Mystery On The Menu Available for Print Pre-order

Hey guys, I’m thrilled to announce that my book, Mystery On The Menu, which continues the story of Drew and Mac from “Entree to Murder,” has a publication date! May 23, 2023 is when I invite everyone back to Orca’s Slough. The book contains, “Entree to Murder” as well as 2 new novellas, “Recipe for Trouble,” and “Homicide and Hospitality.” The wonderful cover is from Amber Whitney of Unicorn Empire. If you haven’t seen her t-shirts, you should go check them out.

artistic rendering of a dining table showing oysters, strawberries lemons and a newspaper with the headline Mystery on the Menu

Recipe For Trouble

Just dropping by to announce that I have finally—after three long, long, long years—finished a sequel to Entree to Murder! It’s called Recipe for Trouble. Here’s a excerpt from the beginning.

Chapter One

 

On Wednesday night at six forty-five Deputy Cormac “Big Mac” Mackenzie walked into my restaurant. He was tall, just over thirty, dark-haired, handsome in a “rough-hewn from solid oak” way. Except for the days that some idiot had committed a crime, he darkened my door at this same time every Wednesday then sat at the same small table in the front window with his back against the wall and waited.

Without taking his order, the waitress, Savannah, brought him a beer. Likewise I started cooking, since I knew his order by heart—his order was whatever I cooked him AKA the Wednesday night special.

Today it would be crispy duck breast with tamarind rice and green papaya salad. It seemed summery and exotic without being aloof. I hoped he would like it.

It had been eight months since I started secretly sleeping with this cop and I still got nervous making him a plate of food.  

I shouldn’t have worried. Three hours later I was laying beside him on the ruckled, twisted sheets in his dilapidated old mansion on the hill, taking in the warm summer night, breathing heavily, sweaty, nude, limp as a fish. Mac’s chest heaved and he reached to lace his hot fingers with mine.

A pang passed through my chest. I tried to figure out when I started wanting him to fall in love with me. It wasn’t right away. At first I just enjoyed the novelty of his massively strong body and was fascinated by his stoic, self-deprecating nature. Then, gradually I started wondering what he thought of me. Did he like me back? What could be my appeal, apart from convenience and proximity? Camas Island was not so big that other gay guys were a dime a dozen. So I tried to keep the conversation light and focus on an area where I felt comfortable—the twin carnal pleasures of food and sex.

Mac seemed happy to follow my lead and over the weeks we fell into the habit of simply meeting on Wednesdays. There was no prior agreement and Mac didn’t text if he wasn’t showing up. A couple of months later Mac began appearing on different nights—giving me rides home from work, mostly. We both worked all the time so neither of us ever spent the night at the other’s place.

At some point I started getting disappointed if I didn’t see him and that’s when I knew I was in trouble. Like an idiot, I’d fallen in love with a cop who I was pretty sure was in the closet—or if he was out, only he knew it, which amounted to the same thing.

When I was alone in my crappy trailer I could access my self-respect and resent him for taking up so much space in my brain. But when he lay beside me in the hot timeless present I didn’t even know what the word ‘pride’ meant, I guess.

I’d never been a sucker like this before. Ever. I needed to know our status because if he thought of me as the sexual equivalent of the gas station burrito then I needed to take some evasive action before I became completely pathetic.

So I rolled over onto my side and leaned my forehead against his shoulder. I thought maybe it would be better if I took some initiative and just asked him if he was my boyfriend now. I could absorb the blow if he said no . . . probably.

And then his phone rang.

And then he let go of my hand and answered it.

And then he had to go.

The Bellingham Mystery Series Volume 2 available again.

The final three novellas, reissued in one volume with a wonderful new cover by Amber Whitney of Unicorn Empire

Four years ago, Peter Fontaine made a name for himself as Bellingham, Washington’s premiere investigative reporter. Since then he’s got an award, a cat, and a good-looking artist to come home to every night.

Nick Olson, Peter’s long-suffering lover has a lot of reasons for wanting Peter to stop investigating the many and varied crimes committed in the City of Subdued Excitement. Peter’s nasty habit of getting held at gunpoint by lunatics has Nick wondering if any story is worth losing Peter for good.

But Peter’s thirst for knowledge must be satisfied. And whether it’s at the Farmer’s Market, the microbrewery, or a mid-century meth motel, Peter will use his power of ultimate nosiness to uncover the town’s long-kept secrets.

