In three-quarter time…

In three-quarter time…

(excerpt from Chapter 13 of A New Eden…)

When she came to him, his left hand took her right. His right hand went to the small of her back. As he moved her in a slow circle to the country waltz, she closed her eyes, willing herself to let go.

Would that you could be
Mine then we would be
All that two should be,
Dancing in time. . . .

He had drawn her close, and it was all she could do to keep from leaning in and letting her cheek rest against his, from letting her lips brush his neck, to taste the leather and prairie grass after a thunderstorm. . . .

Though close, I miss you,
Long so to kiss you,
It would be bliss to
Write our own rhyme. . . .

The world had gone away and she didn’t want it back—

*******

 

From Chapter 13 of A NEW EDEN, Part II of IDOLATRY, available to read tomorrow (password required) for those on my “Let Me Know” mailing list. Please sign up here for my latest novel chapters, short stories, flash fiction, poetry, screenplays, audiobook editions…. Thank you for reading!

Copyright 2016, Quent Cordair. All rights reserved.

 

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Genesis cover art 100215 w borderEnjoy Genesis, Part I of Idolatry  

In the twilight of the Roman Empire, a sculptor struggles to keep an 800-year dream alive while honoring the love of his life and raising his adopted son. Part I of the epic five-part Idolatry saga, the story of a wealthy young heir and a devout Christian girl who find themselves at the heart of a 2400-year struggle for the soul of Western Civilization.

“Beautifully written, on the order of Ken Follett’s Pillars of the Earth, with the historical insight of James Michener, it brings to life a time of great thought, great art, and its clash with religious fanaticism. Cordair writes with a poet’s sense of scene and nuance and gives us a great deal of insight into the mind of a sculptor; I found this an exciting and easy read.” ~ Alan Nitikman

genesisGenesis, Part I of Idolatry, is now on Amazon in paperback & Kindle editions here…

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The audiobook of Genesis, Part I of Idolatry, is now available on Amazon, Audible, and iTunes. Narrated by Robin Field.

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ENJOY THE FINEST IN ROMANTIC REALIST ART

at QUENT CORDAIR FINE ART ….

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Quent Cordair Fine Art

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Napa, California   *    Est. 2006

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Seventh Morning

Seventh Morning

 *    *    *

“Every god was invented by an atheist, you know.”

She had said it as casually as one might remind one’s spouse that the post office was closed on Sundays. He lowered his newspaper. She turned from studying the cathedral across the plaza to signal the waiter for more coffee. Her hair was lighter in the morning sun, the highlights in the curls redder.

“Every god, you think?” he asked, his gaze coming to rest on her lips.

“Of course. Don’t you think so?”

“I hadn’t considered the possibility, actually.”

“You will now.” She spooned raspberry jam onto her croissant and spread it liberally. Shifting her bare legs around to catch more of the sun happened to afford him a better view. A hint of her smile and a wink made him remember the night.

He went back to his reading, but found himself obliged to ponder the invention of the gods, and by atheists, no less. He glanced at her again over the paper’s edge. She was absorbed, contently, in her croissant and her coffee, soaking in the sun, watching the world go by.

He still wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into, but he was sure he liked it.

*    *    *

Copyright 2016, Quent Cordair. All rights reserved.

Readers love  Genesis, Part I of Idolatry  In the twilight of the Roman Empire, a sculptor struggles to keep an 800-year dream alive while honoring the love of his life and raising his adoptive son. “Reading this story is essential for keeping my soul alive. If you need a tour de force of epically grand storytelling, Idolatry delivers with exceptional skill. I am shaking with anticipation for Part II.”  Now on Amazon…Genesis cover art 100215 w border

COMING SOON! The AUDIOBOOK edition of Genesis, Part I of Idolatry, on Audible.com, narrated by the great Robin Field. To be notified when the audiobook edition is available, please join my “Let Me Know” list.

ALSO AVAILABLE ~ My short stories, poetry, screenplays and novels are available from my Author’s Page on Amazon here….

 

 

ENJOY THE FINEST IN ROMANTIC REALIST ART

at QUENT CORDAIR FINE ART ….

harmony

Happy Monday?

