Massive e-book sale - last day today!

Your chance to bag some good value e-books from Crooked Cat Publishing!

Their autumn sale is on - books across all Amazon sites - for 99c/99p

This is the UK site; https://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_c_3_12?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=crooked+cat+publishing&sprefix=CROOKED+CAT+%2Caps%2C350

For others, just search for 'Crooked Cat Publishing' and be spoilt for choice.

AUTUMN E-BOOK SALE 21-23 SEPTEMBER

Your chance to bag some good value e-books from Crooked Cat Publishing!

Their autumn sale is on - books across all Amazon sites - for 99c/99p

This is the UK site; https://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_c_3_12?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=crooked+cat+publishing&sprefix=CROOKED+CAT+%2Caps%2C350

For others, just search for 'Crooked Cat Publishing' and be spoilt for choice.

Hot summer sale!

Crooked Cat Publishing's annual summer sale of about 150 e-book titles - from today until 10 July.  Get your bargains from Amazon here

These include my books:

The Prague Papers

The Tehran Text

Catalyst

Catacomb

Cataclysm

Sudden Vengeance

Blood of the Dragon Trees

Spanish Eye

Writing – research – psychic-02

More psychic tales gleaned from the book Psychic Discoveries Behind the Iron Curtain, some of which may prove useful when writing about Tana in Afghanistan (The Khyber Chronicle).

Nelya Mikhailova was fourteen when the Germans invaded Russia. She was then caught up in the siege of Leningrad from September 1941 until Jan 1944]. (p82)

She became a soldier, with her brother, father, and sister in the Red Army. The conditions were very severe in the city: the bread ration per day was about four ounces; hunger in Leningrad lasted almost 900 days; the winter temperature sometimes -40; and the water and electricity were cut off frequently. As time passed the city was razed by bombs and artillery fire.

Nelya served in Tank T-34 as a radio operator. Still in her early teens, she became a Red Army sergeant of the 226^th tank regiment. Later Nelya and some of her family served in an armoured train which helped bring desperately needed provisions to the stricken city.

She was seriously injured by artillery fire, but survived to marry an engineer, have a son in the army and become a grandmother. She also discovered she had PK (psychokinesis) ability. [In the late 19^th century Alexander Aksakov, a councillor to the Tsar became the first psychic researcher in Russia. He later became a spiritualist and studied mediums. He is believed to have coined the term ‘telekinesis’. He died 1903, aged 70.]

During her PK experiments, strain etched the dimples deep in Nelya’s cheeks, and her pulse beat up to 250 per minute. Apparently, her powers diminished in stormy weather, this being later attributed to the magnetic field around her body being affected (this attested by the Leningrad Institute of Metrology). Afterwards, she looked drained, and had lost over three lbs in weight. [To date, in the real world we inhabit, controlled experiments have found no proof of telekinesis.]

She died in 1990.

***

I’ve used Aksakov’s name for my Spetsnaz assassin, Lidiya, who first appears in The Tehran Text. She reappears in The Khyber Chronicle.

Tana Standish, my psychic spy, cannot move objects with her mental faculties. This, I felt, was a step too far. She can detect danger (bad vibes, if you will), being a sensitive, and when in close proximity can snatch the thoughts of others – if those people are in a heightened emotional state, for example. Again, it is not a parlour trick she can invoke at will every time. Some of her tests at headquarters have proved failures. But Dr James Fisk, the psychologist at Fenner House is encouraging, for he’s seen how she can exceed expectations at other times of high stress.

Tana Standish can be found in The Prague Papers and TheTehran Text.

Blog guest - Shani Struthers and 'domestic spiritual clearance'...

Today my guest is author Shani Struthers, from Brighton, UK. Today sees the launch of her third Psychic Survey book, 44 Gilmore Street. 

This follows on from the popular earlier novels, The Haunting of Highdown Hall and Rise to Me. She has also written a prequel, Eve, which is featured in my blog here

These Psychic Survey novels have already garnered a staunch review base of 50+ reviewers, a great achievement.

The main characters who form the Psychic Survey team are Ruby, Theo, Ness and Corinna who deal with ‘domestic spiritual clearance’ – a great invention.

Her other paranormal novel is Jessamine.

