A Sketch of Kapa'a Beach Park

A small park on the northwest coast of the Big Island of Hawaii. Another stop along our drive. My wife and I left the car to check the snorkling conditions. A few people braved the strong waves, and kicked around in the rough current, but those conditions weren't for us.

My wife took her painting kit to a picnic table. I opted for my comfortable seat, and added color to my sketch of Richardson Beach. Gradually, the clouds moved, exposing the front seat to full sun. 

Even with the windows down, I grew hot. The sketch paper reflected the sunlight into my eyes. I left the car, and walked around to stretch my legs.

More cars arrived, filling the parking lot. I didn't feel like drawing cars. My wife was immersed in her painting. What could I do?

I sat at the picnic table across from her, enjoying the cool shade. The relaxed spirit of the place called to me. I got out my pencil and sketch pad, and attempted to capture it.

I combined the elements that I most liked into my composition. When my wife finished her watercolor, I had completed the penciling and begun coloring the grass. Then we continued our tour of the northwest corner of Hawaii.

Later, I studied my sketch, and frowned. Had I not begun coloring it, I could have erased it, or added something to the foreground. Instead, I had just strewn a few objects in a horizontal slash across the page. What had I been thinking?

During our stay on Hawaii, we returned to Richardson Beach several times. While my wife did other paintings, I added color and detail to my initial sketch. When we returned home, I continued working on the Richardson sketch until I completed it. 

After that, I went on to other projects. My remaining sketches from Hawaii, including the sketch of Kapa'a Beach Park, languished in my book, forgotten, unloved.

Recently, I took out my sketchbook, and reconsidered the sketch of Kapa'a Beach Park. So what if it was just a horizontal line of items? So what if I had too much grass? 

Perhaps it could not evoke as much interest as the Richardson sketch. But I should not try to compare the two. Nor, I thought, should I attempt to forecast the result. I would never know what it could become until I finished working on it.

I got out my colored pencils, and tried to breathe life into it.

The result surprised me. The picture calls to me. I'm glad I finished it.

Someday, I may have to return to Kapa'a Beach Park.

Dragon Dave

John Wyndham and Triffids at Seven Sisters

In John Wyndham's novel The Day of the Triffids, Bill Mason attempts to make a new life in the Sussex Downs. These are a range of chalk hills that terminate along the south coast of England with the Seven Sisters.

During our 2013 stay in Brighton, we took a bus trip to Seven Sisters. From the visitor's center, we braved the wind and the rain as we hiked out to the coast. I can imagine retiring to one of these cottages, such as Sherlock Holmes did in the Arthur Conan Doyle story "His Last Bow." I can envision a pleasant life there filled with relaxing strolls along the shore, walking past fields with grazing cows, watching the farmers working, and sketching all the beautiful scenery. 

Unlike Sherlock Holmes, I probably would not raise bees.

If like Bill, I lacked basic necessities such as power, clean and running water, and a nearby source for groceries, my time there would prove less pleasant. If Triffids were  constantly trying to break through the barriers I've constructed around my home and farm, that would also make the situation less than idyllic. 

Another complication Bill faces, which I would not have envisioned, is that with few people occupying and working the land, the roads deteriorate, and the land reverts to marsh. He sees a future in which driving a car or truck will be impossible, and he will have to rely on a half-track (a vehicle with wheels in front and tank-like tracks in back) for transportation.

Seven Sisters, England

One thing I discovered, during our day there, was how isolated you are. My wife and I simply hadn't realized how long it would take us to walk out to the beach. The rain and wind slowed us down, and made each step precarious. Narrow, rural roads my wind their way through the area, but I suspect most who live along these coastal hills have four wheel drive vehicles.

We encountered few other people during our walk. If I had slipped in the mud and broken a bone during our walk, my wife would likely have had to phone for a helicopter. Assuming the people in these cottages were home, I'm sure they would have sheltered us until an ambulance or helicopter arrived. If they weren't home, and the stormy weather interfered with cell coverage, my wife could have tracked down a farmer like Bill, who could have given us a ride back to the main road on his tractor.

