Publish America

For those of you who may be interested, I'm at present in legal dispute with PublishAmerica: in my opinion they are in breach of contract. My contract with them states: "It is specifically understood and agreed, however, that the Publisher shall make no major revisions, changes and/or alterations therein without first consulting the Author and receiving written permission to do so."

Some of the changes I requested--as a result of the publisher not being able to print traditional Chinese characters and Hanyu Pinyin (the official Romanisation of Mandarin Chinese) with the Hanyu Pinyin tone marks--were incorrectly applied or not applied at all. There is also a section of text missing and the book has one "Part One" and two "Part Two" sections instead of a "Part One", "Part Two", and "Part Three".

I think that counts as major changes...and they certainly didn't have my permission to publish as it in its present state.

As it stands right now I am seeking legal advice on terminating the contract with them. I'll keep you informed of progress.

For those of you who have chosen Publish America based on my recommendation, I apologise. They were at one stage a good reliable publisher. Now they seem to have gone to the dogs.

Dragon in the Sky - Characters

Name: Joseph Lee
Chinese Name: Lee Jo-Yum
Born: August 21, 1964 at the Sand River Ranch, Southern Matabeleland, Rhodesia
Zodiac: (Wood) Dragon

Joseph is of mixed parentage: Chinese father and Caucasian mother, although few would guess this from his appearance. He is tall - at six feet four inches, his height and fair skin might place him as Northern Chinese but he lacks the narrow facial features so indicative of the Manchu or Northern Han.

Jo-Yum, Joseph's Chinese name given him by his paternal grandfather - Joseph's father died before Joseph was born - literally translates as 'Ancestor Shade'. It means that Joseph, having no father to guide and protect him, will be sheltered by his ancestors and also will inherit vast wealth from them. The choice of name was precise, but not as prophetic as one might assume: in secret long ago, 'Old Prospector Lee', as his grandfather was known, discovered a seam of gold as thick as a strong man's arm running through the quartzite rock of Southern Matabeleland, and claimed it. The old man, shackled by superstition and believing it was evil, never worked it. On his deathbed,he bequeathed the claim to Joseph, his only living relative, on condition that it be sold. Proceeds of the sale were put in trust for the then young boy, and the trust fund managers invested well: by the time Joseph turned twenty-five it was worth a small third-world government's annual income.

The old prospector was a big influence in Joseph's life; he taught Joseph well, carefully grooming altruism in the young boy. "One is put on this Earth to help others," the old man told him. "If, instead of looking after ourselves, everybody looked after each other, this world would be a far better place to live in."




Name: Sipho Lee
Chinese Name: Lee Tien-Long
Born: September 14, 1983 at the Sand River Ranch, Southern Matabeleland, Rhodesia
Zodiac: (Water) Boar

Sipho—pronounced Seep-ho—is an unusual name for a Chinese boy. Some mistake it for Shi-Hau, a Mandarin Chinese name meaning a brilliant and decent person who will be known throughout the world.

But they are wrong.

It isn’t a Mandarin name.

For that matter, it isn’t even Chinese.

Like his father, Sipho's appearance reflects only his Chinese heritage: a factor of strong Asian genes that predestined him to experience at a very early age man's inhumanity to man; the same predestination that forced him to witness brutality only mankind is capable of carrying out.

Determined to put the trauma of their past behind them, his father takes him to Canada and there attempts to pick up the shards of their shattered existence, to mend the threads of their life-quilt as best he can.

It is not an easy task. Flashbacks to the incident of three years earlier haunt Sipho's present and he withdraws into music. Music is his retreat, his sanctuary, and it soon comes to dominate his life. Yet in music he shows exceptional talent: by the age of six the simpler works of 'Mr Bach', 'Mr Beethoven', and 'Mr Brahms' as he refers to them, are well under his belt. At ten he wins the Pacific International Violin Competition, and by sixteen, following a natural disaster that leaves him suffering from psychogenic amnesia, it is again music that reminds him of who he is and brings him back to reality.

From Calgary, Alberta, to Wuzhou, on the border of Guangdong and Guanxi in China, 'Dragon in the Sky' takes the reader on an epic journey through the emotional spectrum of shock, horror, humour and relief.

Sipho is, as his Chinese name suggests, 'Dragon in the Sky'.

Dragon in the Sky - excerpt 2

Xi River, Guangdong Province, China
Thursday morning, August 19, 1999

Lam San-Ming removes his footwear and rolls up his pants. The body, clad only in a white T-shirt, is a few meters from the shore, still in the shallows, its head resting against a rock as if it is a pillow. The body is a bad omen, San-Ming fears, one that will turn worse if he left it to drift seaward. Perhaps the dead man’s spirit will look favourably on him if he rescues the body and buries it in a good place. Cautiously he reaches out and touches it; the flesh is still firm, not yet decomposed. First he tries dragging the body by the arms, but it is too slippery, necessitating him to reach under the arms and lock his hands together around the dead man’s chest to lift him. This way he as able to half-drag the body over the rocks and stumble backwards to the sandy shore where he collapses, tripping over his feet, the body half on him. Its nakedness discomforts him; he tries to pull the man’s T-shirt down to hide it, but it reaches the waist and no more, so he removes his own shirt and drapes it over the man’s body, giving him dignity. It is a young man, Lam San-Ming realises, about the same age as he. Tall, pleasing in face but for the scraggly moustache and sparse goatee… he turns over the man’s hand; it is wrinkled and waterlogged, yet soft and delicate, nails clean and neatly trimmed – this is not the hand of a man who works in the fields. He pulls the man’s collar down to check if he wears something around his neck and doing so feels a slight movement of air on his hand. He is alive? He puts his cheek against the man’s lips, and again feels movement. His hands go to the man’s throat, fingers digging in to flesh, beside the windpipe, feeling for and finding a faint pulse. San-Ming’s eyes widen, registering surprise. He taps the man’s cheek, anxious for a response. “Do you live?”

The man opens his eyes and gazes at his rescuer as if in a dream.

“Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

“Where am I?” The man’s voice is barely more than a scratchy whisper.

“You were in the river. Who are you?”

He frowns, and then, as if the thought too taxing, closes his eyes and lets his head fall to the soft sand again.

“Wake, wake,” Lam San-Ming shakes the young man. “Who are you? Where do you come from?”

Eyes half-focussed, he looks through San-Ming as if he is not there and mutters: “I do not know.” Then he closes his eyes again, and this time does not wake to San-Ming’s touch.

“Come.” The farmer picks him up and staggers over the soft sand and into his field beyond. It is a fair distance to his house and many times he has to rest, each time listening for a heartbeat.

“Mah-mah!” San-Ming staggers into the courtyard. “Mah-mah! This man is almost drowned!”

San-Ming lays the man on his bed, shooing his grandmother out the room. “Do not look Mah-mah! He wears no trousers.”

The old woman peers at the man. “Silly boy!” she admonishes with a smile. “You think I have not seen that before? Here, let me help you.” San-Ming is struggling to put trousers on the unconscious form, the process hampered by the man’s anatomy. Grandmother has no such inhibitions. She tucks away what San-Ming will not touch and fastens the waistband and fly. “He seems fine in face. Who is he?”

“I do not know, Mah-mah. He awoke briefly and then became unconscious.”

“Hmmm, very well. Are you finished your work in the field?”

“No.”

“You should return. Go. I shall watch over him.”

“Should I call the doctor?”

“Hah!” The old woman’s voice is thick with scorn. “That old fool? He is probably drunk by now. No, leave him with me; I will tend to him.”