Shani has been fascinated by the paranormal for most of her life, and as she says in our Q&A session below, all of her stories are inspired by true events and experiences.

Q & A

How long have you been writing? 

I’ve been a copywriter for over twenty years, working mainly in the travel industry but I’ve only been writing novels for four years.

What influenced you to start?

I’ve always wanted to write a novel; I’ve been threatening family and friends with it for a long time so I thought I’d better make good that threat!

How do your family/friends feel about your writing?

They’re proud of me but, as you know yourself, Nik, when you’re writing/editing a book you tend to live and breathe it – I think they’d rather I came back to the real world more often!

Are you planning to write any more romance books or will you stick with the paranormal? Of course, you can indulge in romance in paranormal novels too!

Jessamine closed the gap between my romance and my paranormal books, it’s a romance but with a supernatural edge to it. There’s also a touch of romance in the Psychic Surveys books between the two main characters Ruby and Cash but it’s real and down-to-earth as opposed to slushy. I’m not averse to romance in any way but I think paranormal is my genre from now on, it’s more fascinating to write.

I know some of your favourite authors are Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Shirley Jackson and Susan Hill. A tall order, I suspect but what is your favourite book? And why?

It is a tall order but rather than say what is my favourite book I’ll say what book has inspired me most lately – it’s Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House. I’ve been meaning to read it for a while and finally got round to it and loved it. Like the black and white film of the book - The Haunting with Claire Bloom – it’s a real lesson in ‘less is more’. So much is left to the imagination and it’s that that is truly terrifying. That’s the way I want my writing to go in future.

What challenges have you overcome in having to concentrate on the supernatural?

I don’t write horror as such, I write paranormal but I have had to delve into some very dark research because of it – research that left me feeling very unnerved. I’ve decided not to focus on anything Satanic but to focus on the ghost element instead – and I always try to look for the human story behind the haunting, that’s what really fascinates me most – why a spirit is grounded.

There’s also an element of time travel involved, since ghosts have a habit of appearing in their future. Would you consider a time travel novel at some point?

We are conditioned to think of the world as linear but maybe it isn’t and maybe the spirit world isn’t either. Never say never.

Is it a challenge, this delving into the past to unearth the present haunting?

It can be but I look for inspiration in real life events and then add a heavy dose of fiction.

Who is your favourite character in all your books and why?

I love them all – the good and the bad – but my favourite is Ruby Davis, the main character in the Psychic Surveys books. She starts off as fairly naïve due to a sheltered upbringing by her grandmother but over the course of six books she’s going to find herself going down some very dark roads. I like to write strong, independent female characters and she’s going to need every ounce of her strength.

Ahah, six books! That’s good planning, Shani. Creating a series can bring its problems. For example, how do you continue to think up new storylines using the same characters and yet remain fresh?

I have a story arc in mind and that helps – a journey for each of the characters to go on but yes, it’s a problem regarding trying not to info-dump too much in subsequent books – to keep them action-centred rather than a recap.

As an author, what is your biggest challenge and how do you overcome it?

Confidence – you know what it’s like, ninety nine people can love your book but one slates it and which one affects us more, yep that one in a hundred. That’s the biggest challenge for me, listening to criticism but only if it’s constructive.

Other than writing, what are some things that you love to do?

Just hanging out with my friends and family really, eating, drinking and being merry!

Thank you, Shani. And good luck with your latest, 44 Gilmore Street.

Readers find Shani here:

Facebook Author Page: http://tinyurl.com/p9yggq9

Twitter: https://twitter.com/shani_struthers

Blog: http://shanisite.wordpress.com

Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/mq25mav

Website: http://www.shanistruthers.com

Newsletter Link: http://eepurl.com/beoHLv

Psychic Surveys Book Three: 44 Gilmore Street

UK http://tinyurl.com/jobnwoo

US http://tinyurl.com/j6jvev5

Enchanted by the lovely Tana…

The Tana Standish psychic spy series - #2 The Tehran Text

Tana Standish, a child-survivor of the Warsaw Ghetto, was adopted by a British naval lieutenant and in 1965 joined the British Secret Intelligence Service. She is a psychic with a photographic memory. Each adventure begins with the passing of a collection of papers and manuscripts to the author (Nik Morton) by one of her secret service associates. He then writes down her experiences.

The first was The Prague Papers (Czechoslovakia, 1975), and this is followed by The Tehran Text (Iran, 1978), [both of which were previously published (2008 & 2009 respectively), though the latter received minimal exposure as the collapse of the publisher occurred almost at the same time as its release. Both are now available as Crooked Cat e-books.

At least two more adventures are planned: The Khyber Chronicle – (Afghanistan, 1979/80), a work-in-progress, and The Caldera Cryptogram (Argentina, Falklands, 1982).  

Snippets from 6 Amazon reviews of The Tehran Text follow, with sections excised to avoid too much repetition.

‘Playing mind games…’

The book opens in fine dramatic style, with an assassination and more than a hint of psychic powers which quickly dominate the story of Tana Standish and her action-packed adventures in the Middle East. The intricacies of the plot unfold in masterful manner and I don't want to put the book down as Standish wriggles out of one situation into another while playing mind games and trying to rescue her friends. – Amazon review, February, 2016

‘Not for the faint-hearted…’

… overall it was a fabulous and smartly paced read... Tana definitely leads an exciting life as a British agent extraordinaire, her psychic abilities making her even more successful than normal… The double life she leads under cover is not for the faint-hearted and it was a sad read when some of her locally based activist friends meet their grisly end. Spies and double agents abound in the novel, many with almost comparable psychic abilities to Tana, which make life very deadly at times for her and her fellow British agents. I certainly wouldn’t want to meet the Spetsnaz female agent Aksakov in real life but I am looking forward to reading more of the empathetic Yakunin… – Amazon UK, November 2015

‘Characters who are so alive…’

There are not too many books that stay with you long after you finish reading them, not too many characters who are so alive it seems like you recently met them. And so it is with Tana Standish, the psychic spy created by Nik Morton in this page-turning thriller.
            We travel to Iran, Afghanistan, Kazakhstan and England and meet a variety of brilliantly portrayed characters - both chillingly cruel and highly talented, some of them torturers, others who control a team of remote viewers, others traditional British MI6 characters. The locations are so finely drawn we can almost reach and touch them, the atmospheres so vivid that we can shut our eyes and sense ourselves there. - Maureen Moss, travel journalist, August 2010

‘Scary women in droves’
Nik Morton places the very fanciable Tana's missions for the British Intelligence Service in Iran in 1978 but his narrative and prose are nonetheless what we expect of espionage/thriller writers in the 21st Century. Male readers may find themselves enchanted by the lovely Tana, whom the author presents as very believable in his revelations from `deep throat' MI6 mole Alan Swann, but do bear in mind that she's probably drawing a civil service pension now so I would suggest that, like me, they forget the erotic fantasies. In any case, not only can Tana kick arse very well indeed, she's also psychic. Do you really want a relationship with an older woman who can not only read your thoughts but can also throw you around the room for having them?
            In addition to the nasty males running the Middle East terrorist groups, the book has scary women in droves, with deadly female Spetsnaz operative Aksakov out to abduct our Tana, whose assistance from Kazakhstan-based friendly psychic Yakunin is blunted by an unfriendly psychic in a strategic battle of the minds. But masterful Morton handles them all very nicely and serves up a ripping read with a plot clever enough to stand up with the best of them. - Review in Round Town News by author Danny Collins, May 2010

‘Compulsive spy novel’

For those who like their plots laid out skilfully and with painstaking research, Nik Morton's latest Tana Standish thriller, The Tehran Text is where you should be. When she knows her friends are in danger, Tana pits her physical skills against evil adversaries to secure their freedom. But because of Tana's phenomenal psychic ability, she is constantly under threat from the mind games of the Soviets. Although Tana has an ally in the Soviet camp, Yakunin, he cannot show his hand as he battles to warn Tana of the threats against her. While Tana pits her wits against the evil agents of the Shah's secret police, she is hounded by the brilliant, but deadly Spetsnaz agent, Aksakov… Tana Standish stands out as a heroine worthy of the pages of this compulsive spy novel. - Michael Parker, author, April 2010

‘Psychological gifts beyond the normal’

Thriller number two in the series of Tana Standish, English agent with psychological gifts beyond the normal. Many have read the book or seen the movie based on Richard Condon's The Manchurian Candidate. An eerie story about brainwashing of an American soldier during the Korean War days. Here, we have such a modern tale where Tana has the ability of the mind to see things at enormous distances... While she goes against an Islamic revolution and the old Ayatolla Komenih figures now and then, Tana's worst opponent is the female sadist and Spetsnaz agent Aksakov. - Review by Iwan Morelius in the Swedish online magazine LÄST OCH HÖRT I HÄNGMATTAN, translated, May 2010

My thanks to all of the above reviewers!

