The endearing quality about great literature that makes it compelling is the reader’s response to a writer’s work: The heart-to-heart. Writers can express universal sentiment and educate in unique ways with impressive style; but it is finally the recipient’s depth of engagement that propels a book’s success.
Tonight I feel a need to apologize to the reader here, and to all of my readers in regard to Starboard at Midnight. I accept the fact that the book has not propelled itself forward into the hands of enough people to keep sales high. There is no accounting for the truth of this.
I dream it might be a late bloomer — a wall flower waiting for more invitations to dance. But, at this point, I want to simply thank everyone who has read and appreciated it and told me so, or written a review.
Starboard at Midnight, portraying two contradictory but complementary lives, is really about empathy — the greatest of all attributes any person can have, because empathy is the life blood of understanding and of self-esteem.
The double helix, a basic life form, curls vertically while forces pull against it horizontally. Two strands run parallel. They do not touch; but they are essential to one another. They support the bond, the love, the knowledge that they need one another. Their differences are not irreconcilable, but an important component of the viability of their relationship.
It was this coherence from contradictory forces that I was most interested in portraying: A man who could only know competition and could only see grand purpose in an ultimate end such as patriotism or national defense. While a woman, equally heroic, could more appreciate the importance, the crucial imperative, of immediate ends: being needed by those she loved.