Just at quick post to note what a thrill it was for this Portland boy to see copies of Under False Flags: A Novel appear on the shelves at Powell's Books mothership location on W. Burnside.

I've been going in Powell's since my teens and now live near the main store. It's always been close, like the local library, familiar and yet exotic from all the far-flung stories and knowledge arriving inside all those books. But seeing a book of your own land in the local bookstore of legend is a surreal experience that amazed me more than expected, in a good way.

I thought I was pretty jaded, having traveled a hell of a long way on that hard road a writer chooses. Moments like these remind me to stop and enjoy the ride.