Contains the novellas: One Man’s TreasureBirds of a Feather, and Pentimento Blues.

“The storytelling here is uncluttered, the characters flawed and funny, the setting the perfect mix of homey and eclectic, and Kimberling’s prose is just so easy to lose yourself in for a while.” Lisa, The Novel Approach

Sea of Stars Rereleased

Very excited to announce my two novelettes, Ghost Star Night and Heir of Starlight have been combined into one new, wonderful edition on sale now.

Desire. Destruction. Destiny.

Thomas Myrdin knows that intrigue is part of life at court, but that doesn’t make his king’s betrayal any easier to take. Yet heartbreak troubles him less than the apocalyptic visions that haunt him. Fiery premonitions that show the world burning in ruins—and the cause, the king’s daughter. Visions and vengeance awaken a strange new power within him, but not even he is sure if he is the kingdom’s savior, the king’s pawn.

Lord Adam Wexley harbors a secret longing for the elegant Thomas, but his duty is to protect the newborn princess. When a sudden threat arises, Adam seeks to procure services of Grand Magician Zachary Drake. Even if it means sacrificing his own soul—and his body.

Drake has seen the worst of kings and courtiers. Now he protects himself with powerful sorcery and the adamant refusal to affiliate with any of the Four Courts. But the grand magician isn’t without weaknesses and Adam may be the one enticement that could draw him to ruin.

Grilled Cheese and Goblins: Adventures of a Supernatural Food Inspector! is Available For Pre Order

Finally, all of my stories featuring Special Agent Keith Curry of NIAD will be collected in one volume!

Vampire Hunter. Leprechaun Fighter. Food Inspector.

Keith Curry has his work cut out for him.

NATO's Irregulars Affairs Division is a secret organization operating in thousands of cities around the globe. Its agents police relations between the earthly realm and those beyond this world, protecting citizens from both mundane and otherworldly dangers.

Former chef turned NIAD food inspector, Special Agent Keith Curry found out about magic the hard way and is now determined to keep dinner safe for everybody. Includes the novellas “Cherries Worth Getting,” “Magically Delicious” and the never-before-published “Bring Out Your Best” plus bonus shorts and more!

Available at Smashwords, Indiebound, Amazon and wherever books are sold.

Peril on Cantina Island

A couple of weeks ago, me and Dal Maclean hosted Josh Lanyon's FB page for a few days. We decided to talk about traditional narrative structure. Then we had the brainwave to do a crossover between my starry-eyed lovers Binky and Brutus and Dal's alter-ego, Dal Carrington Colby Dexter. Here's the transcript, in case you missed the fun. :)

Part One

We’ll be demonstrating a simple three-act plot. The Premise, the Complication and the Conclusion.

Here to help me is Romancelandia’s own, Binky & Brutus in

“Peril on Cantina Island Part One: The Premise”

During the premise the characters and main conflict are established.

Our story finds our protagonist, cosmetic surgeon Dr. Binky looking forward to a much deserved lover’s getaway with his perpetual boyfriend Brutus on sunny Santa Cantina Island, where the margaritas flow like water.

But Binky has one last client to see:

In the last exam room at the end of the hall, beneath a flickering fluorescent lightbulb sat a woman wearing a wide hat and a long black veil.

“Hi I’m Dr. Binky,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

The woman raised her head and pulled back the veil, Binky could see that she wore full make-up most notably, glossy scarlet lipstick on a smirking mouth. Binky realized then that her shoulder pads were tipped with what looked like bright silver blades.

“Are you the Dr. Binky whose perpetual boyfriend Brutus has been hired to fly the 24 carat gold-plated helicopter at the Cantina Island Tequila Mixer this weekend?”

“Why yes,” Binky replied. “I love you accent. Are you from England?”

“Dal Carrington Colby Dexter isn’t confined to one paltry nation. She is a global icon,” she declared. With a movement of sweeping melodrama she whipped off her hat to reveal rippling two-yard long magenta hair. “Consider yourself honored that Dal Carrington Colby Dexter has chosen you to serve in her vital work!”

Suddenly there was the strange smell of ant spray. Dr. Binky’s world went swimmy and he fell to the ground. Binky found himself laying on the floor of his own office His body felt weird—he lifted up his hand and saw a blood red manicure. He clutched his chest and felt a boob! Then another.

