Welcome one and all to The Infinite Bard! Our mystical tavern full of storytellers, merrymakers, a roaring fire, and an unlimited supply of your favorite refreshing beverage is always open once you know the way.
I hope you’ll sit down, relax, and let the tales take you away for a much-needed break from everyday life. You might just find a new favorite bard among our number. You can sample the wares of other featured tale-spinners at my Infinite Bard page.
Read on for my third turn on the Infinite Bard stage, a journey to a bookstore that would leave any reader or writer full of joy. I hope you enjoy Odds and Endings: A Lightning Gap Story!
In case you missed my first three turns on the Infinite Bard stage, be sure to check out Sensing the Storm, a prequel yarn from my Storms of Future Past Series. Real People Romance: An Adventure in Crowdfunding ties into both my Dana Sanderson Short Mysteries and my Terminalia stories. And The Spider Who Ate the Elephant, a modern myth with a rather unlikely heroine that won second place in the Virginia Writers Club Golden Nib Contest.
For more of my fiction, including exclusive free short stories and discounts, early pre-sales, and adorable pet photos, pay a visit to The Confidential Adventure Club.
Hope to see you there!
An Enchanted Bookstore in a Town Full of Magic
Chris Ramsey grew up visiting the Odds and Endings Bookstore in Lightning Gap, Virginia.
Wandering the shelves. Finding endless adventures in the pages.
Wishing he helped create the magic.
Years later, Chris gets his chance.
What would you do for the opportunity of a lifetime?
Odds and Endings: A Lightning Gap Story
The Odds and Endings Bookstore was simply the best place on earth. At least as far as Chris Ramsey was concerned.
A sprawling, grand old Victorian house painted purple and green and blue. Endless rows of books jammed into every possible space on all three floors, with a delightful collection of children’s books and toys tucked into the cozy fourth floor turret. Chris had spent countless happy hours adventuring up there when he was a kid.
His beloved Auntie June the Great knew he was the one she could count on. Out of all her nieces and nephews, great or otherwise, Chris always kept himself entertained when she wanted to browse uninterrupted the whole day long.
Odds and Endings was owned by a wonderfully eccentric couple who had to be in their eighties but looked and sounded more like a young sixty. For over fifty years, the Seagons had somehow managed to find obscure texts, first or rare editions, and signed copies that supposedly didn’t exist.
Nothing that came from their bookstore had ever been proven fake.
Maybe best of all, Odds and Endings had an ongoing writer-in-residence program that lasted for a full year, with plenty of interaction between the writer and bookstore patrons.
Well, no, that wasn’t the best thing, at least not for especially passionate life-long readers like Chris.
Even at nearly forty years old, he believed the best thing was the nearly top-secret true nature of the place and its charms. Only an intimate, cozy group knew about the bookstore tucked away in the wild and gorgeous Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia. All of them dedicated readers who were more than enthusiastic enough–and appreciative enough of the honor–to keep their favorite bookstore comfortably in the black.
Tourists wandered through, sure, smiling at the remarkable variety of books packed into the quaint and historic space. Strangers who only found out the bookstore existed when they happened to stroll or drive past. They chatted with the owners and other patrons, admired the elaborate carved wood accents and architecture, and often got to meet the current writer-in-residence during a public event.
They left glowing and delighted with their experience, clutching treasures from across all genres, planning to return as soon as they passed that way again.
Most of them never did.
Welcome as those occasional visitors were, they also never got invited to the special events with the writers-in-residence. Like the welcome party for the newest resident, getting underway at (more or less) seven this very evening.
Chris often wished he lived closer, but his bank account and credit cards were healthier for a little distance. The four hour drive protected him from buying too much. He’d thought it unwise at first, a bookstore that refused any online presence in the era of the smartphone. Now he understood that was part of the charm.
And maybe part of that mysterious magic.
Chris and over a dozen others who’d made the journey now gathered in the height of literary luxury, hidden away in the private basement study. They ranged from younger than Chris at thirty-eight to not a whole lot younger than their white-haired hosts. All of them happily chatted and caught up on the year that had passed since they were last together.
A roaring fireplace surrounded with beautiful hand-painted green and purple tiles set the welcoming tone, with a gleaming maple mantelpiece worthy of a museum. Only one of the rich brown leather chairs and sofas–many close to the same age as the house–sat empty, waiting for the guest of honor. Fine tables perfect for holding tea, bourbon, or books waited patiently near each.
