of color,' nurses as well as soldiers, were always the last of the wounded to be carried from the battlefield. And they were the last, if ever, to be treated by medics. In my research for THE SPY LOVER, I discovered that white orderlies in field-hospitals (usually huge complexes of filthy tents) referred to soldiers of color as 'skins.' 'Redskins' (in those days referred to as Indians) 'Yellowskins' (Chinese) and 'Brownskins' (in those days referred to as Negroes.)<br />
<br />
Unless their wounds were superficial, these 'skins' were usually left to die unattended. My Chinese uncle, Ayau Kam, used to talk about his ancestor from China, who emigrated to Hawaii, then the U.S. mainland. When the War started, this ancestor, John Tommy Kam, had enlisted at Staten Island, New York, and fought valiantly for the Union Army, after being promised U.S. citizenship if the North won the War.<br />
<br />
One of the many little-known facts about the American Civil War is that fifty-two Chinese are documented as having served in that War, fighting for the Union side as well as the Confederacy. It is astonishing to me that, until now, no book has been written about these incredibly brave soldiers, fighting for a country that essentially scorned them. Many were immigrants who arrived in ports like Charleston and New Orleans, then gathered in small farm settlements up and down the Mississippi River. With no women of their own available, they intermarried with Creole women, Native Americans and African Americans, and produced broods of beautiful, mixed-blood children.<br />
<br />
When the War began, some of them were kidnapped by the Confederate Army and forced to fight for the South. Many defected to the Union Army, rather than fight for slavery. In real life, John Tommy Kam was believed to have perished at the Battle of Gettysburg. But other Chinese soldiers survived the War. And when it was over, the U.S. government broke its promise, refusing these brave soldiers U.S. citizenship and the pensions they were due. They were unilaterally cast off. Forgotten. <br />
<br />
The hope was that they would go back to China, and leave America 'pure.' Instead, the following decades saw a great influx of Chinese immigrants into America, fleeing their own country which for thirty years had been engaged in its own civil war (that reportedly cost 30,000,000 lives.)<br />
<br />
Chinese laborers helped build America, they laid most of the tracks for the first railroads going east to west and west to east. During that time they died in the thousands of fever, starvation, outright murder. Their bones are buried beneath those tracks. Still, more Chinese immigrants arrived. They proved to be hard-working, honest, and - with a shortage of their own women - continued intermarrying with white women and every other available race, and proved to be excellent husbands and fathers. <br />
<br />
Their growing numbers, hard work and perseverance threatened white America. Just as they had been denied citizenship after the Civil War, anti-Asian sentiment grew, culminating in the Naturalization Act of 1870, and the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 (both enforced by the U.S. government until 1943!) And worse, Americans reacted to their growing numbers with the heinous Chinese Massacres that spread across America in the 1870's, 80's, and 90's. <br />
<br />
Even after the slaughter of Chinese was made illegal, punishable by imprisonment, it continued in the back alleys of cities where they were creating their own small Chinatowns. Astonishingly, it continued until 1965 when all restrictions on national origin and race were abolished. ( Still it continues in these United States: the demonizing and victimizing of each new immigrant group.)<br />
<br />
But, what of the brave Chinese heroes of the American Civil War? Those who perished, and those who survived? Were they ever to be officially acknowledged? Only in April, 2003, was the House Joint Resolution #45 introduced to Congress, to posthumously proclaim all U.S. Civil War soldiers of Chinese descent to be honorary citizens of the United States, in recognition of their honorable services. But, their pensions were denied to their descendants. 2003. One hundred and thirty-eight years later.<br />
<br />
In the course of five long years of research and the writing of THE SPY LOVER, I discovered the war records of John Tommy from Canton China, and Hawaii. (Along the way he had dropped the name 'Kam,' perhaps to sound more American. In the novel I renamed him Johnny Tom.) His records show he had fought in six different battles with the famed New York Excelsior Brigade. He had also suffered long, debilitating months in two different prisoner-of-war camps. He had saved lives, and was promoted to corporal. He fought valiantly, and perished at the Battle of Gettysburg. <br />