While we returned from our trek uninjured, we had not taken food with us, and only a small bottle of water each. We returned to the Visitor Center well past our normal lunch time, and boarded a bus back to Brighton. By the time we found a place to disembark and eat, fatigue and exposure had gotten to us. Both of us caught colds, and my sore throat persisted for weeks.

I imagine the farmers who live here get used to the cold and wet weather. Unlike Bill Mason, they have access to power, fresh water, and nearby grocery stores. So they can concentrate on growing enough food to feed their families, even if they have to take care of a few blind friends too. At least they don't have to worry about fending off the Triffids, or developing an effective pesticide to wipe out the Triffids, whether they have a home laboratory or not. That might not be the most fun, or stress-reducing hobby, they could pursue.

Dragon Dave

John Wyndham and Triffids in Brighton

Brighton, England

In Wyndham's novel The Day of the Triffids, some communities prove less open to strangers than others. Those living in the picturesque community of Brighton, for example, block all roads leading into the city. Anyone who attempts entry is shot on sight.

The principle reason for this is the disease, or plague, that sweeps through the population. The blind suffer worse than the sighted because they cannot see what they are eating. It's also likely that they pick up infection with their hands, since the blind must be more tactile than the sighted.

The disease is made worse because all essential services have broken down. With so many blind, there is no one to operate the water system, work at power plants, deliver goods and services. There are definitely no disposable wipes. The only way to protect against the plague is to isolate and quarantine. Even one infected person can wipe out an entire community.

A church mentioned in E. F. Benson's novel The Blotting Book

I'm glad I got to visit Brighton back in 2013. E. F. Benson set his 1908 novel The Blotting Book there. I enjoyed walking the streets, and visiting locations E. F. Benson used in his novel. One was a church that has since been turned into a homeless center. I gather the homeless situation has worsened since my visit, and Brighton hosts one of the highest homeless populations in the U.K. outside London.

I have no idea what the homeless situation in Brighton might have been like in the early 1950s, when John Wyndham wrote his novel. San Diego county certainly attracts the homeless, and seaside communities struggle to deal with and care for these poor people. I wonder if, while on a seaside holiday, John Wyndham noticed the homeless in Brighton, and that prompted him to include the city in his novel.

In The Day of the Triffids, Brighton is taken over by a militaristic regime. The leaders declare that each sighted person is responsible for ten blind people. It seems a hard life, and an untenable one to Bill Mason. He also worries about the leaders' talk of building an army to unify the country. But then, when John Wyndham wrote the novel, World War II would have been recent history.

 

The West Pier, Brighton, England

During our stay, one monument to the past my wife and I noticed was the West Pier, which had been closed for decades. The West Pier would have been standing in 1951, when The Day of the Triffids was published. It would be interesting to see Brighton with two active piers back then, along with the life, energy, and fun they would have brought. So if the Doctor's reading this, I'd gladly accompany you on a ride through time and space to Brighton 1951. Is that wheezing and groaning I hear coming from the TARDIS? I'd better sign off now, so I can look outside.

Dragon Dave

John Wyndham and Triffids in London

 

Piccadilly Circus, London, England

Recently, I watched the 1962 film "The Day of the Triffids." In this post-apocalyptic tale, most of Earth's population turn out to watch a dazzling light show caused by a meteor shower. The next morning, everyone who watched the light show is blind. The meteorites bring spores, from which plants sprout and grow. Unlike terrestrial plants, these tall plants rove about, killing people and threatening the Human race with extinction.

Impressed by the movie, I read the 1951 novel upon which it was based. In John Wyndham's novel, the Triffids have terrestrial origins. Russians bioengineered these plants--that can move under their own power, and injure or kill Humans--for industrial applications. When a plane carrying seeds was shot down, winds carried the seeds all over the world. Despite the danger the plants pose, corporations have built Triffids into an industry that grows and invigorates the economy. 

