I'm actually not certain what the release date is for the mass market edition of Patriot Acts, but my agent forwarded the cover today. It's a subtle variation on the original hardcover version. I like it.

( Take a look below the cut. )

The EW blurb is kinda neat; always fun being compared to a swiss watch.

I tried to take a picture from the airplane on the way in, but it's not everything I'd hoped it would be:

Problem with shooting from a cellphone camera out the window of the Coach cabin, I guess. What doesn't come across is the depth of these clouds, their flowing structure, the literal way they formed and shifted before my eyes. It was, to use an awful cliche, like watching a special effect. Two masses coming together in an archaic arch, almost forming a perfect circle, as if creating a gateway through which to fly. On descent, I look down and see receding glaciers, can make out the termination point, the multiple fractures splitting further apart by meltwater that's thawed, frozen, and thawed again. The forests go on beyond comprehension, the sheer size of the wilderness is stunning, and it is all, without a doubt, terribly, gloriously beautiful.

I have suspected for a long time now that I am not, for the most part, a terribly adventurous soul; at least, I'm not anymore. Maybe it's a product of age, but I suspect it's much more a product of personality. I had some bad experiences traveling alone when I was young, and they did damage such that I've never fully recovered. While I like travel, and while I love visiting new places, the actual process of leaving my "comfort zone" is something that I find harder and harder to do these days, and the burden of such things as language difference is such that I inadvertently balk before committing to such trips. This is one of the reasons that Michael Palin is one of my heroes, all things Python aside. And I suppose it's yet another reason that I write; after all, I get to visit on paper all the places I will most likely never set shoe-leather to in my life.

Alaska is beautiful, and I can say this with tremendous authority on the basis of one flight and three long walks, but saying Alaska is beautiful ain't a newsflash to anyone that's ever heard of Alaska. Anchorage itself oddly reminds me of growing up in Salinas, California, before the Salinas Valley had a population explosion and, in true California style, began pumping out mini-malls and housing estates as fast as the migrant construction workers could raise them. Same feel to the architecture, the small town intimacy. You can walk all of Anchorage in less than a day. Biggest difference? Salinas didn't have a tourist economy, or at least, the tourist economy it had was devoted to the handful of Steinbeck scholars came, making pilgrimage.

It's that tourist economy that does it, that creates such a powerful feeling of not belonging here, of not having earned the right to it all. After all, the temperature is still hovering in the 40s, and there's sunlight, and the snow I'm seeing is on the Chugach Mountains and not on the streets here. This isn't winter, this isn't close. It doesn't take walking around with a camera hanging from your neck and a guidebook in your hand for the locals to make you as a tourist. I'm a PNW boy -- and anyone who want to challenge me on that, they're in for a fight -- I've got my denim and my flannel and my boots and my Columbia Sportswear cover, and yes, Portland ain't Government Camp, but I know what it's like to live in the shadow of mountains and forest. The locals I've met at the con, they ask what I've seen of their state, and I tell them, and I add that it's all lovely, and they cluck and shake their heads, because, y'know, Anchorage with its population of 300,000, that's the city, that's not Alaska. Makes no difference where you came from, and it's not how I look, I know that; again, it's that sense of belonging, of having earned this place, and I so clearly don't have it, and I can almost all hear them thinking, "Pussy."

More and more when I travel, I look at these strange and wonderful places, and I wonder what it would be like to live in them. Not simply idle imaginings, but thoughts of quite literally and wholly decamping from Portland and moving to the Strange New World. It's not quite fantasy, and yet not quite serious consideration, either. Somewhere in between, fed by curiosity and something...else. Something I haven't yet put a name to. And no, it's not dissatisfaction with my life or my home, it's not that. Wanderlust, maybe? A desire to reclaim that curiosity and sense of adventure that I lost when I was far too young to be traveling in France on my own? I don't know.

It really is something else, here, though. Certainly a place I wish to return to, when I can bring with me the people I love, and take the time to see just a little sliver of the so-much-more that I'm missing.

