• Q: Do I read them all? 
• A: I do not read every word of every book, but I read all of many of them and a substantial part of nearly every one. 
• Q: How do we know when you really like something? 
• A. I try to say positive or neutrally descriptive things, and I am well-suited for this job in that I am someone who loves to read and enjoys a great deal of what I read. If I think a book is a waste of time, I won’t accept it as a sponsor. If I’m only moderately positive, I’ll probably limit myself to neutral description of what a book’s about rather than going negative. But then there are the really special books….

But when I’m really committed to a book, I’ll find a way of getting the point across in a special way. So here’s what I’ve got to say about today’s sponsor, Christina Dudley, and her novel Mourning Becomes Cassandra: 

It’s the real thing. There are no vampires, time-travelers, or interplanetary adventures, but there are real laughs and real tears throughout. And finally, this:  

We’ve had well over a hundred sponsoring authors at Kindle Nation these past few months, yet I can count on the fingers of one hand the authors about whom I have written to my contacts among publishing industry editors, acquisitions people, and literary agents. Christina Dudley will be the sixth, and I will be surprised, when you’ve downloaded Mourning Becomes Cassandra and read it, if you disagree. –S.W.)


I’m clear enough about my own opinions that I don’t need corroboration in these matters, but it turns out I am not alone. You’ll see what I mean if you check out the book’s customer reviews, with lines like this one:

Brilliantly funny and simultaneously touching, the “moral of the story” comes with none of the in-your-face preaching that I would have associated with a book labeled as “Christian fiction,” but with such power and conviction that even the most jaded agnostic would have to pause and ponder its message.

Funny, that “Christian fiction” label. If you’d label the works of Flannery O’Connor, Graham Greene, or James Joyce as “Christian fiction,” I’m sure you could apply the label to this one, but there’s nothing formulaic of pedantic about this novel. 
Here’s the set-up: