What is paradise for a fourteen-year-old boy?

For Conrad it’s definitely not dusty Los Angeles, where he’s stuck living with his mother and his cheeky little sisters.

Paradise is the forest where his dad still lives,
by the water where everything is beautiful,
where he belongs.

Next Generation Indie Book Awards 2019:
- Finalist, General Fiction / Novel (over 80,000 words)
- Finalist, First Novel (over 90,000 words)

Eric Hoffer Awards 2019: Finalist, Fiction
"Elegantly written, with vivid, nuanced characters and a strong sense of place." - IndieReader
Get the paperback or eBook:
Follow This Book:

~ Journal 17 ~

On Saturday night I saw Boris, a Japanese metal band that has been around for 25 years or so, at Neumos in Seattle. Two bands played first: Endon (also from Japan) and Sumac. As always I tended to focus on the drummers. I hadn't really listened to any of these bands' albums prior to this, but a go...

Continue reading

Tonight I had a 3rd-tier box seat right over the Seattle Symphony. The program:

  1. Brahms - Tragic Overture
    I've never been into this piece, but in person it's super-rich and interesting, especially close up.
  2. Bartok - Piano Concerto #1 (Jean-Efflam Bavouzet, piano)
    This was a blast. I've seen...

Continue reading

On this night I watched 20th Century Women on bluray. I liked this movie and it stayed in my thoughts afterward. It's rare that a movie observes people's mixed-up feelings about each other in the way this one does. Any other movie like this might have veered into sentimentality or 1970's nostalgia...

Continue reading

Last night I watched A Quiet Passion. The things that were good about this movie tended to mask those that were terrible, but in the light of day the negative is winning. The considerable attention to detail to the house and environs was let down by too much unrealistic polish, and by many scenes...

Continue reading

Tonight I saw Marc-André Hamelin play live at Benaroya Hall — in the big hall, not in the recital hall. Good as it is, the accoustic was too large. Quieter music was magical, but whenever it got louder the resonance of the hall blurred the sound. Not that Hamelin was ever crashy — not at all. He did...

Continue reading