THE DARK THAT DWELLS is a debut space opera novel featuring an
unforgettable ensemble cast, planet-hopping across an expansive galaxy on
the brink of war.
The story unfolds through the viewpoints of four characters: SIDNA ORIN, a
mercurial young arcanist, striving to gain the lost knowledge that could
save her people. FALL ARDEN, honorable sword-for-hire, working as a guide on
a dangerous expedition into an unexplored frontier. BAN MORGAN, disgraced
marine wielding high-tech weaponry, chained by remorse and the ghosts of his
past. TIEGER of WESTMARCH, fanatical zealot, empowered with the seemingly
divine technology of his overlord and a starship feared across
THE DARK THAT DWELLS holds virtual worlds lost in crystal relics, visceral
close-quarters combat, mysteries of the divine and the arcane, companionship
and bittersweet romance, insidious deception, and the looming threat of a
horror who hungers for the souls of mankind.
This story is essential for readers craving robust, character-driven
adventures on fantastic alien worlds, bullet-ridden spaceships barely held
together, and the expansive infinity of space-time itself.
About the Authors
Matt Digman is exactly one half the creative force behind the epic fantasy
space opera novel, The Dark That Dwells. Born and raised in Arkansas, he
spent his free time studying Star Wars technical manuals, searching for his
next favorite RPG, and watching his Star Trek: TNG VHS tapes until they fell
apart. Basically, he was nerdy when nerdy wasn’t cool. He currently
works as a pediatric emergency medicine physician in Alabama and writes when
he ought to be sleeping.
Ryan Roddy grew up across the southeast, chasing her dream of becoming a
professional actress. Though she eventually traded the stage for a
stethoscope, she never gave up her love for great storytelling—or for
playing dress up as an adult. Now she works as a pediatric emergency
medicine physician to afford her cosplay and Disney obsessions. She loves
the characters she’s written for The Dark That Dwells with her husband
almost as much as she loves him and their four dogs.
From USA TODAY bestselling author, Maureen A. Miller, comes this young
adult cosmic adventure.
With a father from the planet, Ziratak, and a mother from Earth, Zon’s
challenges are galactic. Zon doesn’t possess superpowers, though. If
anything, he’s a bit of a klutz.
In Ziratakian folklore, the tale of the Temple of the Monarch has been
passed down for generations. As legend has it, a series of miniature globes
lead to the temple’s gate.
Except, Zon knows of a cave with small globes in it. And with one clumsy
mishap, he triggers the gate–opening a portal to other worlds.
A trip through this vortex transports him to Earth, where the first human
he encounters is a young woman with challenges of her own.
This is a brand new saga, and a new generation. There is no need to read
the BEYOND series. However, for readers of the series, you will enjoy this
continuation of the epic science fiction adventure.
Zon picked up on another sound. Hoofsteps. Footsteps. The tread of some unimaginable creature.
He spun, confused by the acoustics. As he swung back, he distinctly heard the approach from his right. Wrenching the utility beacon off his belt, he retreated a step towards the whirling shadows in the grove of trees.
A creature crested the hill, it’s blue beak the first thing visible.
“Oh!” It cried, lifting its head and freezing.
Zon swallowed, his legs paralyzed between flight and fight.
“You scared me,” a soft voice claimed. “I’ll just–go–”
The blue beak pivoted, although now he recognized it wasn’t a beak at all. It was a headpiece of some sort. The word eluded him, but he remembered seeing one before.
“Wait,” he called.
The figure halted, but did not look back.
“You speak–” he hesitated, assessing the slight profile, “—English?”
The hat snapped back and brown eyes narrowed under the shade of the brim.
Baseball hat! That’s what his mother called it.
The figure cocked its head.
He was pretty sure it was a female, but the slim figure was cloaked in oversized garments, and the long hair was pulled back by a twine, which was something the males on Ziratak did.
The brown eyes slid down his body.
“Your pants are moving,” she observed with a slight blush.
A nagging thump against his thigh alerted him that JOH was trying to get out. Zon slapped his hand down to still the motion.
“It’s just my droid.” He shrugged uncomfortably.
“Droid? Oh, your drone? Were you flying it?”
Her head tipped back and he saw a pale throat.
“Good day for it,” she murmured, and stared curiously at him.
She was talking to him in English.
And she looked mecaw–human.
Zon took another glance around, hoping that his body eclipsed the swirling portal behind him.
