SUSAN DUNMAN

Frankenstein: Prodigal Son

By Dean Koontz and Kevin J. Anderson, read by John Bedford Lloyd

Abridged, CD and Cassette, 6 hours

2005, Random House Audio, http://www.randomhouse.com/audio

Putting a new twist on Mary Shelley’s classic horror tale, Frankenstein fast-forwards 200 years to modern-day New Orleans, where Victor Frankenstein is alive and still experimenting with the definition of life. In fact, he’s busy creating a “New Race” to take over the world.

Unknown to Victor, his original Frankenstein monster is also alive and determined to stop Victor from carrying out his horrific plans for humanity. As the story begins, police are investigating a string of grisly murders where the victims have had different body parts removed. The murder scene that caught my attention was the public library.

“Who’s the vic?” Carson asked. “Night security man,” Parker said. The end stack sign declared, Aberrant Psychology. Thirty feet away, the dead man lay on his back on the floor. “So, who found the body?” “The morning shift librarian,” Parker said. “Nancy Whistler. She’s in the women’s lav. She won’t come out.”

Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t blame Nancy one bit. Especially considering that the forensics team later discovers the victim, Bobby Allwine, had not one, but two hearts removed from his chest. Lab technicians explain to the shocked detectives how they know this is not a normal cadaver.

“For one thing, the associated plumbing,” Jack said. “He had the arteries and veins to serve a double pump. The indicators are numerous, but that’s not the only thing weird about Allwine. Skull bones as dense as armor. I burnt out two electric saws trying to cut through it.” “He had two livers, too,” said Luke. “And a twelve ounce spleen. The average spleen is seven ounces. “A more extensive lymphatic system than you’ll ever see in a textbook,” Jack continued, “Plus two organs, I don’t even know what they are.” Having trouble getting her mind around the meaning of all this, Carson said, “So what are the odds of this, 10 million to one?” Wiping the back of his shirtsleeve across his damp brow, Jack Rogers said, “Get real, O’Conner. Nothing like this is possible, period. This isn’t mutation, this is design.”

Carson O’Conner is one tough cop, so she decides to go to Bobby Allwine’s apartment all by herself, late at night to look for clues. Of course, this is a perfect time for something to go wrong, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that O’Connor unexpectedly finds a very mysterious man already inside the apartment.

She took a two handed grip on the pistol, pointed it at him. “Will you shoot me in the heart?” he asked. “You’ll need two rounds. Your quarry isn’t a crazed murderer, your real enemy is his maker, and mine, too.” “What do you mean, I’ll need two rounds?” “His techniques are more sophisticated now, but he crafted me with the bodies salvaged from a prison graveyard.” When he turned away from the window again, she glimpsed a subtle pulse of luminosity passing through his eyes. “My one heart from a mad arsonist, the other from a child molester. My hands were taken from a strangler,” he said. “My eyes from an ax-murderer. My life-force from a thunderstorm. And that strange storm gave me gifts that Victor couldn’t grant. For one thing, I’m not the monster anymore.”

The once-crazed Frankenstein Monster has become rather civilized over the past two centuries. Meanwhile, his creator sinks deeper into depravity with each new morbid experiment. This is an interesting role reversal, giving a well-known story fresh excitement and meaning. Exactly how do we define a monster and what is required to have a soul? Fast-paced with large doses of imagination, this six-hour abridgement will leave horror and science fiction fans anxiously waiting for the next installment of a four-part series.

Their Eyes Were Watching God

By Zora Neale Hurston, read by Ruby Dee

Unabridged, Cassette & CD, 8 hours

2004, HarperAudio, http://www.harperaudio.com

From the 1930's through the 1960's, Zora Neale Hurston was the most prolific and accomplished black woman writer in America. This book is perhaps her best known work and was recently released on CD by Harper Audio. It's the story of Janie Crawford, a fiercely independent Southern black woman in the 1930's, who's determined to follow her dream of finding true love. The narrator, Ruby Dee, wraps her voice around each character and gives the black dialect, in which this book was written, full expression.

The book begins as Janie returns home to Eatonville, Florida - the first incorporated all-black town in the United States. Having left two years earlier, after the death of her second husband, to marry Tea Cake, a much younger man, her return is a surprise to the entire town. Her arrival in work boots and overalls leaves the men gossiping more than the women.

What she doin' comin' back here in them overalls? Can't she find no dress to put on? Where's that blue satin dress that she left here in? Where all dat money her husband took and died and left her? What dat ol 40-year-ol' woman doin' with her hair swingin' down her back like some young gal? Where she left that young lad of a boy she went off with, thought she was gonna marry? Where he left her? Well what he done with all her money?

All of these questions will be answered in due course, as Janie tells her story. Her life is filled with adventure, disappointment, love, hope, and pleasure in the little things of life. For example, there's the time the mayor buys a mule from Matt Bonner just to save the poor creature from frequent mis-treatment by the unsympathetic farmer. Promoted to town mascot, the old mule has a fine life until one summer day when he just lays down and dies. While dragging the dead beast to the swamp, the town decides to have a mock funeral service for their departed friend.

When he stepped down, they hoisted Sam up and he talked about the mule as a schoolteacher first, then he set his hat like John Pierson and imitated his preaching. He spoke of the joys of mule heaven to which the dead brother had departed this valley of sorrow. The mule angels flying around. The miles of green corn and cool water. A pasture of pure bran with a river of molasses running through it. And most glamorous of all, no Matt Bonner with tow lines and halters to come in and corrupt. Up there mule angels would have people to ride on and from his place beside the glittering throne, the dear departed brother would look down into hell and see the devil plowing Matt Bonner all day long in a hell-hot sun and lay in the rawhide to his back. With that, the sisters got mock happy and shouted and had to be held up by the men-folk. Everybody enjoyed themselves to the highest and then finally, the mule was left to the already impatient buzzards.

Hurston is a master of mood and can easily switch from one emotion to another. At one point, Janie and Tea Cake face the onslaught of an approaching hurricane in the Florida Everglades. Their fear and desperation are dramatically captured in the following passage:

As soon as Tea Cake went out pushing wind in front of him, he saw that the wind and water had given life to lots of things that folks think of as dead and given death to so much that had been living things. Water everywhere. Stray fish swimming in the yard. Three inches more and the water would be in the house - already in some. He decided to try to find a car to take them out of the glades before worse things happened. He turned back to tell Janie about it, so she would be ready to go. Get our insurance papers together, Janie. I'll tote my box myself and things like that. You get all the money out of the dresser drawer already? Ah naw. Get it quick and cut off a piece of the tablecloth to wrap it up in. Us like to get wet up to our necks. Cut a piece of that oilcloth quick for our papers. We got to go if it ain't too late.

One thing's for sure, it's not too late for you to enjoy this remarkable book that's a classic of African-American literature. The 8 hour, unabridged production brings to life a powerful story with characters you'll remember for a long time to come.

Chronicles, Vol 1.

By Bob Dylan, read by Sean Penn

Abridged, Casssette and CD, 6 hours

2004, Simon & Schuster, http://www.simonsays.com/audio

At last I was here, in New York City. A city like a web too intricate to understand and I wasn’t gonna try. I was there to find singers, the ones I’d heard on record. Dave Van Ronk, Peggy Seeger, Ed Mcurty, Brownie McGhee and Sonny Terry, Josh White, The New Lost City Ramblers, Reverend Gary Davis, and a bunch of others. Most of all, to find Woodie Guthrie. New York City, the city that would come to shape my destiny, modern Gomorrah. I was at the initiation point of square one, but in no sense a neophyte. When I arrived it was dead-on winter. The cold was brutal and every artery of the city was snow-packed. But I’d started out from the frost-bitten north country. A little corner of the earth where the dark frozen woods and icy roads didn’t phase me. I didn’t know a single soul in this dark freezing metropolis, but that was all about to change – and quick.

With this introduction, Bob Dylan takes us on a private tour down memory lane, strolling along the back alleys of Greenwich Village, running from the intrusive spotlight of fame, and cherishing the company of friends, family, and, of course, his music. The narrative is not chronological, but a random selection of recollections that Dylan wants to share. Sometimes, it’s hard to distinguish fact from fiction, as in this explanation of his name.

What I was gonna do as soon as I left home was just call myself Robert Allen. As far as I was concerned, that was who I was. That’s what my parents named me. It sounded like the name of a Scottish King and I liked it. Sometime later, I’d seen some poems by Dylan Thomas. Dylan and Allen sounded similar. Robert Dylan, Robert Allen. I couldn’t decide. The letter D came on stronger, but Robert Dylan didn’t look or sound as good as Robert Allen. People always called me either Robert or Bobby, but Bobby Dylan sounded too skittish to me, and besides, there was already a Bobby Darrin, a Bobby V, a Bobby Rydell, Bobby Nealy, and a lot of other Bobbies. Bob Dylan looked and sounded a lot better than Bob Allen. The first time I was asked my name in the Twin Cities, I instinctively and automatically without thinking simply said, “Bob Dylan.” Now I had to get used to people calling me Bob. I’d never been called that before and it took me some time to respond to people who called me that. As far as Bobby Zimmerman goes, I’m gonna give this to you right straight and you can check it out. One of the early presidents of the San Bernidino Angles was Bobby Zimmerman and he was killed in 1964 on the Bass Lake run. The muffler fell off his bike and he made a U-turn to retrieve it in front of the pack and was instantly killed. That person is gone. That was the end of him.

There are all kinds of interesting side trips and flash-back stories that make this book well-worth exploring. Sean Penn narrates the 6-hour abridgement in a casual style that makes you feel like Dylan’s talking over a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. It’s very effective, especially since Dylan’s writing is much like his music. It rambles on for awhile and then, when your attention is just about to drift, he will say something that is absolutely incredible or use a turn of phrase that makes your brain snap to attention. All in all, Chronicles gives listeners the opportunity to hear Dylan’s perception of a time and place that was quite extraordinary. I don’t think we should ask for more than that, because. As Dylan so aptly explains,

The folk music scene had been like a paradise that I had to leave, like Adam had to leave the garden. It was just too perfect. Things would begin to burn – bras, draft cards, American flags, bridges, too. Everybody would be dreaming of getting it on. The national psyche would change and in a lot of ways it would resemble the night of the living dead. The road out would be treacherous and I didn’t know where it would lead, but I followed it anyway. It was a strange world ahead that would unfold, a thunderhead of a world with jagged lightening edges. Many got it wrong and never did get it right. I went straight into it. It was wide open. One thing for sure, not only was it not run by God, but it wasn’t run by the devil either.

State of Fear

By Michael Crichton, read by George Wilson

Unabridged, CD and MP3 CD, 18 hours

2004, HarperAudio, http://www.harperaudio.com

Michael Crichton is back with another techno-thriller guaranteed to give you second thoughts. This time, his story centers around a group of eco-terrorists plotting to create environmental disasters around the world. As in his previous novels, Crichton extrapolates principles from science and technology to create heart-pounding action. There’s also some pretty neat gadgets, like the cavitation generator. Often used in mining operations, this equipment is demonstrated to a customer who has other uses in mind.

“Let’s step away,” Ling said. “We can see better from a distance.” The cavitation generator fired up, chugging loudly. Soon the noise blended with another sound, a deep humming that Ling always seemed to feel in his chest, in his bones. Peterson must have felt it, too, because he moved back hastily. “These cavitation generators are hypersonic,” Ling explained, “producing a radially symmetric cavitation field that can be adjusted for focal point, rather like an optical lens, except we are using sound. In other words, we can focus the sound beam and control how deep the cavitation will occur.” He waved to the operator, who nodded. The cavitation plate came down, until it was just above the ground. The sound changed, becoming deeper and much quieter. The earth vibrated slightly where they were standing. “Jesus,” Peterson said, stepping back. “Not to worry,” Ling said. “This is just low-grade reflection. The main energy vector is orthogonal, directed straight down.” About forty feet below the truck, the walls of the canyon suddenly seemed to blur, to become indistinct. Small clouds of gray smoke obscured the surface for a moment, and then a whole section of cliff gave way, and rumbled down into the lake below, like a gray avalanche.

Other potentially dangerous transactions are occurring around the globe. Fortunately, a small group of unlikely heroes stumble upon the terrorists’ plans, which involve convincing the world that disasters are occurring due to global warming, Because the extremists want world attention, they have big plans, like creating the world’s largest iceberg in Antarctica.

So Brewster’s got these explosives…set in a row…for a hundred miles? Isn’t that what Bolden said? A hundred miles? “Right. And I think there’s no question what he intends. Our friend Brewster is hoping to fracture the ice for a hundred miles, and break off the biggest iceberg in the history of the planet.” Sarah stuck her head in. Kenner said, “Did you find a computer?” “No,” she said. “There’s nothing there. Nothing at all. No sleeping bag, no food, no personal effects. Nothing but a bare tent. The guy’s gone.” Kenner swore. “All right,” he said. “Now, listen carefully. Here’s what we are going to do.”

And finding out what they’re going to do – both the good guys and the bad guys – is what keeps the tension flowing. George Wilson does an admirable job reading this marathon, 18-hour unabridged audio, which sometimes feels like a James Bond movie. But unlike a Bond adventure, Crichton has a message to share with his readers.

He incorporates his thoughts on environmental extremism, media manipulation, information spin and fear mongering to caution listeners against living in a state of fear. His approach makes this book controversial, thought provoking and entertaining – three excellent reasons to begin listening right away.

The Success Principles

By Jack Canfield, read by the author.

Abridged, CD and Cassette, 6 hours

2004, HarperAudio http://www.harperaudio.com

If you enjoy making New Year’s resolutions, then the latest release by Jack Canfield is an excellent resource to get you started. As co-creator of the Chicken Soup for the Soul series, Canfield has a good track record for sharing his thoughts on how to be successful. The format is straightforward, with a listing of each principle, followed by an explanation and appropriate stories to illustrate the concept. Here’s an excerpt from his number one principle – take 100% responsibility for your life.

One of the most pervasive myths in the American culture today is that we are entitled to a great life. That somehow, somewhere, someone, certainly not us, is responsible for filling our lives with continual happiness, exciting career options, nurturing family time, and blissful personal relationships simply because we exist. But the real truth, and the one lesson this whole book is based on, is that there is only one person responsible for the quality of life that you live and that person is you. If you want to be successful, you have to take 100% responsibility for everything that you experience in your life. This includes the level of your achievements, the results you produce, the quality of your relationships, the state of your health and physical fitness, your income, your debts, your feelings – everything.

