There’s nothing quite like seeing a body of your published work collected for the first time.
Like a plate lunch special, Sharks in an Inland Sea is a smorgasbord of short stories, essays, memoir, a novella, and even a poem and a play. Most of the works have appeared in various anthologies and magazines over the last ten years, but there are a few new surprises.
It’s Hawai’i and Utah colliding in my head and coming out in speculative fiction stories about sharks that walk, unscrupulous funeral directors, friendship sandwiches, monsters masquerading as young girls, and witches with apple peels. There’s some Pidgin and Hawaiian, a lot of chicken skin stories about things not being quite what they appear, memoirs like the time I was almost permanently swallowed by a national monument, and a few musings on what it means to be a modern Hawaiian in the diaspora. You’ll see well-loved characters from the Niuhi Shark Saga trilogy like Uncle Kahana, ‘Ilima, and even Kalei, but be warned, most of these stories are intended for the fifteen and over crowd.
Some of these stories bite.
Mahalo nui loa to Joe Monson at Hemelein Publications for shepherding this collection to publication and including my work as Book 4 in his Legacy of the Corridor series.
Sharks in an Inland Sea is published by Hemelein Publications and is available in hardback, paperback, and eBook here.
For bulk, discount, or wholesale orders, please contact firstname.lastname@example.org.
Children live in unseen spaces created by contradiction. Freckled is a raw, compelling, and ultimately hopeful memoir of growing up haole on Kauai where the idyllic freedom to surf, climb trees, and play Barbies runs counterpoint to a reality of homelessness, food insecurity, prejudice, violence, and the need be the adult when parents can’t. At times a celebration of the best within each of us as well as a witness of both human frailty and resilience, T.W. Neal’s memoir is a must-read for those Hawaiian and Hawaiian at heart.
As outrageous as of some of the events may seem to outsiders, I know firsthand of the truth she speaks. Hawaii in the sixties, seventies, and eighties was undergoing profound cultural change. A lot of anger and pain was being released against the real abuses of power and theft of land in previous generations. Unfortunately, a lot of that anger got poured onto the heads of haole kids, kids with fair skin, light eyes, and blonde or red hair.
Too frequently the very adults charged with protecting all kids—teachers, coaches, school officials—turned a blind eye to systemic bullying. In my case, adults were often complicit and encouraged the abuse. Kill Haole Day at Kahului Elementary was every Friday. Teachers taped 18 inch squares on the floor of the classroom and required me to stay in them all day. I didn’t even have a desk like the other kids. At recess, I escaped to the library until the librarian made me go to the playground. No other kids, just me. It’s not an exaggeration to say people would go to jail now for what happened to me in elementary school.
Neal’s experiences only differed from mine in that her parents never assumed she would fit in. Like Neal, salvation for me came in the form of private schools that encouraged me to grow academically. Ironically, I fit in better at The Kamehameha Schools—a private school for native Hawaiians—than any public school I went to.
There’s a lot of cognitive dissonance in knowing your family farmed taro for generations on land that was stolen by missionary descendants and tended by immigrants from Asia, while the descendants of those immigrants are kicking your ‘okole daily and calling you haole crap—basically, foreign trash. People who claim racial prejudice and elitism are only white issues have a very narrow and limited view of the world.
But that’s another blog post.
People tell me how lucky I was to have grown up in Hawaii. And they’re not wrong. In her memoir, Neal weaves a lei of a typical island childhood complete with surfing, exploring rain forests, hula lessons, and walking the reef. It’s those wonderful moments of adventure that serve as counterpoint to the grimmer challenges of her parents’ mental illnesses and chemical dependency that as a child she had to recognize, mitigate, and manage.
At its core, Freckled by T.W. Neal is a story of hope and a narrative of the triumphant nature of a beautiful, intelligent young girl who didn’t listen to the voices and circumstances that told her she was anything less than all she could be. It’s a universal journey, a coming of age story wrapped in ti leaves. Readers may never look at Hawaii the same way again. It’s an important work that I predict will be a touchstone in Pacific literature for generations to come.
Freckled is available in paperback and eBook from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other purveyors of fine books. You can connect with T.W. Neal on her blog: https://tobyneal.net/blog/