Synopsis
As the moment of my execution drew nearer, as the squad of raised rifles fired in final judgment against other prisoners and fellow traitors, I reflected upon the events leading up to my court martial, its finding of guilt, and my death sentence. I could not have imagined, when my nation's army turned northward in its campaign of conquest, that the core ideals creating my sense of citizenship would be tested and found wanting.Nor would I have believed that a young woman, relying upon her faith in God, could survive the might of our invading army, escape the devastation of her homeland and flee to safety among strangers far away. Our chance encounter, a few brief but fateful moments, forced me to reconsider my dreams, my motives, and the thoughts that inspired my deeds. This change ultimately led to the demise of my military career.Her influence extended far beyond my own life, lovingly touching the experience of a troubled young Tamarian soldier. His courage and tenacity enabled a tiny nation to stand firmly against an invading force unmatched in battlefield success. Together, this boy and the refugee girl would face the disapproval of friends and family, find their fragile relationship tested in the realm of rumor, yet ultimately find themselves at the center of my own conflict in choosing right from wrong.Their story blends with mine. This book explains our collective experience in living on the edge of justice.
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À propos de l?auteur
When I was a young boy, my favorite place in the entire world provided shelter from the blistering summer sun beneath twisted, tangled California Live Oaks. The arroyo lay carpeted in a crisp bed of fallen leaves, beneath which water always flowed. Toward dusk, living creatures moved from their dens and resting places--small amphibians, birds and mammals--coming out to hunt, or be hunted.The contrast between the busy streets of my home town and this quiet place, which lay within a thirty minute bike ride of my house, drew me with increasing frequency as I grew older. My mother never complained when I brought new 'pets' home. I kept tadpoles in a jar, toads and snakes in a terrarium, then dutifully returned them to the 'wild' after observing their behavior for a little while.The day I saw an army of bulldozers arrive, my heart sank. Although somebody once told me that the subspecies of California Live Oak native to the San Rafael hills where I grew up lived in no other place on earth, the giant machines knocked them to the ground without mercy. In their place, a massive, fetid, noisome mountain of garbage rose toward the sky. I vowed to leave that place and live somewhere far away, where my new 'favorite place' could remain pristine. I swore that I would forsake California for Canada.Although that memory has faded, and its impact muted by a myriad of different experiences, somehow it retains an influence over my attitude toward people and the world I observe. It could be a better place, if something within us would change--That restless desire to instigate a revolution lies at the core of what motivates me to write. I put words on paper in the naive belief that somehow you will be different after my work has been read. This is not arrogance--merely hope. You may find common threads woven into the fabric of our experiences as a common people, for we are bound by more than than the minor things that divide us.I have stood onstage at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion in Los
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