Like upstairs, the main feature of the study was shelves for those books, but nothing like the modern, efficient versions in the store. These were built into the structure of the room, aged dark and lovely, and full of volumes far too rare and thrilling for display to mere tourists.
More leather and spines with gold edging flashed and sparkled in the fire and lamplight. Some were new enough to be produced by machines in very limited editions. But most were created one by one, stitched by hand.
These treasures that would have been highly valued in the outside world sat alongside everything from modern trade paperbacks to mass-market versions to hardbacks, going all the way back to the bright spines of several slim dime-store pulp titles. Every shape and size and color on the book spectrum.
And every one loved beyond measure by someone in the Odds and Endings family.
A heavy oval slate perched on an antique oak easel stood close beside the fireplace. Fragrant beeswax candles arranged on small shelves built into the easel highlighted the evening’s event in dancing yellow light. Mrs. Seagon’s loopy words decorated with Mr. Seagon’s elaborate drawings of flowers, bees, and rainbows seemed to float against the deep gray slate.
A Special Odds and Endings Welcome to Our Newest Writer-in-Residence:
EllaJane Cole!
Chris had never heard of EllaJane, but that wasn’t unusual. The resident was often a real up-and-comer, and the year spent at Odds and Endings made all the difference. He was normally delighted to play a small role in the launch of a new powerhouse author like his Auntie had before him. Encouragement, feedback for readings and sometimes works-in-progress. Group lunches and dinners, helping the writer discover and love their home for the year.
But this year, Chris hoped to play more than a supporting role. Again, like his Auntie had, spending large stretches of time right here without Chris or anyone else along or really knowing what she was doing.
He hoped to be part of making it all happen.
For the first time, Chris was going to enter The Contest.
Everyone dressed like he did, in neat but comfortable clothes that would have been better suited for Casual Friday at the office than for a typical gala event. Jeans and t-shirts, sweaters and skirts. This was a reunion of close friends and a true family, after all.
Several sipped at Mrs. Seagon’s wonderful Earl Gray tea, the floral and citrus bergamot aroma providing a lovely countermelody to the earthy scent of the fire. A few sipped an especially fine bourbon instead. No one who spent time in the study ever passed up the chance to enjoy Mr. Seagon’s fresh-baked, impossibly thin ginger crisps.
According to long-standing tradition, affectionately followed even though no one remembered why, Mrs. Seagon tapped her silver teaspoon against her delicate china teacup at precisely eleven minutes past seven.
Everyone knew her cup always held that fine bourbon on these nights rather than of any sort of tea.
She didn’t stand, and at a couple of inches short of five feet tall and slender as a sapling, she wouldn’t have exactly towered anyway. But she had no problem commanding attention, even with her soft voice and lilting mountain accent.
“Thank you all so much for helping make this another wonderful year here at Odds and Endings! I know you’ve seen the great success of our most recent writer’s career over the past few months. Not only did Frankie publish nine titles, each one better than the last, but he hit the USA Today Bestseller list with the last three. He told me just last week he’s had the attention of two big New York publishers and a whole bunch of smaller ones.”
Mrs. Seagon waited for the smiles and nods before she went on, a joyful songbird giggle in her voice.
“And he was happy to tell me he turned ‘em all down flat!”
Mr. Seagon waited for the laughter to fade before he took his turn. He did stand, at a touch over five feet tall. He was a good deal more stout than his dainty wife. But his voice was every bit as musical and soft.
“We have a real special treat this year, one I know you’re all just going to love. Our writer isn’t looking for one partner for her work. She’s looking for three. One for a month. One for three months. And one for the whole year.”
Chris’s heart sped up, and he tried to keep his expression cool and calm. He knew which partnership he was hoping for.
“And best of all,” Mr. Seagon went on, “she’s from just down the road in Boun County, barely an hour away from here. Even still, I hope you’ll all help me make welcome EllaJane Cole!”
Everyone stood and applauded as a woman walked into the warm circle. Like most writers who made Odds and Endings their temporary home, EllaJane was anything but a jumpy kid fresh out of college, waving around an MFA with the ink still wet. She wore blue jeans and a faded Bountyfield High School sweatshirt, and her shaggy brown chin-length hair sparkled with what Auntie June had called streaks of white lightning.