You can purchase The Tehran Text from any one of the international Amazon sites here

The Tehran Text - e-book published by Crooked Cat Publishing

The Blurb

The tense and explosive sequel to The Prague Papers

1978. Iran is in ferment and the British Intelligence Service wants Tana Standish’s assessment. It appears that CIA agents are painting too rosy a picture, perhaps because they’re colluding with the state torturers…

Allegiances and loyalties are strained as Tana’s mission becomes deadly and personal. Old friends are snatched, tortured and killed by SAVAK, the Shah’s secret police. She has to use all her skills as a secret agent and psychic to stay one step ahead of the oppressors and traitors.

As the country stumbles towards the Islamic Revolution, the Shah’s grip on power weakens. There’s real concern for the MI6 listening post near the Afghan border. Only Tana Standish is available to investigate; yet it’s possible she could be walking into a trap, as the deadly female Spetsnaz fighter Aksakov has been sent to abduct Tana.

Meanwhile, in Kazakhstan, the sympathetic Yakunin, the psychic spy tracking Tana, is being sidelined by a killer psychic, capable of weakening Tana at the critical moment in combat with Aksakov. Can Yakunin save Tana without being discovered?

In the troubled streets of Iran’s ancient cities and amidst the frozen wastes on the Afghan border, Tana makes new friends and new enemies…

Processionary Penitents - part 2 of 2

PROCESSIONARY PENITENTS

Part 2 of 2 

- continued from yesterday

Nik Morton

“I hope I don’t need to draw you a picture, Señor Saura?” I adjusted the tinted spectacles on my nose, shifted in the leather armchair, leaned forward and stroked my false moustache. “You want me to arrange the substitution of a more favourable copy of your building plans, correct…?”

            His small close-set eyes glared. “Of course I do!” He was thin, impeccably dressed in a charcoal grey suit, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “That’s why I’m here!” We were alone in the lounge of a safe house I’d used before. Spartan furnishing – a lounge diner with two armchairs, the sofa, a small dining table and four chairs, a sideboard and wall sconces for most necessary additional lighting. There were two small bedrooms and a bathroom. “That’s why I’ve brought the money – all five thousand euros!”

            “Well…” I waved an arm, shrugged dismissively, as if I didn’t really care about money, but felt that it was expected in this kind of transaction. “A consideration, no?”

            Saura closed his eyes; his eyeballs moved under the lids, as if he was calculating the money, a euro at a time. He ran a hand over his face, opened his eyes. “Very well.” He ground his teeth together. I wondered if he would rather grind down those who opposed him and his schemes; grind them into the earth.

            “You should have been more thorough with your plans, señor. Then this unsavoury transaction would not prove necessary.”

            “More thorough? Why? We’re talking about townsfolk, little people. Their silly schemes are a piffling trifle to me!”

            “But you took on the work, no?”

            “I regard it as pin money. I can draw up the appropriate plans in an hour or so – and charge them for two days’ work!” He slapped the chair arm. “Now, important work for the council, that takes precedence every time!” He chuckled. “For that, I might make the effort to check my figures, confirm the stress points and so on! But for the little people, they don’t pay me enough to do that. Not nearly enough! They should not have raised that denuncía against me. I am a professional!”

            “Of course. I quite understand.” I felt like grinding my fist in his face then. He exhibited a certain arrogance that I’d witnessed in a number of so-called professional men.

            He pulled out a silk handkerchief, wiped his brow. “So, Señor Santos, when can you arrange for the switch?”

            “Tomorrow.”

            “That fast?”

            “I thought it best for our man to act promptly for you...” I held out my hand.

            He removed a brown paper envelope from his breast pocket, passed it over. Such envelopes had become a cliché, yet were still used.

            I opened it and scrutinized the contents, counted the notes.

            He growled, “It’s all there!”

