The hidden horrors of Star Trek

I've never been a rabid Star Trek fan.

Sure, as a kid I begged my parents to let me watch the original series. It's what we talked about on the playground. A rite of passage in the '60's. Camping out on the floor in front of the TV, watching Shatner put the moves on a multitude of mini-skirted alien babes. I'd snarf down a "3 Musketeers" candy bar while breathing in the exotic worlds and aliens. Space helmets were pointless while Shatner chewed up the scenery, sucking up the oxygen around him. My hero. For a kid? Heaven. Naturally my brothers made fun of me for it, little realizing one day the "geeks" would inherit the entertainment industry. I mean, one of my brothers still belittles people for reading books. I know, right?

Back on track...recently my wife and I had a chat about Star Trek. I told her I wished I could teleport (because I hate traveling, love the destination, despise the journey..."are we there yet?"). She said, "No, you don't want to teleport." Curious, I asked her why. My mistake.

The answer horrified me. As it will you, too.

Apparently the teleporter doesn't just "transport" molecules, DNA, flesh, bones, the gnarly works. No, nothing that nice and tidy and comforting. My wife explained, "The Enterprise crew dies every time they teleport. Basically, they're clones."

WHA? "Live long and prosper," my ass!

An absolutely horrifying concept. I had no idea, not a clue.  

Childhood dreams shattered ("Shatnered?"). Nightmares ensued. Never again would I look at the silly voyages of the Enterprise in the same light again. I mean, we all know about the "Red Shirts," right? (For the uninitiated, any time a red-shirted crew member beams down to a planet, they basically have "Dead Man Walking" emblazoned on the back of their red shirts). But the entire crew? Dead? Again and again? I spent my childhood years watching stunt doubles. Clones, for God's sake! How many Shatners can the universe handle?

No wonder "Bones" was always kinda' pissy about the teleporter. "I'm a doctor, Jim, not a reconstituted corpse!" Now I'm severely locked into "Team Bones," forget about the Shat.

Look, I'm by no means a "Trekkie." I've never watched the series where the Reading Rainbow guy wears an air filter around his head. Or the series where some dude has a back-bone running down his forehead and says things, in a very deep and serious voice, like, "Captain, there are strange, sticky substances enveloping the nucleon TV dinners." Didn't watch any of those. I always thought a "Klingon" was a sock stuck to a sweater in the dryer.

But part of my childhood died the day my wife clued me in to the ugliness of the televised future.

"Beam me up, Scottie?" Um, no thanks, Scottie. How about, "Scottie, book me on the next interstellar Greyhound bus to Hemrrhoidon 12?"

Hangin' with interstellar travel agent (actually writer) Rosalie Skinner

I'm stoked to host writer Rosalie Skinner today. She's Australian. Yeah, yeah, yeah, she's a terrific author, but did I mention she's Australian? Mega bonus points. Let's get started...
 
*Rosalie, I really enjoy your prose. It’s evocative, descriptive, sometimes old-fashioned and at times quite lyrical. Did you adopt this style to fit fantasy writing in general? Is it your usual style? Would you change it if you wrote a contemporary thriller or other genre?

Stuart, first off, thanks for having me as a guest. You were correct when you said your questions would take some answering. I will endeavor to answer truthfully and where I can’t I hope my attempts at least sound believable.

My voice I guess is fairly old fashioned when I write fantasy. The location of the chronicles is on a planet where modern language would seem out of place. If, or should I say, when, I write in another genre, I am pretty sure my ‘voice’ and the language used would reflect the change. Or, perhaps I am just old fashioned and love to use archaic words. 

*I believe you said that Adrift: In Search of Memory is a stand-alone book in your Chronicles of Caleath series. To be honest, I was just as confused as the protagonist during some of the information drop scenes. But I’m dumb. That’s the bad news. The good news is it’s intrigued me to read from the beginning. I’m curious if the other books would enhance the enjoyment of Adrift.

I hoped ADRIFT: In Search of Memory would stand alone. Caleath/Tag spends much of the time confused, so perhaps that’s not such a bad thing. You and he can both complain to the author.

*Clearly, you know your way around the world of sailing. I felt like I was out on the seas of turmoil with Tag Seawell. Did you toss on an eye patch, tour the world on a fishing boat, and growl, “arggh” a lot? Or is this the result of extensive research?

Arrgh. Ya’old landlubber, was’t the eye-patch what gib’it away? I drew a line at the eye-patch, but have sailed under a jolly roger. Thankfully we weren’t shot out of the water. Plenty of research, wonderful hours spent on sail boats, whale watching vessels and fishing boats. Every trip out of the harbor helped. Having access to, and a tour guide’s notes, while exploring the Bark Endeavour and climbing over Notorious a visiting pirate ship also helped gain an insight into what it would be like traveling aboard a tall ship.

In Australia we are lucky to have a scheme available where young people can learn about sailing aboard a tall ship. So, we sent each of my three kids for a ten day trip on the tall ship, the Young Endeavour. When they returned I used their experiences to add to my own. My son is a skipper of a dive boat and swims with sharks most days. He proof reads my sea faring stories. It sure helps having an expert available.

*I imagine it was tempting to keep your kids afloat. I kid, I kid. 

Memory plays such a huge theme in the book, almost a character in itself. As a newcomer to the series, I feel somewhat like Tag/Caleath in that I’m discovering identity, characters, worlds along with the protagonist. Intentional?

Yes, of course it is. Phew, that was an easy one.

*”Balls of a hairy goat!” I think this is my fave catch-phrase, well, maybe ever. Where can we get t-shirts?

Let me know your size and preference for long or short sleeve! I can do anything through Vistaprint. LOL.

*I read that your daughter inspired Caleath’s triumphs and struggles. In what way?

I will explain as part of a later question… if that is allowed.

*Your books are billed as fantasy/science-fiction epics. The first part of Adrift is firmly anchored in the fantasy genre with dragons, death as a character, sorcerers, quests, and other such tropes. Then suddenly sci-fi elements are introduced just as Caleath begins to remember parts of his past. Coincidence? A commentary on progress?

At this stage I think I must confess to coincidence. Now you mention it, though, I like the idea of the juxtaposition as a commentary on progress.

*Let’s talk about the character of Caleath, your protagonist in the epic series. Some of the other characters describe him as “arrogant.” At times, I’d agree. He’s also quite tempestuous. Yet he strives to take the moral high ground. I get the impression he hasn’t always been this way. Is the series a tale of redemption? How do you see Caleath?

Caleath is looking for redemption. He’s been through a lot before he reaches ADRIFT and rediscovers himself. By this time in his journey, he has grown from seeking revenge and relying on hate and rage to sustain him. He has almost completed his quest. He still has a few lessons to learn, challenges to overcome but he can see a light at the end of the tunnel.

*Again about Caleath. At the start of the tale, he’s committed to his goatherd lady love. As the adventure continues, he’s definitely tempted by several other women (also hinting at past dalliances with men). He’s ready to ditch his pregnant girlfriend at the end of the book until he sees her, remembers how beautiful she is, then changes his mind. Dude’s a “player!”

Is this a question? (Stuart: No, but it gives me more of a chance to blab.) Caleath has been in a few relationships during the previous books. Regaining his memory jolts recollections of those women and the relationships, not always successful, he shared with them. No wonder he’s confused when Tag is committed to the goatherd. Tag is committed to Naomi and protecting his unborn child. Now he finds himself thrown into the company of the feisty and attractive witch, Melody, during his struggle to remember who he is/was. All his confusion clears when he sees Naomi and Tag/Caleath remembers her faith, strength and vulnerability.

*The book’s packed full of action, Caleath running from one skirmish to the next, not to mention remembering his past adventures on different planets, different lives, even different clones. Yet there’s also time for introspection, even philosophy. Are all the books this lively?

I would like to think so, though I feel as I worked through the series each book improves on the last. They all have lots of action, adversaries, challenges, relationships and a little introspection.

*Okay, poor Caleath takes a beating (Thank God he has a special healing ability). He’s captured, beaten, stabbed, arrowed, burned by dragons on several occasions, runs around the countryside with bleeding feet…that’s just the start. Um, do you have it in for this guy, Rosalie? Perhaps a closet literary sadist?

In a previous question you asked how my daughter inspired the Chronicles. It seems pertinent to answer here. The chronicles loosely follow the journey/battle my daughter faces living with three chronic, painful, incurable but not terminal illnesses.

From the time she was first ill, at age fifteen, she has experienced a lot of pain, loss and dismay and yet her courage, strength and determination continue to inspire those around her. Often people don’t even realize she is unwell. Her smile hides the pain, the despair. Each day is a battle. Pain is constant. Only the depth varies. She was told she had had appendicitis but she didn’t even see a doctor because she was so used to the level of pain she just thought it was another day in her life.

So Caleath’s journey was written while I cared for my daughter. I watched her struggle as her future crumbled. Relationships fell apart, friends stopped dropping by, jobs failed and yet she refused to give up trying every avenue to manage her life. She now has a supportive partner and two children who make life worth living when the pain becomes too much.

Caleath, sadly, gets to face a lot of pain and disappointment during his journey. There is a light at the end of the tunnel though. Ooops… no spoilers.

*Bravo to your daughter, Rosalie!

Like an annoying child, I’m gonna’ hit you up with a question no parent ever wants to answer. Which book in The Chronicles of Caleath is your favorite? (And you CAN’T answer “I love them all the same.”).

Good question and no, I do have favorites. Although I enjoyed writing each book, as the story develops I think I enjoy the journey more. What am I trying to say? For me, ADRIFT: In Search of Memory and ADRIFT: The Fragile Sun (since in my mind they are one continuing story) were the most fun to write and most rewarding to revisit. I guess it’s the pirate life and sea faring adventures that draw me. Arrgh, the eye-patch is back.

*Alright, Rosalie's taken to the seas again. In the meantime, you can find out more about her adventures at Rosalie Skinner's Amazon page

One Plumber, Two Cracks

Everything was cool while the handyman ranted on about silicone, threading water tubes, calcification, old houses. Fine, whatever, have no idea what he's talking about, job done. He managed to make the Magical Refrigerator generate Magical Water again, all that mattered. Ta daa! Rabbit out of the hat, get out of my house now. Thanks.

A final flourish, he thrust an electronic pad toward me to sign, the last step. I scratched indecipherable hieroglyphics on it because who can really write on those things anyway? Whatever it takes to get back to normal.

But the handy-guy had an itch in his craw, a metallic glint in his eye.

Crap. Trouble.

Just my luck to connect with a handyman who wanted to do a thorough job. For this self-proclaimed hermit, it felt like an invasion. Big time.

A seeming afterthought, the handy-guy decided to check the ice-maker. Battles have been won over weaker appliances and clearly I lost.

Parts were torn out. Indiscriminately, frozen food was dumped into the sink. A wrrrrrnch drew black marks across the floor when he yanked the fridge from the wall. No way out, no help, no mercy.

Dave--by this time, we'd reached first name status--told me the ice-maker was WAY off. Parts were out of order, not connecting, a screwed up puzzle where the pieces didn't lock together. With a sad shake of the head, Dave asked, "Has your fridge EVER made ice?"

I had no choice. Like being drafted into a war I was politically opposed to, Dave enlisted me into service. My duty as a home-owner. Handy-man's soldier.

Together, we unloaded the rest of the food from the freezer. Shelves were dismantled, nuts and bolts unscrewed. Frozen syrup draped my arms, gross and sticky and invigoratingly manly. We swept webs and sweat from our brows. Then we cursed, laughed, reveling in our recent shared good times.

I put on music. Manly working music. We sang Hall & Oates songs. I was tempted to don a pastel colored sports jacket, roll up the sleeves, and pump my arms like a jackhammer. Just like Hall did in that awful '80's music video (or was it Oates? I  can never tell the difference. They're pretty interchangeable except the shorter one bebops around "oohing" and "ahhing" on occasion). My dog howled, joining the fun. At that moment, nothing mattered except appliances.

I felt empowered, mechanically apt for the first time, well, ever. Flipped a wrench and actually caught it. Muy macho. Then the job was done. As were my dreams of finally feeling useful around appliances.

Without so much as a smile, Dave left. Grabbed my money off the table, no looking back. A cough of smoke from his truck's exhaust and he vanished out of my life.

I felt so used.

Call for the stunt double! Death Scenes with author Sara Jayne Townsend

Something special today. An interview with a terrific British mystery writer, Sara Jayne Townsend. When you read the following, please do so with a British accent in your head. It's like gravy.

*Welcome, Sara. At first, I was under the (mis)impression Death Scene was going to be a horror tale as I knew you enjoyed writing and reading horror. To my surprise, it was a cozy mystery. My first! And a very good read. Is this your usual genre?

 *Your heroine, Shari, was born in England then moved to Canada. Yet she seems to hate Canadian weather. I’m wondering…why is she living there?

SJT: I describe myself as a crime and horror writer, but I was a horror writer first – from age 14, when I wrote my first horror novel. I started to discover women crime writers such as Sara Paretsky and Sue Grafton in the early 1990s, and by the end of the 90s, horror seemed to have dropped out of favour, in the UK, at least. I loved reading crime so much I thought I should start writing in this genre, since it was selling better than horror was at that time. I didn’t have the confidence to write a police procedural, so I decided to create an amateur sleuth. Thus Shara Summers was born. SJT: There’s a lot of personal experience from me in Shari, including my dislike of Canadian winters. I went to Canada as a child when my family emigrated there and I came back to the UK when I finished high school, while they stayed in Canada. And the winters had a lot to do with it. I wanted to give Shari an affinity to Canada, so I had her stay there. But my dislike of the cold is so overpowering I can’t imagine how anyone could love it, and so she shares that trait with me.

*I, too, hate the brutal midwest winters. What am I doing here again? There’s an awful lot of background color about the world of acting, all of it ringing true. Do you have personal experience in that field?

SJT: I spent a lot of time in the 80s, 90s and 2000s doing amateur dramatics, and loved it. That’s one of the reasons I decided to make Shari an actress. I toyed with the idea briefly of going into theatre professionally when I left school, but I was never really good enough to make a success of it. Once I decided I only had time to pursue one creative vocation that wasn’t going to pay around the day job that would be necessary to pay the bills, I decided it had to be writing, not acting. So instead I’m sort of living the actor’s life vicariously through Shari. I do have a number of friends who have done acting professionally for at least some part of their lives, and I collected anecdotes from them all when I was doing research for the book. Many of those anecdotes are blatantly stolen and stuck almost verbatim into the story. But I have given credit to said actors in the acknowledgements.

*One thing I’d like to warn your readers about? Don’t read the acknowledgments until after you’ve finished reading the book! Major spoiler alert!

SJT: I guess that’s true and I never really thought about it, I was just giving credit to a person who had a major influence on how the plot worked out. The book has now been published twice, with the same acknowledgements both times. I guess I assumed they would end up at the back of the book. But it’s probably good advice – read them last!

*I enjoyed the relationships in the book. The way Shari and her mother interact, prickly conversations and battling personalities struggling to be dominant over one another; how people react toward the rapidly deteriorating health of Aunt Ruthie--part empathy, part sympathy, all bother. Very universal. I’ve lived through very similar family situations. Good job. How much is true for you, Sara?

SJT: I have two younger sisters, so sibling rivalry was familiar to me as I was growing up, as I suppose it probably is to everyone with siblings. A major theme of the novel was family ties and the fact that you can’t escape your family’s love no matter how far away you run. I would like to emphasise that I did not base any of Shara’s family members on any of my own. But I think family tensions are familiar to most people.

*Shari is a strong, independent woman. But sometimes it seems she puts her needs before others. She doesn’t appear to have a very good relationship with her family, having rarely seen them. Now I know there’s a geographical barrier, but how do you see her? Well-adjusted, self-centered…maybe a little of both?

SJT: I don’t think she’s very well adjusted. She has a lot of emotional baggage. And she is a tad self-centred. But I think a lot of actors are – you have to be acutely aware of yourself to be able to act, and that can come across as being rather narcissistic. I wanted Shari to have flaws. Perfect characters are boring. She’s far too nosy for her own good, but what amateur sleuth isn’t? She has commitment issues, because I decided that relationships with problems are far more interesting than ‘happy ever after’ kind of relationships (but as is evident I’m not a romance writer). But she also stands up for what she believes in, and will fight for a cause she’s passionate about, and I hope this makes her sympathetic to readers, despite her flaws.

*I agree. Perfect is boring, flawed is fascinating. But here's something that's been bothering me...please tell this clueless Midwesterner what in the world Marmite toast is!

SJT: Marmite is a yeast-based spread that you have on toast for breakfast. It’s got a meaty kind of taste, but it’s vegetarian friendly. Brits are firmly entrenched into one of two camps – Marmite lovers and Marmite haters. There’s no middle ground with Marmite. Australians have a similar product, called Vegemite. But it’s not something available generally in North America. I decided it would be a way of showing Shari’s British roots, by having her miss Marmite and getting her mother to send it to her when she’s in Canada. And by the way, I’m in the ‘Marmite lover’ camp.

*In the chapter where the romantic interest is seducing Shari, she remarks many, MANY times about his lovely, long eyelashes. Is this a subtle way of showing she’s getting sloshed? Or do you, um, just like guys’ eyelashes?

SJT: What can I say? Romantic scenes are not my strength. I wanted a subtle way of showing her attraction, and that she was getting slowly sloshed, without having say it. So I decided to have her keep noticing his eyelashes. I think it’s fair to say that Shari likes long eyelashes on guys (without giving away spoilers, she sort of does it again in the second book). I don’t think the same thing can be said for me. Though I do share Shari’s fondness of hunky blonds. Especially Chris Hemsworth. Now he can throw his hammer in my direction any time. Uh, sorry, where were we??
 
*By Odin's nostril hairs, Sara has thusly spoken! Thor is the man to beat!
 
Alright. Done, now. Here's a cool sneak-peak at the sequel's cover:

The first book in her amateur sleuth series about Canadian actress Shara Summers, DEATH SCENE, is now available, with the sequel, DEAD COOL, released on 25 November and available for pre-order. Visit the MuseItUp Publishing book store to buy both: http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore/index.php/our-authors/70-our-authors/authors-t/420-sara-jayne-townsend

You can learn more about Sara and her writing at her website at http://sarajaynetownsend.weebly.com or her blog at http://sayssara.wordpress.com.

Dog Days and Halloween Nights

Last week I told you about my fear of trick or treaters. But my dog doesn't fear them. He harbors an unfettered hatred for them. Well, them, the mailman and the Watchtower crowd (who were certainly busy last Saturday. I had two--count 'em, two!--visits. Helpful tip: answer the door holding a hatchet. Speaks for itself).

Anyway, tonight's the night. Halloween. And it's gonna' be a long one.

I'm not gonna' be too hard on the dog, though. He's had a rough week.

Last Friday, he was barking at some neighbor kids. When I looked out the window, the biggest boy had the neighbor's dog in his arms, attempting to shove him inside a stone outdoor fireplace. Quickly, I ushered my dog inside before the kids decided to exact their torture on him. Too late! He had a brand new "third eye" on his head, a small scrape.

My wife calls me a "drama queen." I prefer to think of it as utilizing artistic license. In keeping with my nature, I ran outside, hands thrashing, Hawaiian shirt flapping. I screamed, "What'd you do to my dog? He's got a gaping head wound!" Dumbfounded, the trio of terror just stared at me. Clearly they didn't know what "gaping" meant. True, the dog's cut wasn't exactly gaping and could hardly be categorized as a "head wound." But nobody pokes sticks (or whatever) at my dog. Not on my watch. Neighborhood Watch.

(Which is as good a time as any to plug my spooktacular ghost story, Neighborhood Watch. Perfect
for Halloween reading. Consider the above cautionary tale as a "prequel." Just turn on the lights, lots of 'em).

Anyway, the kids denied it. They laughed at me, the crazy old guy, as I stormed back inside. No friggin' candy for them on Halloween.

The next morning, my wife took the dog into the vet for his annual shots. The dog got much more than he bargained for. First, the vet "expressed his anal glands." Yeah,  it's as gross as it sounds. Puts a whole new meaning on "expressive." If that indignity wasn't enough, the doc says he should go to a dog dentist for a couple of broken teeth. Um...yeah. Oh, and he has the beginnings of cataracts. Wonder how much doggy bifocals run?

Told you, rough week, rough week. He'll be needing to visit the doggy shrink soon, I'm sure.

(And speaking of people who need to see a shrink, be sure and check out my other Halloween fear-fest, Godland. Everyone in the book could definitely benefit from good psychiatric counseling. But what fun would that book be?)

Happy Halloween! Boo!

Trick or Terrorism!

Hey, how time flies. Halloween, one of my favorite times of the year, is once again nearly here.

Now if you're reading this, you guys know  I enjoy writing about spooky things, love me some bad ol' horror films. I really like how Fall rudely pushes Summer aside, no patience for anything green. Practically overnight, everything changes into scorched oranges, bitter yellows, fire-truck reds.  Colors that burn away memories of sissy Summer. The air feels different, rich, yet threatening harsher weather to come. Living leaves die, floating to the earth, their crackly husks nothing more than a nuisance to be raked. Okay, that part of Fall I can live without.

Halloween's near, though. Huzzah. Gives me an excuse to indulge in awful horror films.

Having said that, I actually hate Halloween night. Not because of witches, ghosts, goblins, or zombie apocalypses. And "hate" sounds like a strong word. How about Halloween night terrifies me?

It's the kids, those darned kids.

They come to the door dressed like anime mutants and miniature superheroes and fairy princesses fresh out of "Toddlers and Tiaras." Knocks on the door send chills down my spine. I'm not one of those adults who can easily schmooze with creepy kids. We live in a politically correct world. One misspoken word and I'm the neighborhood outcast.

You know, speaking of having a way with kids, everyone has a creepy aunt or other relative in their past. The one who always smelled funny and had Brillo-pad cheeks. And on Halloween night, they always greeted kids with, "You're so cute, I could eat you up!"

I don't know about you, but that's absolutely horrifying. What kid wouldn't flee from that? Especially when she adds a pinch to the cheek like a sprinkling of salt. But enough about my cannibalistic aunt. Back on point...

The worst part of these nocturnal Halloween invaders? They threaten. Actually threaten.

"Trick or treat!" Bottom line is if I don't give into their demands, give them teeth-rotting candy, they'll do something awful to my house.

I don't give into terrorism. Never have, never will. And that's basically what they are...cute, little terrorists.

Homeland security needs to start on our porches. On Halloween night.

Talking evil cardinals and Erik Estrada with Matthew Peters

Okay, gang, my pal, Matthew Peters has written a religious conspiracy thriller along the lines of Dan Brown. I thought I'd hit him up with some (not very) pertinent questions.

Stuart: First of all, Matthew, welcome, and don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like a movie-star Jesuit—smart, short-trimmed beard, the whole nine yards. So…please defend your looks for those less visually pleasing (myself included).

Matt: Defend my looks? I thought I was here to talk about my

books. And if you continue to utter such inanities, I’ll make all my answers rhyme, just to annoy you. I’m on to you, Stuart West, and I refuse to be daunted by your ludicrous questions. I don’t need your help in making me look stupid. I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself… Now, THE BROTHERS’ KEEPERS is the story of a renegade Jesuit who—

Stuart: Obviously, you know what you’re writing about. Are we talking about lotsa’ research, years of tortured Catholic school upbringing, or a future in Priest-hood?

Matt: Though I may sound like I knew what I was talking about, I really didn’t. In fact, most of the time, I have absolutely no idea of what I’m saying. I mean, I taught college at one point, need I say more?

Stuart: (Um, I think that says tons right there!) Okay, to tell you the truth, I’d never heard of the Cathars until I read your book. However, my research (Hello, Google) said they were an actual, much maligned and prosecuted, religion (sect?). But in your book, you correlate them with Satanism. From what I understand, they were tolerant of other religions. Sorta’ what Jesus taught, in my web-cobby memory. Matty, you got some ‘splainin’ to do here.

Matt: The Cathars sometimes referred to the Catholic Church as the church of Satan, largely as a result of the crusade the Church initiated against them. The Albigensian Crusade was the only one launched against fellow Christians. You see--

Stuart: Yeah, I haven't got all day. While reading your book—and you did a masterful job at it, Matthew—you made me realize how much effort and research and resolve it takes to come up with a viable religious conspiracy. One that compels. Something I don’t have the know-how to tackle as a writer. How’d you come up with it?

Matt: I didn’t. I simply asked my girlfriend to come up with an idea and then I stole it. And no, she’s not mentioned as a co-author. I want to receive all the credit and the proceeds.

Stuart: Along these same lines, yow! What a pessimistic world-view. We’ve got evil cardinals, a POTUS in the pocket, skiffy FBY guys…how much of this do you think is viable?

