"Hermosa"

Yesika Salgado "is a Los Angeles based Salvadoran poet who writes about her family, her culture, her city, and her fat body. Salgado is a two-time National Poetry Slam finalist and the recipient of the 2020 International Latino Book Award in Poetry." 

In a presentation entitled "To The Bloom—An Evening of Poetry and Conversation," sponsored by the Butte College Diversity Committee, she will be reading from her work Thursday, February 23 from 7:00-9:00 pm at the Chico Women's Club. It's free and open to the public.

In "Hermosa" ($16.95 in paperback from Not a Cult; also for Amazon Kindle), Salgado completes a trilogy of transformational meditations begun in "Corazón" and "Tesoro." She uses free verse (with few capital letters) to chart the course, through many shoals, of becoming "hermosa" (gorgeous, with a kind of seductive flair).

In "The Trick" the poet confesses: "today I am not a writer. I am my halted Spanish and insecurities. I am fingers that know letters but not grammar. my only degree is my library card. I read someone else's words and shrink. turn into a speck of envy. … can't stop feeling like I am a cheap magician’s trick. if I move too quickly I’ll give myself away. you'll learn, I am only stacking these words together to pull myself out. I don't know how you got here. I wasn't trying to save you. all I have been doing is staying alive."

Staying alive is not always easy. In "The Almost Death," the poet writes: "did I tell you / about the time / I was dying? / about my uterus / that couldn't stop bleeding / the doctors blaming my fatness / and me agreeing / did I tell you / about the time / I couldn't get dressed / because I was more crime scene / than anything…."

There are childhood traumas and times when "love goes sour." Laments, yes, but also a self-discovery that is sometimes sexually explicit. 

In a word addressed to "my love" (the reader?), Salgado writes "I hope within these pages you are also able to find your own beauty, what calls you home, what sets you free. … in full bloom, Yesika."

"The Cat And The King"

Meghan Irene, co-host of the Writing On Air program on KZFR (kzfr.org) and a Camp Fire survivor living in Chico, posted on Facebook (poetmirene) about a story she wrote in 7th grade.

When the fire consumed it, she rewrote "The Cat And The King" ($22 in paperback, independently published) "with the intention of capturing the magic and meaning that I had when I was eleven years old." The story was "brought to life with original watercolor on tea-stained paper" by Steve Ferchaud, illustrator extraordinaire (who sneaked her beloved Mt. Shasta into the background).

"Long, long ago," we're told, "in the Kingdom of Starrybourne, lived a princess named Isabel Wilde. Isabel's father was the infamous King Henry Wilde III … a very greedy man. As a child, Henry longed for attention, friendship, and love. Yet, once Henry was given reign as King of Starrybourne, he cared not for empathy and goodwill."

Trees are chopped down to build castle walls, roads are cut through villages, and where "songbirds once chanted, now only the caw of a lonely raven could be heard."

Isabel, isolated in her castle, dreams of exploring "the emerald forests and cobblestone streets." Later, walking the hallways, she sees "a small cat with a tawny star on his forehead." She calls him Louie, because, why not? When Louie pounces on a strange, glowing emerald, something begins to change in her.

Louie gives her courage to venture outside the castle into the bleak countryside. "If only I could save this land," she tells Louie, "and give back to the people what my father has taken away." That's her desire, and suddenly Isabel remembers the story "about the magical wishstone of the Starrybourne forest … a mysterious gem that could make a single wish come true for whomever held the stone."

Her wish? "I wish you could be King, Louie. I know you would show me how to make this world a better place, and you would use your power to do something wonderful."

And just like that, Louie is King and the King is Louie. What happens next is the stuff of dreams, a valentine to the hope deep within each of us.

"Science And Religions In America: A New Look"

"I'm fascinated," writes Greg Cootsona, "by the way in which cultural forces we call 'scientific' and others we name 'religious' interact (in) a stunning variety." That variety is displayed in "Science And Religions In America: A New Look" ($24.95 in paperback from Routledge; also for Amazon Kindle), written for his undergraduate classes at Chico State, where he is Lecturer in Comparative Religion and Humanities, but immensely accessible to the general reader.

If the mention of "science and religion" evokes the supposed conflict between science and a more literalist Christianity, Cootsona shows things are not so simple. 

His goal, admirably achieved, is to broaden the reader's understanding of how the sciences (think Big Bang or human evolution) interact with multiple religious traditions in the United States (not just Christianity but Buddhism, nature and indigenous religions, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, and those who identify as "spiritual but not religious").

Though Cootsona presents historical context, the focus is on our current "age of technology" (an ambiguous "gift" of science) which raises questions: Can genuine Hindu worship take place electronically? What is the impact of what Cootsona calls "streaming spirituality" in his research on emerging adults who no longer identify with a particular religious tradition? 

Each central chapter begins with a "lightning round" Q&A about the tradition's core commitments, followed by a thoughtful engagement on questions of science and technology with experts in the field (including Chico State colleagues Sarah Pike on nature religions, Daniel Veidlinger on Buddhism, and Kate McCarthy on religious pluralism). 

