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The more things change...

Change is not so much what we make as it is what happens to us unawares. Not everything that changes is progress but it is inevitable that everything changes. The seasons flow on, all too quickly. We tighten our life-vests, and try to steer clear of the rocks. Along our way down the river, we are grateful for every resting place. Here's ours. Above, as it was in our first August here in 2016, and below, as it is now. We still miss the old cherry tree in the foreground of the first photo. It died the year after we moved here. We've carved a garden out of the hill and planted blueberries on the slope above. One thing hasn't changed. We're still here. It's still home. We'll hold to that reality as long as we can.

Early on...

An email arrived from a reader wanting to know why I write so many female protagonists in my fiction. It is a question I hear with some regularity. Female authors write male protagonists, it never occurred to me to question why they do it. Gender isn't what makes a character intriguing.

My first three novels were a trilogy about Benjamin Drum. The two novels I've written since, and a good portion of the short stories, have female protagonists. Generally, I suppose I do find female personalities more complex than males, therefore more interesting to write about. Our culture imposes more stressful and conflicting situations on women than it ordinarily does on men. That is the stuff of stories.

I'll admit to some bias. My early childhood unfolded during World War II, a time when most of the adults around me were women and old men. I learned early on that there were women I could count on and men I couldn't. Little has happened in my life since that might change my mind.

Henry's books.