If someone frowns when you wish them a “Happy Monday,” it might not be the “happy” part to which they object.

The English noun Monday is rooted in an old Germanic term, which in turn is an interpretation of the pagan, pre-Christian Latin lunae dies (“day of the moon”).

“Jewish and Christian traditions place Sunday as the first day of the week, and Monday is thus the second day of the week. Quakers traditionally refer to Monday as “Second Day,” eschewing the pagan origin of the English name “Monday.” For similar reasons the official liturgical calendar of the Roman Catholic Church refers to Monday as the second celebration day – Feria secunda. The Portuguese and the Greek (Eastern Orthodox Church) name for Monday reflects this, as do all the days’ names except Saturday and Sunday: the Portuguese word for Monday is segunda-feira and the Greek word is Δευτέρα “devtéra” (second in order). Likewise the Hebrew name for Monday is yom-sheni (יום שני) (“second day”).” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monday

A very special fountain . . .

A very special fountain . . .

From Genesis, Part I of Idolatry ~

 

It was hardly the largest or most ornate fountain she had ever seen, and she had seen many in her travels, yet the more closely she approached, the more captivated she became. Its lower tier was composed of four remarkably lifelike elephants, facing the four winds, water spouting from their trunks, each creature captured in its own motion and mood. The southerly elephant was stomping in agitation, trunk cocked high and to the side. The easterly animal was bracing defiantly, head lowered and ears back, trunk pointing outwards. She circled to the northerly creature, who bore its burden with resignation, its trunk swinging low. The westerly elephant was the youngest of the four; it seemed eager to trot away at the first excuse, ears perked and flapping happily. She thought the elephants magnificent. She wanted to name them all and feed them and ride the youngest to the sea, where they would sit together in the sand and eat pistachios and watch the waves for hours on end.

The elephants were positioned between four columns, each of which was exotically adorned with bundles of reeds, Egyptian motifs, and capitals of palm fronds. A herd of small antelope peered out from around the columns. Some nibbled on the reeds; others drank from the fountain’s pool. The elephants and columns supported a wide, spouted bowl, around the rim of which lounged the figures of three graceful girls of about Sira’s age: one lay prone, her chin resting on her clasped hands as she admired her own reflection in the water below; another was supine, her leg bent and raised at the knee, her arm hanging loosely off the side of the bowl’s rim, her face to the sun; the third was sitting with her knees drawn to her chest as she contemplated the fountain’s central figure, which stood majestically on a stepped circular dais rising out of the upper pool.

The rendering of the elephants, the antelope, and the three girls was so masterful as to be nearly beyond Sira’s ability to grasp or accept. Surely these living, breathing beings had been turned to stone in an instant by the Gorgons and they would spring to life again the moment the spell was broken. But when her gaze had risen to the top tier, she felt as if she herself might have come under the Gorgons’ spell: her feet were rooted to the spot where she stood. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the figure of the woman above.

At any moment, the woman’s name or title would spring to mind. Sira was certain she recognized her – yet, she couldn’t remember. . . . She was a great queen, or the wife of a dignitary Sira had met, or a distant relative, or a friend of her mother’s – but no, perhaps this was a goddess of whom Sira had not yet heard. . . .

The stone of the fountain was unblemished, practically new by all appearances, barely weathered – which struck Sira as strange: she realized she had never before seen freshly carved, new sculpture in the round. Apparently, it just wasn’t being done anymore. She thought to ask her father why this was so, why the only other such sculptures she had seen, save for the occasional frieze on a government building or mausoleum, was weather-beaten, crumbling or partially destroyed, why it was that the beautiful fountains and statues were always old, deteriorating and historical – relics of the past – and how it could be so, when this could be done? The fountain was perfect and gorgeous and young and uplifting, as fresh and bright as the dawn after a rain-washed night.