“Is this Earth?” he asked, searching the trees, but not seeing any buildings.
The girl’s eyes flared in alarm. She stumbled backwards.
Inside his pants pocket, JOH demanded attention, his incessant vibration driving Zon crazy. He pulled open his pocket to give the droid a stern look. JOH’s animated face was replaced with a string of text.
This IS Earth!
Childhood alarms registered in Zon’s mind. The last time he came to this planet he was quite young. But he remembered his mother’s caution.
Don’t say you’re from another planet.
Most of the people on Earth don’t know much about intergalactic travel. They don’t know about life in other galaxies. And what they don’t know–scares them.
Remember, you are half Earthling.
On Earth your name is Jon. It is for your protection.
All that it meant was he was a Gorzot…again.
Encouraged that the female hesitated in her flight, he tried for a more reasonable approach.
“Umm, just kidding,” he fumbled. “I’m not from here.” Where’s here? “I’m visiting.”
A tentative glimpse over her shoulder, and the woman–girl–she looked young–more like his age–finally turned back to face him.
“I can tell.”
He felt awkward under her probing gaze, but he always felt awkward when anyone looked at him for too long.
“How can you tell?”
About the Author
USA TODAY bestselling author, Maureen A. Miller worked in the software
industry for fifteen years. She crawled around plant floors in a hard hat
and safety glasses hooking up computers to behemoth manufacturing machines.
The job required extensive travel. The best form of escapism during those
lengthy airport layovers became writing.
Maureen’s first novel, WIDOW’S TALE, earned her a Golden Heart nomination
in Romantic Suspense. After that she became hooked to the genre. In fact,
she was so hooked she is the founder of the JUST ROMANTIC SUSPENSE
Recently, Maureen branched out into the Young Adult Science Fiction market
with the popular BEYOND Series. To her it was still Romantic Suspense…just
on another planet!
Publisher: Blue Fortune Enterprises LLC, Lavender Press
In 2400 BCE Crete, 18-year-old Mave keeps the old spirituality alive,
primarily through her clay chips and the symbolic images she paints on them,
the original runes. She falls in love with Tear, a semi-divine being born
both male and female, and finds an ally in Inna, a former holy prostitute
kicked out of her communal home. The Gigante from the northern tribes marry
the holy prostitutes then replace the Goddess of the temple with a Sun God
who loves order and lighting bolts. Girls and women, formerly revered
stand-ins for the Goddess and her creator, the cave-dwelling Ssha, either go
underground with their beliefs or find a way to fit in the new culture. As
it turns out the old ways of the Goddess had its flaws, and this creates the
opportunity for the Gigante and their sun God to move in.
Excerpt from Chapter Two:
After dining on field greens and parsnip, Mave watched the sun’s glow fade from gold to pink then the violet of dusk. Soon the people in her village would leave their homes and roam the foothills of Ssha Mountain while the veil between worlds thinned. Some would have visions and some would not, but all would experience straddling two worlds, like standing in two rivers at once.
Mave felt safe at the kitchen table, even with the dark closing in on her. The kitchen walls were thick with Anta’s spells, keeping Mave and her mother protected. Feeling brave, Mave leaned her head out the window and counted falling stars, numerous this time of year. Then she searched for her constellation, the Crone, a figure in a flowing cape poised between worlds. What it really looked like was a straight line of bright points with a spray of more glittering lights off its back and a bright star at both top and bottom. On the other side of the sky, Mave found the Traveler, her rising sign, a group of stars that seemed to have legs jutting out of it.
Her reverie was interrupted by the brisk sound of hooves clattering into the yard and her mother shouting even before she dismounted.
“Mave! Where are you?”
Too tired to run, Mave rose from the table and struck a piece of flint on the stone floor and lit a candle. She jumped as her mother’s boots stomped down the corridor to the kitchen.
“There you are,” her mother said, her voice booming off the walls of the kitchen. She strode up to Mave and pressed her palms against her eyes, and Mave’s sense of safety dissolved. She fought not to scream.
They parted, and Audria stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing like sparking coals hot enough to melt frankincense resin. Mave tried to think of an escape, but her thoughts fled as her mother’s look skewered her to where she stood.
“Draw near, my girl, I have a story to tell. Void, I’m hungry. Any food?”
Mave prepared a corver of cold greens and parsnip and placed it in front of her mother.
“Sit,” her mother said.
“I took a little trip today,” Mave’s mother said.
“That’s nice.” Mave looked away.
“Don’t you want to know about it? It concerns you,” her mother said. “And the Ssha.”
“Me and the Ssha?” Mave asked, her voice squeaking out. She sat back in her chair and folded her arms. “Tell me if you want. I don’t care.”
Audria patted the scrolls on her back. “Have a sniff,” she said, cocking her head toward the scrolls. “You can smell the Ssha.”
Mave leaned forward, took in a huge breath and fell against her chair back in a coughing fit. “You tricked me,” she said, rubbing her nose. “It smells like the latrines.”
“Lime,” her mother said, and put her nose in the scrolls and took a deep a breath as though they were a bouquet of roses. “Reminds me of when I was a girl, and they lived among us.”
“What do the scrolls say?” Mave asked.
Her mother lifted the sling holding the scrolls off her back. “There are prophecies about this time, when the sign of the Tromper with his ax and scale begins to rise in the east, his bright stars blocking out Venus. We’ve always thought of the Tromper as a kind of joke. A man in charge? No one could take that seriously. But today I saw something in your chart that changed that.”
Mave sat silently. They’d been through this before. Audria would discover some awful thing in Mave’s chart, go crazy for a while, and then realize she’d made an error in her celestial calculations. She never made mistakes with anyone else’s chart, only Mave’s.
“Don’t you want to know what it is?” her mother asked.
“Whatever.” Mave traced a crack in the table with her finger.
Her mother leaned toward Mave and took her hand in hers. Mave pulled her hand away.
“Listen to me,” her mother said. “Something is about to happen, and I think you’re a part of it.”
“Oh, mother, please, not again. Just last month you saw an earthquake coming in my chart, due to hit a week ago, and look, I’m still here. Nothing happened.” Mave turned her head to listen to the villagers singing as they left their homes for the hills. “And what about Be’s warning that you promised to give the people?”
Audria listened to the singing, looking both dreamy and excited. “I have to go soon. The initiation’s about to start.” She laid her hand on the smelly scrolls. “We’ll talk about these tomorrow. And about Be’s warning…” She paused. “How did you know about that?”
The singing grew louder. Something rose up in her mother and, to Mave’s eyes, rippled along her skin.
“Stay in tonight,” Mave said, pulling on her mother’s arm as she rose to leave, the soft singing passing by their house. “Stay with me instead of going into the dark.”
Audria looked at Mave as though she didn’t know her. “Another time,” she said, and blew out the candle. “Tonight is an initiation.”
Her mother left then, running out of the door into the night. Mave started out after her, lead on by the full moon and its light, but stopped a few yards from the door. Like a dog, her hackles rose. The breath of the spirits whooshed on her neck. She ran back to the house and at first could not find the door. She slapped the stucco as though blind and moved from one end of the stone wall to the other, trying to find the door. She fell inside, panting, and crawled into the tiny room where Anta kept clean cloths. There, she curled up into an old cape of Anta’s and fell asleep.
About the Author
Karen Cavalli, née Lound, writes fiction and non-fiction. Her work
has been published online and in books. Her work has won awards including
Outstanding Secondary Science Book. She is a graduate of Old Dominion
University where she earned a B.A., and The University of Alabama’s
MFA in Creative Writing Program where she studied with Margaret Atwood. She
has worked in technology for over 10 years. She taught a writing course on
the topic of psychological descent at the University of Minnesota and in
North Carolina. Her work in technology has taken her to India and China and
allowed her to work with individuals in Mexico, the United Kingdom,
Australia, New Zealand and the emirate of Dubai. She loves her local Savage
library and volunteers there. She can be contacted at
One man’s dark deal with the Nazis could bring the Allies to their
Autumn, 1942. Rule breaker OSS Agent Conor Thorn is assigned a mission to
help the Allied war effort when a key Swedish cryptographer stationed in
England goes missing. Thorn is determined to find him before critical
information falls into enemy hands, but when his MI6 colleague vanishes
trailing the code-breaker to Stockholm, Thorn is plunged yet again into a
sinister Nazi conspiracy.
Can Thorn stop prized secrets from triggering more wartime carnage?
The Ultra Betrayal is the second novel in the thrilling Conor Thorn spy
series. If you like harrowing historical drama, riveting espionage, and
fast-paced action, then you’ll love Glenn Dyer’s well-researched WW II
Other Books in the Conor Thorn Thriller Series:
The Torch Betrayal
A Conor Thorn Novel, Book One
Publisher: TMR Press
Released: January 2018
A disgraced agent. A missing battle plan. Will he find redemption or damage
the Allies beyond repair?
London, 1942. OSS Agent Conor Thorn is desperate for a second chance. After
a botched mission in Tangier, Thorn knows failure is not an option. When
confidential directives for Operation Torch, the invasion of North Africa,
go missing, the agent must recover the plans before the Nazis thwart the
Thorn teams up with MI6 agent Emily Bright to seek out the traitor in their
midst. Untangling the web of suspects leads them to Nazi sympathizers,
double-crossing Soviet spies, and Vatican clergymen with motives of their
own. As their mission grows more and more dangerous, Thorn and Bright have
one chance to retrieve the document before it falls into enemy hands,
leaving countless Allied troops in danger.
The Torch Betrayal is a high-stakes WWII thriller inspired by true
Conor and Emily shared a wooden crate in the back of the truck. Eve and
Gunnar did the same. They had been on the road for ten minutes when the
truck made a right turn and pulled to a stop. Conor pushed the rear canvas
flap aside and saw that they had arrived at a gas station. Bobby came to the
back of the truck.
“The driver said that he has to fill up for his deliveries tomorrow
morning. That’s his routine. It won’t take long.”
“Long enough for a phone call?”
Conor hopped down and headed inside the station’s office. There
wasn’t anyone inside, so he laid a few krona on the desk, dialed the
Grand Hotel, and asked for Gus Karlson.
“Are you there yet?” Karlson asked.
“Close. Maybe another fifteen, twenty minutes. Any fallout from our
“Quite a lot. Tolberg visited us. The C Bureau is pretty grumpy. The
body count at the Andersson house was out of hand, as far as they’re
concerned. They say that quite a few people from all three legations are
going to be sent home. I might be one of them.”
“Wait, you said three legations?”
“There were three dead Russians at the house, along with one
“How did the Russians get involved?”
“They have eyes and ears everywhere, Conor.”
A man in a grease-smeared coverall walked into the office through a rear
door. He held his hands up as if to say, What the hell?
Conor pointed at the coins on the desk.
The man shrugged and sat down.
“Could they have been a competing buyer for Lind’s
intelligence?” Conor believed that, once the war was over, the shotgun
marriage that was the relationship between the Americans, Brits, and Soviets
wouldn’t last long.
“Wouldn’t put it past them.”
“Any sign of Eklof or Stuben?”
“Actually, they have been noticeably absent of late.”
“That’s not necessarily good news.” Conor saw Bobby
waving at him from the cab of the truck. “Gotta get going, Gus. Keep
your head down.”
“I could say the same thing to you. By the way, you taking good care
of Ramsay’s Volvo?”
Conor dropped the phone in the cradle, gave the man a quick nod, and walked
out to the truck. Conor stepped up into the cab and sat next to Bobby. He
wanted to study the lay of the land as they made their approach to the
Less than fifteen minutes later, they were driving along a road that ran
beside a long wharf. The dockside was lit by a sparse number of
streetlights. Three fishing trawlers were tied up along the wharf, all of
their pilothouses lit up and their navigation lights on. Conor could see a
few men washing down the decks with hoses. The driver pulled into a dirt lot
adjacent to a long, three-story warehouse. At the near end was a sign for a
fishmonger, most likely the driver’s boss. Farther down the quay,
Conor could make out the shape of a motor gun boat tied up close to a single
railcar. According to the extraction plan, it was motor gun boat 622, the
Fairmile D. The Dog Boat. The same one that he and Donovan saw demonstrating
high-speed maneuvers in the Thames. All armaments were removed from sight,
and extra fuel was supposed to be on board. It was to fly the red ensign of
a merchantman, crewed by trawler men from Hull. The captain, a man called
Peter Scott, was former Royal Navy.
A sedan parked near the gun boat caught his attention. Conor couldn’t
make out who or how many people were inside, but he knew they were enjoying
cigarettes given the smoke drifting out the open windows.
The driver of the truck cut the engine, placed the keys in the visor, and
said something to Bobby.
“What’s up?” Conor asked.
“Our friend here is going home to his family. He says we can stay in
the truck as long as we like.”
Conor looked at his watch: 1934 hours. “Tell him we’ll be
moving on in a few minutes. And thank him for the ride.”
The driver jumped down from the cab and headed up a sloping road toward the
center of town.