Likewise, the dazzling lightshow in the sky has terrestrial roots in Wyndham's novel. Whether one country initiates the conflict, or the calamity is driven by malfunction, all the orbital satellites activate. The explosions create terrific green flashes in the atmosphere that burn out a person's optic nerve. As nearly everyone goes out to view what the media terms a once-in-a-lifetime event, this results in a world in which ninety-nine percent of the world goes blind.

The Houses of Parliament, London, England

Prior to the light show, Bill Mason was injured while working on a Triffid farm. Even wearing protective gear, the plants' poison and stinger caused significant eye injury. He has lain in bed for days, recovering from an operation to restore his sight. When no one comes to remove his bandages, or bring him his breakfast, or assist him in anyway, he pulls off his bandages, and finds everyone else in the hospital is blind. 

He stumbles onto the streets of London, and finds society in chaos.

With most of the Human race blinded, and unable to secure food, or otherwise take care of themselves properly, many fall prey to disease. Meanwhile, the Triffids break loose from their confines. Bill knows that civilization has fallen, and the world has been changed forever. 

Other view the situation more optimistically. They believe that by working together, the sighted can save the blind, and build a new society from the ashes of the old. But the methods they choose seem harsh to many, and unworkable to Bill.

Trafalgar Square, London, England

While the protagonists in the film soon leave the chaos of England to see how people fare in other countries, more than half of Wyndham's novel takes place in London, and all of it occurs in England. So as I read Wyndham's story, I watched Bill battle and evade the Triffids in locations I visited in 2011 and 2013. I knew these places. I loved these places. I wanted to visit them again.

Yet Triffids were killing people there. The way people ordered their lives, and the way society functioned there, was gone. John Wyndham's novel offers a sobering look at how Humans tolerate, and sometimes even cultivate, the things that can harm them most.

Dragon Dave

Rick Steeves on Social Distancing

Sacramento Airport, St. Patrick's Day 2020

Recently, world traveler and TV presenter Rick Steeves has observed that travel has become extremely touristy. Instead of venturing into the unknown to make interesting discoveries, tourists swamp the most popular sites for Instagram moments. 

"Look where I am!" they say. "That's one off the bucket list!

Meanwhile, places off the beaten track, that could prove fun and inspiring destinations, and where tourism could really benefit the locals, go relatively unvisited. This sort of herd mentality, of having to go where everyone else goes, makes no sense to me. Don't people want to experience adventure and discovery anymore?

Besides, where's the fun of sitting in traffic, waiting in line, or being limited to a designated amount of time in a given location because it's such a popular destination? I suppose it's easier to impress your friends with photos and tales of the places you've been, if they are places they'll instantly recognize. But is that was travel is supposed to be about?

On my return flight, I was struck by how empty Sacramento Airport felt. Few restaurants had patrons. Most stood empty. I saw one person walking away from the counter at Starbucks, while Peet's Coffee & Tea was staffed, but seemingly closed. Hardly anyone waited for flights. Most of the chairs at the gates were empty. 

By now, admonitions to wash your hands, wipe down any surfaces you touch, and keep your distance from others were in the news. So we found an unoccupied area at the gate, disinfected the seats and sidetables w/ wetwipes, and pulled out our ebook readers. Within a few minutes, a woman plunked down next to us. Seemingly oblivious to us, she talked on her phone loudly and continuously enough to make reading impossible.

With people canceling or changing their travel plans, most airlines canceled flights. Despite only having thirty passengers, Southwest Airlines demonstrated their mission of customer service by not canceling our flight, or rescheduling all their flights to fly full. Instead, they kept to their schedule, operating at a loss to not inconvenience their passengers. 

The flight crew advised everyone to spread out, and leave plenty of space between themselves and others, in order to inhibit the potential spread of Coronavirus COVID-19. Being among the first to board, my wife and I took a row around a third of the way back. We disinfected out seats and tray tables, and strapped in. 