            “I don’t doubt it.” I continued to count it, marking aloud each thousand, ensuring that my actions were in plain view of the concealed camera.

            With his own words, he was the architect of his fall from grace.

           

Next day, Saura was found entirely cocooned in architect’s plans, all fastened tightly with adhesive tape. In his chrysalis, his feet in a wicker basket, he dangled above the pavement, the rope secured round his waist and attached to a pulley on the balcony above.

            He resembled a giant nest of processionary caterpillars. Their white lacy cocoons cling to fir trees any time from January through to April, depending on the weather. To begin with they’re moths’ eggs; when they hatch, the larvae feast on the pine needles then, as caterpillars, crawl down the tree to the ground, marching in single file, nose to tail, in search of somewhere to dig underground and pupate, until the end of the summer, when they emerge as moths. Their very fine hairs are particularly nasty, causing rashes, itches or serious inflammation and allergic reactions. Unwary dogs have choked with swollen throats. As hairy caterpillars, they seem immune to prey; as pupae, they’re lunch for the Hoopoe; and as moths they’re feasted on by bats. I wasn’t sure which stage Saura was in, dangling there, but I anticipated that he’d be devoured by the press and the courts.

            Señora Barrantes, the elderly lady in black, leaned over her balcony and laughed, clapping her hands at the sight. The two Guardia Civil officers in attendance were not so amused. Pinned to the architect’s chest was a note, which stated that Saura had paid a bribe for someone to steal the building plans from the courthouse; it also advised that a copy of the secretly filmed meeting was with the press.

            Later that day, the word spread, the video going viral. The newspaper Información broke the story, complete with a link to the video of the bribe. This wasn’t the first time the newspaper had promulgated a sting operation and, judging by the corruption still prevalent, I didn’t think it would be the last.

            Kidnapping is against the law; there are no mitigating circumstances. However, I feel that where law-breakers are concerned, since they don’t respect the law, they don’t always deserve its protection. Once I’d seen Saura to the door, out of view from the camera, I applied a strangle-hold, his windpipe in the crook of my elbow; it only took eight seconds to render him unconscious; I was careful not to exceed that time as death could result. I prefer this for the less dangerous ungodly; the dangerous ones, I have no qualms about hitting or squeezing the carotid artery – again, with care, as this too can be fatal.

            When he was suitably wrapped for delivery, I bundled him in his car.

            Despite his small stature, it hadn’t been easy to suspend him there in the early hours, after the festival lovers had finally retired. First, I had to clamber on to the roof of his vehicle to reach the dangling rope, and then I heaved him up and made sure he was safely secured. Only then could I drive off. I’d worn gloves throughout this phase. I abandoned the car outside his villa.

           

I knocked on the Quinto door and it opened almost immediately. “Come in, come in, Señor Cazador!” The old man hastened me into the lounge, pointed to the television screen. I was in time to see Saura shouting that he was “a professional”.

            “He is finished! My wife will have satisfaction!”

            I fished out the five thousand euros. “You can probably make use of this, too. Small compensation for the distress that man has put you through.”

            His eyes watered. Pride vied with common sense as his hands wavered, and then he took the money. “Gracías, Señor Cazador.”

            I nodded at the TV screen. “I don’t think Saura is ever going to make it in Hollywood.” I pointed to the rack of a dozen or so DVDs on the sideboard. “Stick to legal movies, with happy endings like this one.”

“Mr Santos, it’s good of you to make it,” said Franco Roldan, opening his villa’s front door. He was dressed like a movie star, multi-coloured short-sleeved shirt, white slacks, tan pumps. His hair was thick, curly and dyed auburn. He held out a hand.

            We shook and he ushered me inside, and said to the goon at the door, “Back to your post, Rico!” Rico was one of two armed men; three bikini-clad women lounged by the swimming pool, sipping cocktails, but didn’t seem fazed by the sight of the sentries with their Star Z-84 sub-machine guns slung over their shoulders.

            Roldan led me along a tiled passage, the walls adorned with modern art, though I use the “art” word loosely. Art is a matter of taste – and Roldan’s was all bad.

            “I’m not the last to arrive, am I?” I queried, allowing a little anxiety in my tone.

            “No, no, we have Nico still to come. Then we can haggle about distribution, no?”

