This is the story of Sophia Pirrone, a fourteen-year-old girl who was among the first American teenagers to live in China for a year (1982) after the U.S. normalized relations with the People’s Republic of China. Called “Jing-Jing” by her Chinese schoolmates, she attends middle school where she makes friends and learns Chinese.
Jing-Jing experiences customs and relishes delicious foods wherever she goes in China. She views gorgeous scenery--climbs mountains, boats through gorges, and rafts on rivers. She visits temples and communes and the cities of Beijng, Hangzhou, and Nanjing for a unique cross-cultural experience. Jing-Jing gains new insights into an ancient culture while she experiences once in a lifetime adventures.
In 1965 an Amherst College graduate, Terry Wagner, returns to the beaches of southern Long Island to resume his summer jobs as a lifeguard at Point Lookout Beach and as a bouncer at a college night club. But his idyllic summer of love and work at the beach is violated by the serial murder of two young girls. The novel interlocks the quest to find the two serial killers and the lives of Terry and his fellow lifeguards at the beach.
The murder of 12-year-old Melissa Costello at Point Lookout Beach is followed by the killing of Sydney Finkelstein, a 14-year-old girl at a nearby beach club. Both deaths occur at places where Terry worked as a lifeguard. The perpetrators, Seth Atkinson and Matt Sweat, were also linked with the murders of two teens several years earlier in nearby towns.
Excerpt
When I asked Dad what our religion is, he answered “we didn’t have one.”
Thinking this was different, I told him that Rebecca said she was a Christian and Daweshi said he was Muslim. Dad agreed: “Yes, these religions existed in almost every country. As a scientist, I am not comfortable with any of them.”
I asked: “Are they all in China?
He answered: “Yes, but they are minorities. Most Chinese are Buddhists, however. Some are Taoists, and some followed Confucius.”
“What is a Buddhist,”? I asked.
Dad looked at me with a smile. “Maybe we should visit a Buddhist temple so you can learn about this important world religion.”
“There are many temples, I think, around Shanghai although many are closed because the government does not favor them.”
“I hear that one is open--a lovely one devoted to Guan Yin on an island near Shanghai, Mount Putuo,” he teased, “wanna go?”
“Who is Guan Yin?” I asked.
“She is a female Buddha and a teacher who is worshipped in many places in Asia, like Jesus for Christians or Muhammed for Muslims. But, let’s wait until we visit to go into more about her and Buddhism.”
The overnight boat ride from the Bund to Putuoshan Island was very choppy. Waves pounded our steamer all night as it chugged its way to the mouth of the Yangzi River. Rebecca and I shared a bunk which was very uncomfortable and Dad slept in another. We ate chewy pork and red bean buns Dad brought and some sour milk from the boat’s canteen. The boat was crowded with Chinese passengers, most of whom were going on a pilgrimage.
Rebecca’s mother gave her a small book about Buddhism before we left. Bec shared this with me as we traveled. The book told us that a Buddha was a person who discovered the nature of reality from the teachings of an historical figure from India more than 20 centuries ago. The pictures helped us visualize this person in several different places. Apparently, Guan Yin became such an “awakened one” and was now immortal, a goddess whom the Chinese worshipped at many temples. Our destination was one of the sites in China not closed by the government. Communists thought that believing in God was a bad thing because a god was superior to them.
Excerpt
Stepping from his car in Lot 3, Terry Wagner faced the West End Bathhouse. He was here to qualify as a Jones Beach lifeguard. The beach and a new beginning both waited for him on the other side of this impressive old building.
The low, wide building was clad in Barbizon brick and Ohio sandstone with a tower as ornate as the Empire State building. As Terry approached, he could see straight through the lobby’s tall windows to the beach and the waves beyond.
He carried his gear in a small brown duffel bag. He had his favorite Amherst College speedo, a towel, and a hairbrush like when he swam every night at college. He had broken seconds consistently in his practice for the 100-meter test, so he was optimistic about the test today.
Through a door marked “lifeguard test,” he found an empty changing room, keys dangling on elastic lanyards from rows of narrow metal locker doors. Terry grabbed a locker midway down the wall. Hurrying to change so he would have time to limber up, he pulled his black nylon tank suit on his lean body, threw on his loose t-shirt, and dug into his flip-flops. He grabbed his towel and slammed the door.
An open door led him out to the Olympic-size pool. A group of candidates were already gathered at a metal barrier at the far end. Terry picked up a numbered badge from a poolside table and pinned it to his suit on his hip. Anoth 1 er group of men clad in Jones Beach parkas were talking among themselves. A well-built guard in his mid-40s stepped forward and introduced himself: “I’m Reggie Jones, group leader today. We’ll be testing you this morning for speed and this afternoon in the ocean for endurance. We’re going to run three candidates at a time, every other lane. The 100-meter test is a four- lap sprint. We call out ‘Ready, Set, . ..” When you hear the starter pistol next, you dive from this end, race to the other end, turn and return to this wall. Four laps total. Anyone who starts before the gun or stops before the finish is disqualified and should hop out quickly. Your time on all three watches must be under 80 seconds to qualify for the ocean test. Those who don’t break 80 are welcome to head to the lockers with our thanks for trying out.”
Terry was in the middle lane of the third group called up by number. To his right was a heavy-set, hairy guy called “Red” for obvious reasons. A blonde-haired athletic-looking guy to his left was doing waist bends while Jones was talking. Terry stripped off his T-shirt, tossing it behind him in a pile with his towel and locker key. He stood at the edge of the pool, with long, muscled legs and a narrow waist. He could tell the others were curious. They were already curling their toes over the edge of the pool and assumed the swimmer’s stance, looking like marble statues.
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About Dan
I am a lover of language and stories. I discovered my ability to write as an under-graduate at Boston College. Writing has become the common theme of my career as a teacher and a scholar. I earned two doctorates in English and Applied Linguistics at the University of Oregon and taught writing in these fields for forty-eight years at the university, college, and community college levels both in the U.S. and abroad. Many of my students around the world are themselves writers.
My editorial skills have been used in my roles as a writing teacher, journal editor, and as the director of more than sixty full-length doctoral dissertations. This work has shown me the importance and appreciation of a text-oriented dedication to language use. Grammar and style are separate wonders that enliven prose writing and communicate in the act of reading across generations, genders, and ethnicities.
Born in New York City, I have always been fascinated by the abundance and variety of human lives around me. This novel draws on my experiences as a lifeguard in a familiar place. My academic career has brought me from New York to Oregon, from China to Turkey where I have immersed myself in very different lives. I have tried to emerge through my experiences with a better understanding of humanity.