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“It takes a really crafty storyteller to put people on the edge of their seats and keep them there.” Chicago Tribune “The masterful___plays delicious tricks on his readers.” Perri O’Shaughnessy “_____is the master of the successful suspense mystery.” Pittsburgh Tribune Review “____will have you turning pages furiously.” Otto Penzler “____makes chills race down readers’ spines.” Publishers Weekly “A master of plot and pacing-and one of those rare authors who can create a genuinely surprising ending.” Lisa Scottoline “In the hands of _____, nothing is ever simple and no one is really safe. He is the master of suspense mystery.” Associated Press “_______knows how to pack in the thrills.” Tess Gerritsen “______deliver[s] one of his cleverest cases.” Kirkus Reviews “Like his inspirations, he gives us plenty of gems: shocking situations met with clever wisecracks; sordid personal histories that tumble out in a moment of panic; broken souls who confess their love . . .

First given in 1990, the Paul Cowan Non-Fiction Award was named to honor Paul Cowan, a Peace Corps Volunteer who served in Ecuador from 1966 to 1967. Cowan wrote The Making of An Un-American about his experiences as a Volunteer in Latin America in the ’60s. A longtime activist and political writer for The Village Voice, Cowan died of leukemia in 1988. • The winner of the 2015 Paul Cowan Non-Fiction Award is — Outpost: Life on the Frontlines of American Diplomacy. by Christopher R. Hill (Cameroon 1974-76) Chris Hill begins his award winning book by telling his favorite story, his account of how as a PCV in Cameroon he tried to overhaul a corrupt credit union only to have his efforts rejected, largely because he did not understand the community’s internal dynamics and culture. What happened was something like this: Chris discovered that one board of directors had stolen 60 percent . . .

The winner of the 2015 Peace Corps Writers Publisher’s Special Award for the book published in 2014 is — Murder In Benin: Kate Puzey’s Death in the Peace Corps by Aaron Kase (Burkina Faso 2006-08) • Aaron talks about himself, his Peace Corps service, and his writing about the Kate Puzey murder. I grew up in Philadelphia, then received a degree in history at Grinnell College in Iowa. After college, I worked at a generic office job and wasn’t thrilled about the career trajectory it offered, so I decided to join the Peace Corps because it offered a challenge, and an adventure. I saw it as a unique opportunity to experience a life totally different from what I had known. I was a Small Business Volunteer in Burkina Faso from 2006 to 2008, and worked in a rural village called Zogore. My primary project was to encourage agroforestry and combat desertification, . . .

Today we are happy to begin announcing the 2015 Peace Corps Writers Awards for books published during 2014. This year we have eight awards, and each winning author (or photographer) will receive a certificate and a monetary gift. • The winner of the 2015 Peace Corps Writers Award for Best Book of Photography published in 2014 is — Timeless Photography of Rowland Scherman (PC Staff 1961-64) . In the introduction in this, his book of photos  from the 1960s and ’70s, Rowland Scherman writes: Like so many others, I was thrilled by JFK’S inaugural speech . . .. JFK’s words made me think that I could be something more, could reach a higher potential, if I volunteered my work and myself for the betterment of my country, instead of simply chasing a buck. Yes, I thought my services just might somehow be useful to the new administration. I found out whom . . .

A Writer Writes Imagined Lives: A Hollywood Fable by Gerald Karey (Turkey 1965–67) • I was a star. Nope, bigger than that. A STAR. Bigger. A SUPER STAR. You got it. I was BIG. I wasn’t just an a-lister. I was an A-LISTER. If I was at a party, it became an A-LIST PARTY. I was on every red carpet. Fans would scream my name when I emerged from my limo with two, maybe three, gorgeous women — every man’s fantasy — at my side. Every man’s fantasy, my reality. Women threw themselves at me — beautiful, sexy, surgically enhanced, if necessary, beyond perfection, women. I could have any woman I wanted. Every man’s fantasy, my everyday reality. Women wanted nothing more than to be with me, to be seen with me, to warm my bed, to stroke my ego. We didn’t talk much. We had sex, tanned by the . . .