The woman had switched bodies with him. But how and who was she? And more than anything WHY?!? He tried to stand and call for help but this hair was everywhere. It lashed out against him, tripping him and wrapping around his neck as if to strangle him. Finally he’d had enough. He reached out and grabbed for the botox.

“I am not in the mood for a bad hair day!” he hissed, jamming the needle into his scalp. Almost instantly the wild mop grew sluggish. He grabbed a length of surgical tubing and wrestled the mass into a ponytail. The tresses shivered once more and hissed, then fell limp.

Binky needed to figure out how to get his body back. So he emptied out the contents of the handbag the strange woman had left behind. There he saw a small book bound in gold with and heart-shaped emerald clasp. Could it be a secret diary? He knew it was wrong to intrude on a lady’s private thoughts, but dang it! She’d taken his body. So he decided to read it anyway.

Monday: Dear Diary, Yet another interminable day in a rat infested padded cell in Equatorial Guinea.

 Ever since Josh struck back after an entirely justified attempt to take over her galactic empire, (and what did happen to ‘Jake Riordan Saves The Day 143’ BY THE WAY?) her evil minions have thwarted every cunning attempt at escape by Dal Carrington Colby Dexter.

 And yet, as she dictates this diary with the power of her mind alone -- given her arms are confined in a straitjacket --, she already has another plan in action. Dal Carrington Colby Dexter is more than a match for their feeble little brains.

 Binky frowned with puzzlement. Why was Dal Carrington Colby Dexter referring to herself in the third person? Maybe it was an English thing… He read on.

 Tuesday: There is no more time to waste. The prototype of an identity- swapping machine (made from coconut hemp and two hundred and seventeen surprised and reluctant ants) must be pushed into operation without delay -- or testing. Rumors are bubbling of a possible crisis which could well threaten the future of civilization as we know it. Or as Dal Carrington Colby Dexter knows it, which is objectively more important

 Wednesday: The treachery is confirmed. Roarke Rex Alamain Dexter the Fifth, the man who had the impossible good fortune to marry Dal Carrington Colby Dexter, has lost his mind. He has taken advantage of Dal Carrington Colby Dexter’s tiny local difficulty in Equatorial Guinea, to divorce her! And marry a twenty-year-old strumpet from Sweden named Helga. Worse, far worse he has banned Dal Carrington Colby Dexter from Cantina Island! And he plans to sell Dal Carrington Colby Dexter’s beloved 24 carat gold-plated helicopter! And for what? To buy Helga the hussy, a platinum coated jet ski. Has he lost all sense of right and wrong?

Dal Carrington Colby Dexter is betrayed!

 Thursday: The identity-swapping machine is poised and ready. Dal Carrington Colby Dexter, through simple charm and Machiavellian manipulation has already used multiple clones of Jake Riordan to subvert the loyalty of certain Fanyons who shall remain nameless. Is the Lear jet fuelled and ready, Steve?

Binky’s heart went out to her. A woman scorned! And unable to retrieve her own dangerously heavy helicopter. No wonder she’d resorted to this mind swap! Binky wanted to help her, but how could he get onto the island in Ms.Dexter’s body?

Security for the Cantina Tequila Mixer would be tight and he was in the body of a woman who wasn’t even allowed on the island. If only he could call Brutus for help! But Brutus had already gone ahead to the island and the cell phone reception there was terrible.

No, he would have to find a way onto the island himself to help Ms. Dexter and get his own body back.

Part Two

I’m back with my co-host Dal Maclean to talk about traditional narrative structure by demonstrating a simple three-act plot comprised of a Premise, a Complication and a Conclusion. Without further ado please enjoy:

“Peril on Cantina Island Part Two: The Complication”

During the Complication the character reaches their lowest point and seems farthest away from achieving their goal. At the end of Act Two the main character makes a change that allows them to win.

We pick up the story from Dal Carrington Colby Dexter’s POV

Dal Carrington Colby Dexter gazed down at her new body in some consternation. She had consumed her usual breakfast of eleven double vodkas and a small kale smoothie, but found the legs on this body now refused to work. Could it be that Dr. Binky’s central nervous system was unable to tolerate a healthy diet? Dal Carrington Colby Dexter snorted with contempt and longed to toss her seven-foot mane of emerald hair. Unfortunately that now belonged to Dr. Binky, while she was confined in the body of a drunk weed.