<br />
In time, I found John Tommy's place of burial in the Soldiers' National Cemetery at Gettysburg National Military Park, amongst the 'unidentifiable' soldiers of the New York Excelsior Brigade who died at the Battle of Gettysburg. This man who had no country, no family to mourn him, and who died 'unidentifiable' is at peace with his comrades.<br />
<br />
I have laid flowers there for John Tommy. For all of them. And I have written this novel, THE SPY LOVER, to memorialize him, and to memorialize another ancestor, Warren Rowan Davenport, who fought for the Confederacy. In the end, I believe I wrote this book to memorialize all the valiant boys of the North and South who perished, many who were too young to shave.<br />
<br />
I hold the novel in my hand, and think of an old Chinese proverb:<br />
"War has always been the same. Old men talking, young men dying."<br />
<br />
I hope you are moved by THE SPY LOVER. Thank you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948068900879355793.post-47267446288163010762012-08-03T21:05:00.001-07:002012-08-03T21:05:22.037-07:00THE SPY LOVER...AT LAST.Hello, world.<br />
<br />
At last. THE SPY LOVER, my long-awaited U.S. Civil War novel will finally be published! I am happy to announce that it will be available on August 28, on Amazon. Being half Native-Hawaiian and living mostly in the islands, my novels and story collections have always been set in the Pacific, so a novel about the U.S Civil War is a brand new departure for me. Why such a radical change? Because THE SPY LOVER is based on my family history. A story waiting to be told.<br />
<br />
My mother, Emma Kealoha Awa'awa Kanoho Houghtailing was a full-blooded Native Hawaiian, while my father, Braxton Bragg Davenport, was a blue-eyed, blonde-haired Anglo-American from Talladega, Alabama. (So I am part-native, part-Southern redneck.) For years my Alabama cousins have urged me to write about our ancestor, Warren Rowan Davenport, a cavalryman who rode for the Confederacy in the Civil War with a famous unit known as the Prattville Dragoons, out of Prattville, Alabama.<br />
<br />
They fought and died valiantly in the bloody battles of Shiloh, Chickamauga, Vicksburg and many other battles. Those who survived, including Warren, eventually served under General "Fightin' Joe" Wheeler, the indomitable Confederate cavalry leader who drove his men to many victories, in spite of being wounded repeatedly and having seventeen horses shot out from under him. ( Wheeler was only 5'4" tall, but he was called a giant in the saddle.)<br />
<br />
Thus, I began my research on Warren Davenport, which would eventually entail reading over forty books on the Civil War. During this time, my Hawaiian cousins reminded me of our late Chinese uncle, Ayau Kam, Sr., who had often talked about HIS ancestor, John Tommy Kam, who had emigrated from Canton, China, to Hawaii, and finally to the East coast of the United States. In 1861, at the start of the Civil War, he had enlisted at Staten Island, New York, as a fighting soldier with the Union Army, after being promised U.S. citizenship if the North won the War.<br />
<br />
I had at my disposal old tattered correspondences and documents from Warren Davenport, but there was nothing in writing from John Tommy (who had dropped "Kam," perhaps to sound more American), only Uncle Ayau's vague stories of his ancestor, handed down through the generations, who had fought with the Union Army. But in the course of researching and writing THE SPY LOVER, I uncovered articles about Chinese soldiers who had fought in our Civil War.<br />
<br />
Two of the articles were about John Tommy, from Canton, China, and Hawaii, a brave soldier who hardly spoke English, yet fought valiantly in many battles, including Gettysburg, saved comrades lives, was promoted to corporal, and imprisoned twice by the Confederates. Eventually I uncovered his war records, and the grounds at Gettysburg where he is buried among the 'unknowns' with his comrades of the famous New York Excelsior Brigade. I have even laid flowers there for him.<br />
<br />
And so in my novel, his character was resurrected as Johnny Tom, who serves with the Union Army. And my ancestor, Warren Davenport, was resurrected as the Confederate cavalryman, Warren Rowan Petticomb. There is a third and pivotal character in the novel, a woman named Era, born out of my imagination. A beautiful part-Cherokee, part-Chinese woman who searches for her father, Johnny, in the carnage of war. Era is patterned on a nurse who tended Warren Davenport, after he was wounded at the Battle of Shiloh.<br />