“What now?” Bobby asked.
“Do you see that car parked down near the railcar and the gun
“Not sure who they are, but the chances that they’re keeping an
eye on our transportation out of Sweden is good. The problem is, they
can’t see us board or we’ll never get out of here.”
“So do we wait them out?”
“No time for that.” Conor got out and went to the rear of the
Emily was sitting on the crate, gun held loosely in her lap. Eve and Gunnar
were dozing. Gunnar’s hands were still bound behind his back.
“Emily, I’m going to drive us down to the dock where the gun
boat is tied up. As soon as I stop, get moving and board.”
“Understood.” At that moment, Eve and Gunnar woke up.
“And for good measure, get the gag back in Gunnar’s
Conor walked around to the driver’s-side door, jumped up, started the
truck, and pulled out of the lot.
“You going to tell me what your plan is at any point?” Bobby
“Once I get rid of our visitors, we board the boat. Not
Bobby said something, but Conor couldn’t make it out over the sound
of the truck’s engine. He kept the truck in first gear as he set it on
a direct path to the rear of the sedan. The truck’s headlights
revealed two men turning around in their seats to watch the truck coming
toward them. Conor glanced over at the motor gun boat and saw someone in the
pilothouse, as well as a plume of dark exhaust spouting from the
Ten feet from the sedan, the passenger-side door opened, and he punched the
gas. The force of metal on metal closed the door. The truck picked up some
speed as it began to push the sedan toward the end of the wharf, but
progress slowed as it fought the braking power of the car. More gas and the
sedan and truck neared the end of the quay. The sedan balanced on the
wharf’s edge momentarily before tumbling into the harbor.
Conor jumped out of the cab and rushed to the back of the truck. Emily was
on the ground, helping Eve jump down. Gunnar was right behind her. With the
truck engine silent, the throaty sound of the motor gun boat’s engines
filled the night. Conor was last to board.
“Get them below, Emily. Bobby, tell the captain that now would be a
good time to shove off. Those two guys might be good swimmers.”
Conor heard the car before he saw it, but the headlights quickly found him
on the aft section of the deck. The car skidded to a stop under a
streetlight. The driver got out, then the passenger. Eklof.
Conor reached for his Colt, but before he could raise it, Eklof fired off
two rounds. A deckhand on the foredeck tossed the last line into the water
and took cover behind the craft’s superstructure. As the gun boat
started to drift from the quay, Conor fired two rounds, shattering the
window of the door that Eklof was using as cover. The driver began firing as
well, rounds whizzing over Conor’s head. Bobby and Emily started
firing from the bridge, and soon the driver fell to the ground behind his
As the gun boat pulled forward, Eklof sprinted toward the stern. Conor
pulled the trigger of his Colt, but the gun’s slide snapped back,
signaling an empty magazine. He dropped the gun on the deck as Eklof leaped
and landed on the aft deck, losing his balance due to the accelerating boat,
which, luckily, kept him from firing accurately. Before he could regain his
balance, Conor raced toward him. Jumping, he planted both feet into
Eklof’s chest. Eklof’s pistol flew into the air and landed in
the boat’s prop wash, while Conor landed on his back, knocking the air
from his lungs.
Eklof struggled to his feet, also gasping for air. He charged Conor, who
had barely gotten to his feet, and landed on him. Eklof wrapped his arms
around his chest, pinning Conor’s upper arms against his body. Eklof
landed one headbutt, then another. Conor’s vision blurred. He raised
his right arm and, before Eklof could launch another headbutt, grabbed the
man’s ear and ripped it from his head; blood gushed, covering
Conor’s hand, and Eklof let out a scream as he rolled off Conor and
grabbed the side of his head. Conor, his head pounding from the headbutts,
rolled on top of Eklof, grabbed his hair, and started pounding his head on
“You. Don’t. Ever. Hit. A. Woman,” Conor screamed. Each
word was punctuated with Eklof’s head slamming into the deck. Blood
pooled under it, and his eye patch had come loose. The eye socket looked
like a dried peach pit.
Conor heard Eklof’s short, hoarse breaths, and he rolled off the man,
grabbed his legs, and dragged him toward the stern, letting his body slip
into the churning water with no fanfare, no emotion.
When Conor turned, he noticed a commotion on the port side of the
wheelhouse. Emily was bent over a body. He ran forward, the motor gun boat
picking up speed. When he reached Emily, he saw that she was tending to a
wounded man. Bobby Heugle.