Some of the principles are common sense instructions, but there seems to be plenty of fresh ideas sandwiched in among more familiar platitudes. One of my favorites was a basic belief held by W. Clement Stone, an early mentor of Canfield’s, who is described as an inverse paranoid.

Instead of believing that the world was plotting to do him harm, he chose to believe that the world was plotting to do him good. Instead of seeing every difficult or challenging event as a negative, he saw it for what it could possible be – something that was meant to enrich him, empower him, or advance his causes. What an incredibly positive belief. Imagine how much easier it would be to succeed in life if you were constantly expecting the world to support you and bring you opportunity. Successful people do just that. In fact, there is growing research that the vibrations of positive expectations that successful people give off actually attract to them the very experiences they believe they are going to get. Suddenly, obstacles and negatives are seen not as just another example of, “Gee, the world hates me,” but as opportunities to grow and change and succeed.

It’s a pleasure to hear Canfield read this 6-hour abridgement, and although the audiobook contains only about two thirds of the 64 principles outlined in the print copy, there’s plenty here to keep you busy. An enhanced CD also includes charts and exercises discussed in the audio, which can be printed out. If you think this title might help you get motivated for the New Year, perhaps you should implement principle 13.

Principle # 13 – Take Action. The world doesn’t pay you for what you know, it pays you for what you do. There’s an enduring axiom of success that says, “The universe rewards action.” Yet as simple and as true as this principle is, it’s surprising how many people get bogged down in analyzing, planning, and organizing, when what they really need to do is take action.

I began listening to Canfield’s advice with a healthy dose of skepticism, and although I still don’t buy on to everything he says, I did finish with a changed attitude. I’ve gleaned some good ideas I can really use – and they’re already on my resolutions list for 2005.

A Redbird Christmas

By Fannie Flagg, read by the author

Unabridged, CD and Cassette, 5 ½ hours

2004, Random House Audio http://www.randomhouse.com/audio

Oswald Campbell is a cranky, cynical, retiree who lives in a run-down hotel in downtown Chicago. The miserable winter weather looks as lousy as Oswald feels while he waits for the results of his annual health checkup.

As he sat in the office waiting, he was bored and uncomfortable. There was nothing to read and he couldn’t smoke because he had lied to the doctor and told him he had given them up. He wiggled his toes, trying to get them warm, and glanced around the room. Everywhere he looked was grey. It was grey outside the office window and grey inside the office. Would it kill them to paint the walls a different color? The last time he had been at the veteran’s hospital, a woman had come in and given a talk on how colors affect the mood. What idiot would pick grey? He hated going to doctors anyway, but his insurance company required that he have a physical once a year so they could tell him what he already knew. The doctor he had just seen was at least friendly and had laughed at a few of his jokes, but now he just wished the guy would hurry up. Most of the doctors they sent him to were old, ready to retire, or just starting out and in need of guinea pigs to practice on. This one was old, seventy or more, he guessed. Maybe that’s why he was taking so long. Grey walls, grey rug, grey gown, grey doctor.

Unfortunately for Oswald, his prognosis is worse than his grey surroundings. The doctor tells him he needs to leave the cold, damp weather of Chicago for a warmer climate or his emphysema is going to kill him – and then gives him a year to live. Oswald takes his doctor’s advice and, through a series of humorous mishaps, ends up moving to Lost River, Alabama. On the first day in his new abode, he decides to take a stroll down main street to visit the only store in town.

He soon passed a white house with two front doors and an orange cat sitting on the steps. One side of the house had “Post Office” written above the door. As he went by the door opened and a thin, willowy woman with stick-straight bangs came out and waved at him. “Hello Mr. Campbell, glad you’re here.” He waved back, although he had no idea who she was or how she knew his name. When he got to the end of the street he saw the red brick grocery story building with the two gas pumps in front and went in. A clean-cut man with brown hair, wearing khaki pants and a plaid shirt was at the cash register. “Are you Roy?” Oswald asked. “Yes sir,” he said. “And you must be Mr. Campbell. How do you do.” He reached over and shook his hand. “How did you know who I was?” Roy chuckled. “From the ladies, Mr. Campbell. They’ve all been waiting on you and you don’t know how happy I am that you’re here.” “Really?” “Oh yeah. Now they have another single man to pester to get married besides me.” Oswald put his hand up. “ Oh Lord, they don’t want me.” “Don’t kid yourself, Mr. Campbell. If you’re still breathing, they want you.”

And so begins an entertaining amble through Lost River, which just happens to feel a lot like Mayberry. This unabridged recording is about 5 ½ hours long and will have you on a first-name basis with all of the local citizenry in no time. That includes members of the Mystic Order of the Royal Polka Dots Secret Society. While all of the eligible women vie for Oswald’s attention, he finds fulfillment in helping an orphaned young girl with a crippled leg.

Fannie Flagg, whose voice practically drips with southern twang, puts life into the characters of Lost River, especially the ladies. She’s got the personalities of these women down pat, and it’s what makes this book so much fun to hear. Christmas in Lost River is a special time, full of feel-good experiences and small-town charm. It’s a perfect book for the holidays, or anytime you need to be reminded that sometimes, wishes really do come true.

A Paper Life

By Tatum O’Neal, read by the author

Abridged, CD and Cassette, 6 hours

2004, HarperAudio http://www.harpercollins.com

On August 23, 2003, I pressed my palms into wet cement outside Hollywood’s beloved Vista Theatre to mark the 30th anniversary of Paper Moon. I was 8 years old when I debuted in the movie – now considered a masterpiece – and received an Academy Award, becoming the youngest Oscar winner in history. Kneeling alongside me for handprints was Laszlo Kovacs, who shot the film in stark and lyrical black and white and Ryan O’Neal, who was dazzling as my reluctant drifter guardian on-screen. It was the crowning role of his career, if less brilliant as my father in real life.

With this introduction, Tatum O’Neal – who is now 41 – invites listeners to accompany her on a journey of remembrance. .Many of her memories are painful, beginning with her attempts, as a six-year-old, to cope with an alcoholic and drug abusing mother while trying to watch out for Griffin, her younger brother. At this time, both children were living alone with their divorced mother on an isolated ranch out in the LA boonies.

My mother and her friends weren’t just boozing, however. Griffin recalls finding syringes around the house, evidence that my mother’s addictions were escalating. So were her bouts of paranoia. My mother had a fox fur poncho which she sometimes put on when she got high. Draped in fur with one of her upturned wigs half slipping off of her head. Her hair loss, I believe, was a result of her long term addiction to speed. She was a sight.

It was finally decided that the children were not safe living with their mother, and Tatum moved to Malibu with her father. The heady days of making Paper Moon are fondly remembered, but even then, true happiness was difficult to find.

I’d started noticing that there were drugs around, which seemed to make my father mean. Once so loving and funny, he was growing crazily moody. At the airport one day, my dad flared up and punched my uncle Kevin in the face. His emotional swings scared me so much that I started writing him little pleading notes. Please daddy, don’t be mad at me. I’ll be a big girl, I’ll be a better girl. I’ll try daddy. I love you. Please don’t hate me.

According to Tatum, the astounding success of Paper Moon was both a blessing and a curse. Her father became jealous of her new-found fame, which took attention away from him. When the Academy Award nominations were announced and Ryan was not on the list, her father’s reaction was explosive.