Scattered about its lower rim were offerings of flowers and fruit, but there was no clue to the figure’s identity, no identifying prop or symbol. The woman was dressed simply but elegantly in the classic tunica, stola and palla. An exposed swath of the tunica, from the shoulder to the waist, was so sheer and revealing that the woman may as well have been partially nude – the nipple of her right breast and her navel were clearly visible beneath the transparent stone fabric. Flanking the figure, on the steps below, were the figures of two young boys, one sitting, the other kneeling, each holding a tilted amphora from which water flowed and converged to cascade down the steps and into the pool below. The woman wasn’t tall, yet she seemed to stand taller, and more comfortably so, than any sculpted figure Sira had ever seen. Her chin was lifted slightly, arms held loosely to her sides, hands relaxed. She was regal yet approachable, worldly wise yet light of spirit, nothing more and nothing less than a woman standing in the place where she stood, the whole of the earth as her kingdom and home. Sira found her enchantingly beautiful, shiningly intelligent, passionately feminine, faultlessly virtuous – all that a girl could want to see, all that a girl could want to be.

For Sira, it was turning out to be a most extraordinary and wondrous day, and in such a remote, nondescript town, no less. When her family had entered the town’s gate, the place had promised nothing beyond the ordinary, and now she felt as if she were falling deeply in love for the second time within the hour, first with the boy, and now with this woman. . . .

Read more in Genesis, Part I of Idolatry, now available on Amazon in e-book and paperback editions (audiobook coming soon!)

In the twilight of the Roman Empire, a sculptor struggles to keep an 800-year dream alive while honoring the love of his life and raising his adoptive son. Part I of the epic five-part Idolatry series, in which a wealthy young heir and a devout Christian girl find themselves at the heart of a 2400-year struggle for the soul of Western Civilization.

“Beautifully written, on the order of Ken Follett’s Pillars of the Earth, with the historical insight of James Michener, it brings to life a time of great thought, great art, and its clash with religious fanaticism. Cordair writes with a poet’s sense of scene and nuance and gives us a great deal of insight into the mind of a sculptor; I found this an exciting and easy read.” ~ Alan Nitikman

50 5-STAR REVIEWS! Now Available on Amazon here…

Genesis, Part I of Idolatry
Now available for Kindle and in paperback!

For Valentine’s

For Valentine’s

For My Softest One

For my softest one, in a hammock of satin,
A bed of rose petals on pillows of mink.
So lightly you lie, a suspended sonata,
In lines of fine ivory and islets of pink.

Hands hollow with hunger, my fingers would follow
Each lift to its fall, each peak to its draw.
To bruise or to break I would not, yet I think
That I must, as I live, partake as I give—

Eyes careless and blue beneath cumulus climbing,
Hair tumbled and free, framing all my dream fair.
I trace your terrain, hands floating so closely,
My heat and your cool wring a tear from the air.

I dare to drift over, hold still in the hover
Till naught but sheer will stands between us until—
Dire wanting, still saving, a chasm of craving,
Distilling desire into Need to fulfill—

Still close and down closer the rain to the desert,
First drops of anointment die shushed in a steam.
Time reined and arrested, eternal and blessed,
Made holy by all that we are and do deem.

Till eyes into eyes of reflection are falling,
The moment unknown of the melting and meld.
Consumed and consuming, the magnetic dooming,
As metals once separate in oneness are weld.

Confluence of burning souls molten and churning,
Long-suffering uprooted, sucked out with the flow.
Canyons swept clean of love lost and hope fading,
Washed down to rest deep beneath new fields below.

Felled fences left lying, the festive gone feasting,
The borders abandoned, the ships left to sink,
Till I rise again, for my softest one,
In a bed of rose petals on pillows of mink.

***

From the Lunch Break collection of short stories and poems, available for Kindle and in paperback.

 

Robin Field to narrate GENESIS audiobook

Robin Field to narrate GENESIS audiobook

I am very pleased and excited to announce that award-winning actor and entertainer Robin Field will be narrating the audiobook edition of Genesis, Part I of Idolatry (already available in paperback and for Kindle). Many of you will remember Robin Field from his role in our production of Nobel-winning author Maurice Maeterlinck’s Monna Vanna, which we produced in Hollywood in late 2007 and on the 2008 QCFA Arts Cruise.

robin_fieldRobin Field

Robin Field is an award-winning entertainer whose career has spanned six decades. As a singer-pianist his appearances have taken him from cabarets to Carnegie Hall. As an actor he won leading roles Off-Broadway in Your Own Thing, Look Me Up, Speed Gets the Poppys and the revival of Rodgers & Hart’s Babes in Arms. As a member of The Klowns, Field toured with the Ringling Bros. & Barnum & Bailey Circus, recorded for RCA Victor and starred in an ABC-TV special with Sammy Davis and Jerry Lewis. In 1972 Dom De Luise presented him as his “discovery” on “The Merv Griffin Show.” As a composer-lyricist Field toured the U.S. and Canada in his own one-man show Reason in Rhyme, based on Ayn Rand’s philosophy of Objectivism, and he wrote, directed and starred in seven editions of Broadway — A Hundred Years Ago. For five years he served as creator and host of the New York radio series “Broadway Time Capsule” and for two years as editor and publisher of “Revival”, a magazine on theatrical history. He and his singing partner Bill Daugherty won rave reviews throughout the U.S. as well as in London and Amsterdam, won four MAC awards for “Best Musical-Comedy Team,” and their show Daugherty & Field Off-Broadway was nominated for a New York Outer Critics’ Circle Award as “Best Musical Revue.” In 1992 they headlined at Carnegie Hall to a sell-out crowd and a standing ovation.

In regional productions Field played Axel in Don’t Drink the Water, Beverly Carlton in The Man Who Came to Dinner, Captain Keller in The Miracle Worker, Frederick in The Pirates of Penzance, Ko-Ko in The Mikado, Judge Wargrave in Ten Little Indians and Mark Twain in Mark Twain in Concert. He also wrote, composed and directed the musicals Blossoms of Big Bear, The Bronze Ring, The Singing Mountains, The Crystal Palace and Tom Sawyer.

As a voice actor, Robin Field has narrated dozens of fiction and non-fiction works, many of which are available for purchasing or sampling on Audible.com.

Acclaim and awards for Robin Field’s audiobook readings:

THREE PLAYS BY AYN RAND, READ BY ROBIN FIELD

SoundCommentary rates this recording the Best of the Best 2010, adding: “Robin Field’s reading is astonishing.  If listeners were told that they were listening to a full-cast production, none would doubt it.”

LEAVES OF GRASS BY WALT WHITMAN, READ BY ROBIN FIELD
AudioFile reviewed this recording, praising Field’s “pleasing voice and astute interpretations,” and concluded, “Field brings new life to Whitman’s poems with his intelligent emphasis and emotion.  And when Field recites a particularly resonant phrase at just the right time, the moment can turn into song.”
STONER BY JOHN WILLIAMS, READ BY ROBIN FIELD
According to AudioFile:  “Robin Field fully inhabits Stoner’s character, dragging every morsel of tragedy, inevitability and, occasionally, wiliness and joy from Williams’s understated writing.  Field’s performance helps us understand that an ordinary person’s life is still grand, emotional, and worthy. . . .  Stoner is a small miracle of a novel that is enhanced by a narrator who is a perfect match.”  Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award  (AudioFile)
AUGUSTUS BY JOHN WILLIAMS, READ BY ROBIN FIELD
SoundCommentary called this recording “a vast story from a vastly talented novelist read by a vastly gifted narrator.”
ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN BY MARK TWAIN, READ BY ROBIN FIELD
“Narrator Robin Field magnificently captures the tone and rhythm of Mark Twain’s classic novel. Most challenging for any narrator is the reproduction of the dialects, dramatic emphasis, and accents that are essential to the story, which on the surface is merely a journey down the Mississippi but, in truth, explores the coming-of-age of an ‘uncivilized’ boy. Added reverb to some passages is an interesting production choice and adds to understanding the thought process of the protagonist. Field’s youthful tone and connection to the emotional core of the story anchor the action of the novel, creating a connection between the listener and Twain that adds an extra dimension to the pleasure of what is arguably the great American novel.” Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award (AudioFile)