            “I’m not particularly good at haggling,” I said.

            “No matter. I will ensure that all of my associates do well out of this business.” We entered and he gestured at a table where five men and a woman sat. A couple looked Eastern European, the rest Latin. I knew three from Ministry of Interior mug-shots. I detected a little tension as introductions were made.

            I sat at the table, laid my Samsung Galaxy mobile phone in front of me.

            “Are you expecting a call?” Roldan asked.

            “No. But it serves as my burglar alarm.”

            Roldan turned to the others. “His burglar alarm!” He laughed. “He is worried about being burgled!”

            A couple of the men laughed too; the others either didn’t seem amused.

            Nico arrived and I noticed that the tension in the room eased.

            “Right, let’s get down to business,” Roldan said. “My factory is producing two thousand DVD copies a day. A-list movies, acquired from good sources.” He opened his laptop, clicked a couple of keys, and swung it round to show us the screen.

            He was right; this was the latest film, just released in the US; good quality. I suspected that those gathered here wouldn’t like the ending, though…

            “Where is your factory?” Nico asked.

            “Crevillente.”

            “A carpet warehouse?”

            “Seems like a good cover,” I observed.

            At least Roldan got the joke, smiling thinly. “Quite.” He then reeled off his outlets, his couriers and the days when stocks would be replenished. He was a good organizer, and very thorough.

            After we’d agreed our roles, I asked, “Can you guarantee your source of films?”

            Roldan nodded. “Emil is very reliable. He has a number of insiders he can call upon.”

            “Good.” That was all I required. According to Seb, suspicions had rested upon a guy named Emil Chapman in California. This was the proof they needed. Idly, I switched off my phone’s voice recorder app, and then fingered the auto-dial.

Two shots were fired outside. Roldan stood and exclaimed, “What the hell…?”

            I retrieved from my ankle holster the lightweight Colt Officer’s ACP LW automatic and levelled it at all eight of them. “You can try to rush me – the magazine only holds six cartridges.”

            Nobody moved.

            “Very sensible.”

            Seconds later, Seb entered alongside a Civil Guard Lieutenant.

            “You seem to have everything under control,” Seb said.

            I nodded. “The details you want are on my phone.”

            The Guardia Civil, the National Police and the local police had raided the villa en masse, Seb accompanying them. The women in bikinis scampered out of the way as armed lawmen scaled the walls, wounded the two sentries, skirted the swimming pool and burst into the lounge. They found me with the guilty parties. The entire operation was filmed by the Guardia Civil.

            Roldan and his cronies were read their rights and handcuffed. “Your days are numbered, Santos!” Roldan grated.

            “At least they won’t be under lock and key,” I said. This wasn’t the first death threat I’d received in my disguise; I felt sure it wouldn’t be the last.

            The haul from the subsequent search was considerable: eight hand-guns, two machine pistols, four kilos of cocaine, a hundred illegal DVDs, four laptops, €40,000 and two stolen cars. As well as the incriminating information about the illegal outlets and sources both here in Spain and in California.

            Under heavy armed guard, Roldan and his cronies were led out of the villa, in single file procession, and loaded into the back of two Civil Guard Mercedes Sprinter wagons.

            I eyed Seb. “That’ll be the last procession he’ll be in for some time.”

* * *

Copyright Nik Morton, 2014

If you'd like to read more Leon Cazador tales, 

Spanish Eye can be purchased here

Through the eyes of Leon Cazador, half-English, half-Spanish private investigator, we experience the human condition in many guises.

This collection covers twenty two cases, some insightful, some humorous, and some tragic. The tales evoke tears and laughter, pleasure at the downfall of criminals, and anger at arrogant evil-doers.

Sometimes, Cazador operates in disguise under several aliases, among them Carlos Ortiz Santos, a modern day Simon Templar; he is wholly against the ungodly and tries to hold back the encroaching night of unreason. Cazador translated into English means hunter. In his adventurous life he has witnessed many travesties of justice; he is a man driven to hunt down felons of all kinds, to redress the balance of good against evil.

Leon Cazador fights injustice in all its forms and often metes out his own rough justice. It's what he does. Through the eyes of Leon Cazador, half-English, half-Spanish private investigator, we experience the human condition in many guises.