Her body felt even stranger than she’d predicted it would. The previous evening she’d rushed to the helipad to see her beloved golden whirlybird landing then completely forgotten about stealing it when the muscular pilot stepped down. Since then every time Brutus looked at Dal Carrington Colby Dexter (in Dr. Binky’s body) this body’s appendage arose up in seconds…and signalled.

Dal Carrington Colby Dexter had never signaled with her sexual organs in her life, and she was finding having them on the outside, and utterly lacking in cunning, a definite hindrance to deception.

Moreover she was finding that Dr Binky’s substantial appendage was considerably stronger minded than Dr Binky himself.

And what was this witchcraft Brutus possessed? The moment she’d seen him step from the helicopter her eyes had been glued to his bulging biceps and needlessly tight pants.

He had swept Dal Carrington Colby Dexter into his arms and carried her (in Dr. Binky’s body) straight into the Hotel Avalon. Dal Carrington Colby Dexter (knowing a thing or two about this sort of procedure) immediately rolled onto her stomach. Would she really be forced to have man sex with this weird succubus person? Would Dr. Binky’s traitorous body cooperate, even past eleven double vodkas?

Brutus growled sexily, “Turn over baby. I want to look into your eyes.”

Dal Carrington Colby Dexter considered her options.

“Dr Binky demands to remain in the prone position, while engaging in man sex,” she declared.

“I…” Brutus sounded shocked. “Why are you talking about yourself in the third person?”

“Dr. Binky has no idea what you mean,” Dal Carrington Colby Dexter returned imperiously.

Brutus seized Binky’s body in his crushing manly grip and turned it round forcibly until Dal Carrington Colby Dexter had no option but to allow the brute to study her.

There was nothing for it but to attempt to mimic the minimal intelligence of ordinary people. But in the case of Dr. Binky she realized she would have to plumb new depths. She chose a setting of ‘too stupid to live’.

 “So,” she simpered. “You’re looking into the limpid shallows of Dr. Binky’s eyes, What do you see?”

“My beautiful boyfriend. And… the sharp edge of…cunning. You’re not Binky,” he growled. Dal Carrington Colby Dexter froze.

Once again Brutus caught Dal Carrington Colby Dexter in his crushing, manly grip. “You must have swapped minds with him. I can smell the ant spray on you. Who are you?”

“Dr. Binky denies everything!” Dal Carrington Colby Dexter shouted.

Suddenly the hotel room door flew open.

A woman’s voice cried, “Brutus!”

Turning, Dal Carrington Colby Dexter saw…herself! Dear God! What had he done to Dal Carrington Colby Dexter’s turquoise tresses?! And why was he wearing that tacky sarong?

“How did you get here?” Dal Carrington Colby Dexter demanded.

“I disguised myself as a hula mannequin,” Dr. Binky said as he teetered further in to the room on eight-inch stilettos. “And smuggled my way in with the party decorations. Then I borrowed a golf cart.”

“Binky?” Brutus turned his burning glare on to Dal. “Put him back or I’ll kill you!”

“Kill Dal Carrington Colby Dexter and you kill Dr. Binky!” Dal Carrington Colby Dexter gave a harsh, cutting laugh.

“Dal Carrington Colby Dexter,’ Brutus returned narrow-eyed. “Thank you for identifying yourself.”

Dal Carrington Colby Dexter gasped, outraged. “That’s not fair!”

“There’s no need to kill anybody,” Dr. Binky said. “I know what you’ve been through Ms. Dexter. I read you diary.”

“You dared read Dal Carrington Colby Dexter’s private musings? You little creep! How did you get past the heart-shaped emerald lock?”

“Like your own heart, it was broken,” Binky paused meaningfully . Dal Carrington Colby Dexter would have believed Dr. Binky had lost his mind, if there had ever been one to lose.  Binky rushed forward to Brutus, tripping on his 12-inch stilletos. “We need to help her, Brutus. That helicopter you’re supposed to be showing off to buyers belongs to her. We have to help her steal it.”

“You realize that this woman is a world-renowned super-villain, right babe?” Brutus asked. “Who attempted to take over the Lanyon Galactic Empire and had to be captured by butterfly net and shipped to a secure facility in Equatorial Guinea?”

“Yes! I mean…no, I didn’t but so what?” Dr. Binky lifted his chin defiantly and Dal Carrington Colby Dexter saw his seven yard long puce hair (her hair really) begin to work free of it’s bonds.  Dal Carrington Colby Dexter longed to toss it. “Even if she’s in my body she still got an enormous boner looking at you, so she can’t be all bad.”