Worst of all, for best actor nomination, my father didn’t make the cut. You’d think an Oscar nomination would be an indelible moment - a victory to cherish and savor for a lifetime. But for me, it must have been a trauma instead of a triumph. I can’t remember it at all. Where was I? Who told me? Whether anyone gave me a hug or shook my hand, showered me with praise or glossed it over, I couldn’t say. The memory is totally lost to me. It was Vivian who first revealed how my father reacted to the news. He socked me! For a child already obsessed with losing her father, who was living in terror believing his love was ebbing away, that would have been way too painful to process. If I’d blocked it out, it’s no wonder.

Actually, after hearing Tatum’s story, it’s a wonder she didn’t block out most of her life. Her father continued to be abusive, both physically and emotionally, and her growing up years were surrounded by drugs, sex, and loneliness.

In this 6 hour abridgement, she also describes her turbulent marriage to John McEnroe, the birth of her their three children, her divorce from John, and her slow descent into drug addiction. Because Tatum reads her own work, there is an intimacy and emotion in the telling that draws listeners into her world.

Fortunately, the book does end on a positive note, with a drug-free Tatum looking forward to the future. Her memories are both disturbing and intriguing, making this a tell-all story which shows, once again, that “real-life” Hollywood is often more dramatic than anything on the big screen.

A Theory of Relativity

By Jacquelyn Mitchard, read by the author

Abridged, CD and Cassette, 6 hours

2004, HarperCollins http://www.harpercollins.com

Gordon McKenna is a 24-year old science teacher in Tall Trees, Wisconsin. For the past year, he has struggled with the knowledge that his adored older sister, Georgia, is fighting a losing battle with cancer. In the wake of her illness, Gordon has gladly accepted much of the responsibility for helping his parents take care of Georgia’s young daughter, Keefer. Thinking nothing can be worse than Georgia’s worsening condition, fate proves him wrong when Georgia and her devoted husband, Ray Nye, are instantly killed in a car accident. Through the painful fog of grief, both the McKenna and Nye families slowly realize a decision must be made as to who will have custody of the now orphaned Keefer. On the night after Georgia’s funeral, Gordon talks with Jergen, a mutual friend of the two families.

“My sister and Ray name us guardians,” he ventured. “That’s what they both wanted.” “Us,” Jergen repeated. “Didn’t the Nyes talk about it?” “Yes, they did,” Jergin acknowledged. “What?” “Do you feel OK telling me what they said?” “All they said was, they were meeting with Ray’s lawyer Friday, tomorrow – today I guess, by now. And I assume this had something to do with the estate.” “Do you think that the Nyes…” “What?” “Well, do you think they would consider wanting custody of Keefer?” “I think they would consider that, yes.” “ Do you think that would be…” “I’m sort of in a place here, Gordo. Ray was my best friend all my life. I’ve known the Nyes since I was in the first grade and two finer people never walked on land. They loved that little girl. And your mom and dad are equally good people.” “And they’ve been with the baby every day of her life, practically.” “It’s a tough one.” “I’m sure the Nyes want the very best for Keefer.” Something in his tone alerted Gordon – implied a contest. Will there be sides. Gordon thought. Will Jergen be on mine? “I know they do, I know they do,” he finally managed stupidly. “I’m sure good people can work this all out.” Was he sure? Gordon sneaked a look at Jergen’s angular jaw. His friend looked placid, serene. Then Jergen sighed. “I’m pulling for, well, for all of you”.

Because the Mekennas have cared for Keefer all of her young life, they automatically assume the Nyes will give them custody. But when Loraine and Mark McKenna travel to Florida for their son-in-laws memorial service, they become unnerved by Big Ray and Diane, their wealthy Floridian counterparts

“Can you have dinner with us after this,” Diane asked. “I mean, just the four of us, so that we can really talk.” “Of course,” said Loraine, “Of course we will.” “Big Ray and I really want to talk to you, grandparent to grandparent. We want to make this work. We want you to be an important part of baby’s life, always.” Diane looked into Loraine’s eyes. “If only you didn’t live at the damn North Pole. Pardon my French, but we want her to grow up with all, well, you understand. Loraine, you want the best for her, I know you do.” A drizzle of guitar notes urged people to take their seats. Huge and solemn in his grey suit, big Ray nodded to the McKennas and motioned to Diane. Into Loraine’s ear, Mark said evenly, “I want you to list to me. I don’t want you to flip out. I heard what she said. I know what she said. Now, I am going to leave this room quietly and you take Keefer up there and sit down and when I come back, I promise you, I will have made arrangement for us to go home. I promise, Loraine.”

The McKennas make a successful dash for Wisconsin with their granddaughter in tow, but when they arrive back home, the red light flashing on the answering machine is an ominous signal for the custody battle that has just begun.

To her credit, the author, whose first novel, The Deep End of the Ocean, launched the Oprah Winfrey Book Club, does not turn this story into a legal thriller. Instead, it’s an enlightening look at our beliefs about family, focusing on the good intentions of loving people as they struggle to keep with them that which they hold most dear.

The Grim Grotto

By Lemony Snicket, read by Tim Curry

Unabridged, CD and Cassette, 6 hours

2004, HarperCollins http://www.harpercollins.com

After a great deal of time examining oceans, investigating rainstorms, and staring very hard at several old drinking fountains, the scientists of the world developed a theory regarding how water is distributed around our planet, which they have named the water cycle. The water cycle consists of three key phenomenon: evaporation, precipitation, and collection, and all of them are equally boring. Of course, it is boring to read about boring things, but it is better to read something that makes you yawn with boredom than something that will make you weep uncontrollably, pound your fists against the floor, and have tear stains all over your pillowcases, sheets, and boomerang collection.

Hopefully, you will ignore the author’s advice not to listen to this latest installment in the Series of Unfortunate Events collection, a very popular children’s series for kids ages 8 and up. Trying to solve the mystery of their parent’s death, the Baudelaire orphans must also escape the clutches of their uncle, the evil Count Olaf, who has designs on the family fortune. The children, Violet, Klaus, and Sunny, are rescued by Captain Widdershins and his dilapidated submarine, the Queequeg.

“My name is Violet B…” Violet started to say. “Baudelaire,” the man interrupted. “I know. I’m not stupid. Aye, and you’re Klaus and Sunny. You’re the Baudelaire’s. The three Baudelaire children, aye. The ones the Daily Pontilleo blames for every crime they can think of, but you’re really innocent, but nevertheless, in a big heap of trouble, of course. Nice to meet you in person, so to speak. Let’s go, follow me. Aye.”

Unfortunately for the Baudelaire’s, there’s more than just the Queequeg lurking in the dark waters of the Grim Grotto. Poisonous mushrooms, leaky submarines, and shifting alliances all make for breathless underwater adventure. Of course, a good scary story needs a despicable villain. Narrator Tim Curry seems to have a great time with all the characters – but especially Count Olaf.

“Your luck is over at last,” he said, in a terrible sneer. “For far too long, you’ve defeated my plans and escaped from my clutches. A happy cycle for you orphans and an unprofitable one for me. But now the tables are turned, Baudelaire’s. You’ve finally run out of places to run and as soon as we get away from that” – he pointed at the sonar screen with a flick of his sword and raised his eyebrow menacingly – “you’ll see that this cycle has finally been broken. You should have given up a long time ago, orphans. I triumphed the moment you lost your family.” “We didn’t lose our family,” Violet said, “Only our parents.” “You’ll lose everything, orphans,” Count Olaf replied. “Wait and see.”

