Why a brush with death triggers the slo-mo effect

A scientist who had a brush with death as a child wondered why during such times time seems to slow down. He came up with a hypotheses - but first he had to figure out a way to test it.

NPR reports: ""We went on all of the scariest roller coasters, and we brought all of our equipment and our stopwatches, and had a great time," David says. "But it turns out nothing there was scary enough to induce this fear for your life that appears to be required for the slow-motion effect." But, after a little searching, David discovered something called SCAD diving. (SCAD stands for Suspended Catch Air Device.) It's like bungee jumping without the bungee."

Read “Why A Brush With Death Triggers The Slow-Mo Effect”.

I bet these two authors had a sinking feeling...

It's every authors worst nightmare: you spend years writing a book with an unusual angle - only to find out that someone else is coming out with a book covering the exact same thing. Even though the two books will probably be quite different, is there space in people's limited attention spans to remember both?

What it you could taste something that is not normally associated with taste - like a word or an emotion? Two authors, both with books out this summer, explored the same unusual premise.

In Bitter in the Mouth: A Novel, 30-something Linda has the ability to taste the words she hears. This is "lexical-gustatory synesthesia," which according to Wikipedia "is one of the rarer forms of synesthesia, in which spoken or written words evoke vivid sensations of taste, sometimes including temperature and texture (e.g., for lexical-gustatory synesthete JIW, 'jail' tastes of cold, hard bacon)."Despite its starred review from Publisher's Weekly, I think the book is going to have a hard time finding traction because of:

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake: A Novel. PW says, "Bender's narrator is young, needy Rose Edelstein, who can literally taste the emotions of whoever prepares her food, giving her unwanted insight into other people's secret emotional lives—including her mother's, whose lemon cake betrays a deep dissatisfaction."

The cat who came in from the cold

Yesterday around 1 in the afternoon, I went out to get the mail. And who comes trotting up the driveway?

The cat.

The stray cat.

The stray cat I took to Multnomah County Animal Shelter on Friday.

The shelter is 30 miles away. It's not even in Multnomah County. And there's a river in between us and the shelter. Plus two freeways.

The cat did not look any worse for wear.

I grew up reading my parents' Readers Digest. So immediately I knew: I could parlay this into one of those "Amazing Animal" stories about pets who find their owners even after they move out of state! It was a miracle! A miracle that might earn me $2 per word!

I picked her up and called the shelter. While I waited on hold, I opened a can of tuna. Albacore tuna. Because I had given all the cat food we bought to the shelter. .

Me: I dropped off a cat there on Friday and now it's at my house again.
Shelter: What's your name? (Tap, tap, tap) No, the cat is still here.
Me: What? I'm holding her right now.
Shelter (somewhat patronizingly): Maybe it's a different cat that just looks like the cat we have.
Me (could the cat have a twin? Is there a whole litter of identical cats out there and I'll have to bring them one at a time to the shelter?): I grew up with cats and I'm pretty sure it's the same cat.
Shelter: Let me go back to the cattery. (long pause while I wonder if I am going crazy): Oh. It looks like the owner just picked it up.
Me: Owner? Then why is she so scrawny?
Shelter: Our records show that she is old, has broken teeth, and a heart murmur. Sometimes when a cat is old, it loses weight.
Me: But she's got fleas. And no collar.
Shelter: Hm.

The shelter also gave me the address for the owner, which is about a block away. Ever since the cat has been back, she's been living in my driveway again.

Okay, now if you loved your cat, would you:
- let her live outdoors?
- where the street is busy?
- and there are signs up warning about a mama coyote and her pup stalking cats in the area?
- without a collar or chip?

I guess I'll stop feeding her and I won't put back out the bed we made. She hasn't gotten the message though. She still thinks she belongs here.

I would let her live here, but there's the little matter of Spouse's inability to breath.

Super Sad True Love Story

Gary Shteyngart third novel, Super Sad True Love Story: A Novel, is a black comedy set in a futuristic America. A future that is drawing ever nearer -- where books don't exist, the economy has collapsed, and the only two televisions stations are Fox Liberty-Prime and Fox Liberty-Ultra. I'm not sure I've ever seen another book get stars across the board - Kirkus, Booklist, Publishers Weekly.

I was lucky enough to see Gary at Powells on Wednesday. And even though I came 15 minutes early, it was already a standing room only crowd. He waited for his entrance right in front of me, so I got to hear the unconscious noises one makes when one is being talked about to a crowd.

His reading was incredibly funny, complete with gestures and accents. The question and answer period was even better - he so sharp that sometimes you didn't even realize he was joking. Like one guy said he had just been reading The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains, which talks about what the Internet is doing to our brains and our attention spans. As the man was still asking his question, Gary started a bit, pulled out his iPhone and began to say, "Uh huh, uh huh," as he tapped away on the tiny screen. We're so used to this kind of half-assed attention that it took a few seconds for everyone to begin laughing.

