Saturday, 12 August 2017

Fleet by Brian T. Marshall

Title: Fleet
Author: Brian T. Marshall
Release Date: April 19, 2017
Publisher: missppelled press



A man, lost and naked, on the streets of Manhattan, pleading in an unknown tongue. The retired linguist who realizes it's an archaic Greek, not spoken for three thousand years. And the young woman who befriends them both, just in time for an unlikely quest. From New York to LA, Nebraska to Delphi, Fleet travels a labyrinth, with a mystery as old as mankind lying at its very heart.






Excerpt:

On the day that he turned seven years old, Simon Patrick gave himself a gift. On that day, and every day that followed, he would learn a new word. For most people, especially those with just seven candles on the cake, this would have sounded like a chore, or a duty. But for Simon it was a treat. Because for him, words were like candy, tiny little nuggets you popped in your mouth, only to find them expanding, exploding, engulfing you with new flavors, new worlds. His word for that day was precocious. And all day long he was precisely, exactly that.


Praise for Fleet:

"I love, love, loved this book from beginning to end."
- Hiatt House (Amazon)
"I was totally hooked from page one."
- Cara Gubbins (Amazon)
"If you're reading this review, STOP. Download the book and read it ... and hang on for an incredible ride. GO, RIGHT NOW."
- Michael Agliolo (Amazon)





Author Bio:

Brian T. Marshall was born in Southern California and became, despite concerted efforts, a graduate of UC Santa Cruz. For the past twenty years he and his wife have operated a small urban farm in the Northern Sierra foothills. He has recently retired his shovel to allow more time for literary and musical pursuits.





Guest Post:

The following is the opening chapter of my website serialization, "Doug Walker, Dog Walker."

So it must have been back in ninth or tenth grade. Back when they give you that test. General Aptitude? Major Pain-in-the Ass? Anyhow, you know the one. The one where they decide if you’re cut out to be a lawyer, or a mechanic, or the kind of a person who’d come up with a test to decide what kind of a person you are.

And for once I wasn’t complaining. Not about the test at least. Because the truth was, I could’ve used a little help at that point, a sign from God, an arrow pointing the way. So I sharpened up my #2, and filled in the little ovals, and then, two days later, forgot about the whole thing, went back to being the scared, scurrying little creature you’ll see staring back from my high school yearbook. But the test didn’t forget me. Somewhere a computer was scanning each page, tabulating my responses, doing whatever it is computers do. Deciding what kind of human being I deserved, or was stuck with, being.

Five or six weeks later we’re back in class, and the teacher is handing them out. Big brown manila envelopes with little white stickers on the front. And on those labels our names. Take them home. Discuss them with your parents. Appointments with your guidance counselor, sometime around Thanksgiving. But because I’m bored, with nothing better to do, I open mine up during lunchtime. Four or five sheets of paper, some charts, some tables, some graphs, and on the first one, right on the top, two words in big capital letters.

DOG WALKER

Now maybe someone else would’ve figured it out. Realized that the computers had taken my name – Doug Walker – and somehow dropped the ‘u’. That this whole thing, the computers, the test, were just a joke, that all these experts who were going to tell me what to do with my life couldn’t even spell my name right. But me? All I saw were those two words, spelling out my future. Like the fortune cookies we got each time my mom ordered take-out Chinese.

Dog Walker. Dog walker. I knew there were dogs. I knew there were people. I knew that people walked dogs. But the thought that it could be a job, a profession, the thing you called yourself, it pretty much blew my mind. I mean who would be lazy enough, loaded enough, to pay someone else to walk their dog? And more to the point, who would be hard up enough to say yes. To take that leash, that doggy bag, and somehow smile back.

Now I know.








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