More than likely, you will see that this is a very clever story that’s a little scary and a lot of fun for listeners of all ages

Transmission

By Hari Kunzru, read by the author

Abridged, CD and Cassette, 5 hours

2004, Simon & Schuster Audio, http://www.simonsays.com/audio

Computers are great – when they work. Often, when they don’t, it’s because of some nasty computer virus floating around through the Internet. Those who’ve had to cope with one of these electronic epidemics will find the opening paragraph of Transmission both familiar and frightening.

It was a simple message. “Hi, I saw this and thought of you.” Maybe you got a copy in your in-box, sent from an address you didn’t recognize. An innocuous two line email with an attachment, Lela.exe. Maybe you bade the instructions to “check it out,” and there she was, Leal Zahere, dancing in jerky quick-time in a pop-up window on your screen. Even at that size you could see that she was beautiful, this little pixelated dancer, smiling as the subject line promised, a radiant, 21 year old smile, just for you. That smile – that started all your problems. It was not as if you asked for Lela to come and break your heart. There you were, doing whatever you normally do online – filling in form fields, downloading porn, interacting, when suddenly up she flounced and everything went to pieces.

Of course, every virus needs a creator, and in this case, it’s Argen Mehta, a shy, likeable computer whiz from India. After finally landing his dream job in the states, Argen is horrified to learn that his company is on the skids and downsizing most of its staff. When called into his boss’s office, Argen can’t believe what he hears.

The voice talked about reversals of fortunes and minimizing negative outcomes. It talked about the executives’ team’s strong desire to lead by demonstrating fiscal responsibility at all levels. It talked about last in, first out. It talked about reality. Then it struck him. This was not his story. There had been a mistake. “There’s been a mistake,” he said. Jennifer Johanson nodded as if to signify that yes, she could see why he thought so. “Please, don’t do this to me,” said Argen. “I realize that from a human resource accounting perspective this could be viewed as a retrograde step for both sides,” said Jennifer Johanson. “Please,” said Argen, “I’m begging you. If I lose this job I’ll have to go back. Don’t you see, I can’t go back. I’ll do anything. I’ll work for less money. I’ll do longer hours.”

Unfortunately for Argen, there’s nothing he can do – unless he can prove to his boss how valuable he is to the company. That’s when he concocts his plan to create a virus that he can then “fix” after it has infected a few computers. Only problem, his plan works far too well and his virus spreads like wildfire.

Between 0650 and 0923 Central European Standard Time, when Patrice returns, spots through a haze that something weird is happening and pulls the power plug out of the wall, his computer sends email in a constant stream, contacting hundreds of thousands of people around the world to say, “Hi, I saw this and thought of you.”

The author does a great job reading his own work in this five hour abridgement. While his story serves as both a clever satire and indictment of modern society, it also tells a touching love story between a computer geek and a beautiful Indian actress. It’s the stuff of fables and fairy tales mixed with the magic of instantaneous communication and life-like computer code. Now, that may sound like a weird combination, but it’s what makes this such a unique and satisfying story.

Hallelujah! The Welcome Table

By Maya Angelou, read by the author

Unabridged, CD and Cassette, 3 hours

2004, Random House Audio http://www.randomhouse.com/audio

Many already know that Maya Angelou is a gifted writer, poet, and performer. She’s also a great cook, and in this audiobook, shares some delicious stories from her own life that revolve around food or cooking. Here’s her recollection of a quilting bee at her grandmother’s home.

Mrs. Sneed, the pastor’s wife, would bring sweet potato pie, warm and a little too sweet for momma’s taste, but perfect to Bailey and me. Mrs. Miller’s coconut cake and Mrs. Kendrick’s chocolate fudge were what Adam and Eve ate in the garden just before the fall. But the most divine desert of all was momma’s caramel cake. Momma would labor prayerfully over her selection because she knew, but would never admit it, that she and all the women, were in hot competition over whose culinary masterpiece was the finest. Momma could bake all the other women’s dishes and often made them for our family, but not one of the cooks would even dare the caramel cake, always to be spoken of in capital letters. Since momma didn’t have brown sugar, she had to make her own caramel syrup. Making her caramel cake took four to five hours, but the result was worthy of the labor. The salty sweetness of the caramel frosting, along with the richness of the batter, made the desert soften and liquefy under the tongue and slide quietly down the throat, almost without notice, save that it left a memory of heaven itself in the mouth.

On another occasion, while performing with a production of Porgy and Bess in Paris, France, Maya takes a 60-year-old member of the cast to her first dining experience at a fine Parisian restaurant. Everything goes well until the waiter brings the main course, veal medallions.

She tasted the meat. She said, “Now this is good.” She took another bite of the medallions. The nearest waiter recorded her approval and sent her reaction to his colleagues. Miss Ross said, “This is close to perfect. These people can truly cook.” I was reminded of my mother’s reactions in restaurants. When she was particularly pleased with the dinner, she would send a glass of wine to the chef. I didn’t think I had enough money for that gesture but I was floating in self admiration until I heard Miss Ross say, “All this needs is a little Tabasco.” I looked at her knowing I had to dissuade her from asking the waiter to bring her that spicy sauce, but as I turned, Miss Ross was extricating a slim bottle of Tabasco from her purse. She said, “This is going to make this meat right perfect. I mean perfect.” She shook the bottle over the medallions, then she closed it and placed it back in her purse. The waiters were horrified. Although stricken, at least they were able to move around the restaurant. The matre d’hotel was so shocked, however, that he disappeared from the floor and I confess, I wanted to join him. I have grown a little since that incident. I’ve come to believe that each diner should be free to flavor her dish as she wants it. For no matter how wonderfully trained the chefs, no matter how delicate his or her sensitivity, taste buds are as individual as fingerprints. Mine are mine and yours are yours and viva la difference!

Hearing Maya tell her own stories in this three hour, unabridged work is a real treat. Her astute observations about how food affects our emotions and our relationships with others will make you look at food in a whole new light. So get out the big plates and be prepared to enjoy every bite!

Ida B…and Her Plans to Maximize Fun, Avoid Disaster and Possibly Save the World
By Katherine Hannigan, read by Lili Taylor, unabridged, cassette, 3 hours
2004, Learning Library http://www.learninglibrary.com

Ida B, momma said to me on one of those days that starts right and just keeps leading toward perfect until you go to sleep. When you're done with the dishes, you can go play. Daddy and I are going to be working until dinner. "Yes ma'am," I said back. But I said it like this, "Yes Ma'am!" because I couldn't wait to get on with my business. I could already hear the brook calling to me through the back door screen. "Come out and play, Ida B - hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!"

Ida B. is a precocious nine-year old who loves to play in her parents sprawling apple orchard. She. has long conversations with her green-leaved friends, as well as a nearby meandering brook. Home schooled by both of her hard-working parents. Ida B. thinks her life is just about perfect. But that feeling begins to fade when her mother is diagnosed with cancer.

After momma's treatments, our house would get as quiet as a library with only grownups in it, like there was a constant Shhh, hushing us all the time, in every room. We walked around not looking directly at each other any more. Daddy looked down, I looked down, even Rufus looked down, but not Lulu. She glared right at us as if to say, "Whatever's going on, I'd like my food five minutes ago." We placed our dishes so softly in the sink, we pulled our chairs out from the table so carefully, we walked so lightly on the floors, I don't know if we were trying not to wake momma or trying not to wake the cancer. When there was time, daddy and I would sit together in the big chair so we were close enough we could whisper and still hear each other, and read stories. And these were just about the only good times in the house then. Afterward, daddy would go and check if momma would have soup, or maybe some crackers. "Do you want something to eat Ida," he'd say at the door to their room. And his voice was soft, like rabbits fur, light, like smoke. It would float over to her and stroke her cheek, then her forehead, but never press too hard. And most of the time momma would whisper, "No thank you honey." But sometimes she'd just say Evan, with the voice of a love that's a thousand miles away.

Ida B's parents have always taught her to respect the land and take pride in her individualized learning. But one day, Ida B's father takes her out to the barn to explain that he must sell part of the orchard to pay the mounting hospital bills. He also admits that he and momma have decided to send Ida B to the local public school. Both of these revelations devastate Ida B's world.

After daddy left, I was hurting something terrible like. Every single part of me was cut and torn up. But my heart hurt the most. I couldn't do anything except curl up like a ball on the floor of the barn and lie there, crying the kind of tears than burn your eyes and the sort of sobs that make your chest ache so that your heart feels like its going to bust open. And when the sobs finally ran out, the tears kept coming. So I laid there with my mouth wide open, but I hardly make a sound, just air going into me and a heavy wind full of sorrow coming out. But as I cried my heart was being transformed. It was getting smaller and smaller in my chest, hardening up like a rock. The smaller and harder my heart got, the less I cried until finally I stopped completely. By the time I was finished, my heart was a sharp, black stone that was small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. It was so hard nobody could break it, and so sharp it would hurt anybody who touched it.

Ida B's struggle with her new, hard heart sets the stage for a variety of adventures and mishaps, both at school and at home. In the process, she learns more than she ever thought possible about her family, and more importantly, about herself. This 3 hour, unabridged story will be enjoyed by children ages ten and older. It offers a sensitive look at a child's efforts to adjust to a changing world, and can be appreciated by adults as much as by children.

Shoot the Moon
By Billie Letts, read by Lou Diamond Phillips
Abridged, CD and Cassette, 6 hours
Time Warner Audiobooks http://www.twbookmark.com/audiobooks

Sometimes it's the most unlikely character who manages to solve an "unsolvable" crime..

Nothing much has happened in the town of DeClare, Oklahoma since 1972. That year, Gaylene Harjo, a single teenage mom, was ruthlessly murdered and her baby, Nicky Jack, was never found.

Back when it happened, back in 1972, there wasn't an adult in the county who didn't know every detail of the crime. Lije Haney, editor of the DeClare Democrat, kept the story on the front page for months. Of course, other news made the headlines now and then. A spring flood washed out the Post Road bridge, two local boys, the Standing Deer brothers, were wounded in Vietnam on the same day. But none of the news had the staying power of murder and abduction. A young mother stabbed to death, her 10-month old son missing. The worst crime ever committed in DeClare, Oklahoma.

The baby is presumed dead and the prime murder suspect dies of an apparent suicide. Now, 30 years later, a grown Nicky Jack returns to DeClare, but he doesn't know about his mother's murder or his past. In fact, he even carries a different name - Mark Allbright - the name his adoptive parents gave him years earlier. Finding the local coffee shop, he begins asking Teve, the shocked proprietor, questions about Gaylene Harjo.

You ever think maybe there was something strange about the way they got you, Teve asked. Like what? Something they were trying to hide about the circumstances of your adoption. Why would I think that? He was beginning to look and sound agitated, angry. Lots of people don't tell their children the truth about their adoption and if you're tyring to blame my parents then you … But you don't have all the facts, you don't know the truth of what went on here. That's why I'm here. I want Gaylene Harjo to tell me her side of the truth. She can't do that. She can't, or she won't? Teve leaned forward, reached across the table and put her hand on the top of his, but he pulled free of her touch. Gaylene's dead. She waited for some response, but could see nothing more than the muscles clenching in his jaw. She was murdered the same night you disappeared.

The new stranger in town asks enough questions to get him landed in jail. O Boy Daniels, the local sheriff, accuses Mark of burglary. Fortunately, he is soon released through the efforts of Hap, a curious attorney.

So, is this finished, Mark asked. O Boy didn't have any evidence to link you to those burglaries, Hap said. He had nothing at all. Then why did he put me in jail? I'' guessin' it's because you told him you're Nick Harjo. That's a crime? No, but I think he wanted to keep you until he could check you out. What do you mean? I believe he's afraid you really might be who you claim to be, and if you are, it wouldn't look good for him. Why? O Boy worked real hard to convince folks around here that Joe Dawson killed Gaylene and her son. And after he matched Joe's knife to the wounds he pretty much thought he had wrapped it up. But if you really are Nick Harjo, then his theory's shot all to hell. Might even cost him the next election. Still enough people in the county believe Joe was innocent. Then why did he let me go? More than likely, he's hoping you'll high-tail it out of here.

Of course, leaving town is the last thing on Mark's mind. Finally convinced that he is Nicky Jack, he's got lots of unanswered questions. Narrator Lou Phillips does a great job with this 6-hour abridgement - especially with DeClare's eccentric characters. His low-key delivery has a nice edge to it that keeps the suspense flowing in this 6-hour abridgement of a thoroughly enjoyable sleuthing adventure.

Lost In My Own Backyard

By Tim Cahill, read by the author

Abridged, CD Format, 2 hours

Random House Audio, 2004

http://www.randomhouse.com/audio

Need one last gasp of summer? Then take a visit to Yellowstone Park in this imaginary trip through the great outdoors.

Summer's almost over, but there's still time to visit one of American's most popular vacation destinations - and you don't even need a travel agent! Tim Cahill, the founding editor of Outside magazine, knows a lot about the outdoors. He also owns a ranch near Yellowstone National Park and he wants to share what he knows about Yellowstone with you. Because of its beauty, Yellowstone is a photographers' paradise. And it's easy to get carried away, especially with the wild animals. Cahill warns that part of the attraction of the park is that it is untamed, and that certainly goes for the animals living there.

"People carrying little snapshot cameras approach herds of 2000 pound bison seemingly unaware that the creatures can outrun a horse in a sprint. No matter, folks move closer and closer, and then closer yet - trying to frame the animal in their lens. These people are gonna get hurt. I call the lumps they take instamatic injuries. Bison may seem indolent, even lazy, but then they decide, you need to be gored. People are frequently injured, and sometimes killed by bison in Yellowstone."

It seems ironic that one of the first things Cahill talks about is the tourists. Maybe he just needs to get the topic out of his system before moving on. Then again, tourists can be one of the most entertaining, and conversely, frightening aspects of a visit to Yellowstone.

"On the other hand, listening to tourists, you will sometimes glean information unavailable in any text. I once heard a father explain to a young boy I took to be his son that the moose we were watching was a mature elk. According to this gentleman, an elk's horns flatten out as he ages. Still, any sort of misinformation is preferable to the terrifying potential involved in the instamatic situation in which a parent encourages a child to approach a bison, or a bear or a moose so that both the child and the animal are in the same frame. It happens."

Yes, unfortunately it does happen and anyone who's visited a park has probably seen this same scene more than once. It can be pretty scary, which is a good reason to shift focus from people to what they have come to see.

"So you'll see some interaction between the wildlife and the visitors along the grand loop road which will eventually sweep you past the entrance to Old Faithful and the Upper Geyser Basin, one of the most extraordinary places on earth. It contains over 25% of the world's geysers. The upper basin is worth looking at through the eyes of Nathanial Langford, a member of the 1870 Washburn Expedition to the park. "We had," he said, "within a distance of 50 miles seen what we believed to be the greatest wonders of the continent." But they hadn't yet seen Old Faithful. "Judge then," Langford wrote, "our astonishment on entering this basin to see, at no great distance before us, an immense body of sparkling water projected suddenly and with terrific force into the air." Langford and his men found about a thousand hot springs of various sizes and character. It was because of these features that the United States congress established the world's first national park in Yellowstone in 1872. This has been called the best idea that America ever had."

Well, there's no doubt that it was a good idea. And if you don't have the time or money to personally visit Yellowstone, another good idea would be to give Cahill's audiobook a listen. Reading his own work in this two hour abridgement, Cahill is obviously in love with this park. Listening to his observations, insights, and stories will give you a better appreciation for both the history and unmatched beauty that makes Yellowstone a unique national treasure.

I, Robot

By Isaac Asimov, performed by Scott Brick

Unabridged, CD and Cassette Format, 8 hours

Random House Audio http://www.randomhouse.com/audio

Robots have always captured our imagination. If we're not careful, they may also capture our soul.

I, Robot is classic science fiction. First published in 1950, it revolves around nine short stories Isaac Asimov wrote for pulp magazines in the 1940s. In the book, these robot stories are told to a reporter from the Interplanetary Press by Dr. Susan Calvin, a 75-year old robopsychologist who has worked with robots all her life.

How old are you, she wanted to know. Thirty-two, I said. Then you don't remember a world without robots. There was a time when humanity faced the universe alone and without a friend. Now he has creatures to help him, stronger creatures than himself, more faithful, more useful, and absolutely devoted to him. Mankind is no longer alone. Have you ever thought of it that way? I'm afraid I haven't. May I quote you? You may. To you, a robot is a robot, gears and metal, electricity and positrons, mind and iron. Human made. If necessary, human destroyed. But you haven't worked with them, so you don't know them. They're a cleaner, better breed than we are. I tried to nudge her gently with words. We'd like to hear some of the things you could tell us, get your views on robots. The Interplanetary Press reaches the entire solar system. Potential audience is three billion, Dr. Calvin. They ought to know what you could tell them on robots.

Dr. Calvin relives different robotic eras and describes different robot creations for the reporter's benefit. The stories deal with problems involving human/robot interaction and the appropriate interpretation of Asimov's "Three Laws of Robotics." Listen as two engineers review these legendary laws, which have become the foundation for countless science fiction stories since their introduction in this book.

Now look, let's start with the three fundamental rules of robotics - the three rules that are built most deeply into a robots positronic brain. In the darkness, his gloved fingers ticked off each point. We have: (1) A robot may not injure a human being, or through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Right. Two, continued Powell, A robot must obey orders given to it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the first law. Right. And three, a robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the first or second laws. Right. Now where are we? Exactly at the explanation.

And arriving at the explanation is the entertaining part of each of these robot tales, as humans try to figure out why robots act the way they do. Even though some stories show their age a little, the ingenuity and futuristic vision offered by Asimov are timeless.

Random House produced this 8 hour, unabridged edition just in time for an interesting comparison between the recently released movie and the book. Listening may not provide the same glitzy special effects as the movie, but narrator Scott Brick gives an outstanding performance that will renew readers' appreciation for Asimov and his robots.

Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim
By David Sedaris, read by the author
Unabridged, CD and Cassette, 6.5 hours
Time Warner Audiobooks http://www.twbookmark.com/audiobooks

Some folks, like David Sedaris, are born storytellers. His stories may be described in many ways, but boring is not one of them.

When David Sedaris gazes into the future, it is often his past that comes clearly into focus. In this new essay collection, he examines the never-ending process of growing up by sharing memories from his childhood and beyond. David has a real knack for identifying those small inconsistencies, embarrassments, and triumphs that influence everyone's outlook on life. Listen to this third grader's remembrance of the power of television.

Back in New York State, we had lived in the country, with no sidewalks or street lights. You could leave the house and still be alone. But here, when you looked out the windows, you saw other houses and people inside those houses. I hoped that in walking around after dark I might witness a murder, but for the most part, our neighbors just sat in their living rooms, watching TV. The only place that seemed truly different was owned by a man named Mr. Tomkie, who did not believe in television. This was told to us by our mother's friend, who dropped by one afternoon with a basked full of okra. The woman did not editorialize, rather she just presented her information, leaving her listener to make of it what she might. Had my mother said, "That's the craziest thing I ever heard in my life," I assume that the friend would have agreed. And had she said, Three cheers for Mr. Tomkie," the friend likely would have agreed as well. It was a kind of test, as was the okra. To say that you did not believe in television was different from saying that you did not care for it. Belief implied that television had a master plan and that you were against it. It also suggested that you thought too much. When my mother reported that Mr. Tomkie did not believe in television, my father said, "Well good for him. I don't know that I believe it in either." "That's exactly how I feel," my mother said. And then my parents watched the news and whatever came on after the news.

The Sedaris family was a rather novel bunch, and as a result, some of their experiences were pretty bizarre. A few essays also discuss David's homosexuality and how that affected his perspective toward family and friends. Most of these stories are an eclectic mix of melancholy spiced with a unique sense of humor. Occasionally the mood is traditional stand-up comic, such as this excerpt from a live performance discussing gun laws.

I've learned, for example, that the blind can legally hunt in both Texas and Michigan. From an equal opportunity standpoint, I suppose it's only fair, but still I find it more than a little unsettling. In Texas, the blind hunters must be accompanied by a sighted companion, but in Michigan, they're allowed to go it alone. Which raises the question, how do they find whatever it is they just shot? In addition to that, how do they get home? Are the Michigan blind allowed to drive as well? I ask about guns, not because I want one of my own, but because the answers vary so widely from state to state. In a country that's become increasingly homogeneous, I'm reassured by these last charming touches of regionalism.

You may not find all of David's remembrances to be funny or inspiring or agreeable. There are some things I'd just as soon not know about the Sedaris family, but David has chosen to share those with us anyway. Of course, he also shares some wonderful insights cleverly blended with humor, and there's absolutely no better way to enjoy the 27stories included in this 6 ½ hour unabridged recording than to sit back and let Sedaris tell them to you himself.

Sleeping With Schubert

By Bonnie Marson, Read by Michele Santopietro

Abridged, CD and Cassette Format, 5 Hours

Random House Audio http://www.randomhouse.com/audio

How would your life change if you accidentally became a musical genius?

Liza Durbin is enjoying a Christmas shopping spree at Nordstrom's when her holiday mood is abruptly interrupted by the spirit of Franz Schubert. For some unknown reason, Schubert is trying to inhabit her body. Compelled to sit down at the department store's piano, Liza plays a beautiful Schubert piece without even realizing what she's done.

When I stopped, the world of Nordstrom fell in on me again. The response to my music was, like, totally Californian. Most of the shoppers shopped on, unscathed by a miracle. Only a small crowd took notice. They gathered around with enthusiastic words and even requested autographs. An elegant woman in her 40's - patrician to her toes, wept into a linen hanky. A grey-haired couple held tightly to each other and offered comments in a language I didn't recognize. "Hey lady, how'd you do that?" I turned to see an adolescent boy in baggy clothes. He stared at me, stunned, as if he'd just discovered fire. I don't know, I answered. Then the world grew dark, the ocean rushed through my ears, and I gratefully passed out.

All of this is quite a shock to the musically ungifted Brooklyn lawyer, not to mention her amazed family. In fact, it's impossible for them to believe - at least until the entire family gathers at her sister's home, which just happens to have a Steinway.

The imposing black Steinway sat in front of a wall of windows that looked out on a sad-sack winter lawn desperately in need of snow. Sitting down, simply touching the keys, felt like all the joy in the world. The first chord washed over me like heaven and every nerve in my body lit up as the melody reveled itself. The sound turned into dancing lights, soft caresses, the wild tea-cup ride at Disneyland. We were on a journey through exotic landscape. When it was over, I looked around at my greatly changed family and friends. They would never see me the same way again.

Of course, there's also a down side to someone else competing for space inside your brain. It's hard to ignore a person when they're with you all the time. And trying to hide what appears to others as insanity can be somewhat of a challenge, especially when it's time to go back to work in a highly competitive law firm.

I thought I could pull myself together with massive self discipline. The truth is, I was so dazed by my circumstance that people quickly figured something was wrong. I became ridiculously clutsy with the addition of a second set of reflexes that were not calibrated to my own. Suddenly, I couldn't step onto an escalator in less than three attempts or cross a street without lurching like Frankenstein's monster at a bonfire. Also, my conversations wandered. I couldn't attend to normal tasks and I had a tendency to hum way too loud. This did not help me at the office.

Liza's discomfort with housing a centuries-old composer in her body provides an exceptionally entertaining backdrop for exploring the power of music, the impact of celebrity, and the effect of circumstance on personal relationships. This 5 hour abridgement is delivered with lots of enthusiasm by Michelle Santopietro, making it a great summer read that doesn't take itself too seriously, but still gives readers something to think about.

West With the Night
By Beryl Markham, ready by Julie Harris
Unabridged, 8 hours, Cassette & CD formats
2003, AudioPartners http://www.audiopartners.com

Growing up in colonial East Africa provides a lifetime of adventures for Beryl Markham, an extraordinary Englishwoman who enthusiastically shares her exploits with anyone wiling to listen.

Beryl Markham was born in England in 1902, but her family moved to Kenya when she was three years old. Africa was a constant source of inspiration and adventure for Beryl. Growing up on her father's ranch, she hunted with African tribesmen, became an accomplished horse trainer, and was the first woman in Kenya to receive a commercial pilot's license. Later, she became the first person to fly solo across the Atlantic from east to west.

In some cases, it's a wonder that Beryl survived her youth. Here is her memory of an attack by a supposedly "tame" lion named Paddy. Playing in the back yard of a neighbor's ranch, the little girl accidentally crosses the lion's path. Beryl was saved by Bishon Singh, an Indian who worked on the ranch.

I remembered the rules that one remembers. I did not run. I walked very slowly and I began to sing a defiant song. 'Kali coma Simba sisi,' I sang. 'Asikari yoti ni udari!' Fierce like the lion are we, Askari all are brave. I went in a straight line past Paddy when I sang it, seeing his eyes shine in the thick grass, watching his tail beat time to the meter of my ditty

What I remember most clearly of the moment that followed are three things: a scream that was barely a whisper, a blow that struck me to the ground, and as I buried my face in my arms and felt Paddy's teeth close on the flesh of my leg, a fantastically bobbing turban that was Bishon Singh's, peer over the edge of the hill. I remained conscious, but closed my eyes and tried not to be. It was not so much the pain as it was the sound. The sound of Paddy's roar in my ears will only be duplicated, I think, when the doors of hell slip their wobbly hinges one day and give voice and authenticity to the whole panorama of Dante's poetic nightmares. It was an immense roar that encompassed the world and dissolved me in it.

Wild animals weren't the only dangers in Africa. When she became a bush pilot, Beryl flew at great risk to transport essential supplies, provide emergency medical service, and even scout out elephant herds for big-game hunters.

An inch on the map was about 32 miles in the air as compared to the flying maps of Europe, in which one inch represented no more than four air miles.

Beyond this, it was even more disconcerting to examine your charts before a proposed flight only to find that in many cases, the bulk of the terrain over which you had to fly was bluntly marked - unsurveyed. It was as if the map makes had said, we are aware that between this spot and that one there are several hundred thousands of acres, but until you make a forced landing there, we won't know whether it is mud, desert, or jungle and the chances are we won't know then. All this, together with the fact that there was no radio nor any system designed to check planes in and out of their points of contact, made it essential for a pilot either to develop his intuitive sense to the highest degree or to adopt a fatalistic philosophy toward life. Most of the airmen I knew in Africa at that time managed to do both.

West with the Night was first published in 1942 and appeared on 13 best seller lists. It was republished in 1982 and still stands the test of time remarkably well. In this unabridged, 9 hour presentation, narrator Julie Harris guides your thoughts back to a place and time that will never be the same again. For more details about this unique book, as well as purchasing information, please refer to the publishers' website, www.audiopartners.com. Vivid writing and exceptional narration offer a winning combination for those who enjoy high adventure that also just happens to be a true story.

Absolutely American: Four Years at West Point

By David Lipsky, read by the author

Published in 2004 by Random House Audio

http://www.randomhouse.com/audio

Have you ever wondered what it's like to be a cadet at West Point? David Lipsky shares his unique perspective as a contributing editor to Rolling Stone magazine to give you a good idea. Beginning in 1998, Lipsky was allowed unprecedented access to the academy for four years, following one class through their entire West Point career. What he learned about these young men and women aspiring to become officers in the United States Army will both inspire and surprise you.

Attending West Point is a big decision, not only for students, but also for their parents. New cadets, along with their families, prepare for the momentous occasion by gathering in Michie Stadium for R-Day the first day at the academy. After some pleasant speeches, it's time to get started.

"Then a female cadet introduces herself. Alright, she says pleasantly. At this time, I will ask parents to prepare their final goodbyes. You will be moving out alone in 90 seconds. Mothers gather children in close, eyes become puddles, dads shift uncomfortably as if what's being rated is their ability to not make a scene. As the kids begin their determined jog down the cement steps, the parents look stunned, proud, and lightened. They flex hands by their sides, like long distance travelers after putting down the bag they've been carrying for 18 years."

Lipsky has a real knack for description, picking scenes seemingly at random, and bringing them vividly to life. Listen as he describes a first day rite of passage called, reporting to the cadet in the red sash.

"I will now teach you how to report to the Cadet in the Red Sash. The new cadets have dreaded it all day. You can't move on till you report successfully, no matter how many attempts you must make. Local citizens actually turn out to watch the red sash cadets snarling, clicking and growling. One yells, "You are not running the show anymore, new cadet!" The new cadets in formation triple blink, trying not to look. "You will come up to Cadet in the Red Sash's line," the cadre instructs. "Stand at the position of attention, render the proper <