Patriots: Book
One
Genre: YA/NA
Release Date: October 18th 2017
Summary:
Whether they admit it or not, or even realize it,
their whole lives have been altered by the events of September 11th, 2001, when
they were just kids.
They came to this paradise of a college campus to find freedom, themselves,
their future, sex, love, fun, God, intellectual discovery, their creative core
… but instead find their world being torn apart again by political
divisiveness, extremism, rage.
And now one of them will turn back to the terror of their youth in the hope of
finding answers.
The rest will be victims.
BUY LINKS: Amazon / Barnes & Noble
Excerpt:
Excerpt:
“Tristan and Kyle
opened the door they weren’t supposed to with its signs about ‘ALARM WILL
SOUND’ and ‘EMERGENCY ONLY,’ only they always opened it and alarms never
sounded, as they stepped out onto the roof of their dorm and walked across the
silver, rubber-like tar, holding hands even, to their spot. Even then they knew
it, even the first time they came up here together, even Tristan when he came
up here by himself in the years before meeting Kyle, or with another boy, they
knew somewhere in the recesses of their minds, in places they didn’t like their
thoughts to go—to the future and away from this place, to old age and looking
back on youth—they knew that this view over campus was where their minds would
go in nostalgia to a time when life seemed ‘perfect,’ when the world of
opportunity lay before them, but when right here, right now,
rightfully deserved the complete domination and absorption of their thoughts
because it was, relative to so much else, truly perfect.”
Tristan thinking about
what leads someone to commit an act of terror, whether a young person who
becomes a suicide bomber in Israel or shoots up a school in America:
“At the heart of it,
it was all very simple, actually. It was pain. Unforgivable pain.Pain and
hating the people who caused it. Or who you thought caused it. Or who you were
made to believe caused it. A crying child who hits his parent, and the good
parent says, ‘No, no, don’t hit. Use your words.’ But words are harder to come
by than fists. They take a maturity we are, as a society, as a planet of
societies, mostly, still so far from attaining. And so, the argument goes, our
aggressors will not understand and respect our words, they only understand and
respect our fists. So fists and swords and bullets and bombs are what we must
use ... to end our pain.”
“It was hot in the bed
when Ryan woke up, Tracy’s right leg still bent around his left. She loved
that, sleeping with their legs all intertwined, she facedown, her arm over his
chest. He hated it. So many times he’d wake up with an arm in that strange
combination of being both numb and sore and trying to pull it out like dead
weight from under her shoulders or ribcage. Other girlfriends had liked to
cuddle in the beginning, but then retreat to their separate sides. Ryan got
that, he missed that, but not Tracy, all night with the touching, the
dead-weight arms, the sweaty spots he felt right now in the places their legs
still touched. But lying there, hot and uncomfortable, he had to admit it
wasn’t the physical stuff at all. Mom had been right. She didn’t like Tracy
from the beginning. He should have listened to her. Ryan knew he’d have to be the
one to end it. For reasons he didn’t understand, she seemed perfectly content.
He should do it soon and get it over with, he thought. Why drag it all out?”
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