Nigeria Revisited: My Life and Loves Abroad Catherine Onyemelukwe (Nigeria 1962–64) Peace Corps Writers October 2014 314 pages $14.62 (paperback), $9.99 (Kindle) Reviewed by Marianne Arieux (Ethiopia 1965–67) • It is 1969. Former Peace Corps Volunteer and American Midwesterner, now Nigerian wife and mother, Catharine Onyemeluke nests with her family in her in-laws remote Igbo village, fleeing the encroaching Biafran war. For the first time since coming to Africa, she must become part of a rural African village without electricity, running water, or a health facility nearby; an undertaking that is a hallmark of Peace Corps training. Onyemelukwe’s telling of this particular venture highlights her achievement in this well written memoir — a tale of a young woman whose adventurous spirit carries her into a life path introduced and limned by the Peace Corps and its lore. Her book has the tone of a life-cycle epic. We are invited on . . .

A Writer Writes — Breaking Bread with Lindsay Lohan and Obama by Gerald Karey (Turkey 1965–67) • It was Lindsay Lohan’s attendance at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner where former NBC news anchor Tom Brokaw drew the line. Not at Ozzy Osbourne, Paula Jones, Larry Flint, Donald Trump or, Lord have mercy on us, Kim Kardashian. “The breaking point for me was Lindsay Lohan. She became a big star at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner. Give me a break,” Brokaw said after the 2013 dinner. “There was more dignity at my daughter’s junior prom than there is [at] what I’m seeing on C-SPAN there.” That may be an unfair comparison. Junior proms set a rather high bar. But cut Lindsay some slack. She may have been better behaved than the room full of liquored-up hacks. Her host, Greta van Susteren, who spins right-wing fables for Fox News, said: “The table . . .

Bartram’s Garden by Eleanor Stanford (Cape Verde 1998–2000) Carnegie Mellon University Press February 2015 82 pages $15.95 (paperback) Reviewed by Ann Neelon (Senegal 1978–79) • As luck and timing would have it, I come to Eleanor Stanford’s Bartram’s Garden just as a seemingly infinite number of Brood XXIII cicadas have emerged from their hidey holes in western Kentucky. I can’t imagine a better book to read to the accompaniment of the music of the spheres, as I keep calling the rattling surround sound produced in the resonant abdomens of the male cicadas clinging to the leaves of every tree, bush, and flower in our neighborhood. The last time I heard it — exactly thirteen years ago, in accordance with the periodicity of Brood XXIII — my children, who are now both almost out of the teenage years, were the same age as Stanford’s young children. If the home is a . . .

Keepers Meet Questing Eyes: Poems by John Michael Flynn (Moldova 1993-1995) Leaf Garden Press $6.00 120 pages 2014 Reviewed by Mark Brazaitis (Guatemala 1991-1993) • John Michael Flynn’s latest collection of poetry doesn’t come in a conventional package. Unlike a standard 6-by-9-inch poetry collection, with its requisite arty (or, on occasion, awful) cover, Flynn’s Keepers Meet Questing Eyes looks and feels more like a coloring book. But in a good-and fitting-way. Flynn’s poems don’t aspire to be arty or clever or coy. They’re honest evocations of life, and they invite the reader in the same way a coloring book invites children in: with generosity and without pretense. Of course Flynn’s poems are aimed at an adult readership, and their rewards lie in their directness and clarity. One of my favorites is “Heath,” about the actor Heath Ledger, who comes across in the poem as a good man despite his having . . .

Neighborhood Dogs by Gerald Karey (Turkey 1965-67) • POODLES, I THINK, were bred to be work dogs, although I’m uncertain what work they did. They were not intended to be primped, pampered and coiffed to within an inch of their dog lives, trimmed of most hair except for little puffs at their paws, rumps, shoulders and tails, and minced around at dog-shows like some foppish dandy at the French royal court. That’s no way to treat a dog. Adding insult to injury, recently I saw a tricked-out poodle in the neighborhood whose owner (and surely it wasn’t the dog’s decision), dyed each of those puffs of hair orange shading into purple. I was tempted to round on him (the owner, not the dog), accuse him of animal cruelty (or at least deep humiliation), and call the animal control agency and have the dog taken away. I didn’t, of course. The . . .