Because, you know, I'm not here to see Alaska, or to even see Anchorage. I'm here for a mystery convention, to sit on a panel and to sign my books and to read my writing and to, mostly, catch up with DHS and meet some of his other clients, who are, uniformly, pretty terrific. In particular, I've gotten to finally meet Michael Koryta and Sean Doolittle and Theresa Schwegel, all of whom I greatly admire, and all of whom, I've discovered, are wonderful people. Doolittle won the Barry Award last night for his novel, The Cleanup, Best Paperback Original. Pick it up. It's good.

Me? I'm done for the day, at least until the drinking starts tonight, and back in the hotel room, writing. Because, you know, when you're surrounded by snow and ice, at least in the distance, that's the time to be writing Whiteout: Thaw.

My editor at Bantam informs me that Patriot Acts is headed for a second printing, another 2500 copies hardcover.

This is a definite Good Thing.

Leave it to Trautmann to find the video of my appearance on local AM television.

Let the mockery begin!

I was on local television this morning, on KATU's AM Northwest. Pleasant enough way to spend an hour waiting and six minutes chatting. Hyped the signing at the Beaverton Powell's tonight, but missed the opportunity to talk about this coming Saturday's event at Bob's Beach Books in Lincoln City.

Of course, the major topic of conversation? Not the new novel, but rather Whiteout, in particular the part about Kate Beckinsale. Still, made sure I mentioned Steve and Oni on the air, so at least I got the shouts out, so to speak.

Now? I'm going to work.

This was sent to me by Trautmann.

Talking about WWII, Frankling Roosevelt said, "I don't want to see a single war millionaire created in the United States as a result of this world disaster."

You know the saying, right? If you're not outraged, you're not paying attention?

Just thought I'd share a little ray of sunshine with y'all.

Odd.

Feels like I've been taking it on the chin in the last 18 hours or so, though in perspective, I suppose, it all balances out. All the more strange given that Seattle was a terrific trip. Great people, great events, lots of books signed, and even managed to drop in on Zanadu Comics in downtown, which was bonus. Was driven around town by a lovely lady named Gail who -- unlike handlers in the past -- could not only carry on an intelligent conversation, but was personable, funny, and eager to chase down bookstores, booksellers, and *gasp!* copies of my book. So all in all, not bad. Interesting to note that in almost every store I dropped-in on, there was at least one person on staff who was a comics fan and knew my work from that, if not from the novels.

Got home around midnight and got to catch up with Jen, who all-but blurted out that the Willamette Weekly had panned the novel, and then advised people to not attend my event at Powell's in Beaverton on the 10th. This may be hearsay, as I haven't read the review (and I'm not going to), but when Jen blurts, it's because she's been carrying something around and building up steam with it, so I'm inclined to believe what I'm told. Apparently, the review is so off base, there's some question as to whether or not the woman who wrote it actually could be bothered to read the book in the first place.

Nice to get respect in one's own town.

Seems there's a tirade over my treatment of Sasha on scans_daily coming out of the "CheckOut" storyline, and including her behavior in Checkmate 16. Apparently I've turned into a sexist bastard and didn't get the memo. "This would never happen to Batman." No shit. Batman isn't infested by nanobots and being examined by a madman vivisectionist. Doctor Mid-Nite asks if she was sexually assaulted, and that's a problem? Why, because it acknowledges that rape is a crime that happens? Would it have been more honest to simply pretend it wasn't a possibility, rather than treat the scene with maturity, and have Sasha answer and confirm that, no, she wasn't? Or is the problem that I dared broach it at all, that "there's no room in comics for that kind of thing"? Or is it because the fact that women are the victims of rape far more often than men are is something that we'd rather just all ignore? People read for what they want to read, I guess, rather than reading what was written.

The one thing I can remotely agree with is the "don't look at me" line. It is supposed to be a "weak" line; she's been through hell, and no one particularly likes to look weak in front of their peers, especially one you've been romantically involved with.

