My historical novel, , Alsoomse and Wanchese, came out this past May. I am now making an effort to inform historical fiction readers of its existence. Here is a tease:
“Mother, I want to question things. Know the why of things. Decide things. Why must weroances, priests, and a husband – kind or not -- decide who I must be?” “We gave you your name for a reason.” “That is not an answer.” “Be respectful, child, dutiful. The gods have taught us our roles. We must obey them, please them. We must please also the wise ones who speak to them. Life is perilous, Alsoomse. Kiwasa makes it so. Weigh what you think before you act. Accept.”
He marveled at the potency of his temper. He was surprised that his blow to Askook’s head had not been followed by a fist to the throat and a crushing knee to the side of the skull. He savored the idea. Something inside him had interfered. Had Askook been a Pomouik, he would not have hesitated. He was a warrior. Any man who chose to make himself an enemy needed to beware. Askook had laid bare his deficiency.
Roanoke Island. 1583. Hunter’s Moon. Rejecting tribal conformity, deciding for themselves what is true, what is just, desiring independence, accomplishment, fulfillment, 17-year-old Alsoomse and 19-year-old Wanchese take flight.
I wanted to write an Algonquian story, not a story just about Englishmen encountering North Carolina/Roanoke Indians. I focused on 1583-1584, who the natives were, how they lived, what were their aspirations and conflicts. I wanted to convey the message that human beings are human beings regardless of time, place, and cultural advancement.
My historical novel,
“Mother, I want to question things. Know the why of things. Decide things. Why must weroances, priests, and a husband – kind or not -- decide who I must be?”
“We gave you your name for a reason.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Be respectful, child, dutiful. The gods have taught us our roles. We must obey them, please them. We must please also the wise ones who speak to them. Life is perilous, Alsoomse. Kiwasa makes it so. Weigh what you think before you act. Accept.”
He marveled at the potency of his temper. He was surprised that his blow to Askook’s head had not been followed by a fist to the throat and a crushing knee to the side of the skull.
He savored the idea.
Something inside him had interfered.
Had Askook been a Pomouik, he would not have hesitated. He was a warrior. Any man who chose to make himself an enemy needed to beware.
Askook had laid bare his deficiency.
Roanoke Island. 1583. Hunter’s Moon. Rejecting tribal conformity, deciding for themselves what is true, what is just, desiring independence, accomplishment, fulfillment, 17-year-old Alsoomse and 19-year-old Wanchese take flight.
I wanted to write an Algonquian story, not a story just about Englishmen encountering North Carolina/Roanoke Indians. I focused on 1583-1584, who the natives were, how they lived, what were their aspirations and conflicts. I wanted to convey the message that human beings are human beings regardless of time, place, and cultural advancement.
Where You Can Read Excerpts:
My blog site -- http://authorharoldtitus.blogspot.com.
Find “Labels” and click “Alsoomse and Wanchese Scenes.”
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4... (Find "preview")
http://booklocker.com/books/9843.html
The Kindle version on amazon.com
The Nook version on barnesandnoble.com