Chris thought EllaJane was probably in her mid-forties. Old enough to know she wasn’t going to outgrow this writing “hobby” of hers after all, and young enough to take serious action like a year-long residency to study and learn and grow.
She moved around the circle, shaking everyone’s hand. Her grip was warm and strong.
EllaJane took her place in the huge wingback chair left open for her, making a show of asking for tea with a good shot of bourbon to settle her nerves. She laughed along with everyone else when Mrs. Seagon handed her a big Odds and Endings coffee mug full instead of a tiny teacup: a great, unashamed laugh from her belly and her heart.
“I have to thank all of you for that welcome,” she said, her voice deeper than Chris expected, and smooth and rich as honey. “You wiped out a lot of my nerves in just a couple of minutes. I’ll tell you a tiny bit about me, since we’ll all spend a lot more time together over the next week, some of us longer. After surviving a couple of decades working with computers and networking, I started writing seriously about three years ago. I’ve sold a handful of short stories to some pretty good markets. I’ve published six novels, nine novellas, and a bunch more short stories that no one else seemed to think much of. Thank goodness readers still make their own choices.”
EllaJane grinned and held up her mug, then took a sip. Chris and everyone else joined in.
“Whew, that’s good stuff. I write all kinds of things depending on what notion strikes me when I sit down. All kinds of fantasy, science fiction, a little bit of romance. Some historical fiction, some contemporary. A few stories that I hear keep people up at night listening to every creak and crackle in the dark. This year I want to do a whole lot of all of that and learn a whole bunch more. I’m really looking forward to working together and having a heck of a lot of fun along the way.”
She nodded at Mrs. Seagon.
“We sure do appreciate you being so brief and tidy, EllaJane. Now it’s time for the real business of the night. I wish a good night to everyone heading out, and we’ll see you all for breakfast across the street at Kay’s Café at nine in the morning. Everyone else, hurry back here just as quick as you can.”
The group applauded again, then broke into quick goodbyes and restroom breaks.
Chris stood, but he hadn’t managed to drink enough of his tea to need a break just yet. He was equal parts nervous and excited at staying behind for the first time instead of leaving after the writer’s introduction. His Auntie June hadn’t ever told him what happened at these late night sessions, and he’d never been able to arrange his job to allow enough time off to stay more than a week until this year.
Accompanying his aunt after he turned twenty-five and had the vacation time, and by himself since she passed six years ago, hadn’t blunted his desire to be a real part of what made Odds and Endings so special.
To learn about the real magic.
He helped rearrange the heavy chairs until only nine remained, then poured a splash of Mrs. Seagon’s dark amber spirit into his cold tea. The first sip cut a line of warm fire from his tongue down to his belly, but a smooth, mellow line that relaxed him all the way to his toes.
Despite his feeling a good deal calmer, the more intimate circle reassembled before Chris was ready. Mr. Seagon stood, his broad grin making everyone smile in return.
“We’re doing something new and different this year, and the missus and I couldn’t be more tickled. I’ll let EllaJane tell you all about it since she’s the one who set it all up.”
EllaJane tucked her hair behind one ear, and Chris couldn’t help but notice the blush climbing up her throat.
“I know this might seem strange in this gorgeous bookstore with paper all around us. I love a good print book myself from time to time. But my writer brain didn’t entirely kill off my logical and network engineering brain. So bear with me and lets see how this works out.”
She handed around sleek black electronic tablets not much bigger than Chris’s smartphone. Mr. and Mrs. Seagon each took one, even though they never took part in The Contest.
“These are lenders from my last computer job,” EllaJane said, her cheeks rosy now. “You can tap the question mark at the bottom if you get into trouble, but don’t worry. If the executives at that place could use them, all of you will do just fine. Go ahead and touch right in the middle of the screen.”
Chris’s tablet lit up with a warm golden glow, not all that different from the heavy paper in some of the older books. Bold text across the middle read Welcome to EllaJane’s Writing Adventures!
“What I’ve done,” she said, “is set these up to sort everyone according to what you can do and what you want to do. I know these things generally go by feel, and we’ll do that, too. But since I’m looking for three different things, I think this will make everything easier. Just tap again, and you’ll all get the first question, but don’t answer yet.”