<br />
In his correspondence,s there were hints that the nurse, whom he fell in love with, had suddenly disappeared from the hospital where she was tending Confederate wounded. It had been rumored that she was a Union spy, and fled for fear of being detected. In the novel the character, Era, lured into spying for the North while searching for her father, becomes torn by her love for Warren Petticomb. Still, she is forced to flee.<br />
<br />
Warren Davenport wrote of spending the post-War years searching for this nurse he loved, eventually following her trail across America and up into in the Pacific Northwest Territories where so many Chinese men and women fled to, during the Chinese Massacres of the 1870's and 80's. I do not know the ending of their story. So here, I took authorial license with the novel. I will not spoil it for readers. <br />
<br />
Sometimes writers gets so entrenched in a book, so buried in great themes of war and love and loyalties, we lose our way. I did. So I fell back on research, digging and delving, looking for clues and answers. Research is seductive. You read and while away the days, the months, and ignore the half-finished novel palpitating in the dark. Years passed as I delved deeper, discovering aspects of the War that I hoped would fascinate readers. I read about Southern women collecting urine from which to distill niter for making gunpowder. And I read of the planting and harvesting of poppies, the scoring and gathering from poppy pods the sap known as opium. I researched how opium was dried and mixed with chemicals and pressed into powdered tablets for the Confederate wounded when the South ran out of medicine.<br />
<br />
Next, I researched books on spy-codes used in the War, what spies were paid, and how they were executed when caught by the enemy. I researched the colloquialisms of the South, the vernacular of the mid-1800s, the language of prostitutes, and fighting men, and dying men. And on, and on. Now you know why THE SPY LOVER took five years to complete. In the end I forgot how to hold conversations, unless they were about the Civil War. I lived and breathed the War, it engulfed my life. <br />
<br />
Eventually, I slogged my way back into the actual writing of the book, and scenes and characters became real, thanks to the research I had done. When I finally reached the end, I was then shackled through twenty-four mind-numbing rewrites of the novel. Every page. Every word. I worked and slept in a metaphorical sweatsuit. I dreamed of Shiloh and Chickamauga and woke in the dark, hearing wounded soldiers crying out. I wept for the women who were raped and slaughtered in that War, and for the brave nurses who perished from soldiers' diseases. And I wept for the wounded soldiers known as 'skins' - redskins, yellowskins, brownskins - who were carried last from the battlefields, then ignored and left to die unattended. <br />
<br />
I never planned to write an historical novel, or a love story, or a spy thriller, or a story about how brave Chinese soldiers were used as throw-aways in the Civil War. I simply set out to tell the story of my ancestors, who fought on opposing sides of that War. But as the book grew bigger and deeper (at one point, 1200 pages) I felt less and less confident. I wasn't sure who I was writing for. There were days when I wondered if there would be ANY readers for the book. But there were better days, when I felt that the book would cause the RIGHT readers to materialize. Readers who cared about loyalty and love, moral choices, and redemption.<br />
<br />
I even began to believe that THE SPY LOVER might alter the nerves and marrow of readers because of the naked horror of the War, the unfathomable sacrifices, brother slaughtering brother, the rampant racism, and inconceivable grief of women who were left to bury their dead. But mostly I wanted to believe that readers would hold the book to their hearts because the quality of the writing astonished them. Thus do authors live on illusions, believing that the book we are working on is the best thing we have ever written, and that possibly it will change people's lives. Writers are children, eternal dreamers. Dreams are our redemption.<br />
<br />
I sincerely hope you enjoy THE SPY LOVER!<br />
<br />
Thank you! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kiana Davenporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18006822100662057905noreply@blogger.com1