Published Books
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Amazon Jungle Adventure
Synopsis |
![]() ![]() My latest exploit is a picture book for the young as my grandsons, Oliver and Edward, are now five years old. For some time, I have had the idea of a fictional story as a picture book describing some of their dad's adventures when we lived in Ecuador. We lived in a valley below Quito, the capital, and as described in the story we had a black Labrador dog called Beauty, two cats named Tabby and Sam and a green parakeet called Birdy Turdy. We lived in a delightful community of individual houses with a central club house, tennis courts and a swimming pool and a horse called Hamlet, who roamed the area and whom anyone could ride Ecuador is a wonderful country in the Andes Mountains in South America. Alex skiied and mountaineered and we visited the jungle, the coast and the Galapagos Islands as well as the countryside with picturesque towns, wild areas and many, many volcanoes. We were lucky to live there for some years and both Andrea and Alex graduated from high school at Academia Cotapaxi. |
Launch: | The launch at Books on Beechwood was a great success and the store was packed with so many of my good friends, supporters, my grandsons and their parents. Colores Andinos provided delightful, nostalgic music from the Andes and the children were able to play alongside them. Rich Lauzon, the illustrator, and I were kept busy signing books. The photos are my grandsons playing with Colores Andinos, listening to my reading and Rich and I. |
Video: | Much to my delight I was invited to read several pages of Amazon Jungle Adventure for this video organized and produced by The Embassy of Ecuador in Ottawa for inclusion in the Storybook Marathon at Home in Ecuador during the weekend of May 28 to 31st, 2020. Christian Oquendo not only made the video but did the Spanish translation. Now a third of the book is in Spanish! This video is also on the YouTube account of the Embassy of Ecuador in Canada. Click Jennifer Cook, author of "Amazon Jungle Book" / Jennifer Cook, autora "Libro de la Selva Amazónica"> for video |
Publisher: | Baico Publishing Inc. |
Available: | Books are available at Books on Beechwood, Octopus Books in the Glebe, Bienvenidos Latin Market at 1731 St. Laurent Blvd and Metro on Beechwood. Also on-line at Amazon.ca and from the author at 613-749-4745. I'd be pleased to arrange readings or signing events. |
Daughters, Mothers and Grandmothers
Synopsis |
![]() ![]() This book is set in Africa on the edge of the Kalahari Desert in the Northern Cape, South Africa. This is a present day story and deals with HIV/AIDS. I chose this subject after my visit to South Africa and Zambia in 2006 when I realized how overwhelming this pandemic was among all age groups and in all levels of society. On my return to Canada, I joined the Capital Grannies to work raising funds as part of the Grandmothers to Grandmothers Campaign under the auspices of the Stephen Lewis Foundation (www.stephenlewisfoundation.org). In May 2010, I travelled with a group of 42 Canadian grandmothers to participate in the first International African Grandmothers Gathering in Manzini, Swaziland. 500 African grandmothers attended the event, which included workshops. Mingling with grandmothers from 13 African countries and hearing their stories and witnessing their strength and courage as they raise their orphaned grandchildren was a powerful experience. On the final day we marched through the streets of Manzini with grandmothers, children, young people and men - two thousand strong - to bring awareness of the grandmothers' fight to turn the tide against this pandemic. A percentage of sales of Daughters, Mothers and Grandmothers was part of The Capital Grannies fundraising. |
Launch: | Daughters, Mothers and Grandmothers was launched on Monday, December 17, 2012 at Books on Beechwood in Ottawa. It was a double celebration as an announcement was made that the store would not close at the end of January as new owners are taking over the store. |
Publisher: | Baico Publishing Inc. |
Available: | From the author. |
Excerpt: |
Preface
Gogos (Grandmothers) Faith, Martha and Selina stood at the door of the meeting room, gently welcoming the elderly African women as they hesitantly came in to sit in a circle on hard metal chairs. They were dressed neatly, with scarves tightly wrapped around their heads. Their shoulders were bowed, their gnarled work-worn hands were in their laps - some busy with beading or crocheting, others twisting and turning in distress and the remaining few lying quite still. Their faces were of different shapes and ages, but all had expressions of infinite sadness and compassion as they listened to one plump woman, her hands twisting a tissue and tears running down her cheeks as she spoke in a soft voice. The other women had to lean inwards in order to hear her words. They all felt and shared her pain as she recounted the death of her youngest daughter - the