Kirkus Reveiw of Time Flash: Another Me

Well, not all good, but not so bad either. 

Would you read my book based on this review?

FrontCover159BoxFlat

“In this sci-fi novel, an accountant aims to balance the books when a nefarious corporation’s secret experiments leave her with an unusual side effect: time travel.

 

Reaching for her breakfast cereal, Sara García, 37, finds herself transported back to 1975 and age 12. Before long, she returns to the year 2000, wondering whether she’s going crazy. Things are strained at her Long Island home; she and her husband, Jon, both accountants, haven’t been close since her late-term miscarriage. Another time flash proves that her past can be changed, frightening Sara into seeing her doctor, who explains that she’s been injected with an illegal serum as part of a mind-control experiment.

The opening pages suggest that Sara’s a standard chick-lit heroine obsessed with dieting, but Ayers (The Dead Boy Sings in Heaven, 2018, etc.) is up to something much more original and engaging. Besides the intertwined thriller and sci-fi elements (fairly plausible), Sara learns a great deal about herself and her relationships in trying to change reality, revelations she couldn’t have had without time travel. Her love of books and music adds to her character’s complexity, and unexpected depths are revealed in several well-drawn side characters, even Sara’s cold, critical mother. The pace could be tighter, bogging down about two-thirds through, but does pick up toward the end, with a satisfaction-filled conclusion. And there’s a touch of magic in Gallo, Sara’s marvelous cat.

 

An entertaining, well-written tale offering intriguing speculations and a heroine of courage and determination.”

 

 —Kirkus Reviews

Read More

Why I Love Time Travel

Growing up, we were a one TV household.

And believe it or not, until 1980 or so, that TV only had a black & white picture.

tv

When my parents weren’t home or weren’t watching, my older brother was in charge of the TV.

He loved science fiction. So I learned to love it too.

 

Saturday mornings meant 

Godzilla movies

godzilla

and space adventures like

Forbidden Planet

forbidden-planet

But of all the movies my brother and I watched,

this one fully captivated my imagination–

time machine movie

The 1960 film version of H. G. Wells’ The Time Machine.

 

From that moment on, I was hooked on Time Travel.

I borrowed the book from the library and devoured it.

time mach

And of course, my brother and I watched science fiction TV shows too!

Like 

time tunnel

&

baker

&

star trek orig

And you can probably guess my favorite episode–

city on edge

City on the Edge of Forever —

a time travel episode where Kirk must chose between love and saving history.

 

So why do I love time travel so much?

love tt

Because time travel is an opportunity to

learn from the past

and 

maybe even to right wrongs, 

as in my favorite time travel movie so far

back 2 future

Back to the Future!

Marty makes life better for his entire family–

after almost screwing it up that is.

future

Time Travel lets you see possible futures

and 

visit history. 

Colliers Illustrated Weekly 28/06/1952, pp. 20-21

And time travel can help a person learn to become his or her best self,

as in my new favorite time travel book,

11/22/63 by Stephen King

11 22 63

(and the book is way, way better than the show–give it a read!)

 

Time travel, for me though, is mostly about regret. 

rewind

The choices we regret making

and the chances we didn’t take.

regret

That’s why in my time travel novel, Time Flash: Another Me

FrontCover159BoxFlat

Sara Rodríguez Bloom García gets lots more chances to make things right. 

Second Chance Just Ahead Green Road Sign Over Dramatic Clouds and Sky.

But like most heroines, she’ll make things lots worse before they get better.

worse

Hopefully readers will enjoy the adventure of it all.

enjoy reading

And feel happy when they read how the story ends.

Concept of choice directions. Made in 3D.

Read More

Poem

We Are the Germans     (part II)

America 2018

 

The SS man.

The ICE man and Border guard.

 

What is ordered,

however immoral, is performed.

 

The German people,

with proper blood keep quiet.

 

The American people,

the privileged ones stay quiet.

 

Not one uniformed person says,

No, I will not do this. This is wrong.

 

Orders are carried out.

Leaders are pleased.

 

Jews die.

Children cry.

 

Injustice is a disgrace

with distinctly human face.

 

A distinctly American face.

Look in the mirror.

 

shelter

 

Read More

Family Poems Are Hard–part 3–final part

I left off part 2 of Family Poems Are Hard saying I thought I was done writing family poems after my first full-length collection, Dance Inside My Bones.

