Skip to main content

Book Review Angela Sloan by James Whorton , jr

Angela Sloan: A NovelI  have two words for you Awe   some.(Now before you email me to correct my english
I know that's not 2  I love reading a novel that has the intrigue of a mystery or spy book with
more imagery and a good use of plot.Angela Sloan is the daughter of a former CIA agent,Ray Sloan, who
is reenlisted in for just one more assignment.  The job sounds easy but he doesnt want Angela to know about it.

Itturns out that to be the Wategate incident and  boy does the action really pick up here.   I have to say ,after
reading this novel ,I have a newfound respect for anyone who had to work undercover in the 1970's with the CIA!  You had to know your cover story, not only know when someone is following you ,but how to get rid of them, and if you have been found out you have to recall your code word.  Anyone contact you have with
your "coworker" has to be through a crossword puzzle so  you wont be discovered.  I loved this quirky charcter.  I highly recommend that you read it. I give this book 4 stars out of 5 .  I would also like to thank
Free Press for giving me the  oppurtunity to review this book.


Popular posts from this blog

Poem: In Texas Grass by Quincy Troupe

All along the rail
                                road tracks of texas
                               old train cars lay
                               rusted &overturned
                              like new african governments
                             long forgotten by the people
                              who built & rode them
                                till they couldn't run no more,
                              they remind me of old race horses
                             who've been put out to pasture
                            amongst the weeds
                            rain sleet &snow
                            till they die,rot away
                            like photos fading
                           in grandma's picture book,
                         of old black men in mississippi/texas
                         who sit on dilapidated porches,
                        that fall away
                       like dead man'…

The Speed of Belief by Tracy K Smith (poem)

I didn't want to wait on my knees
In a room made quiet by waiting. A room where we'd listen for the rise
Of breath, the burble in his throat. I didn't want the orchids or the trays
Of food meant to fortify that silence, Or to pray for him to stay or to go then
Finally toward that ecstatic light I didn't want to believe
What we believe in those rooms: That we are blessed, letting go,
Letting someone, anyone, Drag open the drapes and heave us Bak into our blinding, bright lives When your own sweet father died You woke before first light And ate half a plate of eggs and grits, And Drank a glass of milk. After  you'd left, I sat in your place And finished  the toast bits with jam And the cold eggs, the thick bacon Flanged in fat , savoring the taste. Then I slept, too young to know how narrow And grave the road before you seemed--- All the houses zipped tight , the night's Few clouds muddy as cold coffee. You stayed gone a week, and who were we Without your clean p…

My Arkansas by Maya Angelou

There is a deep brooding
                             in Arkansas
                            Old crimes like moss pend
                           from poplar trees.
                           The sullen earth
                           is much too
                          red for comfort.
                          Sunrise seems to hesitate
                           and in that second
                           lose its
                           incandescent aim,and
                          dusk no more shadows
                           than the noon.
                           The past is brighter yet.

                          Old hates and
                          ante-bellum lace,are rent
                          but not discarded.
                          Today is yet to come
                           in Arkansas.
                           it writhes. It writhes in awful brooding.