The line for getting a signed copy was long. Two people ahead of me, the guy had several books, with weird instructions for each: "Write something random in Russian, but don't tell me what it says." "In this one, draw a stick figure." Gary gamely complied. The guy ahead of me brought a Kindle and a special pen so Gary could sign the back. There was some debate as to how large he should make the signature (since it was the first of presumably many) and then some fumbling as Gary tried to take a picture with his iPhone while simultaneously signing.

Read and hear more about the author and the book here - including an interview with NPR's Terry Gross.

I take it all back - Kirkus rocks!!

Did I ever say Kirkus could be kranky? Did I complain about the review in which I changed sex?

Well, I didn't mean it.

Not one word.

Not after this review from Kirkus for Girl, Stolen.

"This can't-put-it-down crime thriller unfolds through the viewpoints of both victim and criminal. Sixteen-year-old Cheyenne , blinded in an accident that killed her mother three years earlier, has pneumonia. As she sleeps in the back of her stepmother's car, Griffin steals it, inadvertently kidnapping her. Once Griffin 's car-thief father learns she's wealthy, he decides to demand ransom. When the hapless Griffin realizes his dad and cronies will kill the girl to protect their identities, he tries to protect her. Clearly, the author did extensive research on blindness and its challenges. Her realistic depiction of the coping strategies and the strengths developed by the blind greatly enhances the novel, lifting it above the level of a mere escapist thriller. Characterizations make an impact, with both Cheyenne and Griffin becoming quite appealing; much suspense revolves around Griffin 's divided loyalties. The slightly ambiguous ending highlights Cheyenne 's ambivalent feelings toward Griffin . Although Cheyenne 's multiple problems might feel overdone in less skilled hands, Henry handles them deftly and makes her choices work. Constantly interesting and suspenseful. (Thriller. 12 & up)"

All you authors out there know how much this means, how you wait and wait for reviews, feeling slightly sick to your stomach, knowing how much a bad one stings. This is so good I can't take it in!

Adopted girl finds out mother is murderer

27 years ago this week, Diane Downs said a bushy-haired stranger shot her and her three kids, killing one of them. The shooting occurred about 90 minutes from here, and I still remember the terror that swept the state. Such a horror. I also remember looking at the composite drawing and thinking about the words "bushy-haired stranger" and feeling a little bit of doubt.

She was ultimately charged with the shootings. The motive was thought to be a new boyfriend who didn't want kids. At the trial, Christie Ann Downs, who was 8 at the time of the shooting, and who suffered injuries that affected one arm and her speech, testified that her mother shot her and her siblings. Cheryl Lynn Downs, 7, was killed. Three-year-old Stephen Downs was paralyzed from the waist down. In an odd twist, Christie Ann and Stephen were adopted by the prosecutor.

Ann Rule wrote a book about it called Small Sacrifices: A True Story of Passion and Murder (Signet).

Downs was pregnant at the time of her sentencing, and gave birth to a girl a few days later. Now Glamour magazine has the story of the girl Downs was pregnant with - Rebecca Babcock. "Rebecca Babcock always knew she was adopted, but at 16 she was rocked by the discovery that her birth mother, Diane Downs, was a murderer, convicted of shooting her own children."

The story is co-written by Eric Mason. The article says he is now a PI, but used to be a TV reporter. Eric interviewed me - twice! - about my books. It's a small world.

Read more about Rebecca here. While she is seeking a co-writer for her life story, I think it would be a great starting point for a novel.

Look what I found!

This past week, I have seen the strangest assortment of stuff while I've been running:
- a dead mole
- 2 dead rats (I'm starting to worry about bubonic plague)
- 2 pairs of women's panties (in different locations)
- in someone's garage, a Christmas stocking hanging next to a (presumably model) human skull
- amazingly beautiful flowers
- and this! an actual library checkout card! (for May Bird Among the Stars: Book Two)



I didn't know they still used library checkout cards. For me, they bring back so many memories. When I was a kid, you could only check out six books at one time, but the librarian wisely decided the rule didn't apply to me. And my first job was at a library, where I often typed out new cards, as well as filed them when books were checked out.

Making new cards was probably a kind of penance for another memory I have of library checkout cards, which used to be made of a thicker card stock than the one I found. When I was a kid, we were pretty poor.

How poor, you ask?

So poor that we got one pair of shoes per school year and knew we needed to make them last. Seeing as how we bought our shoes at Leeds or Kinneys (cheap chains that probably have long since bit the dust), they didn't. I would get holes in the sole of my shoes. And library checkout cards were the perfect thing to put in the bottom.

A commercial for Kinney Shoes: