Baby Boom Novelist II
Excerpts from the books of mystery novelist Kathleen Taylor

Hear what mystery novelist Kathleen Taylor's protagonist Tory Bauer really thinks of James Taylor, in Tory's own words.

Though I am privy to the details of middle aged, overweight, widowed waitress Tory Bauer's life, as her creator, I am unfortunately not her boss. Tory came to me more or less full grown, with her own opinions and tastes and demands. She dictates her stories, and the stories of the rest of the citizens of Delphi, South Dakota, to me- not the other way around. How lucky then that we share a few passions- like a love for the open plains, and a craving for the higher calorie desserts. And a deep and abiding appreciation for the music of a certain singer-songwriter. Tory's ongoing love affair with the music of James Taylor is obvious in each of my novels. Here are some examples, including a sneak preview from MOURNING SHIFT which will be published in November of 1998. (Some of the excerpts have been abridged or condensed).

From Chapter 8 of Sex And Salmonella, [ Buy The Book ] as Tory contemplates the essentials in life:

      "If you were marooned on a desert island," my neighbor and good friend Neil Pascoe said to me a little more than a month ago," and could only take four albums with you, what would they be?"
      "This would be your typical desert island, I replied, "complete with electricity and functioning turntable, I presume."
      "Actually, it would have a state-of-the-art CD sound system," Neil said, tilting back in his chair, with his feet firmly planted on his massive oak desk.
      "Well, if it has all that, I want Mel Gibson and to hell with music."
      "Nope, you only get music, no sex," he said pushing his glasses up on his nose. "And only pop. No classical. You're going to spend your time being entertained, not elevated."
      "I find Gilbert and Sullivan entertaining," I said. "But if I must be marooned, then I'm not going anywhere without James Taylor and Paul Simon."

From Chapter 8, The Hotel South Dakota, when Tory gets a surprise gift:

      "Don't go," Stu said softly. "Please, this'll just take a minute. Go check out the stereo in the living room, there's a surprise for you."
      The living room was decorated in Early Lake Cabin, with dark wood paneling and sturdy tweed upholstered furniture. I had to search a little to find the stereo, which was inside a huge oak wardrobe. On top was an assortment of James Taylor cassettes, still in their store wrappers.
      I was touched almost to the point of tears. There was no overlap in our musical tastes- Stu actually liked country music; I loved James Taylor and assumed everyone felt that way.
      In the kitchen, I could hear Stu's soft voice, making conversation with his son. Not wanting to eavesdrop, I unwrapped and plugged "Gorilla" into the slot, then wandered down the dark hallway in search of the master bedroom to the strains of "Mexico".

From Chapter 7 of Funeral Food, [ Buy The Book ] as Tory mulls an interesting complication in her personal life:

      I plugged "James Taylor's Greatest Hits" into the stereo and fixed myself a large Tupperware glass of gin and Diet Squirt with a dash of grenadine (my amateur approximation of a sweet Tom Collins), pulled the drapes, and sat in the recliner.
      When I'm down and troubled, and I need a helping hand, I go to the Church of James Taylor. In the quiet dark I close my eyes and listen to him. I let his sweet nasal voice soothe my soul. He brightens up even my darkest night.
      A couple of hours of good old JT and several drinks later, I was surprisingly calm, ready to face the future with equanimity.
      A few more drinks, a tape rewind or two, and I might even be able to face the past.

A sneak preview from Chapter 14 of Mourning Shift (to be published by Avon Books in November 1998) as Tory tries to come to terms with a terrible loss:

      Unwilling, or maybe even unable, to talk, I just nodded and wandered into his dark living room, curled up on the couch, and stared into the darkness.
      From the stereo, James Taylor sang softly about death and hope. Neil set two steaming cups on the coffee table and then covered me with an afghan. He sat down next to me, put a pillow on his lap and patted it.
      I scootched over and lay my head on the pillow. Neil settled a warm arm around my shoulders. Without speaking in the darkness, we listened through to the end of "Hourglass". Neil beamed the remote at the stereo and started the CD over.
      Somewhere in the middle of "Gaia", I said, finally, "It couldn't have been fast enough."

You can read more about Kathleen Taylor's novels at her Tory Bauer Mysteries Page.

SEX AND SALMONELLA, Copyright 1996 by Kathleen Taylor, used by permission of Avon Books, all rights reserved. THE HOTEL SOUTH DAKOTA, Copyright 1997 by Kathleen Taylor, used by permisison of Avon Books, all rights reserved. FUNERAL FOOD, Copyright 1998 by Kathleen Taylor, used by permission of Avon Books, all rights reserved. MOURNING SHIFT, Copyright 1998 by Kathleen Taylor, used by permission of the author.

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