K.D. Keenan, author of “The Obsidian Mirror”
http://player.cinchcast.com/?platformId=1&assetType=single&assetId=5859167
Chaco #1
I am offering a special discount on “The Obsidian Mirror” to book clubs while supplies last. Book clubs get a 28% discount to $9.49 ($5 off retail!) plus shipping (retail price is $14.49).
The conditions:
Here are some of the reviews so far:
“Native American mythology is often understated and you can never find enough of it in Fantasy Literature. But don’t worry, K.D. Keenan is here to fix that with The Obsidian Mirror.
What makes the author so special? Well, let’s just say that her best childhood friend was a Native American skull, which she received when she turned six. Show me a better qualification and I’ll eat it! And before you ask, yes, she did return the skull to its proper place when she got old enough to know better.
The story turned out so well and it is so rich in detail that one can almost suspect the author learned more than a few tales from said skull. Add a little bit of Voodoo to the mix and you are well on your way to an all-star American pantheon, echoing Neil Gaiman’s American Gods in a most interesting manner.
Oh, and for all that the author won’t admit it, The Obsidian Mirror has tons of humor. This is skillfully done, with the jokes lurking in the backdrop, tiptoeing behind the text and seldom breaking the surface of the mirror. More often than not you will recognise the joke the same way scientists recognise dark matter – by its effect on the surroundings rather than by its blatant presence.”—Sorin Sociu, author of “The Scriptlings”
“A riveting blend of ancient myth and modern intrigue. Supernatural thrills, corporate espionage and great characters make for a thrill-ride read!”—Gail Z. Martin, author of “Reign of Ash”
“Any fan of mythology and good old fantasy will greatly enjoy this novel. Keenan manages to hook the reader from page one, throwing in some unusual characters (and tropes), mixing it up with a villain that has a brand new bag of toys. I won’t spoil – but it is a new take on the whole good vs evil fight. I love the fact that Keenan picked Meso-American mythology – and rocked the world with it. She clearly knows her stuff and has the potential to take on seasoned authors with her mastery of language and modern twists on some of the most awesome fictional gods around. Looking forward to the sequel.”—Ryan Attard, author of “Firstborn”
“I really enjoyed this book! K. D. Keenan wrote fantasy and characters that were enjoyable! Fred, Chaco, Clancy, Kaylee, and Sierra were my favorites! It has humor, conspiracy, good and evil. K.D. Keenan has a vivid imagination with her characters all through the end. So descriptive in forming a man from a coyote! It’s a great story that kept me hanging on the edge to see who was going to be saved! Her writing has an easy flow, that made me go chapter to chapter! I look forward to her next book!”—Dora E. Gil
“What a wonderful book! I loved reading every minute of it and I am hoping that there will be a sequel soon. There was never a lull or moment’s boredom in the story. It was fascinating learning about the ancient American myths and folklore. The author did an excellent job blending the ancient folklore it into a plausible contemporary setting. The story was so well crafted and the characters albeit mythical came to life and they were so believable. A good read is so hard to find and I am thrilled when I find it.”—J.B. Dow
“’The Obsidian Mirror’ is an urban fantasy based on New World mythologies and legends. It’s an action-packed page-turner, but it doesn’t take itself too seriously. There are plenty of tense moments and some really evil bad guys, but it’s all enlivened by the author’s ability to weave humor throughout the drama.
I enjoyed the well-rounded characters—especially Fred, who’s a mannegishi (sort of a Native American leprechaun). Fred’s a greedy, irresponsible little thief, but you’ll wind up loving his brand of goofy innocence. Chaco, another supernatural character, is another of my favorites. Chaco is kind of a lech, but he’s so cheerful and good-natured that he never offends.
The action mostly takes place in modern-day Silicon Valley, and at the heart of the story is how an evil Aztec/Mayan god takes advantage of modern technology to execute his dark plans. For those familiar with Silicon Valley or Northern California, you will recognize the locale and the culture of the Valley. If you aren’t familiar with this area, take my word for it—the local color is dead-on accurate.
There’s a friendship that forms among three secondary female characters that I particularly enjoyed. None of the three are acquainted before the story begins, but as it unfolds, they form a sort of sisterhood that I found very appealing. I found myself believing in their role in the story and cheering them on.
