AUTHOR INTERVIEW

 

What is the name of the book and when was it published?

HALF A LION by PALLE E.K. OSWALD published on January 27, 2022.

What’s the book’s first line?

Dying is easy, dying well is hard.

What’s the book about? Give us the “pitch”.

Apocalypto meets Game of Thrones in this blockbuster debut about a land trapped in eternal warfare and a young warrior who must rise above the clash of princes to bring a new age.

What inspired you to write the book? A particular person? An event?

The stories that I am. I have always been an avid reader. As a kid growing up in a small town and a lowly neighborhood, I never knew we were poor, even though my mother constantly reminded me of it. How could I be poor when I had magical powers going to a boarding school for the gifted (Harry Potter), or a mysterious man who recently came into some fortune and seeks revenge (The Count of Monte Cristo)? I sought refuge in those stories. Even more, I would listen to my grandfather tell stories of our tribe and family, of personal legends (like an ancestor who fought off a tiger with bare hands and earned the moniker HAND OF A TIGER, a name I inherited), and gruesome battles (like magically burying the raiders of a rival army and allowing one survivor to return with the demoralizing news that stopped further incursions). The stories never left me. It was my name after all. Half A Lion is inspired by, and taps into, that rich vein of legends and folklore.

What’s the main reason someone should really read this book?

To those looking for a refreshing setting and culture, a mythical tale of conflicted heroes, intricate plotting, and blockbuster action. The story will show you the power of unconditional love and only break your heart when it matters. You will bathe in a storm and find warmth in a blazing bushfire. You will taste betrayal and wash it down with a sip of vengeance. You will ride wildebeests through haunted jungles and live a dozen lives. You will dance with giant wolves under a red sun, and rest on the beast throne. If that is your kind of adventure, you have found a LION to run with.

What’s the most distinctive thing about the main character?

Love. Not the romantic love that is a staple of the genre. My main character has immense loyalty and is ready to die a hundred thousand times if only to protect those he loves. He abandons all safety and comfort to journey into a brutal, unforgiving world for a chance to prove his love.

And he speaks to the dead.

Who-real or fictional-would you say the character reminds you of?

Karsa Orlong (Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson). Uncompromising loyalty and ragged determination. A character naïve and pure in spirit, and whose justice might be savage, but it is just.

When did you first decide to become an author?

When I traveled to Sweden for Undergraduate Studies. At seventeen, being alone in a foreign country, studying and working full-time was hard. It was difficult balancing all of that and having time for any social life. I struggled with an emotional storm. For me, reading had been an escape. I began writing as a release, and it helped me ride the storm.

Is this the first book you’ve written?

Yes, this is my first novel. I have written short stories. But HALF A LION is my debut novel.

What’s the best and the hardest part of being an indie?

It is great to see characters come alive just as I imagined them, and the creative freedom of telling their story. To create pages laced with magic and dreams trapped in ink. Though the input from beta readers and editors are important, the indie author dictates. Also, the control over the publication process (book design, cover, release date, etc.). In a way, the book is my Horcrux, and it feels nice to have shaped it as I wish.

However, as a relative unknown, it is hard to break out as an indie author. I lack the established machinery (budget and tried-and-trusted processes) and relationships enjoyed by traditional publishers or well-known indie authors. Nonetheless, it is sweet pain.

What’s a great piece of advice that you can share with fellow indie authors?

Writing can be a lonely road, relatable only to those who have walked it. The writing community is littered with both great authors (traditional and indie) and fine individuals. The bond between authors has been beautiful to experience. For whatever it’s worth, I’ll tell fellow indie authors to support and celebrate each other’s success as frequently and proudly as if it’s theirs. When your neighbor receives gifts, it means Santa is in your neighborhood.

Is there something in particular that motivates you?

Immortality. I know that sounds pretentious. I fancy the idea though. Long when I’m gone, on chilly November night, I wish somebody will close a book and as they set it down beside a cup of tea, they would wonder, “Who is this PALLE E.K. OSWALD fellow? Good author.”

Paying the bills would be nice too.

 

Which book do you wish you could have written?

None. All the books that I love are so because they were well-done. But someday, I wish to write a canon that exports African gods and legends to the world. Something to entertain and educate, like an African Iliad.