third one to die - and her struggle with the four grandchildren left in her care. This was her first visit to the circle and she'd come with some misgiving and fear. More and more she found herself isolated from old friends and family and she kept a low profile in her neighbourhood - always aware of the stigma she now carried. It was her neighbour, Mma Selina, who'd persuaded her to come, as she too was caring for a handful of grandchildren and could empathize with her situation. She'd brought along with her the youngest twins - toddlers - and, as Mma Selina had assured her, they'd been whisked away to the nursery by two lively young women when she arrived. As she whispered her story, she explained to the gathered women that the next child, a girl, was no trouble and was at school, but it was the teenaged boy who was causing her extra pain. He was violent at home, lashing out at her and the other children not only with words but with his hands and feet. He wasn't attending school but, she was ashamed to admit, she was glad when he was away, even though it meant he was with a gang causing trouble around the township. These four extra grandchildren joined the five other grandchildren already in her care - all attending school regularly, much to her relief. She just felt overwhelmed and at times suicidal. She scrubbed the tears from her face and, looking around at the kindly faces in the circle, said with a tiny laugh, "Not really, as who'd look after the children?" Mma Faith stood up and embraced her, and she leant her head on the sympathetic shoulder as she sobbed. The other women in the circle stood up slowly, as their aching knees and backs needed to stretch after sitting, and one by one they began to sing and sway from side to side in solidarity. As their song became louder, they began to move and, as they sang and danced their communal cares away, for a short while they felt invigorated and happy. Their fellowship embraced them, so they felt strong and empowered to face a difficult world together. They sang and danced for some time, until the door of the shabby portable room was flung open and two bright-faced young women came in with their lunch. The gogos met once a week at this clinic for counseling, fellowship and a hot lunch. It was a very special time in their week, when they left their small homes and walked some distance to their meeting. Although they enjoyed the whole experience, learned much from the counseling and talks, and loved the fellowship, they especially looked forward to the food, as often they ate little themselves at home in order to have enough for the grandchildren in their care. They all tried to give them one adequate meal each day. Sometimes it was difficult to stretch the food, especially as the teenagers were hungry after a long day at school, so they themselves would go without. This day, lunch was baked chicken legs, mounds of rice and green salad from the clinic's own garden. They sucked the bones clean and then licked their fingers, not wanting to leave a single morsel, and they wiped the plates clean with slices of white store-bought bread. Tea was poured from a large metal teapot into tin cups with lots of sugar and there were bananas for dessert. Some of the women wrapped the bananas in the spare scarves they carried and stashed them in their bags to take home for the grandchildren. Then, feeling content and sleepy, they sang one more song of solidarity, collected their equally contented young grandchildren and slowly made their way home - not for an afternoon siesta, but to deal with their returning grandchildren and their troubles. But they themselves felt good and strong, and hopefully one of the children would have an equally good story to tell. Mmas Faith, Martha and Selina sat down again for five more silent minutes to collect their thoughts and strength after another successful gathering. On their way home to their own grandchildren, they would each be stopping off at the home of the very sick to give a gentle massage, to share a story or to offer a tempting bite or two of banana. Chapter 1"But Mom, it's not fair. I didn't steal him. They broke up weeks ago, but now no one will speak to me." Lydia's voice rose to a high-pitched wail of despair. Lydia was sixteen, of medium height, with bouncy light brown shoulder-length hair and bright hazel eyes. She was sitting across the verandah table from her mother, under a canopy of leafy vines. Her mother, Susan, looked down the tree-shaded garden to the river, and slowly took a sip of iced tea before responding. She was relieved to see that, although Lydia proclaimed to be devastated that she was being shunned by the girls in her class, it hadn't affected her appetite, as she wolfed down a plate of sandwiches and a glass of milk. She looked at her daughter with a mixture of compassion and slight amusement. Lydia noticed her mother's expression and mumbled with a full mouth, "I know, you think I should be pining away if I'm so devastated. I am - really. It's