I truly enjoyed reading this book. It has basically everything I love in a story: characters I care about, action, drama and humor, all tied up with creative storytelling that has enough unexpected twists and turns to keep me interested—and make me genuinely sorry when the story ends. I hope there’s a sequel.”—Linda M. Duyanovich
Interested? Contact me at kdkeenan@theobsidianmirror.net. You can read the first chapter here.
I have decided to write a few book reviews from time to time. I don’t intend to turn this into a book review blog, but I’d like to be able to set down my musings on random books as the fancy strikes me.
I recently re-read (listened to an audiobook version of) “A Canticle for Leibowitz,” by Walter M. Miller. I read it as a teenager, but I’ve noticed I get a lot more out of everything I read now than I did when my system was awash with raging hormones. (For example, I discovered that Thomas Hardy, far from being an incredible drag, was a funny, vivid and poignant writer.)
“A Canticle for Leibowitz” has been called a classic of science fiction. It’s also a classic in post-apocalyptic fiction, equal to George Stewart’s “Earth Abides” (which has held up remarkably well), “The Death of Grass” by John Christopher or “Malevil” by French writer Robert Merle. It has all the elements I look for in a great read: well-delineated characters, drama, mystery, humor and sorrow.
“A Canticle for Leibowitz” was published in 1960, at the height of the terror of nuclear annihilation. I remember “duck and cover” quite well; while crouching under my desk in my middle-school classroom, I was fairly certain that a blackout curtain and a wooden desk were not going to preserve me from frying to a crisp if an atomic bomb landed on, say, Los Angeles. At the time, nuclear catastrophe was a chill breath on the back of everyone’s vulnerable neck.
Miller’s opus opens after a nuclear apocalypse has literally bombed all of mankind back to the Stone Age. There’s a backlash against science, knowledge, and everything associated with the catastrophe buy anti-intellectuals who proudly call themselves “Simpletons.” Those perceived as intellectuals or scientists are murdered. Books are burned. Mankind descends into another Dark Age. Mutated humans, called “Children of the Pope,” are more or less accepted, because there are so many of them.
But there is one beacon of intellectual light left in the world: the Catholic Church, which resumes its ancient tradition of preserving past knowledge. The story opens with Brother Francis, a young postulant in the Albertian Order of Leibowitz, somewhere in the Southwestern desert of the United States. Leibowitz was one of the scientists murdered by the Simpletons, and after his martyrdom, miracles are said to have happened under Leibowitz’s aegis. The monks of the monastery want to canonize Leibowitz as a saint, but there hasn’t been enough evidence of his sanctity to satisfy New Rome. Brother Francis stumbles upon a cache of ancient papers, some of which appear to be pre-apocalyptic shopping lists—but others are blueprints. It becomes obvious to the reader (but not to the monks) that Leibowitz was an engineer, a designer of electronic circuits.
Poor Brother Francis meets his end as the first section of the book closes, having delivered his copy of one of the blueprints (suitably adorned with fanciful illuminations) to the Pope in New Rome.
The second section of the book takes place a few centuries later. An esteemed scholar visits the abbey to study the Leibowitzian relics and is able to tease out some of the technology from the ancient manuscripts. Technology is clearly in a renaissance as one of the monks has succeeded in building a generator to power an arc light. The scholar departs to New Rome to share his new-found insights and to recommend the canonization of Leibowitz.
The third section takes us another six or seven centuries into the future. Technology—much of it based on the study of old documents like the Leibowitzian relics—has developed to the point where space flight is practical. But nuclear weapons have been reinvented, as well—in all likelihood directly due to the knowledge preserved by the Order of St. Leibowitz—and nuclear war is imminent. The last abbot of the order perishes after an atomic blast brings his church down in ruins as he tries to save the consecrated hosts. But a ship commissioned by the Order launches into space, looking for a new home for humanity.
Well, sure, we destroy ourselves all over again, but maybe that rocket ship full of devout Catholics will colonize a new world that will never see an atomic mushroom cloud. Yet the reader is left with the impression that the human race is ultimately doomed to repeat its worst mistakes.
Sadly, “A Canticle for Leibowitz” was the only novel published during Miller’s lifetime. His last work, a follow-up novel called “St. Leibowitz and the Wild Horse Woman,” was published after his suicide in 1996. He must have seen that his ability to continue was in doubt, because he asked author Terry Bisson to finish it for him if he were unable to do so. Bisson did finish the book after Miller’s suicide. It’s thought that Miller’s traumatic experiences in WWII—including the bombing of an ancient abbey at Monte Casino—contributed to his depression and eventual suicide. That may be the case, but it also contributed to the creation of a science fiction masterpiece. Some people write to exorcise their demons, but even St. Leibowitz couldn’t exorcise the dark demons of Walter M. Miller’s haunted spirit.
Chaco, the Coyote Trickster
The launch party for “The Obsidian Mirror” went beautifully last Saturday afternoon. Kepler’s Bookstore in Menlo Park, CA graciously hosted the event, and there was a good crowd of people there. I did a very brief reading and answered questions.
Here’s a sampling of what I was asked:
Q: Is your protagonist (Sierra) autobiographical?
A: Sierra is concerned about the environment; so am I. Sierra is a PR executive, and used to be one. Sierra designs silver jewelry, and I do, too. There the resemblance ends because Sierra is way cooler than I am. (I didn’t mention this, but she’s also younger and more athletic than me.)
Q: What started you writing the book?
A: I had recently finished a Robert Jordan novel that involved riding horses, armor, swords, sorcery, etc. I really enjoyed the book, but later I wondered why, with thousands of legends, mythologies, folk tales and traditions, the New World is rarely used as inspiration for fantasy. Most epic fantasy, at any rate, is usually set in some pre-Industrial Age, pseudo-European environment. Elves, faeries, trolls, ogres, goblins, vampires, etc. are staple fare.
I love swords-and-sorcery, don’t get me wrong! But I had time (my freelance writing business was slow at the time), so I began writing a story based on New World traditions as an experiment. Before long, the characters took over and I HAD to finish the story.
Q: Is Chaco (Coyotl the Trickster) based on a person in your life?
A: I said Chaco was based on my husband, Tom, but I was kidding. Coyotl the Trickster is a folk hero among many of the Native American tribes. I should have mentioned that appearance-wise, I saw Chaco, in his manifestation as a deliciously sexy young man (as opposed to his coyote gig), as Gael García Bernal, the excellent Mexican actor who (among many other roles) played Ché Guevara in “The Motorcycle Diaries.”
One person thanked me for not making Chaco the villain. I started out thinking that since Chaco was The Trickster, he ought to be rather ambiguous; the reader would not be sure whether he was good or bad. I really, truly would have liked to write him that way, but he came out more of a scamp than a real rogue. (That was all his doing, not mine. I had other ideas.)
Q: What other characters are in the book?
A: There’s Fred the Mannegishi. Mannegishi are sort of like leprechauns in that they are small and green, but mostly because they are mischievous. Mannegishi are from legends of the Cree tribe. Fred is truly unreliable, but as one person present said (she had edited the manuscript for me), “Fred seemed like a pain in the butt at first, but he became my favorite character.”
I was asked if I made up Fred’s appearance, but I followed the description of Mannegishi in Wikipedia. I rarely made up anything about the supernatural characters; I tended to follow the traditional descriptions if they were available. Of course, much of my research consisted of strolling around the Internet when I needed a new monster. As the New Yorker cartoon has it, “Nobody knows you’re a dog on the Internet.” By the same token, it’s hard to know whether you’re reading something authentic, or a made-up legend by a tequila company or something. As “The Obsidian Mirror” is fiction—and fantasy fiction at that—I didn’t worry too much about academic purity.
Q: Do you have a sequel planned?
A: Yes, two. The next book will be set in Hawai’I, where Fred might meet some cousins of his. “The Obsidian Mirror” has an underlying theme of threat to our natural environment, which will continue to be a theme of my work. I am very concerned about the Pacific Gyre, also known as the Pacific Garbage Patch, a continent-size vortex of plastic particles in the ocean swirling around Hawai’i. But I do not plan on getting preachy. The books have to be fun to read, or no one will read them.
Of course, I may have to make the ultimate sacrifice and travel to Hawai’i to do research. A writer’s life is so hard.
The third sequel will be set in Mexico, and will have something to do with the Virgin of Guadalupe as Tonantzin, the Aztec flower goddess. I don’t know much more about it yet.
After answering questions, I sat down at the assigned table and signed books. The store sold out, with Kepler’s purchasing the last one for the staff. I hope they enjoy it as much as I enjoyed the party. I got a ton of compliments on the food—which I never touched because I was too wound-up!
Image: High Contrast
Growing up, I learned in school about the natural wonders of our great land—the deep forests, crystalline rivers, wide and sweeping plans, and pristine deserts. This was probably reinforced by various Disney nature films depicting animals in the wild, with not a telephone line in sight.