***

Interested in reading HALF A LION? Here is an excerpt| Excerpt 2

OR

Buy HALF A LION

 

HALF A LION Cover

 

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a COVER. Before you ask, no lions were burnt in the making of this beauty. The journey enters a new horizon. Now you must make a choice. This story will show you the face of unconditional love and only break your heart when it matters. You will bathe in a storm and find warmth in a blazing bushfire. You will taste betrayal and wash it off with a sip of vengeance. You will ride through haunting jungles and live a dozen lives. You will dance with wolves under a red sun. The adventure might not be for everyone, but if you are half as curious as I think you are, you have found a LION to run with.

“Destiny is a choice.”

Follow on Facebook and Goodreads| Palle E.K. Oswald, and Twitter| @pekoswald

An Excerpt from HALF A LION

 

Below is an excerpt from my upcoming debut novel HALF A LION. Stories and songs have been favored staples of the oral African traditions passed down the generations. In this book, I combine two of my great loves; history and poetry. Happy reading and watch this space.

***

Mansah loosened his sword in its scabbard and checked the arrows in his quiver. Then he wrapped his robe tighter around himself and settled down to listen to a group of warriors chant A Song of Blood and Feathers.

“Long ago, lived a warrior with dreams untold

With hair of glowing coal, eyes of a fiery gold

His blade was fine and bow of pine

Into the darkness, he braved the cold

 

The White Garden held a fate unknown

 For what was beyond, he longed to own

A haunted boy ached for honor's sake

 And in the jungle, you wish you take

 

Blood on stones, pinch of scathing daggers

The warrior climbed, each step on weak boulders

The Garden fought back with flashes in the dark

Yet willing hearts triumph where strength staggers

 

Under the moonlit shower, the injured bird lay

Words unhurried, to beg and pray

For a chance to see the eagle dance

And the moon blinded in a feathery trance

 

 

Far away, a dozen winged beasts soared

And in the twilight, the great warrior roared

They came swooping to answer a master's call

Where no one dares, there you will find your all.”

 

“Feels good to hear the words of our forefathers,” someone said behind him.

Mansah looked over his shoulder to see the chief frowning. He had not even heard the man approach. He sighed. “The songs always talk of glorious victories, but never of untimely deaths, my chief,” he said, thinking of the tribesmen who had screamed for help as the bushfires seized them.

Kheng sat down beside him, his armor creaking. “The songs are not meant to remind us of death, but to celebrate a great life,” the chief said. “The skyfather makes some people faster, some louder, some stronger. But in death, one skeleton is the same as the other. It is the gift of life that matters, the hearts given to each of us, and what we do with it. When it is all done, the skyfather will ask you what you did with that strong heart he gave to you, that keen nose, that sharp eye. The songs of the tribe will answer for you.”

Debut novel: HALF A LION

 

I hear only good things from my beta readers 📚 It is quite humbling. To think the young black kid who would split open his toes playing soccer barefoot on the stony streets of a ghetto now leaves footprints in the minds of readers all over the world. We rise only as high as our dreams. Dream big dreams 🧠
It is an honor to add to the plethora of African literature. It might be a drop in the river, but I believe without it, the river would be missing something. I always had a fascination with the origin and meaning behind our African culture and legends. I created a world from it.
Fun fact: At the risk of sounding like a misogynist, with all the gore and dark themes in this manuscript, I had a secret worry it was going to put off women. I'm glad I was so wrong. The most lavish praises have been from you 🙈

See the summary:

The jungle simmers with discontent, inhabited by desperate people in an insufficient land. In the middle of the unrest is the Lion tribe, ruled by a family as brutal and ruthless as the land they inherited. However, the Lion chief is dead. Across barren wastelands and sweeping forests, the tribes stake their claim.

It is a tale of shamans and warriors, chiefs and wanderers, shapeshifters and bleak omens. A disinherited Prince wants the loyalty of sworn enemies; a young woman seeks conquest; a tribe of wildebeest riders smell a price; a fourteen-year-old boy undertakes a perilous journey to find his way back home.

As folklore comes alive and old spirits walk the mountains, amid tragedy and victory, honor and betrayal, everyone must gamble for the most elusive fate of all – survival.

For more updates, watch this space. 

If

 

 

If you can keep your head when all about you
   Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
   But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
   Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
   And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
   If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
   And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
   Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
   And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
   And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
   And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
   To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
   Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
   Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
   If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run—
   Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son

 

- Rudyard Kipling

ACT OF VALOUR

I saw you thinking of me, a helpless creature residing within, living rent-free. Conceived  of misleading trust and corrupting passion, still holding onto a thread of compassion. I saw you, an imperfect being with bruised ego, a tear-stained face regretting action. With a heavy heart, once the cradle of mesmerising aspirations, just took the wrong course. On the edge of an unsheathed sword, bearing the fresh wound of a broken promise, a forfeited applause. A victim of spite and condemnation, a marred reputation. My embryonic spirit sank in the river of your unending tears, with blurry forecasts, uncertain future, tinged with awkward confrontations. I saw you thinking of me, dark thoughts hovering over a caring heart, the host of a special artifact, an unadorned art.