Despite warnings from government health authorities and the Southwest staff, passengers filled up seats and rows in front, beside, and behind us. Again: the herd mentality. When a family filled up the row directly in front of us, we abandoned our seats, and left our carry-ons where we had stowed them.

The view ahead on our Southwest flight

A little behind the wings, we found a row with no one else close around. We disinfected the seats and tray tables, and got comfortable. By the time boarding had finished, only six others had joined us from the wings back. This left 145 empty seats on the plane, with 22 people clustered up front.

The view behind

On our trips to England, we've visited many popular places, such as Westminster Abbey and Stonehenge. But most of the places we traveled to were places few international travelers go, such as the town of Bideford, where Charles Kingsley set his novel Westward Ho!, and Chagford, a historic stannery town featured in The Tinner's Corpse, a novel in the Crowner John mystery series by Bernard Knight. Some places, such as Cromer, have grown more interesting since our visit. Through my reading, I've accompanied characters on their visits to the seaside town in Tono-Bungay by H. G. Wells, Limitations by E. F. Benson, and So Disdained by Nevil Shute.

No one knows how Coronavirus COVID-19 may alter our world. Times like these make us reflect on our lives, and what really matters. Perhaps we should contemplate how Rick Steeves' observation relates to us. At the very least, it makes sense to adopt easy habits such as cleaning your hands, disinfecting surfaces, and keeping more distance from others than usual. 

Dragon Dave

Related Links
Rick Steeves' Blog

Marcus Aurelius and Coronavirus COVID-19

Jenkinson Lake, California

My wife and I debated whether or not to cancel a planned visit with a family member in Sacramento. In the end, we decided not to let the Coronavirus halt our plans. 

The airport seemed as busy as normal. While we waited to board, the airline staff certainly made lots of announcements. As we boarded, the flight attendants asked the passengers to spread out, and not congregate near the front. With over one hundred seats free, they wanted to balance out the weight on the plane.

With the constant interruption of announcements, I took a break from Peter F. Hamilton's science fiction novel The Abyss Beyond Dreams. Instead, I finished Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, which I had slowly been reading through, bit by bit, for some time. Then I dived into essays on the writer regarded as one of the last good Roman emperors. 

The plane did not wait in line on the runway. We had a pleasant flight, and arrived twenty minutes early at our destination.

My thoughts on the man, and his writings, carried through with me on our visit. According to the essays, Marcus Aurelius never wanted power, and valued a simple life. He wrote his notes, or sayings, not to impress or instruct others, but merely for his own benefit. Through what we might call a journal, the Emperor dwells on the importance of staying true to your calling, and what you hope to achieve in life. Let nothing stop you, he seems to keep saying. Let nothing divert you from your purpose.

In an age of Coronavirus COVID-19, when many of society's events and activities are shutting down, and even Churches are closing their doors to worshipers, his Meditations resonate. Marcus Aurelius insists that people are not made to be alone, to distance themselves from others. People are made to be with others, and at their best when they are serving others. They should do this with dignity, not because they wish please or to be honored, but simply because we are all part of the whole.

What does it matter how long you live, or how you're remembered? Do what is important, and in line with your purpose.  Whether people forget or revere you when you're gone, should not motivate your actions.

During our visit, we went to restaurants until they closed their dining rooms. We visited a bookstore, a comics shop, and an art supply store. Some places, notably supermarkets, seemed busier than normal. Others were less so. People went about their tasks, and life went on. (The following week, I suspect many of those visits would have been impossible).

One day, we drove to Jenkinson Lake. We visited midweek, and had the shoreline to ourselves. The beauty of nature refreshed and centered us. 

On the return drive, we stopped by a Starbucks. There, we were far from alone.