Imagine my surprise when I got a little older and found out about “dead” lakes so polluted that nothing much could live in them. Rivers that caught on fire from time to time. Sweeping landscapes of gray factories belching dirty smoke into the air, surrounded by heaps of toxic slag. And because I lived a mere 100 miles from Los Angeles, that mother of all urban blight, the pall of grayish-brown smog that obscured the nearby 8,000-foot-plus-high mountains on many days.
I know it sounds as if I were a complete naïf, but I was stunned. The people who were dumping toxins and garbage into the water had to live here, too. Their children were being exposed to poison in the air and water. They had to look at the blight of human ingenuity, right along with the rest of us. So what could they possibly be thinking?
Many decades later, I am still wondering. It has never made sense to me that people would crap all over their own dinner tables. And it has never made sense to me that governments allow them to do this. Every time I read about some scheme to defang the EPA, or lower air and water quality standards, or build another nuclear power plant even after the disasters at Three-Mile Island, Chernobyl and Fukishima, I am newly gob-stopped. Why would anyone knowingly and deliberately destroy the only home we possess?
That’s one reason I wrote “The Obsidian Mirror.” In it, the ancient and evil Necocyaotl devises a new way to entice people to “look into the obsidian mirror,” after which they become so focused on their personal wants and desires that they are willing to despoil the earth to obtain them. He does this by spreading his evil essence in a fiendishly clever way, using modern technology.
To be honest, it’s the only explanation I can understand. Nothing else makes any sense at all. Profit motive, you say? That’s like burning down your own house to warm your hands for a bit. Until I get a better explanation, I’m sticking with the Necocyaotl Theory.
Ryan Attard, the author of the “Legacy” fantasy series (“Birthright” is the latest in the series and can be found on Amazon at http://amzn.to/1lWWfHt) interviewed me, and you can hear the podcast at http://ryanattard.com/. Warning: it’s long.
Ryan Attard
If you enjoy urban fantasy and you’re especially intrigued by anime, Eastern traditions and martial arts, Attard is just the man for you. His protagonist in the series, Erik, is a wizard with genetically inherited magic–who can’t use his magic. He has a snarky cat-demon as a familiar, his current apprentice is a flame-haired succubus, and he fights with a magical sword called Djinn. What more could you want?
I’ll be interviewing Ryan in the near future. I found out that he owns swords himself, and will run through fight scenes with a similarly-equipped friend to assure verisimilitude in his fight scenes. He’s also a martial arts practitioner and he lives on the island republic of Malta. Ryan should be a fascinating interview, and I’m looking forward to persuading him to stop writing long enough to talk with me.
Chaco #1
This is it–my first podcast! I am reading Chapter One of “The Obsidian Mirror,” due out from AEC Stellar Publishing on June 27.
I will be hosting a launch party for the book at Kepler’s Books in Menlo Park, California on June 28 at 2:00 pm. I’ll be reading a portion of Chapter One and signing books. Come on down! Wine and munchies provided. (Leave a comment here to let me know if you’re coming. I’d hate to run out of food.)
I’ve written posts in the past about the fact that I live in an intergenerational living situation (see “An Experiment in Intergenerational Living,” and “Intergenerational Living: The Experiment Continues”). My husband and I sold our house last June and our daughter and her husband sold their house in July. We bought a house together in a new community. With Kerry and Mike came our granddaughter Lilah, 4, and two geriatric Japanese chins. (Chins are small, fluffy dogs with bulging eyes, squashed-in noses and a gremlin-like ability to find trouble anywhere, anytime.) Tom and I brought with us a third geriatric dog (large mutt) and a small black cat.
Now we have a new addition to the family: Jessamyn, one week old today. Jessamyn arrived a couple of weeks early because Kerry developed pre-eclampsia and what with one thing and another, had a caesarian delivery. (Getting the baby out is the only treatment for pre-eclampsia, which is the beginning of kidney failure and results in death if untreated.) So we were all a bit surprised by Jessamyn’s early debut, including Jessamyn.
All newborns are unbelievably tiny and fragile-looking, and Jessamyn is no exception. So far, she has been fairly easy. She sleeps, eats and poops. The only time I’ve heard her cry is when her diaper is changed or when she’s hungry. Lilah is delighted with her and tries hard to be helpful by fetching things for her mother. She is fascinated by Jessamyn’s tiny nose, which she touches very gently. Marley (#1 geriatric chin) wants to cuddle. The other animals have noted Jessamyn’s presence, but are keeping their distance.
Tom loves to hold the baby. He will hold her literally for hours. The photo above isn’t really fair—but I couldn’t resist, given the expression I caught on his face.
So another life has joined the family, and I wonder what she will be like. Will she dance through the house singing off-key, like her big sister? Will she like to draw? Will she love words? Will she want to be a poet, or an engineer? Jessamyn is physically here, but I don’t know who she is yet. It’s odd, feeling all this love for someone I don’t even know. I look at her little face, and she owns me, just like her big sister Lilah owns me. I am theirs for as long as I’m alive.
I attended FogCon a couple of weeks ago. I had only attended one other con, and that was several years ago when I went to WorldCon in San Jose, CA. WorldCon was huge, taking up much of the McEnry Convention Center. There were lots of cosplay people dressed as Galadriel or Romulans or as people/creatures/characters I didn’t even recognize. And I met Terry Pratchett.
Yes, I know I said I was going to talk about FogCon, but I have to stop and talk about my encounter with Mr. Pratchett, who is one of my VERY EXTREMELY MOST FAVORITE fantasy authors.
You see, I met Connie Willis first. I was in the vendors’ hall when I happened to glimpse her nametag. Connie Willis is also a favorite author, so I introduced myself—and proceeded to commit every rabid-fan sin it is possible to commit in attempting to praise her work. Even as I heard the vapid words burbling out of my mouth, I knew I was doomed. The expression of pain on Ms. Willis’ face only confirmed my gauche blundering. I attempted to extricate myself by saying, “Well, I’m starting to drool on you, so I guess I’d better go now.” Ms. Willis nodded mute agreement, and I slunk away with my tail between my legs, feeling like a complete moron.
I was standing at a vendor’s stall wondering if it is possible to actually die of embarrassment when a tidy gentleman with a gray beard and a black fedora walked up. I thought he looked familiar, but when the vendor called him “Mr. Pratchett,” my suspicions were confirmed. He stood right next to me as the vendor handed him a CD and said, “I’ve been saving this for you, but I was afraid I might come across as a rabid fan.” (Like me, I thought.)
Pratchett took the CD and said, “I adore rabid fans!”
I turned to him and said, “Well, then, would you mind if I drooled on your shoulder?”
Pratchett responded, “Not at all—but would you mind drooling on this shoulder”—he patted his right shoulder—“as the other one is already rather damp?”
Instantly, the oppressive cloud of feeling foolish lifted and disappeared. I will never forget how Terry Pratchett’s humor and kindness brightened my day and turned my embarrassment into laughter. (Not that I mean to say Connie Willis made me feel bad. I made myself feel bad. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.)
Okay, back to FogCon, which is a very different con. I thought the topics appeared geared more to writers than to fans (“How To Create a Magical System” is one example), but there were probably more fans than writers. The sessions were a combination of panel discussion and group discussion. I introduced myself to several people, and sometimes got into conversations, but most people seemed to be there with groups of like-minded friends, and they were more interested in hanging with their posses than mingling. No one was rude or even cold; I just never clicked with anyone. I asked several people why they came to FogCon, and the answers were all along the lines of “I enjoy the discussions. The topics are so interesting.” Perhaps other cons are not as participative? I don’t know yet.
I managed to miss all the good parties because I didn’t know about the con suite. I handed out a few cards about “The Obsidian Mirror,” but no one expressed much interest. I finally just left a stack on the literature table. When I tried to talk about the book to a bookseller (from whom I was purchasing three books at the time), he just looked bored and pointedly set the card aside without a word.
By the time the “Non-Awards Banquet” rolled around on Saturday night, I was kind of done. There was a party afterwards, but I was tired and didn’t feel like trying to push myself onto more indifferent people.
I’ve done a lot of successful networking in my time, but I felt like a complete tyro at FogCon. I suspect that I am on a learning curve here. I went to the con to learn more about how cons work, and from that perspective, I was successful. I think I need to attend more cons and pick up on the culture (which I think differs from con to con, based on my limited experience). If I continue to attend, I’ll probably get to know others who go to cons and vice versa. Who knows? Maybe someday I’ll have my very own posse.
Well, the publisher has approved final cover art for “The Obsidian Mirror.” As you can see below, not too different from the last one. We still don’t have the blurbs, publisher’s logo, etc., but that’s out of my hands for now. I like this one!
obsidianmirrorblog 