I saw you placing a hand over me to feel that, that rhythm of hope. The faint glow in depressing darkness, the seed from which beautiful tomorrows grow, that seed of hope. Remembering that the verdict of time always favours the innocent, the wrongfully damned, the neglected heroes. In that uncertain time, you cherished those inherited values, believing in the undying soul, knowing life is just a game of shadows. If only you could feel the peaceful thoughts I oozed forth, a barren attempt to calm a weary mind. I relished in that bubble of anticipation, wishing you gave me an opportunity to see the sunshine. 

Now I see you looking at me, the sanctuary of unconditional affection, evidence of a heart that loved. The umbilical chord was just a physical significance, an emotional necessity. But what we share now, no stainless steel blade can severe, that desire for mutual welfare. A mother's LOVE lights up any runway. 

Breathing Underwater

A boy once asked a wise old man what the secret to success is. After listening to the boy’s question, the wise man told the boy to meet him at the river in the morning and he would be given the answer there.

In the morning, the wise man and the boy began walking toward the river. They continued on into the river, past the point of the water covering their nose and mouth.  At this time, the wise man ducked the boy into the water.

As he struggled to get out, the wise man continued to push him further down. The boy felt a fish slip by his leg and squirmed to get up even harder. The man eventually pulled the boy’s head up so he could get air. The boy gasped as he inhaled a deep breath of air.

The wise man said, ‘What were you fighting for when you were under water?” The boy replied, “Air!” The man said, “There you have the secret to success. When you want to gain success as much as you wanted air when you were under water, you will obtain it. That’s the only secret.”

Sweat Dreams

A young boy and girl were enjoying a pleasant afternoon playing outside in their neighborhood together. The boy showed the girl his collection of beautiful, unique marbles. In turn, the girl showed the boy the handful of candy that she had just gotten for her birthday.

The boy proposed that the two of them switch–he would give her all of his marbles if she handed over all of her candy. The girl agreed, as she found the marbles to be beautiful as well.

The boy handed over all of his marbles, but kept one–the most exquisite one of them all–in his pocket. The girl kept her promise and gave the boy all of her candy.

That night, the girl was happy with the exchange and peacefully went to sleep.

The boy, however, couldn’t sleep, as he was up wondering if the girl had secretly kept some of her candy, just like he did with the marble.

When you don't give your all in relationships, you believe everyone is holding back as well.

The Wise Man's Joke

A wise man once faced a group of people who were complaining about the same issues over and over again. One day, instead of listening to the complaints, he told them a joke and everyone cracked up laughing.

Then, the man repeated the joke. A few people smiled.

Finally, the man repeated the joke a third time – but no one reacted.

The man smiled and said, “You won’t laugh at the same joke more than once. So what are you getting from continuing to complain about the same problem?”

You’re not going to get anywhere if you keep complaining about the same problem but do nothing to fix it. Don’t waste your time complaining, expecting other people to continue to react to your complaints. Instead, take action to make a change.

The Price of Salt

Che had gathered his friend for supper and was brewing a juicy piece of meat. Suddenly, he noticed they were out of salt.

Che called his son. “Go to the village and buy salt. But pay the fair price for it; neither pricier nor cheaper.”

His son was surprised. “I understand I shouldn’t pay more, father. But if we can bargain a little, why not save some money?”

“In a large city, this is advisable,” he said. “However, in a small city as ours, the entire village will notice it.”

His guest overheard their conversation and wanted to know why one shouldn’t buy salt for less.

Che answered, “Those who sell underpriced salt, do it in a desperate need for money. Those who take advantage of the situation, show disrespect for the sweat and battle of a man that worked to produce something.”

“But that is too little to destroy a village.”

“In the beginning of the world, injustice was scant as well. But everyone that came afterward added something, thinking it was not important, and see where we got today.”

The Cheapest Room

Love sometimes wants to do us a great favor: hold us upside down and shake all the nonsense out.

Ever since happiness heard your name, it has been running through the streets trying to find you.
I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in the darkness, the astonishing light of your own being.

There are different wells within your heart.
Some fill with each good rain,
Others are far too deep for that

Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I would like to see you living in better conditions.