just that I'm starving after an awful morning at school and I always eat when I'm upset - you know that. I'll probably put on pounds and pounds. It's just not fair. Please, help me - tell me what to do!" "Darling, what can I say? I understand that it's the code not to take up with a friend's discarded boyfriend. So why did you do it? Even if they're not a couple any longer, you must've realized that this would happen. Didn't you?" "Yes, but Mandisa had been bad-mouthing Amos ever since they broke up ages ago. When they were a couple, Mandisa raved about him, as he's gorgeous - tall and athletic, with blue eyes and blond hair. A typical Afrikaner! I suppose that's why - I was curious to see what he's really like. He sounded so romantic and caring - very different from all the other boys. I was so envious of her, and I didn't go out with him until weeks after he asked me to go to a movie. Then before I caved in, I asked Mandisa if it was okay and she said yes, she didn't care at all. But she did care, and now she's being really mean to me and all the other girls back her up." Lydia angrily pushed away her empty plate, tipping over her not quite empty glass, and a stream of milk spread across the table as it rolled and dropped off the edge onto the paving stones, splintering in all directions. The two dogs, which had been sleeping under the table, leapt up in consternation and rushed down the steps to the garden before stopping to turn and view the scene. "Sorry, Mom," sobbed Lydia, bursting into tears of remorse, as she too leapt up and rushed into the house. Susan listened to the sound of her footsteps on the stairs and the distant bang of her bedroom door.... She sighed loudly, unsure what to do. |
Molly's Story: Aftermath of War and Love
Windsong on the Silver River
Synopsis |
![]() ![]() Fourteen year old Eric lives at Windsong, an old stone farmhouse, overlooking the Silver River and the Two Moons First Nation's lands where Tom, his best friend, and Rolf, his sister Rachel's fiancé, live. Eric's life revolves around school, horses and his family. With the arrival of spring his alcoholic father returns from a long absence in the city and much to Eric's relief, he is no longer drinking. However, there is another challenge lurking for his father. Find out what happens when Eric and Tom go off on their horses for a long weekend; when the younger children - Noah, Abbey and Eddie - encounter wolves and smugglers and when journalist Rachel takes to the dangerous water to see how the smugglers operate. Share in Eric's adventures, from the pastoral lands of the reserve to the seedier side of Ottawa. |
Publisher: | Baico Publishing |
Available: | Baico Publishing Inc. and the author. |
Excerpt: | "At 14 Eric was almost six feet tall and skinny. He was skinny because he had suddenly shot up like a weed. It seemed to happen almost overnight. Gem had told him not to worry, as he had always grown in spurts and, with his appetite, he would soon fill out. If anyone should worry it was Gem, as she had to feed his voracious appetite. It all began one Saturday afternoon just as spring was tentatively appearing. The snow had melted, and the birds were singing at full pitch when they took a break from frantically flying around searching for nesting material. The tips of plants were breaking through the saturated ground. The sounds, smells and a gentle breeze, which thread its way through the slightly opened window, were beckoning him outside. Eric was in his room doing a school assignment. He stretched, rubbed his eyes hard and flexed his fingers, before he hunched forward again over his keyboard to read what he had written. He changed a word or two, used the spell-check and saved the document. Finally, it was done. He pressed "print", and the printer obligingly spat out the completed pages. With a sigh of relief, he removed the diskette and switched off his computer. He put the typed pages neatly into a transparent sleeve and put it into his backpack with the diskette, ready to take to school on Monday morning. He stood up, yawned and stretched again before walking over to the window and looking out. Eric lived in a grey stone farmhouse called Windsong, which stood well above the bank of the Silver River and looked across at the Two Moons First Nation's lands on the far bank. Behind the house were dense woods, and to the east, beyond the barn and paddocks, ploughed fields stretched to the boundary fence. A gravel road ran along the western boundary beside the orchard and vegetable garden. Flower beds and lawns were gently terraced down to the riverbank where there was a small boathouse and dock. A large stone cairn stood in the river marking both ford and boundary. He could see Gem sitting daydreaming at the weathered wooden picnic table at the side of the house. She was bundled up in his dad's old parka against the cool wind from the river, and was warming her hands around a mug of steaming coffee. Tabby and Sam, the two house-cats, were curled into tight