Dal Carrington Colby Dexter had never before experienced a level of stupidity so profound, yet, she was shocked to realize, her cold, dead heart had somehow been touched by one total idiot’s reasoning.

“So what about it,” Binky continued. “If we help you will you give me my body back?”

Dal Carrington Colby Dexter considered for a moment. “With pleasure,” she declared. “If only to get rid of this…appendage. And get my hair back.”

Part Three

Nicole Kimberling and co-host Dal Maclean finish up talking about traditional narrative structure. Here’s the finale of the three-act plot.

“Peril on Cantina Island Part Three: The Climax & Denouement AKA: The Conclusion.”

During the conclusion all is resolved. Elements from the Premise and the Complication come into play to resolve the story’s conflict and lead to the denouement where everything is put right in preparation for the Conclusion.

We go back to Dr. Binky’s POV where he, still trapped in the body of Dal Carrington Colby Dexter, has resolved to help her reclaim her property so that she will reverse the mind swap:

Dr. Binky led the way down to where the stolen golf cart sat on the narrow street. Tourists and other guest at the tequila mixer had gathered round to admire it’s 24 carat gold plating and nitro booster.

“Ha!” Dal Carrington Colby Dexter cried. “This belongs to Roarke Rex Alamain Dexter.”

“That’s her ex-husband,” Binky explained to Brutus, shoving a lock of writhing vermillion hair away from his face. His scalp was waking up, which should be impossible unless… “Ms. Dexter, are you immune to Botox?”

“Botox has long been an integral part of Dal Carrington Colby Dexter’s unforgettable beauty” she replied loftily. “She may have developed a…. tiny immunity to it through gross and persistent overuse,”  She slumped into the golf cart’s back seat. Two tiny, empty vodka bottles fell out of her—or rather his—pocket. “Botox is next to useless. To control Dal Carrington Colby Dexter’s magnificent, sentient, twelve feet long peacock-blue hair  You will need to use superior mental control. In which case…matters do not look promising.”

Binky hopped into the golf cart driver’s seat while Brutus took shotgun. But the hair was getting out of control. It wrapped around the steering wheel and started trying to drive.

As he turned put the cart in drive he felt a strong arm clamp onto his shoulder.

“Not so fast.” A tall, tanned silver fox in an impeccably tailored suit stood next to him. “Don’t think you can fool me with this disguise…Pookie.”

“Roarke!” Dal Carrington Colby Dexter roared from the back seat.

“And you, Captain Brutus,” Roarke continued. “You can consider yourself dismissed.”

“With all due respect, sir, I think you’re the one who is about to be dismissed,” Brutus growled.

“What does that even mean?” Roarke asked.

“It means I’m having a bad hair day.” With that Binky thought with all his might. The hair wavered and shuddered then went straight for Roarke’s throat. While one length of it choked him, another rifled through his pockets picking out Roarke’s wallet keys and two condoms.

Roarke fell to his knees and Binky barely managed to wrestle the hair back into its scrunchy.

Roarke gasped and said, “I know you would find away to get on the island so I took the precaution of removing the tail rotor from your chopper once we arrived. You’ll never fly it off this island! Never!”

“We’ll just see about that,” Binky floored the golf cart and it surged ahead at a blistering six miles an hour.

They rode along the seawall until they reached the makeshift helipad that had been set up to display Dal Carrington Colby Dexter’s aircraft.

“Well,” Brutus said, as he surveyed the machine. “He really did take the tail rotor off. What an ass.”

“No, no, no!” Ms. Dexter wailed from the back seat. “Dal Carrington Colby Dexter will die before she sees anyone else’s hand wrapped around her jewel-encrusted cyclic-pitch lever.”

“Then we’ll blow it up!” Binky declared. “I saw some fireworks come in with the party decorations.”

“Hang on now babe, let’s not break out the explosives unless we really have to. Ms. Dexter if what you’re angry about is someone else owning this helicopter, do you have to steal it? Can’t we just push it into the ocean with this golf cart?” Brutus asked.

“I suppose we could tip it into the sea,” Dal Carrington Colby Dexter conceded. “It’s enough that if I can’t have it, no one will—a philosophy which has served me well on my relentless path to cosmic domination.”

“As you wish,” said Binky. He fired up the golf cart and rammed the golden, glinting, luminous vehicle off its platform. It tilted into the sea, sinking much more slowly than Binky would have imagined a vehicle that needlessly heavy to go under.

Binky tossed his wild, 20 foot long, rainbow-shaded mermaid hair and said, “And now I think you owe me something.”

Dal Carrington Colby Dexter narrowed her bleary, bloodshot eyes and slurred, “Very well. Give me my handbag.”

Dr. Binky nervously complied, not really knowing whether she would act in good faith or not. She was a super-villain after all. Even if she was called Pookie.

Dal Carrington Colby Dexter retrieved a solid platinum atomizer embedded with rubies in the shape of an ant. She cleared her throat and said, “Well-played, but pray we never meet again, Dr. Binky,” and spritzed him in the face.

The choking smell of ant spray engulfed him and the world went dark. When he awoke he lay on the sea wall Brutus knelt over him.

“Are you okay, babe?”

Just the sound of his precious boyfriend’s voice gave him a Grade A chubby. He was home—back in tune with his appendage!

Neither Dal Carrington Colby Dexter nor Roarke’s golf cart were anywhere to be found. Yes, they’d helped free a super-villain to do her worst to an unsuspecting world, but…they were together.

Binky sat up and realized that he still felt woozy, but not from the mind transfer. “I feel really drunk.”

“With love?”

“And vodka, I think. There’s a bunch of little bottles in my pocket.” He leaned into Brutus’s broad shoulder and together they walked toward the sea wall and peered down.

Ms. Dexter’s helicopter was just about to slip beneath the surface of Cantina Bay. As the glinting apparatus disappeared beneath the sunset waves, Binky placed his hand over his heart and intoned:

Full fathom five thy chopper lies;

All its blades are disarrayed;

Underwater it now flies

Nothing of it that doth fade,

But will suffer a sea-change

Caused by someone rich and deranged.

 The End

 

Pentimento Blues Available Now

Here it is! The final installment of the Bellingham Mysteries: Pentimento Blues.

The Final Mystery

Now that small-town reporter Peter Fontaine has gotten hitched to the man of his dreams, he thinks his days of solving crimes are over. But after a decades-old secret is revealed, a dead body is found and Peter’s husband Nick is at the top of the suspect list. Peter must harness his power of ultimate nosiness to find one last killer.

 

Praise for Pentimento Blues:

"Five Stars" It's About the Book

"The storytelling here is uncluttered, the characters flawed and funny, the setting the perfect mix of homey and eclectic, and Kimberling’s prose is just so easy to lose yourself in for a while."

Lisa, The Novel Approach

Giveaway and Excerpt of "Pentimento Blues" up on The Novel Approach

Fans of Nick and Peter from "The Bellingham Mysteries," might want to check out the excerpt from the sixth and final novella, "Pentimento Blues," up at The Novel Approach today.

To help Lisa celebrate her 5 year blogiversary I'm also giving away a boxed set containing the first five Bellingham Mysteries as well as selections from the Blind Eye Books catalog. There are lots of prizes so come on over!

14 Books Ginn Hale Has Read So that You Don't Have To.

14 Books Ginn Hale Has Read So That You Don’t Have To

Over my long association with Ginn Hale I have seen her perusing many books. And I’ll be honest—hardly any of them looked very interesting. But a few stood out as being so dull-looking that I felt compelled to share it with the world. Ginn, being the darling that she is, swooped in immediately to explain why all these books are amazing.

So here they are (in no particular order.)

#1 Probablistic Robotics by Thrun, Burgard and Fox

NK: This is a heavy blue slab of a book filled with mysterious math symbols, diagrams, graphs and sentences like, “The kidnapped robot problem can be addressed by injecting additional hypotheses into the mixture.”

She claims to have read it all.

GH: I have read it all. The take away from this one is that while digital systems are great at parsing binary information—basically yes/no questions—they require vastly more complex means of problem solving to function in the sort of uncertainty that dominates the real world.

What’s particularly interesting about the book is comparing the exacting, but often ponderous systems of binary logic presented on the pages to the “fuzzy” fast coding that seems to underlie the biological organisms all around us.

#2 Japanese Agent in Tibet by Hisao Kimura

NK: Of all the perfunctory titles on this list, Japanese Agent… has got to be my favorite.