I am a feminist. Part of what that means to me is that I'm going to be as mean and brutal to my female characters as I am to my male characters. That's parity. The women can take the hits just as hard as the men. The implication that I'm harder on Sasha because she's female is bullshit; further, it implies that I shouldn't be hard on her because she's female, which, in my book, would be sexist. That's the same as saying that I took Carrie's fingers in Whiteout because I'm sexist, rather than, say, because she's the hero of the story and her fingers were terminally frost-bitten.

I've yet to encounter anyone ever call me sexist because -- Spoiler Warning for those who may not have read the following:

I tortured Atticus, or because I killed Scott Fowler, or Rubin Febres, or Crispus Allen.

The list of the vile deeds I've perpetrated on male characters in fiction is legion, certainly much longer than the list of like cruelty I've rained down upon female characters. But no one has ever told me to lay off the guys. No one, at least not to my face, as accused me of "hating the men-folk." (Though I'm sure there's at least a half-dozen out there.)

I am reminded of an editor at Marvel telling me that a certain well-regarded (and outspokenly conservative, and, in my opinion, reactionary and sexist) writer/artist felt I was a chauvinist who hated women because of my treatment of Elektra. It's the same thing here again -- this double-standard that says female characters should be allowed only highs, and not lows; that they should be spared harm, and treated with kid gloves. When we say that we have to treat women differently than we treat men, when we ignore the social realities of what it means to be female versus what it means to be male, that's sexism, kids. We live in a world where women are treated worse than men -- where they are abused and attacked and degraded on the basis of their gender alone. It's wrong, and it's vile, and it's evil, but it's the truth, and refusing to recognize the same in fiction leads to dishonest fiction, and that's bad writing.

The extension of such thinking leads to stories with black characters that never acknowledge racism, to stories with Jewish characters that never acknowledge Antisemitism, to gay characters that never deal with homophobia. Think that through. These are elements that comprise character; they are not character alone. Saying Renee Montoya is gay is true, but hardly the point -- it's simply part of who she is. Saying John Henry Irons is black is true, but again, part of who he is. But for both of those characters, it influences their identity, it is part of who they are. It cannot be ignored; when it is relevant to their stories, it must be acknowledged -- otherwise, the fantasy that is their fiction(s) becomes, in my eyes, hollow and irrelevant.

I'm sure I'm rising to the bait here, so to speak, and I should leave well-enough alone. Too late for that, I guess.

Now take all of that, and add to it that I just spent nearly two and a half hours on the phone with Andrew Farago doing an interview for the Comics Journal that pretty much covered everything I've ever done. Very fine time, and he was a great interviewer. I'm looking forward to meeting him in person when he comes up to Portland for Stumptown Comics Fest. No idea when -- or even if -- the interview will run, but it'll be interesting to read it when it does come out.

Like I said, strange day thus far. We'll see where the afternoon leads. Working on Checkmate 21 with Trautmann at the moment. Let's see if I can't piss somebody else off, shall we? ;)

Quick post, as I'm about 30 minutes from leaving for the airport. I'm in Seattle today for signings, at The Seattle Mystery Bookshop at 117 Cherry St. from noon to 1pm, and then at Third Place Books in Lake Forest Park from 7pm to 8pm. I'll be doing drop-ins at various Seattle stores, as well, and maybe a couple comic book shops, too.

If you're out there and in Seattle and want to swing by any of the signings, please do -- it's always great to meet readers in person!

Two quick things as I post from lovely Pacific City, Oregon, and vacation.

1) I'm being told by people that they cannot find the Patriot Acts in bookstores. This is most likely because the bookstore(s) in question haven't bothered to order the book, and not because the book isn't available. It's available! Good lord, it's so available, it's practically EASY!

2) Much as I'm loathe to admit it, hype helps. If you've read the book and want to post a review at Amazon or wherever, please do so; it would mean a lot to me, frankly, and I'd like to see this novel get a fair shake. If you'd be willing to recommend the book to a friend, then by all means, feel free to recommend it to total internet strangers.

Thanks!

Patriot Acts goes on sale on Tuesday the 28th. Purchase it. Read it. Revel in the return of Atticus.

Me, I'm going on vacation.

Time to let Atticus do some of the work around here.