Now the screen read “How long are you able to work with EllaJane?” Three boxes underneath lined up with choices for one month, three months, and one year. Chris was moving to tap the third when he jumped at EllaJane’s voice.
“Depending on what you tap, you’ll get a different set of questions. You can mark more than one on that screen, if you want. The sorting should still work just fine once the questions kick in. No answer is right or wrong, and there’s no pass or fail. Just take your time and be as honest as you can. In fact, if you want to see the other questions tomorrow, let me know. I’m going to go wait in the other room. When you finish, you’ll see a few of my favorite short stories in case you want to read while you wait on everyone else.”
She smiled again as she got to her feet. “I know this might feel like a test back in school, but I really think it will help.”
Chris tapped the button for one year before EllaJane even left the circle. He’d worked too hard to get his job and his life sorted enough to give him that time to even think of doing anything else. And he’d waited and wondered and daydreamed since he was old enough to understand what Auntie June’s long absences from the family were all about, even if he never knew the details.
Maybe he’d find out now.
He spent the next ten minutes digging through his life’s history and his storytelling loves. Who’d brought him to Odds and Endings, and how long ago. Where he’d lived and where he’d traveled. Languages he spoke, hobbies, what he’d studied in school and for fun. Favorite movies, music, and of course, books. And last of all, a big open text field asking for the top five adventures he’d like to have before he died.
Chris smiled the whole time, hoping he’d get to experience the biggest dream of them all, even if he didn’t dare include that on his list. It was indeed the truth. But telling the brand new writer-in-residence that his deepest wish was winning The Contest and spending a whole year with a real writer, immersed in storytelling and learning all about the magic of Odds and Endings, felt way too much like sucking up for his comfort.
A few seconds after he tapped the button marked Finish, EllaJane walked back into the study. Chris knew a small apartment was back there, one most of the writers lived in for their year. He’d never seen it, but he was sure it had to be just as odd and quirky and wonderful as the rest of the bookstore.
She carried a tablet of her own, and Chris realized she must have known when everyone finished. Heck, she might have been seeing their responses as soon as they made them. For some reason, that idea made him blush more than EllaJane had earlier.
He wasn’t sure if he hoped she’d read his answers already, or that she hadn’t.
“Wonderful, thank you all so much! I don’t think anyone had any trouble. Told you so.”
Chris laughed and shook his head along with everyone else.
“Okay, now for my big secret,” EllaJane said. “That was the part I was most prepared for. From what Mr. and Mrs. Seagon tell me, along with some of the previous residents I’ve spoken to, the selection is usually finished up on the first night. The winner of The Contest. Winners in my case. I just wish any of them had given me a hint of how to actually do that.”
Both Mr. and Mrs. Seagon crossed their arms and shook their heads. Chris had gotten the same response every time he’d asked Auntie June what really went on at Odds and Endings.
“Some of you have worked with other writers, so you know the general procedure,” EllaJane said. “Pretty much meaning there is no set procedure. So let me say what’s seems most reasonable to me and see what you think.”
She smiled at Mrs. Seagon.
“Out of the six of you, three sorted together, and another two sorted together. One of you sorted out alone. What I’d like to do is talk to the groups back in the reading nook, see if another idea I had earlier today is okay with all of you.”
Mr. Seagon giggled, then covered his mouth. Mrs. Seagon rolled her eyes, but smiled when she reached for his hand.
“What he’s trying not say is we just love the idea. We think it will be a fine thing for EllaJane, and for Odds and Endings, too.”
“I’d never dare argue with that,” EllaJane said. “How about I start with the group of one? Chris?”
Chris blinked, then closed his mouth with a snap. Instead of sitting in his chest like it was supposed to, his heart had climbed into his throat to keep him from breathing. He did manage to nod, then get slowly to his feet when EllaJane headed toward the reading nook under the stairs.
The cramped but cozy space was hidden from view of anyone around the fireplace. Long before Chris was born, someone had expanded the reading nook past the rest of the finished basement for a couple of yards under the staircase. So instead of chairs and couches, two forest green loveseats fit perfectly, with a low coffee table in between.
And of course, shelves full of books tucked into every possible inch.
