By Johny Rikson
We have always wanted to fly like a bird from the ancient days. The desire led us to invent
airplanes and other flying machines. But we were never satisfied seating inside an airplane; we
wanted to feel the empty space around us, we wanted to feel the adrenaline rush jumping from
fifteen thousand feet in the air, we wanted to indulge us in the monkey business of
Ziplining…just to be consistent with the Darwin theory of evolution! The writer brings these
thrill seeking games in his book using his novel and catchy skill of story-telling. Once you start
reading it, you will never be able to leave it aside until you are done with the book. It is just
My pen name is Val Grian and lately I published a new book called "Tramps, Thieves and IT". The main two characters of the novel are a smuggler (Alan) and a homeless guy (George). Once accident makes the rag a rich and vice a versa.
In the book you will read about the adventures of Alan and George. The plot is dynamic and there are a lot of original jokes. As a bonus you will also find out what happened to Hitler in hell and what the Devil and the English Queen have in common.
Please feel free to ask me questions and share your opinions about the book in the comments. Have a nice day!
Here's the book link:
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Please find a taster of the book below:
Alan pulled off a great deal and made a cool forty thousand. What kind of a deal, you may ask? That was a secret. Even Camilla, Alan's girlfriend, was not aware. But I will tell you, dear reader.
Hmm…on second thought…
Okay, this morning Alan smuggled a hundred kilograms of select Bolivian cocaine into Florida, taking advantage of its massive coastline and using his boat. Then the Coast Guard stopped him. He could have panicked, but why? The boobs were not even close to finding the secret compartment.
Where was it? you wonder. Well, I cannot tell you Alan’s secrets right away. He wouldn’t appreciate that too much and he can act a bit, well, irrational at times. He’s prone to pulling an occasional gun, which he keeps under his driver’s seat. Damn, I shouldn’t have blurted that out.
To move on with it…
Alan was driving home, humming “Despacito.” His shirtsleeves were rolled up and he glanced into his rearview mirror, liking that look in his blue eyes that came after success. The tune on satellite was catchy and eventually its upbeat mood had him pressing his right leg down full throttle. He was going faster than usual and almost home. Then, just a few blocks away from his house, a tramp crossed the road right in front of him.
He slammed on the breaks and stared in disbelief. There the tramp was, slowly dragging a cart full of junk across the road. The guy didn’t even care about the screeching breaks. They should have made him jump. But he just kept crossing the road unperturbed, neglecting the huge Cadillac Escalade that was inches away from him.
“Get out of my way, loser! Chop-chop!” Alan shouted out his window.
What did the tramp do? He just grinned and kept on moving slowly. When he finally crossed the street, Alan stomped on the gas pedal, muttering a drawn out “Assshooole.”
You probably think Alan is not very polite. Well, you are right.
The situation with the tramp was not a big deal, but somehow Alan’s upbeat mood was gone. Some detail in the look of the bum alerted him, and now even the forty thousand that lined his jacket pockets didn’t make him happy.
A couple minutes later, Alan was in his driveway. He stared at the small but nice home he rented in Fort Lauderdale, near the ocean.
He walked in and called out. “Baby, I’m home! I’m hungry, what’s for dinner?”
“Honey, I’m so glad to see you!” Camilla came out to meet him, wearing a smile she kept for special occasions. “I’ve cleaned up the house and I’m exhausted! Can we eat out?” She lowered her head and batted her eyelashes. Then her finger extended to play with the button on his shirt. “Maybe our favorite seafood restaurant?”
Camilla was lucky, because Alan had a thing for her. She was an “exception.” “Sure, honey. Just let me change.”
Alan went to his closet and froze when he looked into it. The joy of seeing Camilla became instant panic. He shouted, “Baby, where is my old suitcase?”
“I tossed that junky thing out with some other stuff,” she shouted back casually. “We should really get you a new one.”
“What?” he said. His heart was racing. Why would she throw away a locked suitcase?
She came to the room. “You okay? There was nothing valuable in there, was there?”
He couldn’t even speak, let alone breathe.
Alan might as well have been hit on the head with a sledgehammer.
Then the anger took hold.
“Bbbb”, Alan’s voice trembled, gradually gaining power. “B-Bitch! What have you done!”
Samskara (a Sanskrit word) has many meanings: A rite of passage or life-cycle ceremony, forming well - making perfect, the realisation of past perceptions, preparation - making ready, are just some.
This novel (written in Kannada and translated to English by AK Ramanujan) has the English subtitle A Rite for a Dead Man, one of the meanings of Samskara. But that meaning, while being the immeidate subject of the novel, is less important than some of the others.
Set before independence, it was written in 1965 and translated into English in 1976.
When Naranappa, a renegade Brahmin who flouted the rules of caste, dies his community can't decide whther he should be buried as a Brahmin. And so we explore the flaws and foibles of the community as the decision is dsicussed, prayed upon and delayed.
The autor describes the novel as an allegorical tale and reading it that way helps. Because despite a readable translation, the lack of knowledge of Hindu practices, legend, faith, means a lot of the nuance is lost. I think a translation that allows for a westerner's ignorance of the nuances would make this a diferent book. Perhaps the time is right for a new translation.
We all have baggage. Real friends help you carry it.
It’s 1983 in Boscobel, Wisconsin, in the southwestern corner of the state, known as the Driftless Area. Ellis Sayre is different. He’s a twelve year old orphaned Native American. His adoptive parents lost a son a few years ago and welcomed him to deal with their grief. While stealing day-old bread for a friend in need, Ellis and his two best friends—George and Mason—witness a murder by a local kingpin. Authorities disagree with their story. They call it made up. The boys are trapped, worried for their lives, sending them on a flight to Grandad’s Bluff in La Crosse, WI, along the Mississippi River. Two peripheral stories about Ellis Abbot—a World War II veteran, and Two Right Feet—an orphaned Native American during early 1800’s, are entwined to unearth Ellis Sayre’s roots. They combine to tell the truth.
- I really enjoyed this book, there was mystery, there was confusion, there were surprises and there was a heartwarming account of friendship and what it is to be there for someone. It's brilliant and especially cosy to read this time of year!