Icejacked

The Back Pages

My publisher suggested that back pages are not in vogue for fiction novels. But it’s hard for me to relinquish my maverick tendencies, so against the proffered advice, here they are anyway.

I hope you enjoyed the story. The following section is for:

Those people who watch a film and then want to know how it was made

Those of you who read a book and want to know what inspired the author to write it and how it was inspired

If you are not one of those people, then you should stop reading now.

I’m not one of those people. I don’t read notes at the bottom of pages, look up source references, or dive with glee into tomes that nestle at the back of nonfiction books. But I know many people who are of that persuasion, so here, with my compliments, are some answers to the burning questions that those people have been asking as they have read the story.

While writing the book, I have done some research. Of the many places mentioned in the story, I have first-hand experience. It has long fascinated me how things change, not just due to me growing older, but what I experience as I move in and out of different cultures. Cross-cultural perceptions and experiences can seem alien and inexplicable. These differences can sometimes amuse me. For example, I was at Heathrow airport watching a group of young Indian girls, plainly in the for the first time, having great difficulty in making use of the moving walkway. They giggled nervously at each other and danced in front of it, wondering how to get onto it. They watched amazed as other people stepped past them and walked without a problem onto the moving pavement. It made me chuckle to watch their first-time experience

I once had a Kenyan friend who had obviously never heard of Archimedes law and never before seen a bathtub, having only experienced a shower. He was staying with some English friends, and he thought he would try out this newfangled idea of lying in a small pool of warm water. He filled the bath to the top and climbed in. To his horror, the water displaced by his body swooshed over the sides of the bath, poured under the door, and down the stairs. His hosts, fearing he had drowned, knocked urgently on the bathroom door. He was so embarrassed that he remained silent for a long time. This inspired even greater concern to those knocking on the door. He only broke his silence when he feared they would break down the door.

Herewith the back pages. Enjoy!