Matt: I don’t think any of it is viable. I simply pulled it all out of a hat, or my girlfriend’s head, which is often the same thing because she likes to wear hats. Unlike other religious thriller writers who shall be nameless—Ban Drown (be quiet Pig Latin Subliminal Man!)--I’m not under any illusions that what I wrote is even remotely true. When are we going to get to the real questions, here, Stuart?

Stuart: Just hold your water, there, Mattimus. So impatient. The book’s practically a world-hopping travelogue. The two lead characters travel from France to Italy to Bulgaria to Afghanistan (another place I’m forgetting). The places come alive very vividly. How many of these countries have you visited?

Matt: Finally, a real question. The answer is none of them. I used Google Earth and YouTube to write the whole thing.

Stuart: Half of the suspense was waiting to see if the protagonist, a Jesuit, would give in to temptation and sleep with the heroine. Am I wrong in kinda’ wanting him to?

Matt: For shame, Stuart West, for shame! Not only do you ask nonsensical and utterly ridiculous questions, but I see you’re a perv as well. (Actually, stay-tuned for upcoming books in the series to see whether this dynamic plays out.)

Stuart: What, me a perv? Okay, I’m sorta’ different but I liked two of your assasins, Singlitore and Blitz. I always find bad buys a riot to read, particularly when they’re nearly “Bondian” in their quirks. And I enjoyed watching the main evil cardinal sweat it out. Did you equally enjoy writing them? Or did you just set out to write evil.

Matt: I really enjoyed writing the evil characters. In fact, I liked it a little too much (laughing evilly and maniacally).

Stuart: There’s a quite a lovely written passage in your book when the pope dies and the protagonist watches the mourners gather in the streets. Did this hold a special meaning for you? (And you may as well include that as an excerpt since I, um, went ahead and spoiled it).

Matt: Thanks for noticing that, Stuart. Maybe you’re not such a bad chap after all. It was meant to stay in the reader’s mind because it helps set up the conflict Branson feels between his faith and the information he eventually discovers.

Here is the passage Stuart blabbed about:

The bus rumbled up Viadotto and turned right onto Rene. Smells of fried food and burning incense wafted through the open windows of the bus. A left turn brought them to Emilia, past white stone buildings, statues, and street vendors, past various fountains toward the heart of Pisa. The farther north they went, the closer they came to the Arno, where a vast migration of darkly-clad figures moved in the opposite direction, southeast toward Rome. It was a black exodus of grief, one of almost unreal proportions. Swarms of people with lowered heads and bent postures headed with desperate, slow, and inexorable steps toward a common, ill-fated destination. The dark edges of the black clothes stood out in stark contrast to the gray day that blurred the corners of buildings and churches. Rain fell, blended with human tears, and smudged the scene like a charcoal sketch. Open, dark umbrellas resembled the conical piles of volcanic ash upon which the country was built. On that gray morning Pisa wore a death-mask.

Stuart: Something I noticed…you refer to most of your male characters by their last names throughout the book, yet the two female leads are referenced by their first names by the omniscient narrator (ahem, you). Was this a conscious “tough-guy” noirish effect, an unconscious dealio or RAMPANT SEXISM?

Matt: I am NOT unconscious! Nor am I sexist! But you’re right--for the sake of consistency I should’ve referred to the babes by their last names, especially the really hot one.

Stuart: (Busted!) Finally, who’s your favorite action priest from either TV or movies or books? One of the greatest I (half-way) remember was Eric Estrada, wearing the collar and kicking butt in some cheesy ‘90’s movie. Totally sublime and absolutely ludicrous.

Matt: I vaguely remember that! Are you suggesting we cast Eric Estrada or Patrick Duffy in some cheesy Lifetime version of THE BROTHERS’ KEEPERS? Not that I’m opposed to the idea of making a movie. I mean as long as there’s a buck to be had… But can we at least get Hugh Jackman and Scarlett Johansson to play the lead roles? And of course my fav action priest is Nicholas Branson, SJ ;-)

Stuart: Nope. No big name stars for you, Matt. You'll be lucky to get Jim Jay Bullock. Thanks for coming on, Matthew. Go grab his book, folks. The Brothers’ Keepers. If you’re into religious, conspiracy thrillers, it’s a good one.

Matt: My, um, pleasure, Stuart (and I use the term very loosely). Why do I feel like I need to shower after this interview?