Of Deserts and Plagues
Last week I received the newest version of The Desert of Souls from my UK publisher, Head of Zeus. It’s a little smaller in height than the American version which gives it a slightly greater heft. I think it’s a pretty snappy look, and it’s always a pleasure to receive a box of your own books.
Note below that Mighty Max, Norman, and Virgil showed up to admire the books as well.
In other news, Justin Landon of Staffer’s Book Review seemed to dig my first Paizo Pathfinder novel, Plague of Shadows. Amongst other compliments, the one that brought me the biggest smile was “by its conclusion I feel that Jones could write a sporting goods shopping list and I’d be riveted.” You can find the whole thing here.
I don’t often have a sporting goods shopping list, but I could send him a copy of my supply list the next time I head to the lumber yard prior to fence repair. I’m guessing he’d find it less riveting than he supposes. Although, given the kinds of stuff I’ll be picking up, I suppose he could say that I “nailed it.” Hah!
Here is my official notification of the fact I have no good segue. I’ve been having some really cool and vivid dreams the last few weeks. For instance, last night I dreamed I was reading the opening to Tolkien’s sequel to The Lord of the Rings, set in the Third Age. Sam’s son was the hero and he was off to fight big tobacco. One of his rewards was to receive the full version of Macbeth, longer by a third than the surviving text. I woke up right after the dream got underway, so I’ll never know what the full version of Macbeth would be like.
I guess what I should say is that I’ve been having the starts of nifty dreams, because the previous one had just gotten to get interesting when I had to wake up and make breakfast for the kids. In this dream I was sitting at the piano jamming away on the Beatles version of “Money” (I know the Beatles don’t use a piano in their recording, but I prefer the feel of their version, in real world and dream time). I was into the first verse when fantasy author Scott Lynch wandered up with a guitar case. I think he was about to open it to grab his ax and join in, but he might have planned some El Kabong style justice. Because I woke up right then, I’ll never know. Scott tells me he’s about as musical as a pickle, although, as he recently had a dream where he was jamming with the Beatles, I advised him it might be time to learn guitar.