Bloggers Beware!
WARNING. SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION AHEAD.
Dear readers,
My new book releases August 18 (next month!), and we’re trying to let as many people know as possible. One of the ways to do that is this nutty thing called a Blog Tour. Basically, the publisher is offering a complimentary copy of the book to any eligible bloggers who’ll blog about it around release week. If you want to participate, send an email to Kelly Blewett at kellyblewett@hotmail.com with the subject line “Take Me North!” and she’ll let you know further details.
As always, thanks so much for all your support. I still love to play music (and will for as long as I’ve got songs to sing), but writing these books has been an unforeseen and overwhelming blessing. I hope to write many more. Thanks for supporting me and mine in this way.
Beware the bumpy digtoad,
AP
P.S. If you haven’t seen it yet, there’s a website for the Wingfeather Saga where you can see fan pictures, news updates, illustrations, and an encyclopedia-in-progress (I’m up to the letter G, I think). Be sure and sign the guestbook. Thanks again.
A.S. Peterson has crafted a work of compelling historical fiction which begs the question, “Can this really be a debut novel?” With dogged fidelity, Peterson captures the spirit, manners, and social conditions present during the American Revolutionary War. We meet colorful, credible characters who navigate the high seas of life and love, dependence and independence, war and peace, truth and consequence, and despite forays into dark places, The Fiddler’s Gun is beautiful, lyrical, and redemptive.
Walt Wangerin, Jr. strikes again.
Janner Igiby lives in Glipwood, a nothing little village in the land of Skree, on the edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. Manhood is on the horizon, but Janner finds it hard to feel much hope for the future. Skree is ruled by foreign oppressors, snake men called the Fangs of Dang, servants of a shadowy emperor named Gnag the Nameless. The Skreeans are weak and weaponless. They’re even tool-less. Any Skreean who needs to use a hoe has to borrow one from the Fangs (and fill out the requisite paperwork). And from time to time, the Black Carriage arrives in Glipwood to carry young Skreeans toward an unknown fate across the Dark Sea.
I am not a fan of Civil War literature; in fact, I have always thought of it as one of those weird sub-genres for obsessive types. They’re almost like Trekkies with their re-enactments and maniacal devotion to detail. It’s just not my thing (although I’m secretly jealous that they get to dress up and shoot cannons).
A Randall Goodgame song is like a great independent movie. Characters deliver lines like they were lifted from a break room, a truck stop, or a downtown diner. Seemingly incongruent scenes are juxtaposed and plot isn’t obvious; in fact, narrative–a good story–is often more evident than linear plot lines. An indie movie, like a Randall Goodgame song, seems to tell itself. Rather than being rudely yanked by a chain through a sequence of contrived events, with a Randall Goodgame song, I have the sense that I’m being allowed a willing, but vicarious sneak peak into the real lives of his real characters.
Sara Groves irritates me just a little bit. With each album she makes, she moves from strength to strength and is always raising the bar with the quality, depth, and lyrical ambition of her work. And as a fellow artist, that’s just a little irritating since it means the rest of us are going to have to work harder if we hope to keep up.
I am outside on my front porch. The yellowed leaves are methodically falling from the black walnut in the yard, my breath is chalky visible in the recent cold snap, and lately I have been exploring the unpleasant nuances of the dark night of a soul - my own, to be exact. It is a strange passion we live out on this over-glorified orb of rock hurtling through space at some rate that I’m sure would astound me were I to know what it was. It is an odd series of days, I am realizing, when you question your own faith more than you question your own doubt. And, indeed, it is these nagging questions which have prompted me to share my thoughts on Andrew Peterson’s 2003 album, Love and Thunder.
11-year old Reuben Land, a character in the 2001 book Peace Like a River, provides narration that is clear-eyed and insightful, yet retains the magic, wonder, and innocence of youth. I found it easy to entrust my imagination to the author’s clever method of telling the story through the sensibilities of a pre-teen boy. An author with lesser skill would have either made the boy too smart-alecky for his own good or impossibly cute.
I just finished a book that upon closing it, I felt like it finished me in a sense. A quiet meditative book that reached down and stirred the deep waters in me. It’s Marilynne Robinson’s 2005 Pulitzer prize winner Gilead, given to me by my friend Andrew Peterson.
Eric Peters’s body of work addresses a diverse range of topics, but hope is a recurring theme that gently percolates in the midst of it all. And yet, somewhere between the 2001 masterpiece Land of the Living, and Scarce, the flavor of hope that Peters’s work emits has evolved closer to a tone that is more resolute than what came before. And though the complexion of hope has a broad range, the lyrics from Scarce–while intermittently contrite and timorous as in previous efforts, are now strengthened and bolstered by roots that have grown deeper, radiating an underlying grit and security.
Having read The Great Divorce many times over the years, I’ve found this classic from the great C.S. Lewis to be full of startling clarity and depth on the differences between Heaven and Hell. The only thing both have in common is that both begin in the human will; we can either let Heaven enter us and rule in us to blossom into love and goodness, or allow Hell to infect and reign in our hearts by the daily refusal to submit to Heaven.
Even if you haven’t heard Room to Breathe, its still likely you’ve heard Andy Gullahorn. He’s what I’d call a heavy lifter by trade. He writes lyrics, plays guitar, arranges vocals and adds production help to the work of artists like Jill Phillips and Andrew Peterson.
Allow me to preface this by telling you that I am a great despiser of gushing reviews. I’d much rather write (or read) a scathing dismemberment of the latest Brett Ratner film or Terry Goodkind book than suffer through four hundred words of overblown hyperbole about even the best of things. But when asked to write some thoughts on Frederick Buechner’s Godric, no amount of distaste for high praise was able to intervene. I hope you’ll take what I say with the understanding that I do not say it readily or lightly.
Huzzah! (Which is a combined “congrats!” and “I have sent my email posthaste!”)
I’ve also just sent my email, and have also ordered the first book. My 8 year-old daughter is a voracious reader (she just finished book 6 of the Harry Potter Series). In fact, she referes to herself as a “bibliovore”.
This sound like it’s right up our alley.
What fun! Sending an email - I would be honored to hop on this tour bus!
Congrats, Andrew! The book looks and sounds AWESOME!
-Robert
I loved the first one and am on the edge of my seat in preparation for the second!
How do all of us non-bloggers pre-order the new book?
Yay for blog tours! E-mail sent. I’ve been looking forward to reading this since finishing the first one.
We have a count down widget running for when the book comes out and I’ve talked with a Lifeway bookstore Manager who is a friend of mine about suggesting the books to people and he said he would order some extra. In the words of my friend Thomas the Baker, “Lets get to baking”.
My countdown widget is being checked more and more!!
How do you get the countdown widget?
….hope somebody’s listening…..
Kelly Blewett shares her last name with an infamous (although quite fictitious) Anne of Green Gables character. I wouldn’t give a dog I liked to that Blewett woman…especially if he were named Nugget….
If I blog about it, will I get the book any earlier??? Cause I have already pre-ordered it… not that I wouldn’t blog about it, but nobody reads my blog.