balls on the sun-warmed hood of the truck. Blue, a lean, leggy dog, was scrabbling frantically beneath the table for last year's bones. Gem looked sad as she sipped the scalding coffee. No doubt she was thinking about his dad. He sighed deeply. He was thankful that Gem loved his dad so much that she put up with his disappearances to the city. The attractions of the taverns had again lured him away some weeks ago from the slumbering countryside. Jean-Paul, Johnny, was an alcoholic. Eric had been living with Gem and his dad for eight years now. Although he did not dwell on the past, except when Gem was really low like today, he did sometimes think back to the day when he had come to Windsong. He had been six when his mum had packed up his things in a small bag and bluntly told him that from now on he would be living with his dad in the country. "You'll like it there," she had said, not looking him in the eye. "He lives on a sort of farm with lots of animals." He still remembered how scared he had felt. He had hardly known the man who was his dad. His dad had visited them once or twice but the visits had been cut short because the two adults always began to argue and his dad would leave -- banging the door shut behind him and not saying goodbye to his son. His mother would throw something at the closed door and then yell at Eric, although he had done nothing but sit silently watching and listening. Then his mum had a new man who did not like him. He had been mean to Eric when his mum was not around. So he had been glad he was leaving -- but he had been scared. His mum had given him a hug and told him to be a good boy. Then she had given him a push towards his dad when he came for him. He had never seen her again. His dad had taken his hand in his big one, and his small bag in the other, and they had gone down in the elevator in an uneasy silence. As his dad had opened the back door into the parking lot, he remembered how the sun was shining and Gem had been standing beside the truck. "This is Gem. Gem, Eric." They had solemnly shaken hands and, whenever Eric thought back to that day, he remembered how struck he had been by Gem's friendly blue eyes. She had smiled and said, "Hello Eric," and then she had given him a big, warm hug and said, "I hope we'll be friends," and he had nodded in silence. Then he had noticed the large dog sitting in the back of the truck with a big smile on his face and a large lolling pink tongue. He had given Eric a big wet kiss as soon as he climbed in beside him. He had been too busy stroking Blue to even look back as they drove away to his new home at Windsong." |
Canada with Governor General Lisgar - 1868 and Lady Adelaide, Prince Arthur and Charlotte
Synopsis |
![]() ![]() Have you ever wondered about life in Canada in 1868 - especially in Ottawa? Canada with Governor General Lisgar - 1868 and Lady Adelaide, Prince Arthur and Charlotte is Jennifer Cook's third historical novel for young and older adults. Follow sixteen year old Charlotte Moore as she accompanies Sir John Young, Governor General Lisgar, and his wife Lady Adelaide to Rideau Hall from Ireland. Her twin brother, Ned, a cadet at the Royal Military College, comes later with Prince Arthur, Queen Victoria's favourite son, to continue their military training in the northern dominion. Highlights are the opening of Parliament, horse-racing, shooting the timber slides, rebellion in the Red River Settlement and a Fenian Raid, as well as winter and summer fun in the nation's capital. |
Publisher: | Borealis Press 2004 |
Available: | From the author, publisher and in Ireland from the Carlingford Heritage Centre, Co. Louth (www.carlingfordheritagecentre.com). |
Excerpt: |
Chapter One - Carlingford, IrelandMy story begins on one of those pretty warm summer days, with which we were blessed when we holidayed in Ireland. The sky was bright blue with a few soft clouds lazily floating above Carlingford Lough. The lough was busy with fishing boats, and there were oyster gatherers near the shoreline and, at the northern tip at Grenore, larger vessels were being loaded or unloaded, some with passengers from England. I had driven in from Nootka, our summer family house situated just outside Carlingford, with my young nieces, Constance and Mabel, in the jaunting car. Josephine, the donkey, was in a good humour, so we had no trouble trotting into town. We had a list of items to buy for my sister-in-law, thread for her embroidery and some soft flannel to make baby clothes for the next little Moore expected in the autumn. The most important items were new satin ribbons for the girls, as we were invited to take tea at Baillieborough Castle. I had also strict instructions to bring the boys back from the harbour where they loved to mess about in the boats and listen to the "old salts" tell their tales of sea monsters, pirates, mermaids and exotic places far away across the seas. The boys were my twin brother, Ned, and our two nephews, Ross and Hugh. Ross at seven was already a serious bookworm but Hugh, who was four, was a real little monkey and always getting into trouble. We managed to do all our errands, although Constance took a long time choosing her ribbon not being able to decide whether old rose pink or apple green would be the most becoming with her new sprigged muslin. Although only five, she would not be hurried, whereas Mabel at two was easily pleased with a bright blue ribbon, which matched her sparkling eyes. Josephine was not so pleased to be on the move again, as she had been dozing quietly in the shade of a tree in the small square in front of the Haberdashery. When we arrived down at the harbour, we found people running around and shouting. It turned out that Hugh had disappeared and it was feared that he had fallen into the water at the end of the quay beneath the castle ramparts. Ned was beside himself with anxiety, and the two little girls started to cry, believing their brother had drowned. But Ross was standing on a barrel, calmly looking around the area with his spyglass. "I see him," he cried, pointing excitedly towards the rocks where some of the village lads were searching for gulls' eggs. Sure enough, he had become bored of fishing off the quay and had sneaked away while Ned was affixing another worm on the end of his line. Ned went leaping across the rocks and clambered up to where several older boys were searching without success, as the nesting season was over, and Hugh was doggedly following them. "Hugh," called Ned, "come down at once. We thought you were drowned, you know I told you to stay close to me. I don't expect your mama will allow you to come fishing again, once she hears what happened." Hugh was unrepentant, but he scrambled down quickly to Ned, eager to tell him about his climb up the rocks. "It was great fun. The boys were saying that if they found some eggs, they could eat them for their dinner. Sometimes, they catch a gull and roast it on a fire they build on the sand. I think that would be the greatest sport." "Well, I think that's quite enough excitement for one morning," I said. "Please gather up your tackle and we will head for home. We are all invited to Baillieborough this afternoon, and Edwina thinks Cousin John has something special to tell us all. She mentioned that Jack has been over several times for discussions with Cousin John. Perhaps he has been given another appointment by Queen Victoria and he wants to tell us about it." Ned helped the little ones into the jaunting cart and took hold of Josephine's bridle. I decided to walk as well, so we set off along the lower road home. Ned was silent, I could see he was thinking about what I had said. He was to begin his first term at the Royal Military College in September - following in Jack's footsteps. "Charlotte, what do you think if Cousin John has asked Jack to accompany him on his next appointment? It could be somewhere in India or Africa. Just imagine that. How I long to travel and see the world far away from all this," and his eyes swept over the lough to the Mountains of Mourne and the steep mountain towering over us. "I love it here, but it is all so familiar, I would love to encounter pirates or fierce horsemen in the Khyber Pass. "Do you think Jack would take us all?" Our dreams were interrupted by a loud shriek from Constance as Hugh pulled her hair. I was glad to see Nootka at the end of the lane, and Josephine quickened her step as she neared home. |
Article: |
Touring with Governor General LisgarIn 2004, I was transported back to 1868 with the publication of my book "Canada with Governor General Lisgar - 1868 and Lady Adelaide, Prince Arthur and Charlotte." It began with the celebration of Lisgar Collegiate's 160th anniversary reunion in Ottawa, and my crowning glory was to present a copy of the book to the Princess Royal at a luncheon in Toronto. Prince Arthur was her great great great uncle. Although writing a book is hard work, the promotional book tour is the hardest and most time-consuming part for an author. But it is also an adventure. My tour was to visit the places in my book and it began in Louis Riel-country in St. Boniface (now part of Winnipeg). It was on January 19, 1870 that Kathleen and her family gathered with the people of the Red River Settlement outside Fort Gary to debate their future after their land was sold by the Hudson Bay Company to the Government of Canada. Large bonfires were built to keep the people warm and, some one hundred and twenty-six years later, I stood shivering in the snow outside the modern St Boniface Cathedral looking at Louis Riel's grave. Between the book store visits, the radio interviews and the school presentations, I always found myself waiting for buses on the windiest corners in Winnipeg. I then journeyed to Dublin, Ireland, where on a November morning I set out bright and early in a racy Peugeot northwards to Carlingford, the site of the first of my talks. Carlingford is where my book begins and where my Irish ancestors were the first sovereigns (mayors) of the town. My hostess for the night was a member of the Heritage Association. She greeted me at the bright yellow front door of her home, in the centre of the ancient town, overlooking Carlingford Lough to the Mourne Mountains. My arrival interrupted a friendly game of bridge for lively conversation with tea and hot apple pie with the Carlingford ladies. Although my mother used to spend her summers in Carlingford at the family house, this was only my second visit. I was to speak to a learned group of historians from the region, most of whom knew much more local history than me. My talk began with the Moore family, and I felt my ancestors friendly presence in the Heritage Centre, which had been the local protestant church, as the stained glass altar window, various wall plaques and graves in the churchyard were all visible reminders of the family. The family house, Nootka Lodge, is old and crumbling but still occupied. My presentation and the following discussion were stimulating with such a knowledgeable and interested audience. As a special gift to the Heritage Centre, I brought a copy of Thomas Darcy McGee's book of poetry, which had been published in New York shortly after his assassination in 1868 in Ottawa. McGee's roots are also in Carlingford and a monument was unveiled in 1991 by the Irish President and Prime Minister Mulroney. The next day I drove at speed to Baron Lisgar's town of Baillieborough in County Cavan, where I was to meet forty twelve-year olds from the two local schools in the public library. The speed was due to the urging trucks on my tail on narrow winding roads! At the public library I was greeted by a delightful group of students - boys and girls dressed smartly in their school uniforms and red cheeked from a brisk walk in the rain. Sir John would have been proud of them as they peppered me with questions after the reading. He had always encouraged education, not only in Ireland but Canada also, and he considered the local model school as "the best in the whole of Ireland." Many of the students had family in Canada so knew where it was on a map, but they were surprised to find out that Governor General Lisgar came from Baillieborough, was buried in the churchyard at the end of the main street, and that Canadian Ambassador Mawhinney had dedicated a plaque on his tomb. Back in Dublin, after one more presentation to a class of teenage girls from a private school, I was able to relax and enjoy being a tourist in Dublin. - excerpt from Manor Park Chronicle |
An Iranian Mosaic
Synopsis |
![]() ![]() This is a historical novel for young adults. It is a story of friendship between three very different families in Iran, England and Switzerland during the 1950s, '60s and '70s. It is set against the backdrop of political, religious, and social change in Iran. Together the families experience a pogrom, exile, a kidnapping, a communist plot, an execution, a revolution and encounter freedom fighters and a spy. However, the story has a happy ending in Canada. |
Publisher: | Trafford/Oliver Books of Ottawa 2003 Now also available as an eBook |
Available: | The book is available on-line from Trafford.com, Amazon.com, and the author. |
Excerpt: |
PERSECUTIONTehran, May 1955 "It was dusk. Twelve-year-old Husayn stood perfectly still under the leafy arbour with his eyes closed. All around him, thousands and thousands of small birds were flying in from the desert to roost for the night. The beating of their wings and the clamour of their voices were almost more than he could bear. An occasional soft wing brushed against his face. Feathers, twigs and leaves cascaded lightly down, like a soft rain. He opened his eyes briefly. He felt as if he was in a green tunnel, which was becoming darker and darker, and he was being beaten down, down into a dark vortex. The wings were beating, beating around him, and more and more were brushing against his face, his ears, and through his hair. He felt like screaming -- screaming louder than the noise of the birds, screaming for them to stop. But he didn't. He remained silent. He was in their refuge. He was the intruder. Husayn shut his eyes again and let the sound bombard his whole being. He was there by choice. He didn't have to be there. But, in a way, he wanted to be assaulted by sound because it drowned out the other terrible pain in his mind and heart. All at once, the whirr of wings ceased, the birdsong reached a crescendo, reminding him of a full orchestra reaching a magnificent climax and then there was complete silence. He opened his eyes. It was quite dark. Very slowly, so as not to disturb the birds, Husayn crept out to sit on the stone edge of the goldfish pond beneath the huge mulberry tree in the centre of the garden. He was literally shaking with stress and exhaustion. The only light penetrating through the dark was from the house. He felt overwhelmingly thankful that his family was safe within the confines of the high wall, which shut out a hostile world." |
Flight across the Mekong