This is a fantastically eerie story set in war-torn Okinawa - back in the final days of the Pacific Campaign of World War 2.
It is told from the point of view of a young Kamikaze pilot preparing to fly his fighter plane into the side of an American battleship.
It is a story of guilt, loneliness, memory and the taste of the sea.
Oh, and there's a sea monster as well.
I expect I ought to mention that...
WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING ABOUT STEVE VERNON
"The genre needs new blood and Steve Vernon is quite a transfusion." –Edward Lee, author of FLESH GOTHIC and CITY INFERNAL
"If Harlan Ellison, Richard Matheson and Robert Bloch had a three-way sex romp in a hot tub, and then a team of scientists came in and filtered out the water and mixed the leftover DNA into a test tube, the resulting genetic experiment would most likely grow up into Steve Vernon." - Bookgasm
"Steve Vernon is something of an anomaly in the world of horror literature. He's one of the freshest new voices in the genre although his career has spanned twenty years. Writing with a rare swagger and confidence, Steve Vernon can lead his readers through an entire gamut of emotions from outright fear and repulsion to pity and laughter." - Cemetery Dance
"Armed with a bizarre sense of humor, a huge amount of originality, a flair for taking risks and a strong grasp of characterization - Steve's got the chops for sure." - Dark Discoveries
"Steve Vernon was born to write. He's the real deal and we're lucky to have him." - Richard Chizmar
My Mom thinks I'm pretty cool, too.
I Know Why the Waters of the Sea Taste of Salt
My father swore I was born with a full set of teeth. He claimed that my birth cord twisted like an eel in the midwife's hand, biting her as I bit my way out of my mother's womb.
I still remember that taste. It tasted of salt. It tasted of tears.
It tasted of sea water.
I was born in Okinawa and moved to Tokyo to live with my grandfather. My mother was Chinese. My father claimed that she was Okinawan. His lie fooled no one.
I have three countries, three stories and three songs - Okinawa, Japan and China.
My life has sprung from many waters – and my father cursed my birth, shortly after my mother died.
Listen to the sea.
The waves tell the same story, many times.
All that I have to remember my father by is a letter scrawled in my mother's blood and a small wooden sculpture. A netsuke, we called it in Japan. A practical Chinese man would call it trash. My father was an Okinawan fisherman and might have tied the charm to his net for luck but instead he gave the sculpture to my grandfather who in turn gave it to me. My father wrote in that bloodstained letter - I was born of the sea. Not on the sea or in the sea but of the sea.
"Your mother fell asleep by the water waiting for your father to come home from the sea,” My grandfather told me. “In the morning she awoke with child. She died clutching the memory of your birth-pain into the twisted grain of this small wooden sculpture."
Now, years later I soar over the waters of Okinawa in a small Ohka kamikaze plane.
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French
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Already translated.
Translated by Vieru Raluca Maria
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Author review: A patient, hard-working and talented translator. |
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Greek
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Already translated.
Translated by Olga Tsamoutali
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Carmelo Massimo Tidona
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Author review: Another great job by Carmelo. I highly recommend his translation skills. |
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by João Paulo Rocha and Ariane Zabaleta
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Gabriela Miranda
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Author review: How many praises can I heap upon Gabriela Miranda's impeccable translation skills? How many waves roll across the sea? |