EllaJane kicked her shoes off and sat with her legs curled underneath her. Chris floated as if in a dream to the opposite love seat, wondering if anyone else could tell his feet never touched the floor.
She took in a deep breath, held it for several seconds, then sighed long and deep.
“What a relief to be out of the spotlight. I know this is a great group, but still. It’s a group.”
“That’s part of the job description, huh?”
She snorted.
“Well, yeah. At least for me it is. Introvert to the core.” She looked at the tablet on her lap. “You’ve been coming here your whole life? With your Auntie June?”
“Long as I can remember. My first time staying up late with the grownups, though.”
“Good. Neither one of us has a clue.” She glanced at the tablet again before putting it beside her on the loveseat. “Listen, you were the only one who chose the whole year and nothing else. A couple of the others chose that plus one month or three months. But their questions did all the rest as far as what I really need. How do you feel about that?”
“I…I feel great.” Chris hoped his grin wasn’t big enough to make him look unhinged. “I’ve wanted to do this pretty much my whole life.”
EllaJane’s answering smile was slow and shy.
“That’s how I always felt about writing. Still do. So, we have a week to get to know each other before the whole thing really starts, but let me tell you something about Odds and Endings. The Seagons were very sweet to let me do my nerdy data thing, but what they said when I told them about it seems to be true. I can data and science and calculate all I want. But the magic of this place will hold true no matter how hard I try to arrange things for myself. You weren’t just the only one who chose a full year and nothing else. Your interests also matched up perfectly with the longer projects I want to dig into this year.”
Chris blinked and laughed under his breath.
“I can’t say I’m surprised. That’s pretty much what my Auntie June always said. ‘Odds and Endings knows what you want, what you need, before you do. Just say thank you very much and get the heck out of the way.’ She never would explain what she meant by it. Said I’d find out when the time came.”
EllaJane laughed out loud. “I wish I’d had a chance to meet her. The writers I met with spoke highly of her, every one. She worked with several for the full year if I’m not mistaken.”
“I hope I do her proud. I loved every one of the books she helped with.” Chris hesitated, but only for a second. “I hate to sound like I’m not saying thank you or getting out of the way, but what exactly did she do? What would I be doing, working with you? What will the others do if they stay?”
“The Seagons never give too much away, but I will. I’m going to ask the others to work with me on dialect, phrasing. The month-long ones. The others will be perfect for research from their lives and careers, and places they’ve lived. The Seagons said I could work with all of them this year at different times, if they’re willing.” She rubbed her mouth with one hand, then put both hands flat on her thighs.
“What I’m asking you to do, Chris, is be a character in a novel. More than one, with the way your answers matched up with what I’m wanting to write.”
“You mean using my name, the way I look?”
Chris didn’t want to admit it, but now that he was sitting here, that idea didn’t sound nearly as good as it might have an hour ago.
Not nearly as magical.
“Partly that, sure,” she said. “But I could get that anywhere. Walking down the street, watching someone on TV. Looking through family photo albums or an old magazine. Totally out of my imagination. I’ve already done all of that.” EllaJane stared at him for several seconds, her head tilted. “The reason I came to Odds and Endings is I want someone to be a character. Be in the story. Be part of it. Live and breathe in that world, just like your Auntie and so many others before her have.”
“In the story? Like on a movie set or something?”
EllaJane sat up straight, her eyes and her whole face lighting up.
“So much more than that. Some of the stories will be here in town. It’s too gorgeous not to take advantage. I have a couple of ideas for back home in Bountyfield, too, and over in Wolf Branch and Holly Creek. But you won’t just be walking down the street and reciting lines that you memorized. You’ll become the character. You’ll still be yourself inside, and you’ll be yourself when each story is over. But for that time, when we’re writing together, you’ll almost be telling the story to me.”
When he finally managed to speak, Chris’s voice sounded breathless to his own ears.
Which made perfect sense, because his mind felt exactly the same way.
“I’ve heard writers talk about that. When the characters take over and tell the story. Is this how it happens?”
EllaJane shook her head. “Not all the time. Not most of the time. Most of the time we learn how to step back and let that happen on its own. Get the heck out of the way, like your Auntie said. But I think having that happen when you’re writing, knowing you can, is a huge part of what qualifies you for Odds and Endings. Puts you on their radar. Part of the magic seems to be you only hear about this place when you’re ready.”