The relationship between the given tradition and science is sometimes tense, sometimes independent, sometimes collaborative. Cootsona resists efforts to reduce every tradition to an ethics of love, noting that one's religious experience is shaped by the surrounding culture and needs to be addressed on its own terms. 

The bottom line is that "religions retain their vitality as they engage contemporary culture and that science is a key cultural player."

"Shadowman"

"Welcome to Vietnam."

Drafted in 1966, nineteen-year-old Phillip I. Elkins (better known today as Señor Felipe, host of "LA Sounds with Sr. Felipe" on Chico's KZFR.org) little knew what awaited him. Years later, living in Chico, flashbacks would haunt his life and become a relationship wrecking-ball.

Elkins is writing a series of autobiographies that capture the eras (and errors) of his life. In "Shadowman" ($20 in paperback from Sr. Felipe Press, srfelipe.weebly.com; also for Amazon Kindle), Elkins tells the story of his life in Chico.

This time he writes in the third person, using his best friend's name as the central character, mixing in excerpts from earlier books, memories from childhood (where Elkins was known as "Cookie") and his year in Vietnam. 

Elkins notes that "Shadowman" was written "when I was having a pretty rough time with things. I was going through my second divorce, and I was letting go of a successful business that I had for several years, and I couldn't seem to find a suitable job."

PTSD leaves him with a "terrible short-term memory, I was explosively angry, and I was constantly exhausted. I felt confused and disorganized…." So the story of "Eddie Pacheco" and his disintegrating marriage to Peaches is dark indeed, especially after Peaches is sexually assaulted by a stranger.

Eddie's anger is palpable. But who to be angry with—an unknown assailant, some higher ups who promoted a purposeless war? After Vietnam he is physically whole but mentally wounded. In one horrific incident, "Eddie throws up again and again. He wanders off, seeing fire burning, smelling oil, gas, flesh, clothing, and bone all burning together. He retches some more. He feels dizzy and weak, and he falls to the ground and lays there, grateful that he's still alive but somehow wishing he wasn't."

Depressed in Chico, thinking of jumping off a cliff in Upper Park, he meets a woman who is about to do the same thing. The two are saved by a ranger with a surprising childhood connection to Eddie. Something begins to change in him; "the shadows are fading," he realizes. 

And there's an old childhood memory, pushing back against the void: "Lookie, lookie, lookie—Here comes Cookie!"

"Horsemanship And Life: A True Story"

For Chico State grad Michelle Scully, taking her horse Wish for an outing in 2011 would end up changing her life forever. Not sensing (or ignoring) the horse's hesitancy, Scully pushes Wish to lope. When a rabbit darts through Wish's legs the horse bolts; Scully is thrown down hard and her back broken. The story is told in "Broken: Tales Of A Titanium Cowgirl."

Eleven years later, in the midst of pandemic and the loss of many of her beloved animals, Scully takes stock in "Horsemanship And Life: A True Story" ($21.95 in paperback at barnesandnoble.com, published by Spinning Sevens Press). 

In 73 short chapters, each with a key quote and photograph, Scully has written a realistic and yet stubbornly optimistic book that will find a treasured place in a reader's heart.

She and husband Pat live on a multigenerational farm in Northern California. Scully notes that 11 is "77 in dog years … when people ask how long Pat and I've been married … it's been 196." 

"I would never have imagined the journey before me," she writes; "a journey of wreck, wonder, and recovery, filled with lessons learned from horses, dogs, birds, and even cats." In getting a second chance at life, she has "learned the beauty of brokenness; of how letting go of my expectations and in embracing vulnerability, I'd find a new way to live…."

Interspersed throughout the book is the tale of Scully's new horse, True. "His head looks like it was dipped in warm milk chocolate, and his body explodes into roan and white and blue…." But True has a mind of his own. 

"One of the most transformative horsemanship lessons I've (slowly) learned is work with the horse before you. Not the horse of your expectations, the horse of your imagination, not the horse in your story, but the actual one you're with, in real-time."

And when the world seems too overwhelming, Scully offers words that came to her while doing chores: "Fire drought politics hate/ They're beyond my purview and beyond anything I can change, but I can water this tree./ I can save crickets./ I can dust around spiders./ I can pray."

"Camp Fire: Day One – 'Rescue People And Don't Get Killed'"

In floods or fires, those charged with protection of the public are the ones moving toward the disaster, often at the risk of their own lives. William "Bill" Sager, former Butte County Fire Chief, now retired from CAL FIRE and living in Redding with his wife, Karen, a volunteer at the information call center during the Camp Fire, tells the story of the tragic fire through the eyes of those CAL FIRE personnel who were in the midst.

"Camp Fire: Day One – 'Rescue People And Don't Get Killed'" ($25 in paperback, published independently through Citygate Associates, available at Barnes & Noble) draws on more than fifty interviews.

In a letter to me, Sager notes that he wrote his book after talking with Incident Commander John Messina on the second day of the fire. Getting the interviews was an emotional process. Firefighters rescued others even as their own homes were burning. "Yet they persevered." Four years later, he says, "many are retired, some on physical disability, some on psychological disability."