Dragon Dave

Catching Up With Peter F Hamilton

Peter F. Hamilton World Fantasy Convention 2013

While I've long been in awe of Peter F. Hamilton, I've only read a fraction of his novels. That seems unconscionable, given how highly I esteem his stories. Mostly, I'm familiar with him because of The Night's Dawn Trilogy. In the United States, the first two novels were split in half, and published as four mass market paperbacks in the late 1990s. The third and fourth halves of the story appeared a year after the first two. That's an acceptable interval between books in such an involved series. 

The third novel was published a year later, but in hardcover. Given how deeply I was into mass market paperbacks at the time, I waited an additional year for the fifth and sixth paperbacks. After the long interval, I had trouble remembering the characters, and all that had happened to them in the previous books. So I set the fifth and sixth paperbacks aside, vowing to read the entire series through from the beginning again. When I was ready.

Eventually, I did return to those novels. As best I recall, the process took me around six to eight months, and I completed the series in 2010. All together, this is one long, involved storyline, with weighty themes. Diehard Hamilton fans may regard it as unconscionable that I waited so long to start again, and took so long to finish the books. But while novels give, they also take. Those books brought me great joy, but they also took their toll on me. And in the meantime, while I was waiting to reread the saga, and then doing so, I was missing out on other great stories that Hamilton was creating. 

In 2013, I had the honor of meeting Peter F. Hamilton, and telling him how much I loved The Night's Dawn Trilogy. I also attended a reading he gave. In the years that have followed, I've gone on to read two more of his novels: The Dreaming Void and Mindstar Rising, as well as the short story collection Manhattan In Reverse. Ironically, while I usually prefer novels to short story collections, I enjoyed Manhattan In Reverse the most of the three.

Recently, I've started his novel The Abyss Beyond Dreams. While set in the same universe as The Dreaming Void, it's the first of a two book series called The Chronicle of the Fallers. It concerns life on a planet where much of the technology the settlers brought with them does not function. The growth of civilization is also limited by The Fallers, which are large eggs that fall through the atmosphere. They send out a hypnotic call that lures people to them, and once a person touches the egg, it absorbs the person, and then births a replica bent on killing anyone nearby. 

I find some of the technology the characters possess, and the abilities they wield, a little hard to believe in. Distanced as I am from these people, and how they interact, I find myself more removed from them than the characters in The Night's Dawn Trilogy. Yet as I read, I feel some of the same wonder I felt as I read those first mass market paperbacks in the 1990s. Also I get a little thrill remembering that when I met Peter F. Hamilton back in 2013, this was the upcoming novel he read an excerpt from. 

For those reasons, and perhaps even more importantly because of the way he treated me when we met, is why I'll keep reading Peter F. Hamilton, even if I don't read his novels in order, or in a timely manner.

Dragon Dave

E. F. Benson on Limitations

King's College, Cambridge UK

In E. F. Benson's novel Limitations, we meet Tom Carlingford, the son of a rich, retired English gentleman. He's attending King's College, but can't concentrate on his classes. University life in England is different from that in the United States. As best I understand it, students attend Sixth Form for two years, which equates to our 12th and 13th grades (or last year of High School and first year of college). Then they attend university for three years, where they have no general education requirements, but study only classes for their major. 

I'm not sure how easy it is to change your major once you've been accepted at a UK university. Unlike his friend Ted Markham, Tom finds he has little love for classical literature. So he loafs around, playing sports, and hanging out in the museums. Eventually, he decides he wishes to become a modern art sculptor. So instead of changing his major to Art (assuming that was possible back in 1890s, when the novel was published), Tom does the minimum he needs to graduate while reading up on sculpture. 

After graduation, he travels to Athens. There, he finds himself drawn to classical art. It affects him so powerfully that he vows to give up on modern art, and spend his life chipping classical Greek figures out of marble instead.

The Elgin Marbles room in the British Museum, London UK

While in Greece, he meets Maud, a young English woman. Her family is wealthy like his, and her father is an influential member of the government. While Tom is interested in her, she falls head over heels in love with him. But when they return to England, and he returns home, Tom is drawn to the sister of his old school chum Ted. Somehow, she embodies the grace and perfection Tom found in classical Greek sculpture. So Tom courts Ted's sister, and after they marry, takes an apartment in London. There he begins working on a life-size sculpture of the Greek goddess Demeter.

A frieze of Demeter, from the Parthenon in Athens, Greece

Unfortunately, his father dies shortly after learning that the company for which he worked has gone bankrupt. All the family finances were tied up in the failed company, which leaves Tom with no money. He attacks his statue with vigor, but it's a long, ambitious project. Worse, he can find no one interested in buying it. 

Once, when the financial strain has him in his grips, he seeks inspiration in the Elgin Marbles, or the portions of the Greek Parthenon on display in the British Museum. To clear his head, Tom walks past the Serpentine in Hyde Park. There he sees people swimming and enjoying themselves on a hot day in London.

The Serpentine, Hyde Park, London UK

Meanwhile, Maud's love for Tom has her tied up in knots. Unable to get past him and move on, she takes a holiday in the seaside Norfolk town of Cromer. She stays with a relation of Tom's for a month, enjoying the beach with huge sand dunes, and the quaint red-roofed buildings surrounding the church tower. There, she gains perspective. Although she refuses to marry another of Tom's friend, a promising modern art sculptor they met in Greece, perhaps one day she can open her heart to love another.
 

Cromer UK

In his novel Limitations, E. F. Benson ponders the limitations that define us. Each of us have strengths and weaknesses, and the paths we choose shape us just as Tom's chisel shapes his statue of Demeter. Tom's brother-in-law Ted, a bookish fellow student at Cambridge, becomes an instructor, and then a priest. His passion for for study and learning limits and isolates him from an ordinary social life. Maud's unrequited love for Tom limits her ability to love another who would make any sacrifice for her. And then there's Tom. No one in England is buying classical Greek art right now. It simply isn't the flavor of the month.

In order to make a living for his family, Tom is forced to make modern art sculptures instead. No matter what he does, he cannot awaken his original love for contemporary art. His passion for Classical Greek art has seemingly ruined him on every other form of art, or at least those that people will buy.

The first time I read Limitations, I could not empathize with the characters as much as on my recent reread. Having visited so many of Benson's settings in the interval, I better understand Tom, Ted, and Maud. I suppose, ultimately, that's why we travel: to better understand our world, and the people who inhabit it. 

Perhaps one day I'll visit Greece. I'd love to see the remains of the original Parthenon. I can only imagine how much more I might enjoy rereading E. F. Benson's novel again, after visiting the country that so transformed young Tom.

Oh, and while I'm dreaming, perhaps one day I'll return to England on a hot day. A visit to London when I'm not constantly wearing a jacket? Now that would really be something!

Dragon Dave

William Shatner and the villainous Leonard Nimoy

Aside from the overwhelming sense of how much William Shatner misses his friend, another takeaway from his biography Leonard is how long and hard Leonard Nimoy worked until he achieved success. Unlike William Shatner, whose leading man qualities allowed him to make a decent income fairly early on, Leonard Nimoy scrambled to make a living. His move to Los Angeles did help him pick up work in TV and film. Sadly, the parts he got were largely one-offs, and usually limited to just a couple lines of dialogue. 

Shatner paints a poignant description of Nimoy's work on projects filmed on location. The crew and cast of these poorly funded productions often literally had to pick up their equipment, and run from one location to another, just to film the next line or so of dialogue. Far from being concerned about continuity, or matching up backgrounds, all that mattered was getting enough natural light to complete the scene!