Chris raised his eyebrows and closed his eyes for a few seconds.
That’s what his Auntie June was doing, all those times when she was away? Not just spending time with the writers, working with them, helping them in some secret and mysterious way to dream up things inside their minds?
She was living the stories, experiencing them.
The very thing Chris had longed to do since his mother and father–and his aunt–read to him before he was able to read to himself.
“But how could that work?” he said. “Some of Auntie June’s stories, the novels she gave me, were set in historical times. Or times that never existed, fantasies. And you said you write science fiction, didn’t you?”
“I did say that.” EllaJane grinned, and she actually giggled. A whole lot like Mr. Seagon had. “It annoyed me at first, that the other writers wouldn’t tell me how that happened for them. None of the people who worked with them here would either. And getting anything out of the Seagons that they don’t want to tell you is flat impossible.”
She shifted, sitting cross-legged on the green cushions like a kid.
“All they would tell me is that’s why the writers live here, in the basement. It’s huge down here, bigger than you know. There are two apartments, Chris. That’s where you’d live, if you’re willing, just like your Auntie June did. Odds and Endings itself makes it happen in a different way for each writer and each character.”
She pushed her hair behind her ears again and leaned forward. Chris found himself kicking off his own shoes so he could sit in the same conspirational pose.
“What I think is some of them worked with dreams,” she said, “or maybe hypnosis. Meditation, probably, some kind of trancelike state. I’d be surprised if a few didn’t use drugs, especially in the 60s and again in the 90s. But I’m thinking we have modern technology now. We might as well use it. Know much about virtual reality?”
This time Chris giggled, and he didn’t feel the least bit silly about it.
“Sure. Some of the games they have now are almost as good as reading a book. VR is perfect for that. How much do you know about it?”
“If Odds and Endings works the way I think it does,” EllaJane said, “the way I feel it does sitting here right now, I know enough.”
She shifted again, putting her feet on the floor and holding out one hand.
“What do you say, Chris? Want to tell a story with me? Maybe tell a whole lot of stories with me?”
Chris’s mind flashed back to his Auntie June once again, to the collection of novels she’d given him. She hadn’t only worked on one novel, or even two, with a few of the writers. His aunt had played a part in a few long series, where each book had taken well over a year to write.
And she’d loved every second, from before Chris was born until the day she passed away from this life.
Maybe into one of the countless others she’d lived.
Lives that started right here at Odds and Endings.
He reached out and took EllaJane’s hand.
“I’d love to.”
Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed Odds and Endings: A Lightning Gap Story as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Chris and EllaJane’s story continues in An Adventure Well Begun, and I suspect I’ll be hearing from them again soon. The magical bookstore from Odds and Endings is the doorway to Tales from Lightning Gap, with more on the way.
There you’ll find several more short stories and Protecting Her Own, a romantic suspense novel that USA Today Bestselling Author Dean Wesley Smith called “a wonderful, suspenseful novel … about love and danger and crime mixed with just a touch of supernatural. You won’t be able to put this one down.”
And be sure to browse through all the other wonderful tales available at my Infinite Bard page. You just might find another favorite storyteller.
Odds and Endings is available from your favorite ebook retailer and in paperback.
In case you missed my first three turns on the Infinite Bard stage, be sure to check out Sensing the Storm, a prequel yarn from my Storms of Future Past Series. Real People Romance: An Adventure in Crowdfunding ties into both my Dana Sanderson Short Mysteries and my Terminalia stories. And The Spider Who Ate the Elephant, a modern myth with a rather unlikely heroine that won second place in the Virginia Writers Club Golden Nib Contest.
For more of my fiction, including exclusive free short stories and discounts, early pre-sales, and adorable pet photos, pay a visit to The Confidential Adventure Club.
Odds and Endings: A Lightning Gap Story
Copyright © 2021 by Kari A. Kilgore
All rights reserved
Published 2019 by Spiral Publishing, Ltd.
www.SpiralPublishing.net
Book and cover design copyright © 2019 by Spiral Publishing, Ltd.
Cover art copyright © 2019 by egal | Depositphotos.com
Print ISBN-13: 978-1-7003695-5-0
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