GH: This one is the amazing story of a Japanese youth who during the Second World War escaped conscription by volunteering to travel as a spy through Mongolia, Northern China, Tibet and India.  He quickly proved to be a worthless spy but a wonderful and highly empathetic traveler. His memoir is a harrowing, hilarious, bittersweet chronicle of the human stories that go on in the face of empires rising and falling.      

#3 The American Heritage Dictionary

NK: …honestly I’m not sure why even a writer would read a dictionary all the way through—except maybe as a kind of punishment.

GH: What? No! Reading a dictionary is like opening up a set of nesting dolls of near infinite qualities and varieties. The pages present words describing all manner of ideas, objects, geography, people, and historic incidences. More than that, the definitions and juxtapositions of words themselves can range from fascinating to funny.

Consider the vast change in technology evoked in the small distance between ‘carrier pigeon’ and the electromagnetic ‘carrier waves’ that now transmit sound and images. Does ‘Nunnery’ look down on ‘Nuptial’ from its higher position on the page? And who, after reading the third definition of a ‘Toe’ as, “Something resembling a toe…” can keep from laughing a little at the absurdity.

#4 Very Bad Poetry Edited by Kathryn Petras and Ross Petras

NK: This is one of two volumes on this list that I have also read. Probably my favorite poem in this collection is, “Only One Eye,” by Lillian E. Curtis, though some days I’m more partial to James MacIntyre’s “Ode on the Mammoth Cheese.”

GH:Very Bad Poetry is a gem. Even on the worst of days it doesn’t fail to bring a smile. The sample of agonized rhymes is one of my favorites.

Gooing babies, helpless pygmies,

Who shall solve your Fate’s enigmas?

#5 Ants at Work: How Insect Society is Organized by Deborah Gordon

NK: A book about ants…working. (There are graphs.)

GH: More books should have graphs. Imagine how quickly and simply a chart could sum up the progress of, say, the battle of Helmsdeep. This book certainly does not have too many graphs.

Ants at work deals with the ways that seemingly simple individuals can interact to produce vastly more complex systems, which no individual is required to understand or control. I can’t help but think that some of the problems tackled in Probablistic Robotics might eventually be solved by adopting the less exact but more resilient systems employed by social insects.

#6 The Extended Phenotype by Richard Dawkins

NK: This book has a beaver on the cover, but is not about beavers.

GH: This slim volume that takes Dawkins’ Selfish Gene argument even farther. It discusses how genotypes (which are all the sections of DNA that produce heritable traits aka genes) produce different phenotypes (the physical expression of those genes) that not only effect the organism they occur within, but can “extend” their reach to other organisms. Which is a fancy way of saying that our genes often make us appear attractive, fit, powerful or familiar, not because doing so ‘improves’ our species but because that leverages the genes into a better position for being passed on to the next generation.

There’s some fascinating stuff in here, particularly addressing the “power struggles” between the DNA of an organism and the RNA of the mitochondria that it carries within its cells. And pondering cases of gene swapping wherein it might better serve an organism’s genes to render it vulnerable to other organisms (think bacteria) capable of overwhelming it, snatching up those genes and reproducing them in an entirely different body.

#7 The Behavior Guide to African Mammals (Including Hoofed Mammals, Carnivores, and Primates) by Richard Despard Estes

NK: Contains line drawings, sillouettes, maps and tantalizing information such as the fact that Grevy’s Zebras, “maintain large dung middens on their territorial boundaries.” 

GH: This is an old favorite and my first introduction to the now famous ratel aka honey badger. In one biologists description a ratel he was following, “rounded on the car and bit the tires”.

It’s packed with fascinating animal behavior as well as little insights into the lives of the biologists conducting their studies in the field. (Like how much time they have to spend looking at and drawing anal sacs.)

#8 Bees of the World by O’Toole and Raw

NK: Many full-color photos! (Not all of bees, but mostly.)

GH: Bees. Of. The. World!

What more does a person need inspire them to pick this up and start learning about this diverse family of insects? Drawings of anal sacs? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint but bees don’t have them.

They do however secrete wax and see ultraviolet light. Some are social, living in regimented colonies while others are solitary. Some make their homes in seashells, others dig deep into the ground or tunnel into wood. Not all of them sting or produce honey—some perfume themselves with the scents of orchids. Many have striped bodies, some have striped eyes. All of them are wonderful.

#8 The National Audubon Society Field Guide to Trees (Western Region)

NK: If you, like Roy from Shanghai Noon have decided to “learn the names of these green trees,” this is the book for you. Plus it has a plastic cover and can be used as a very effective coaster.

GH: I don’t know this Roy, but I like the way he thinks. If you’re going to spend a lot of time in forests, it’s only polite to learn the names of the inhabitants.

Owning a field guide is like owning a copy of Burke’s Peerage, you to flip through the pages and from time to time realize that you’ve just chanced upon a rare specimen, be it of a maple or a marquis.

#9 The Book of Swamp and Bog by John Eastman

NK: Honestly, I am not making this up. This is a real book.

GH: This is a real AWESOME book. It’s got it all. Yes, it covers the ecology of those seductive swamps and beautiful bogs but also explores fabulous fens, marvelous marshes, and a wonderland of wetlands.

#10 Medieval Cuisine of the Islamic World by Lilia Zaouali

NK: This is actually a really interesting book. It contains recipes such as “Fish Drowned in Grape Juice,” which acts as both title and first cooking instruction. And ends with, “This fish, like all fish, is served with sibagh, because without sibagh no fish can be appreciated.”

GH: I don’t cook but I sometimes write about people who do and I have to agree this is a really interesting read that evokes a different time and place effortlessly.

#11 Policing Shanghai 1927-1937 by Fredric Wakeman, Jr.

NK: The footnotes section of this book is a whopping 200 pages long.

GH: There comes a time in every author’s life when she thinks, “How did they manage to police Shanghai in the late Twenties and early Thirties?”  This book answers that question and brings the complexity of a collapsing empire, ascending gangster warlords, communist ideals, foreign invasion, and “The Rat” brand cigarettes to life.

#12 Renaissance Swordsmanship: The Illustrated Use of Rapiers and Cut-and-Thrust Swords by John Clements

NK: You might think that this book has photos of dudes fighting. It does not. It has line drawings of what look like artist dummies fighting.

GH: Artist dummies too have their passions and battles! The “how to” aspect of this book is fine but it’s not as fascinating as how the information reflects the idea and ideals of dueling.

#13 The World’s Columbian Exposition: Chicago World’s Fair of 1893

NK: At last! A book with interesting drawings! Apparently the Washington State Pavilion featured a mammoth skeleton, a 20-foot wheat pyramid and many giant trees.

GH: The 1893 fair was amazing! This book alone cannot do it justice but it does help a great deal in visualizing the space and magnitude of the entire thing. The excerpts from visitors’ diaries, newspaper articles and memoirs impart a real sense of just how astounding it felt to attend this immense, electrically-lit exposition.

# 14 The Materials and Techniques of Medieval Painting by Daniel Thompson with a forward by Bernard Berenson

NK: Leafing through this book one can find out which pigments are made out of bugs. That’s my main takeaway.

GH: This is a book within a book. First there are the descriptions of Medieval art materials, often presented with excerpts from sources, (Cennino, in particular). All of which offers a feel of the age and its values. (Poisoning by lead, mercury or arsenic wasn’t merely a danger but almost an inevitability for many of the unknown and unnamed laborers and apprentices.)

The recipes themselves represent strange mixes of mythology and early chemistry. Dragonsblood (actually the sap of an east Indian shrub) was still thought to be the coagulated mixture of blood spilled in the titanic battles between dragons and elephants. There’s even an account of how the “everlasting fighting” between the two combatants plays out—with lots and lots of bleeding on both sides, obviously.

But at the same time, artists were beginning to notice that some pigments they produced had odd, unexpected reactions when mixed—brilliant gold orpiment (which is an arsenic sulfide) blackened cool green verdigris (a copper sulfate) as well as lead white. The artist studios were slowly and subtly becoming chemistry laboratories.

And then there’s the second, slightly subtler book, which arises form the voice of the Art Historian author and captures a 1950’s scholarly tone that is both pompous and charming.

After describing the colorful myths surrounding dragonsblood the author sniffs, “I am sometimes not at all sure that we do not pay too dear for our scientific knowledge.” At various times he becomes obviously pained by the way that the aging of oil and varnishes have made medieval paintings appear more brown and warm than the artist intended: “…blues, violets and cool greys are twisted out of character…” he protests. He also mentions his academic enemies and well as his friends at various points and even brings up Monet at one point.

A close reading of the book and the forward—“…the history of art should be the history of the humanization of the completely bipedized anthropoid.” (Sure it should, buddy.)—actually reveals almost as much about the aesthetics of the Fifties as it does about those of medieval era.