About the Author
GLENN DYER is a former commercial television executive whose career spanned
thirty-seven years. That career took him to cities such as Salt Lake City,
Dallas, Washington, DC, and Denver. He returned to Park City, Utah in
retirement in 2013 and began writing full-time. He has long been captivated
by the events of World War II and couples this fascination with his passion
for historical thrillers with the publication of The Torch Betrayal and The
Ultra Betrayal, both books in the Conor Thorn Series. He and his wife Chris
have three children, all of whom live too far away. Visit his website at
www.glenndyer.net and follow him on Twitter @duffy_dyer and Instagram
Running from a life she didn’t choose, in a city she doesn’t know, Sukanya,
a young Thai girl, loses herself in Tokyo. With her Bangkok street smarts,
and some stolen money, she stays ahead of her former captors willing to do
anything to recover the computer she took. After befriending Chiho, a
Japanese girl living in an internet café, Sukanya makes plans to rid herself
of her pursuers, and her past, forever.
Meanwhile, Detective Hiroshi Shimizu leaves the safe confines of his office
to investigate a porn studio where a brutal triple murder took place. The
studio’s accounts point him in multiple directions at once. Together with
ex-sumo wrestler Sakaguchi and old-school Takamatsu, Hiroshi tracks the
killers through Tokyo’s teen hangouts, bayside docks and crowded squares,
straight into the underbelly of the global economy.
As bodies wash up from Tokyo Bay, Hiroshi tries to find the Thai girl at
the center of it all, whose name he doesn’t even know. He uncovers a human
trafficking ring and cryptocurrency scammers whose connections extend to the
highest levels of Tokyo’s power elite.
Other Books in the Detective Hiroshi Tokyo Series:
The Last Train
Detective Hiroshi Tokyo Series, Book One
Published: May 2017
Publisher: Raked Gravel Press
In Tokyo, murder’s easy to hide.
Detective Hiroshi Shimizu investigates white collar crime in Tokyo. When an
American businessman turns up dead, his mentor Takamatsu calls him out to
the site of a grisly murder. A glimpse from a security camera video suggests
the killer might be a woman. Hiroshi quickly learns how close homicide and
suicide can appear in a city full of high-speed trains just a step–or a
How do you find one woman in the biggest city in the world?
Takamatsu drags Hiroshi out to the hostess clubs and skyscraper offices of
Tokyo in search of the killer. Hiroshi goes deeper and deeper into Tokyo’s
intricate, perilous market for buying and selling the most expensive land in
the world. He teams up with ex-sumo wrestler Sakaguchi to scour Tokyo’s
sacred temples, corporate offices and industrial wastelands to find out why
one woman was driven to murder.
When the top American diplomat in Tokyo, Bernard Mattson, is killed, he
leaves more than a lifetime of successful Japan-American negotiations. He
leaves a missing manuscript, boxes of research, a lost keynote speech and a
tangled web of relations.
When his alluring daughter, Jamie, returns from America wanting answers,
finding only threats, Detective Hiroshi Shimizu is dragged from the safe
confines of his office into the street-level realities of Pacific Rim
A moving blade is hidden in the blur of motion, felt but not
With help from ex-sumo wrestler Sakaguchi, Hiroshi searches for the killer
from Tokyo’s back alley bars to government offices, through anti-nuke
protests to the gates of an American naval base. When two more bodies turn
up, Hiroshi must choose between desire and duty, violence or procedure,
before the killer silences his next victim.
Michael Pronko is a Tokyo-based writer of murder, memoir and music. His
writing about Tokyo life and his character-driven mysteries have won awards
and five-star reviews. Kirkus Reviews selected his second novel, The Moving
Blade for their Best Books of 2018. The Last Train won the Shelf Unbound
Competition for Best Independently Published Book.
Michael also runs the website, Jazz in Japan, which covers the vibrant jazz
scene in Tokyo and Yokohama. During his 20 years in Japan, he has written
about Japanese culture, art, society and politics for Newsweek Japan, The
Japan Times, and Artscape Japan. He has read his essays on NHK TV and done
programs for Nippon Television based on his writings.
A philosophy major, Michael traveled for years, ducking in and out of
graduate schools, before finishing his PhD on Charles Dickens and film. He
finally settled in Tokyo as a professor of American Literature at Meiji
Gakuin University. His seminars focus on contemporary novels, short stories
and film adaptations.