DanceBonesFrontCover

In the book, I have lots of poems about growing up in a difficult family situation.

Like most of us, I suspect.

There is no such thing as a perfect family.

And maybe, not even a normal one. What’s normal, anyway?

normal

There are poems about my mother, my father, my brother, grandparents, uncle, friends, and boyfriends in Dance From Inside My Bones.

There are poems about the state of my heart and mind, from childhood to young adulthood.

So what else was there to say?

no words

Mostly, all my relatives were alive when I wrote and published the collection. They didn’t read it.

Then, over the years, loved ones started dying off.

Some, of awful lingering illnesses.

LONDON, ENGLAND - MARCH 02: The shadow of a cemetery worker is cast on reclaimed gravestones in London City Cemetery on March 2, 2009 in London, EnglandThe cemetery is piloting a scheme whereby graves over 75 years old become eligible for reclamation. New bodies will be placed into the existing graves, the headstones turned around re used carving the names of the newly deceased. Once a grave has been earmarked by English heritage the cemetery must wait one year to see if family members claim the existing grave. By conserving as many memorials as possible the City of London hopes to maintain the historic cemetery landscape and sustain buriel provisions for the future. (Photo by Dan Kitwood/Getty Images)

Grief  is always hard. Grief over difficult relationships ending, is especially complicated.

Complex & powerful.

My brother, who had helped with rescue endeavors on 9/11, was diagnosed with a rare, likely incurable leukemia.

 

00585_p_s9acrwl7fs0424_z

My brother and I had never been able to be close growing up because my mother pitted us against one another. She was a master of hateful mind-games. And she forced my brother to to inflict physical punishments on me, as well.

This did not inspire a deep, loving relationship between us, as you can well imagine.

But with my brother’s fatal diagnosis, I realized time was short. If I was ever going to have any meaningful dialogue with my brother, it had to happen soon.

time out

In what turned out to be the last eighteen months of my brother’s life, we talked–

really talked–a few times.

We said things, I never knew were possible.

That brief time was such a gift. A tremendous gift for which I will always be grateful.

heart gift

And then, my brother died, after living his last days with a grace I never imagined possible.

A hero in life, and in death.

There was so much I never got to ask him. Or to say.

So much about our relationship I still needed to process.

So I took up my pen.

write left

I took up my pen because writing is how I process my emotions.

Writing is how I sort what I am feeling and thinking.

I wrote “dead boy” poems because my brother died too young.

Because all my memories became entangled with his too-early death.

headstone

I never intended to publish these poems.

But I did share a few at readings.

Listeners asked me about where they could find these poems in print.

(nowhere)

Still, I didn’t really plan on a book.

And then, a year later, my mother died.

dead mother

My mother died in her sleep. Peacefully.

Unlike my dear father who suffered a horrible lung cancer death.

Unlike my aunt who suffered a terrible, ongoing battle with cancer.

Unlike my dearest friend who died too young–bled to death on the operating table during a procedure meant to extend his life.

Unlike my best friend, who had a bad headache that turned out to be an inoperable brain tumor.

Unlike my brother, who fought the illness as hard as he could, for as long as he could.

death unfair

I was relieved my mother hadn’t suffered.

But angry all over again that other people I loved had.

To be honest, I was glad to be free of my mother. At least this side of the earth.

But her hurtful words live on inside me–make me doubt myself and my self-worth.

So why the bejeezus was I crying so much?

cry

Because fresh grief re-opens old wounds.

Shreds them, actually.

I kept going over family and over family stuff in my head, like a dog scratching at fleas.

scratch

And more poems came.

Because there was more to say about family.

And I was willing to speak my truth because it was mine.

truth

If people would judge me harshly over that truth, it no longer mattered.

Because deep inside, I knew from reading my first book of family poems in public, that sharing my family situation could make another person feel less alone. Feel they could get through the worst of it.

less alone

And so, I went ahead and published the new family poems in journals.

I read the poems at readings.

And eventually, I let the book enter the world.

dead boy

I have no regrets.

The Dead Boy Sings In Heaven is for my brother.

And for anyone else who comes from a difficult family.

I believe if my brother could see the book, he’d give me a hug.

And he’d tell me that the Godzilla poems were his favorite.

(Mine too.)

godzilla and friends

Though family poems are hard…

family poems are healing.

healing

Thank you for reading this far, and listening to my heart.

May you always find healing whenever your heart hurts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Read More