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| Reviewed by Reed Andrus Reed Andrus is a talented writer, reviewer, editor and author with three priv  ate eye novels in the works. He became addicted to books at age four, suffered through parental misunderstanding of their value, changed genre direction – from science fiction/fantasy to mystery/thriller and historical fiction – and may have lost a bit of the associated sensawunda through military and personal experience. He has worked as a Special Deputy U.S. Marshall for the Treasury Department, held a private investigator’s license, worked as a bartender, bodyguard, retail merchant, and finally, as a telecommunications manager for the past 23 years. He shares his life with Chris, his wife of nearly 28 years, and together they are the proud grandparents of beautiful 14-month-old Madison.Those who wish to understand the media influences that shaped my life need go no further than the Acknowledgement section at the back of Rick McCammon’s Boy's Life. At least that’s a great beginning. Since I am older than Rick, my list is longer, includes the forbidden fruit of EC Comics, Wonder Warthog, Captain 4Q, and other subversive intelligentsia. Somewhere along that line, Jack Douglas, Shecky Greene, Jonathan Winters, the Smothers Brothers, Monty Python’s Flying Circus, and MAD Magazine contributed to the warping of my mind. I remember listening to Inner Sanctum, The Lone Ranger, Fibber McGee and Molly on the radio, before TV took over the minds of the masses. Due to an obvious penchant for nostalgia, I’ve grown up to be somewhat a victim of Alvin Toffler’s future shock. My childhood was spent in a suburb before suburbs were invented. Murray, Utah, flourished in autonomy seven long miles from the metropolis that was and is Salt Lake City. The distance was huge, filled with fields and uninhabited patches that stimulated adolescent imagination. Those seven miles are now overgrown with auto dealerships, fast food chains, and other indications of urban blight. I am the eldest of three Baby Boomers, the only boy. There were associated privileges. I accompanied my physician father on house calls, staying in the car while he attended to the health care of others, reading until the ambient light grew dim, switching over to imagination to keep myself occupied. Consequently, I learned how to scare myself silly, and continue to do so on a regular basis. |
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