Even more surprising, Leonard Nimoy's looks largely relegated him to bad guy roles prior to Star Trek. Far from being cast as a wise intellectual like Mr. Spock, or the kind and compassionate man he was, all-too-often Nimoy was cast as a thug, a hired gun, or some other minor villain. So Nimoy struggled to find a way to make his bad guy roles more distinctive. As he was a smoker, he often suggested to the director that he could smoke in the scene. Surely the way he smoked a cigarette would distinguish him from his fellow bad guys, or say something about his villainous character?

"Sorry," the director or TV producer would always say. "We can't have a villain smoking cigarettes if the TV broadcasters pick up commercials from a particular cigarette brand. We don't want to send a message that only villains smoke cigarettes. Or worse still, that villains smoke the sponsors' brand!" In an age when the virtues of smoking marijuana seems to be celebrated by popular culture, and advertised in so many mediums, it's interesting to look back, and see how our perceptions change over time.

Leonard Nimoy would eventually find success through Star Trek, but that would take him fifteen-or-so years of solid acting. Nimoy continually took classes in acting, and any other skill he thought could contribute to making him a better actor. And eventually, his hard work paid off. Like Shatner, Gene Roddenberry invited Nimoy to his new TV show, and handed him the choice role of Mr. Spock on a plate. Someone had finally noticed Leonard Nimoy, and believed in him enough to give him a major part. Even more incredible, Roddenberry  fought to keep Nimoy on as Mr. Spock when the studio heads wanted to get rid of that pointy-eared Vulcan. 

Why would the studio heads dislike the character of Mr. Spock, you ask? Because he looked too evil, or villainous! That's why.

Dragon Dave

William Shatner Mourns

After awhile, you get to thinking you know everything you need to know about a given person or subject. Having grown up watching Star Trek, I studied all aspects of the program, and followed the actors. From innumerable magazine articles, to books like I Am Spock by Leonard Nimoy and Star Trek Memories by William Shatner, I felt as if I knew everything about my first beloved Sci-Fi TV series. And yet, there's always more to learn.

And, given the inconstancy of memory, there's always more to learn again. So when I saw Leonard by William Shatner on the sale rack, I said "Why not?"

All too often, books get purchased, stored away somewhere, and don't get read for months or years, if ever. I picked up Gene Roddenberry: The Last Conversation by Yvonne Fern several years ago, but didn't read it until recently. But something called to me about William Shatner's book, so I started reading it almost straight away. 

Despite differences in where they grew up, Shatner looks back on his friend and sees all the similarities, from the era of their births, to the economic and social situations in which they were raised. For example, both men were raised Jewish, and their families immigrated to the United States to seek better lives. Obviously, they both grew up with a love of acting, and took up smoking, a socially acceptable vice that, at the time, seemed fairly harmless to most people. When Star Trek finally came along, and offered them other opportunities, they both grabbed at them. So both became singers and released albums. Both took up writing, and performed one-man plays. Both championed causes, and gave back to their communities.

I realize I'm being vague here, but the details of their separate lives really aren't important. What's underlying Shatner's book is a yearning for his friend. He's looking back, and thinking about how much they had in common, and how it united them in life and friendship. Ironically, despite both actors' uneasy relationship with the science fiction conventions, and the ongoing role of Star Trek in their lives, neither man considered the other a friend until after the TV series ended, and they started attending conventions together. It was only then, when they weren't competing with each other in the high pressure environment of the TV studio, that they began to sense a commonality, and build a real relationship together. 

Shatner is strikingly, even brutally honest in this book. He describes himself as a man with many casual acquaintances, but few real friends. He also admits that he and Nimoy stopped talking with each other, toward the end. Friendships are hard, and Nimoy was a far more private man than Shatner. Nimoy was far less easygoing, and felt things more deeply. So Shatner grieves not only for his loss, but for whatever he said or did that made Nimoy turn away from him, and refuse to speak with him, or answer his letters.

It's hard to believe that five years have passed since Leonard Nimoy's death. For most of us, even the more fervent Star Trek fans, life goes on. But after reading William Shatner's book, I suspect that, for him, that time has passed far more slowly.

Dragon Dave