So, I could tell you a story about food poisoning and crazy rides across the Philippines, but I suspect you want to know what the cover of my book looks like, or what its final title and release date will be, or how you can pre-order it, or read about some fascinating characters from Portland who played both heroic and sinister roles in World War II.
By the time I had the confidential State Department documents in my hands, I was five days into my research trip to Washington, D.C., I'd flipped through hundreds, maybe thousands of pages of dusty, sometimes crumbling government documents, private letters from publishing luminaries, and even water-stained diaries from hungry, stranded soldiers unaware of a coming death march through mosquito-infested, sweltering jungles.
Now I need your help to keep looking.
Yesterday, I shared a picture from my portfolio of the Seattle Public Library. I'm still thinking about books today, and I'm often thinking about Los Angeles. So why not share another of my favorite pictures? This time, enjoy a glimpse of the Rotunda at the Los Angeles Central Library. Isn't it interesting that two of my favorite shots in my portfolio are of libraries? Like this image? Though I’m first and foremost a writer, I do shoot pictures when I can. You can see some of my favorite shots and even order prints if you like by visiting my Photoshelter portfolio.
Because I spent most of my weekend reading (or, rather, re-reading) Paul French's mesmerizing "Midnight in Peking"), because publishing houses are currently evaluating my own book proposal, because my twitter stream is full of tweets from Book Expo America, and because books are amazing any time, today's portfolio pick comes from the astounding Seattle Public Library.
This morning marks one of the most exciting moments for me as I continue to pick up where Mel was silenced. In a few hours I'll be in an apartment in Alhambra, California, meeting with George T.M. Ching, his wife, and their daughter. George was one of Mel's dear friends during his time as an exchange student at Lingnan University. At ninety-seven-years-old, it's uncertain how able George will be to really deeply reflect on Mel's life, but I'm hopeful that just the chance to share some time with someone who Mel cared strongly about, and who cared strongly about him will be valuable.
"...Then would come the noise of the bombs falling. The bombs didn't screech or whistle or whine. They sounded like a pile of planks being whirled around in the air by a terrific wind and driven straight down to the ground. The bombs took thirty years to hit. While they were falling they changed the dimensions of the world. The noise stripped the eagles from the colonel's shoulders and left him a little boy, naked and afraid. It drove all the intelligence from the nurse's eyes and left them vacant and staring. It wrapped a steel tourniquet of fear around your head, until your skull felt like bursting. It made you realize why man found he needed a God."