Several of the fifty-plus chapters provide overviews of the fire and the Butte College staging area, but most focus on first-hand accounts beginning with Beth Bowersox, dispatcher and "call taker" at the Emergency Command Center, whose responsibility was to name the fire. 

As the severity of the fire became apparent, engines, strike teams, dozers, and air support were all activated. Battalion Chief Tony Brownell was there that first day. As Sager writes, Clark Road "was packed with people trying to escape the fire … he proceeded north to Wagstaff to check on the Kmart parking lot situation. Between two and three hundred cars were jammed in there. … It was a TRA" (temporary refuge area).

Chapters, many containing maps and photographs, detail dramatic rescues as well as tragic losses and the extraordinary interconnection of the stories. What emerges is how often those on the scene had to make split-second decisions to save lives, part of their CAL FIRE training. 

Some who evacuated that day can read, perhaps for the first time, what was going on in their own neighborhood immediately after leaving. 

Sager's work here is simply indispensable.

"The Oosik"

Chicoan Scott Nitzel writes me that his true calling is as an "Earth Explorer who has now journeyed throughout 83 countries, including 17 new ones since Covid first arrived." His experiences provide background to a phantasmagoric novel about "a commonly known relic not only to the Inuits but also the general population." It met with success at Barnes & Noble book signings in Alaska, where the story begins.

The relic resembles a thick walking stick, a little over three feet long, "sleek and smooth with a creamy eggshell color base with swirls of caramelized deep orange … a shiny relic of desire." Specifically, it's a "penis bone from the gigantic, and long ago extinct Arctic Walrus." Inuits call it "The Oosik" ($19.95 in paperback, independently published; also for Amazon Kindle).

Framed as a historical investigation for the Journal of American Rare Objects, the story traces how the Oosik becomes a "spiritual relic" once artisans etch various images, including a "female face with antlers, which to them was Pukimna, the mother and goddess overseeing the reincarnation of revered walrus and caribou."

The first known trade of the Oosik comes in Western Alaska in 1870 and its perceived value excites thieves and charlatans and even pricks the conscience of a few, before making its winding way back home in 2017. It changes hands again and again, and Nitzel's account of coincidence, comeuppance and weaponization as the Oosik travels the world is enticingly bizarre.

Take laborer Sanford Tinius who brings the Oosik to Mount Rushmore in 1934 where he is assigned jackhammer work on the back of the monument. He imagines the Oosik along with America's "most important paperwork" would reside in a secret chamber "for a future society to discover."

Years later Seoras Surratt, high on peyote in northwest New Mexico, decides to become a cult leader and appropriates the unattended Oosik; but soon it's "placed into the trunk of a mint condition Corvette and quickly driven away" to Arizona where it remains for almost 43 years.

After that, as a group of five friends travel the world exploring religious relics, with astonishing developments, the Oosik eventually arrives home in Alaska--a notable expression of authorial prestidigitation.

"Spending The Winter: A Poetry Collection"

Time to think about time. Joseph ("Jody") Bottum, poet, essayist, and Director of Dakota State University's Classics Institute out of Madison, South Dakota, points to time more than six dozen times in "Spending the Winter: A Poetry Collection" ($13 in paperback from St. Augustine's Press; also for Amazon Kindle).

Bottum's book appears in a 2022 list of most memorable books of the year by former Paradise resident John Wilson, editor of the journal Books and Culture: A Christian Review for all of its 21 years of storied history. 

The poem which gives the book its title observes that "Time's in arrears/ Crankier each frozen morning,/ The water heater groans in warning/ That it will soon give up the ghost./ Nothing lasts in a winter post." Still, the silent snow is worth listening to:

"The mind in winter may find a cleanness,/ A keening wind to clear the meanness/ Of skinflint soul and the chronic day,/ A wind to tear vain thoughts away./ Self-concern, self-esteem,/ Numbed and muted—till we seem/ Nothing but a snow-capped field:/ Draped in winter, smoothed and healed."

Bottum's accessible poems rejoice in form, rhyme, wordplay. In "Reading by Osmosis," the poet can hardly hide the sarcasm: "Percy B. Shelley and Machiavelli/ And Norman Vincent Peale--/ We've never tried opening one of their books./ We know them by their feel.// Does reading seem boring? Does reading seem hard?/ Does reading seem too precocious?/ Just pick up a book and give it a twirl./ You'll learn it by osmosis." … "We bobble, bounce, and throw them./ We never even look./ Osmosis means we know them without opening a book."

For Bottum, winter is not about being snowbound in time, unable to move, but a recognition that even though the world is shrouded in division and death, "Easter Morning" has come, will come, and has overcome:

"Time," the poet writes, "Reaches forward, hungry for winter,/ And what will save my daughter when even/ Hope is caught in the ancient snare?/ A cold fear waits—till all that had fallen,/ All that was lost, rudely broken,/ Crossed in love, comes rising, rising,/ On the breath of the new spring air."

"Long Story Short: American Literary Fiction"

Kathi ("Snookles") Hiatt writes me that she is a "CSUC retiree and editor of the POA's Nugget in Magalia." She's received Butte Literacy Council awards and the Jack London Award in 2019 while serving as the President of the North State Writers.

In her collection of short stories, some newly published, some the basis of Blue Room Theatre performances, the focus is on narrators making it through the miseries and screw-ups of life, many self-inflicted, including, as one character puts it, "my losing battle with underarm jello-jiggle that helped me decide on the piece of equipment designed to strengthen triceps." Of course, one must be careful not to get one's top caught in said equipment. Especially if one is not wearing a bra.

"Long Story Short: American Literary Fiction" ($12.95 in paperback, independently published; also for Amazon Kindle) by Kathleen T. Hiatt, with sketches by Steve Ferchaud, offers a mélange of two dozen tasty morsels, including poetry, some poignant, some horrific, some laugh-out-loud funny, some O. Henry surprising. 

Hiatt carefully notes that "to protect reputations and not have to explain myself before a judge, there may be certain scenes, characters, names, and locations that have been exaggerated, changed, fictionalized, or just plain lied about."

Some of the stories take place in the "bygone era" of the 1950s and 60s, so Hiatt provides parenthetical notes for those not up on their ancient history. "Calling Ma Bell" mixes talkative teenagers with the household phone, a "bulky black device (color wasn't an option)" with "a rotary dial on the front with a handheld receiver holstered on top." Fun fact: When someone is on the phone, a stern dad stranded in a thunderstorm would only get a busy signal when calling home.

There's "Sex in the 60's" (there was?) and green M&Ms; "Potty Mouth" at a Catholic School; the horror of "Wireless Caller 666" (Stephen King creepy); "Two Whacks With A Wooden Spoon" (how young Luke lost his middle finger); and "Why Boys Need Mothers" (smug dad home with Lickers the cat and a whirlwind near-four-year-old son Andy).

So what about "The Power of Inappropriate Cleavage"? It is, as a columnist might write, a revelation.

"Reflections: 100 Hundred-Word Stories"

The Sacramento River drew Bob Madgic and his wife Diane to Shasta county after Madgic's career in public education. He published "The Sacramento: A Transcendent River," books on fly fishing, Half Dome, and the couple's rescue dog Ebby.

His Amherst College career began in 1956 and after his 60th reunion he decided to take up a classmate's challenge to write a memoir with each chapter clocking in at exactly 100 words. Come to think of it, why not exactly 100 chapters?

"Reflections: 100 Hundred-Word Stories" ($10 in paperback from River Bend Books, 6412 Clear View Drive, Anderson, CA 96007) is, as Madgic says in the preface, an opportunity to "dish out praise, admit errors, settle old scores, recast one's image, expose cultural idiosyncrasies, and perhaps, prompt a chuckle."

The author met the famous and infamous. "It was no privilege to greet scumbags Roy Cohn and Joe McCarthy. But to meet Eleanor Roosevelt was a rare honor…. She was the strongest voice of her time for the civil rights of Blacks and against the wartime internment of Japanese-Americans." He connected, if briefly, with Richard Nixon, Ted Kennedy, and Arnold Schwarzenegger. 

Donald Trump's visit to Redding gets thumbs down, as does most religion, as does camping in the Rocky Mountains with their kids Kirk, Doug, and Jen during a thunderstorm. "It's better to camp when it is sunny." Noted.

In the Sixties he attended Stanford and "helped park cars at Stanford home football games for $1 an hour and free admission." One Saturday, to his chagrin, a yellow Cadillac convertible pulled into the lot but then sped away, only to park illegally close to the entrance. As Madgic observes, "Long after the game ended, the owner and car were still there, waiting for service to come and inflate the Cadillac's four flat tires."

Back in 1958 a friend suggested Bob meet Diane, the new waitress at a local cafe. "I was in no hurry because I have always been quite discerning about women and didn't expect much in this case." Ahem. When she finally did wait on him Bob found her "Especially singular. I was smitten, and have remained so for all of my life."

"The Cruelty Of Swallows: A Novel Of Life, Loss And Love"

Former Butte County resident Nancy Weston, now living in Idaho, had a long career in professional management, including in the medical device field. Her new, meditative novel is set within the context of the burgeoning semiconductor chip industry in the late 1960s and beyond.

Narrator McKenzie Bell Jamison ("Kenzie"), who works first at Bell Labs and then Midland Semiconductor (later becoming a key player in a medical device company), has everything going for her. Especially after meeting Thomas ("Tommy") Brier, "a whiz at fiberglass fabrication"; the two move in together after his divorce.

"Neither of us were interested in church or religion," Kenzie tells us. "Neither of us were eager for children. He never went to college. In fact, he couldn’t read, hardly at all. He was highly intuitive. Very intelligent … His personal unspoken creed gave him his glorious demeanor, his patience and love of life and every living thing. I began my own spiritual journey."

With the rise of Silicon Valley, the two dream of building a business together, or working for George Lucas' Industrial Light And Magic, but it is not to be. Kenzie must face "The Cruelty Of Swallows" ($14.95 in paperback from Weston Writes; also for Amazon Kindle) when Tommy is taken from her in the midst of lovemaking. 

Subtitled "A Novel Of Life, Loss And Love," the story is a confessional about "flirting with self-destruction" as one of her therapists says.

Eventually, in San Juan Capistrano, Kenzie must come to terms with what anger can do to a person. The swallows have a lesson: "They say a pair can support two chicks. If a third egg is hatched, one egg will be ejected from the roost and smash to the ground. Nature favors its own fortitude. It is not kind. It is beautiful in its entirety, yet the breadth of life includes cold brutality and intolerance along with its symmetry, grace and diversity."

There is more loss as well among family and friends; in the end, Weston's story is about "embracing loss with the same openness as the love, seeing it as a gift, the most costly gift of all…."

"Hunting: A Cultural History"

"In California," write Jan E. Dizard and Mary Zeiss Stange, "there were 700,000 hunting licenses sold in 1970. Forty-nine years later, after the population had roughly doubled, only 225,000 licenses were purchased." Though women are now 10% of the country's hunters, overall interest is waning. While critics might welcome the news, the authors argue conservation-minded hunters could be allies even to modern-day environmentalists.

Stange, an authority on women and hunting, is Professor Emerita of Women's Studies and Religion at Skidmore College. Dizard, who now lives in Chico, is Charles Hamilton Houston Professor of American Culture Emeritus at Amherst College, and has written widely on race relations, environmentalism, and hunting ethics. 

Their book, "Hunting: A Cultural History" ($16.95 in paperback from The MIT Press; also for Amazon Kindle), part of the Essential Knowledge series, may well change your mind about the importance of hunting. 

From prehistoric times, Dizard and Stange note, "the killing of animals, especially large, warm-blooded ones, triggered a volatile mix of emotions that yielded normative practices that absolved the hunter of guilt or remorse"; there have always been "rich myth and lore" around hunting, "elements which persist, albeit in more secular garb, down to the present."

The authors acknowledge that "the fact that hunters, then and now, take pleasure in hunting and find satisfaction in a successful kill has been, and continues to be, the basis for a critique of hunters and hunting more generally." 

Sport hunting generates images today of wanton killing; but a century ago, being a "'sportsman/woman' then meant that you hunted by a code of rules that were meant to honor wild game and emphasized the thrill of a fair chase…" which meant "utilizing the kill—including where possible the hide/fur as well as the meat."

Today's environmental efforts have increased the animal population even as wildlands have faced encroachment by humans. "Living with wildlife sounds great," the authors write, "yet it's not a solution to goose-polluted parks and beaches, and it's not a solution to deer densities that exceed the capacity of the environment…."

The danger today? If hunting is increasingly confined to a small group of the affluent, wildlife management will be left to—exterminators.

"Cleopatra's Vendetta: A Stryker Thriller"

Grass Valley novelist Avanti Centrae (avanticentrae.com) is back with a world-spanning tale, full of ancient secrets, only now revealed, with deadly consequences. What is unfolded is nothing less than "Cleopatra's Vendetta" ($17.99 in paperback from Thunder Creek Press; also for Amazon Kindle and in audiobook format).

Subtitled "A Stryker Thriller," it's a reference to one Timothy Stryker, an officer in "the field arm of one of the Army's cutting-edge think tanks, the US Futures Command." Looking for brains more than brawn—intel became vital after 9/11—"the military created a special unit of recruits that previously wouldn't have made it through psych testing."

Stryker, extraordinary linguist, expert in disguises, and "brutally honest," lost his sister and mother when he was seven as his father murdered them. Jerónimo Guerrero Reyes—Rey—"held dual degrees in mechanical engineering and information technology" but his "sensitivity to smells and noise" is worsened by his PTSD. 

The team also includes Stryker's sister-in-law Samantha Coin—Sam—a compulsive gambler but empathetic, single with "trouble committing—to men or women…." She is in Bari, Italy on holiday with her sister, Angie, Stryker's wife, while Stryker is in Saudi Arabia investigating a tip that a high Saudi official will be assassinated. 

Angie is CEO of a biofuels company, CIA operative, and heavy drinker, trying to drown her sorrows after losing a child. She's brought their four-year-old daughter, Harper, to Italy, after Tim and Angie argue over her boozing.

Then, to Sam's horror, both Angie and Harper are kidnaped, and the team must race to find them. At the same time world leaders are being killed, and the US President and President-elect are also targeted. Tied up in it all is a shadowy group calling itself the Sons of Adam, still active after thousands of years when, earlier, members of the Sons of Adam helped lead to Cleopatra's demise.

But the Queen will exact her revenge, even if it has to wait until the present day, hiding her own intel on the group's secret, millennia-long propaganda effort that has changed the course of history. 

Through cliff-hangers and twisty turns, readers will be propelled to an explosive ending—both literally and psychologically.

"Contracting For Services In State And Local Government Agencies: Best Practices For Public Procurement, Third Edition"

Those rebuilding after wildfires need services, but how to choose providers? Homeowners may hire contractors based on word of mouth, friendship, the first name in a printed phone directory, simple availability, or a bidding process--but a brand new company with a super-low bid may not be the best pick.

The difficulty is compounded if you're a government agency in need of services or equipment and it's taxpayer money that's being spent. Such agencies need to develop a transparent and ethical system of evaluating bids and making fair choices.

Enter William Sims Curry, Principal Consultant of WSC Consulting in Chico, whose award-winning handbooks help agencies avoid acquisition pitfalls. His newest is "Contracting For Services In State And Local Government Agencies: Best Practices For Public Procurement, Third Edition" ($74.95 in hardcover from Routledge; also for Amazon Kindle).

Updated with new terminology and software procurement examples, the book focuses on 48 (18 more than in the previous edition) "best public procurement practices" gleaned from a 2021 survey of agencies and educational institutions around the country and analysis of the forms they require. 

Some practices are simple, like requiring contractors to use four-digit years, and some complex, like monitoring contractor progress. While Federal processes have "centralized codification," "state and local public procurement … has a dearth of national regulation" which has led to the development of "diverse procurement practices that range from enlightened to foolhardy."

Curry is a Certified Professional Contracts Manager and "was on the Board of Directors for the Industry Council for Small Business Development, a not-for-profit corporation established to assist small, small-disadvantaged, and women-owned small businesses." His chapters take the reader through competitive procurement, contract negotiations, "terms and conditions," and final review. Central is Curry's concern for ethical processes.

He offers the account of a novice "public procurement specialist" on his first job where "he was exposed to an outrageous offer from a prospective contractor on his first business trip," little perks that were a "blatant attempt to gain his loyalty." That made a big impact on the author. 

Bottom line: Those who curry favor by favoring Curry had better not.

"Sleeping With Strangers: An Airbnb Host's Life In Lake Tahoe And Mexico"

When journalist (and certified massage therapist) Kathryn Reed moved to Chico in 2021, the former publisher of the Lake Tahoe News had a tale to tell. Actually, quite a few tales. 

"Needing to find a way to pay the entire mortgage after ending a twelve-year relationship," she writes, "led me to become an Airbnb host," primarily at her home in South Lake Tahoe and two winters at her sister and brother-in-law's house in Todos Santos, Mexico.

Since Airbnb handles bookings and money, all the host has to do is invite guests in, put up with them for a few days, have scintillating conversations with them during their stay, and fatten up one's bank account. Easy, simple, and more fantasy than reality.

If you want reality, "Sleeping With Strangers: An Airbnb Host's Life In Lake Tahoe And Mexico" ($19.99 in paperback, self-published, also for Amazon Kindle; more information at kathrynreed.com) is a delightfully frank tale of tales (with guest names suitably changed).

These are not stories of sordid escapades but of quotidian life scrunched up in her guest bedroom in Tahoe (with her dog AJ) while guests took the main bedroom and used the common kitchen and hot tub. Reed uses her journalistic skills to report on herself and the struggle to accommodate strangers while staying within her heating and cleaning budgets. Some guests were creepy, some very kind, and some made certain noises in the bedroom just a wall away from the host, some were, uh, a bit frightened when a bear got into the garage. 

Central to Airbnb's operation is the review system. Hosts review guests, and guests review hosts. As a designated "superhost," Reed had a reputation (and house rules) to maintain, though it wasn't always easy adjusting. "Friends and family," she observes, "told me I was unreasonable to expect people to use one towel for a nine-day stay." OK, whatever: "Admittedly, I was a bit obsessed with wanting good reviews."

Reed's account is an eyes-now-wide-open guide to the pluses and minuses of Airbnb (and the money one makes) and why people who don't like dogs would book a place—with a dog.

The Camp Fire In Books

Journalists, poets, photographers, artists and ordinary citizens have chronicled the profound and lasting impact of the Camp Fire. Here are the books we've covered in the Biblio File, with excerpts from my reviews.

THE CAMP FIRE 2018: LIVING ON THE RIDGE by Paula Link

• "Link summarizes some of the harrowing accounts of escape found on YouTube and there are dozens of full-color photographs."

PARADISE: ONE TOWN'S STRUGGLE TO SURVIVE CAN AMERICAN WILDFIRE by Lizzie Johnson

• "Johnson's story, the fruit of 500 interviews, is unrivaled in its gripping emotional intensity, taking readers deeply into the lives of mostly working-class Ridge residents that fateful Thursday."

AFTER/ASHES: A CAMP FIRE ANTHOLOGY edited by John LaPine

• "As the editors write in a new anthology of prose, poetry, and images--a creative response to the Camp Fire--it took seventeen days to completely contain it."

THE CAMP FIRE: DREAMS, NIGHTMARES, HOPES by J.R. Henson

• "His escape on the day of the fire is more harrowing because his truck is low on gas. … He traces his emotional journey through poems and essays…."

I ESCAPED THE CALIFORNIA CAMP FIRE by Scott Peters and S.D. Brown

• "The story is a fictionalized account of the fire which draws on published reports."

FIRE IN PARADISE: AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY by Alastair Gee and Dani Anguiano

• "Together, drawing on hundreds of interviews, they tell the story of the Camp Fire with skill and even-handedness."

PEOPLE, PLACES & PIECES OF PARADISE by Douglas Keister

• "Keister has created stunning images that capture the soul of Paradise…."

PARADISE ISN'T LOST: EMBRACING RESILIENCE IN THE FACE OF LOSS by Kari Carter

• "There are losses, from family members to precious possessions, even her marriage. Yet she finds resilience."

MY NAME IS HALEY AND I LIVE IN PARADISE…" written and illustrated by Steve Ferchaud

• "Paradise memories in a children's book for all ages."

THE CALIFORNIA CAMP FIRE: REFLECTIONS AND REMNANTS by photographer Ron Schwager

• "… a masterpiece that will cause readers to pause and reflect with every turn of the page."

CALIFORNIA BURNING: THE FALL OF PACIFIC GAS AND ELECTRIC—AND WHAT IT MEANS FOR AMERICAN'S POWER GRID by Katherine Blunt

• "… a measured, and yet devastating, history of PG&E."

BURNT OFFERINGS by illustrator Steve Ferchaud

• "After the fire he decided to compile all 62 sketches into a book, the proceeds of which would go to helping Camp Fire survivors."

BURN SCAR: A CONTEMPORARY DISASTER THRILLER by T.J. Tao (Michael J. Orr)

• After the surviving the fire, the author offers a fictionalized version set in Idaho.

PARADISE FOUND: A HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL TEAM'S RISE FROM THE ASHES by Bill Plaschke

• "Reporting on the Bobcats' first football season after the Camp Fire."

FIRE ON THE RIDGE: A COLLECTION OF POEMS by Bill Hartley

• The destruction of Joy Lyn's Candies, and poems to release sorrow.

OUT OF THE ASHES: ONE SURVIVOR'S STORY IN THE AFTERMATH OF TWO HISTORIC WILD FIRES by Antoinette Peppler

• The Saddle Fire in 2016, then the Camp Fire.

WHERE TO NEXT? By Joan Goodreau

• From evacuations to a pandemic, the Chico poet asks a profound question.

THE SOUND OF THE SNOW GEESE: A TRUE STORY OF SURVIVING CALIFORNIA'S DEADLIEST WILDFIRE by Dax Meredith

• "… caught in the Camp Fire as she and one of her young sons fled toward Paradise from Magalia."

"A Stone Bled Dry"

"It’s a ten-minute ride into downtown Alturas. Half-an-hour if there’s black ice. And that word, downtown, it’s a bit of a stretch, a joke shared by the natives. Some places, they try to be something special. Alturas, it just is. Doing what it needs to do and not one iota more." 

For "old coot" Jack Jenkins, a man, as they say, with a past, Alturas suits just fine. He's been pretty much anonymous for a decade now. Odd jobs. A few hookups with Liz, one of the older clerks at the local grocery store. Mostly keeping to himself at home, "your standard double-wide, laid up on cinderblocks, with worn cedar steps leading to the front door and an illegal stove in the den."

A ringing cellphone at three in the morning will change everything. Ridge-area novelist Brian T. Marshall (briantmarshallauthor.com) is there and brings the reader deep into the heart of a man who seeks to escape history but who will find his future depends on it.

"A Stone Bled Dry" ($12 in paperback from misspelled press; also for Amazon Kindle) is a deeply moving exploration of the sometimes violent cost of love. Jack had hooked up with Lenora back in their using days and had a child. Lenora is on the phone with news that (once again) she's entering a program to get clean. Oh, and 14-year-old Jewell is on a Greyhound from LA headed his way.

Jewell? "A granddaughter," Jack tells Phil, a widower retired from Chico State. "Her mom, our daughter, died when she was still just a baby. We got stuck raising her." Yet when Jewell arrives, a beauty blossoming into womanhood, Jack realizes she is "a version of himself. Another chance to get things right. Because if Jack and Lenora had both faced a test, it was one they'd clearly failed, and the only way to redeem the loss was to help Jewell triumph. For this is the way that spirit works."

When Jewell gets twisted up in a struggle among generations on the Reservation, what will Jack do to protect her life? Stony hearts bleed, they do, and readers will hold on tight until the very end.

"Matthew 25 Christianity: Redeeming Church And Society"

Donald Heinz, Lutheran minister and Chico State emeritus Professor of Religious Studies, offers in his new book what he calls a field guide to a new Christian movement, one based on the words of Jesus in Matthew 25.

"You've heard the story," Heinz writes; "it is the end of the age and all people are lined up, like sheep and goats, before Jesus as the cosmic judge. A series of questions ensues and judgments are made. Did you see me among them, Jesus as King asks, when there were homeless to be sheltered, naked to be clothed, hungry to be fed, thirsty to be given a drink, strangers to be welcomed, the imprisoned to be visited? If you did these things for the least of these, you were serving me. Now you will inherit the kingdom prepared for you since the foundation of the world."

For Heinz, "Matthew 25 Christianity: Redeeming Church And Society" ($29 in paperback from Cascade Books; also for Amazon Kindle) has both an inner and outer expression. Within the Christian tradition "new movers and movements came to take Christianity seriously, and were gripped by it, and made the concern with 'the least of these' the cause of their religious life" (think Francis of Assisi, Martin Luther King Jr.).

But today "we have isolated or distanced the poor, or insulated our social imagination" until "it is nearly impossible to see them." He proposes churches identify as "Matthew 25" congregations--but there must be more.

If his book seeks to take the likely original reference in Matthew 25 (to Jesus' itinerant disciples, often poor) and bring it into "new social contexts" and a care for "all the people of the world who are in need," he also advocates for the institutionalization of such a social gospel framework within governmental structures. It's not a theocracy, Heinz writes, but a call for the voice of Matthew 25 to become part of public discourse. 

In the end Heinz invites readers to "sell all and sign on": "The apostle Paul took a world-friending God public, rendering the Jesus movement a light to the world. What are we going to do with this?"

"Chico's Chapmans: The California Years 1861-1899"

"Augustus Hartley Chapman's name," writes historian Michele Shover, "hovers like the wisp of a phantom in Chico…." Gus Chapman died in 1899, when Chico had fewer than 4000 residents, and though he had a remarkable part to play, except for "Chapmantown" his name has mostly been lost to history. Until now.

"Chico's Chapmans: The California Years 1861-1899" ($35 in paperback from Stansbury Publishing) is Shover at her indispensable finest. The fruit of forty years of research, her book is a compelling narrative of daily life in Chico focused on the man from Michigan who worked for John Bidwell and then turned into a longtime rival. 

In more than four hundred pages, including dozens of historical images, Shover captures a community beset by economic downturns, fires, political squabbles, controversy over whether to split Butte County (take that, Oroville!), failing wooden water pipes, family tragedies, anti-Chinese sentiment, murders. 

It was Chapman who in 1877 "formed a private vigilante committee of business leaders—the Citizens' Executive Committee on Anti-Chinese Crimes—to circumvent Chico government's refusal to act"; it was "the only vigilante committee in Chico history" and burnished his reputation "as a man of principle, courage and leadership."

Gus was also very much a man of his times. 

In 1865 he "left with Bidwell's partner George Wood to open a competing store." Five years later, with both Bidwell and Chapman selling lots on their respective subdivisions, Chapman, elected as a school trustee, voted to put the new Oakdale school near his own property. That despite Bidwell's offer to sell property for the school "on the east side of Orient Street ('Old Chinatown')" for a dollar.

As Shover notes, "A schoolboard member today who did what Chapman had done would be indicted. However, nineteenth-century government, in general, enforced no business standards or public ethics."

Chapman and his wife Sarah celebrated "their shared birthday and their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary" in 1883. Sarah kept the family together (and Shover pays due regard to her work). 

When Gus died, despite his many failures, "only his creditors were aware of one point central to his honor: he had paid off every debt in full. He died owing no man."

"Generation Dread: Finding Purpose In An Age Of Climate Crisis"

Whether she and her husband Sebastian should have a child is a question that suffuses Britt Wray's deeply researched report on the effects of "eco-distress" felt by many young people today. In an era of climate extremes thirty-something Wray, born in Toronto and later a Human and Planetary Health Postdoctoral Fellow at the Stanford Center for Innovation in Global Health, traces the effects of what is called "global dread." 

It's defined by author Glenn Albrecht as "the anticipation of an apocalyptic future state of the world that produces a mixture of terror and sadness in the sufferer for those who will exist in such a state." Should one bring a child into such an uncertain world?

Wray's analysis focuses on those who feel pain as wildfires, droughts, floods and hurricanes ravage the globe. The overwhelming problems, exacerbated by racism that makes the most vulnerable even more vulnerable as the climate changes, can produce either a depressed apathy or ill-directed energy from culturally privileged eco-warriors. 

There is a better way, she writes. "Generation Dread: Finding Purpose In An Age Of Climate Crisis" ($24 in hardcover from Knopf Canada; also for Amazon Kindle) proposes "a way of transforming fear into radical hope." 

Wray is scheduled to give a talk on "teaching climate change and resilience" Thursday, October 13 at Chico State's ARTS 150 Recital Hall at 6:00 p.m. The public event is free and will be available on Zoom (details at bit.ly/3rKsG3g).

"If you're resigned to the idea," Wray writes, "that everything before us spells out a very particular vision of mass suffering, bring that thought into your arms and legs with a big inhale, and be present in the moment. Then feel that you actually don't know what exactly is going to happen. No one does! … There's an excitement about the future that can arise in that dark place." 

For Wray, it's not about grasping expectations, but rather exerting one's agency in the moment, and building a community-based model of mental health care. We feel the pain—and "invest in the future anyway." 

So what about having a child? That, dear reader, is Wray's story to tell.