In Book 2 of the Comfort & Company series, L.A. private investigators Kit and Henry become entangled in the city's robust post-WWII occult trade when they're hired to track down Lillian, the estranged wife of a prominent physician, and her spellbinding "spirit" lover Tashin. Fresh from her training in judo and “dirty fighting,” Kit poses as an eager recruit at a Hollywood cult run by the ambitious Reverend, while Henry takes on the city's séance circuit, which has reinvented itself in the wake of war. Assisting them are Kit's psychiatrist lover Luca and her combat veteran brother Stanley, who offer their own brand of expertise in unraveling the tricks of the conmen. Plunged into the strange and deadly world of mediums and gurus, Kit and Henry soon discover that surviving the spirit trade will take all of their cunning and a whole lot of luck.
In Book 2 of the Comfort & Company series, L.A. private investigators Kit and Henry become entangled in the city's robust post-WWII occult trade when they're hired to track down Lillian, the estranged wife of a prominent physician, and her spellbinding "spirit" lover Tashin. Fresh from her training in judo and “dirty fighting,” Kit poses as an eager recruit at a Hollywood cult run by the ambitious Reverend, while Henry takes on the city's séance circuit, which has reinvented itself in the wake of war. Assisting them are Kit's psychiatrist lover Luca and her combat veteran brother Stanley, who offer their own brand of expertise in unraveling the tricks of the conmen. Plunged into the strange and deadly world of mediums and gurus, Kit and Henry soon discover that surviving the spirit trade will take all of their cunning and a whole lot of luck.
(Excerpt from “Survival: My Journey to Enlightenment.” CoEB Press, 1948)
Death, as a concept, bubbles up often in my current existence, but in my previous life, I did my best to keep the topic at bay, to push down my fears and ignore any pain. Months after the war’s end, I was still rationing my sadness, still offering fake smiles and unearned laughs.
That began to change with the death of my grandmother. Days before, she had taken a bad fall and her recovery had been fitful. I dropped by the hospital once or twice, but on that last Sunday, I canceled my planned visit and attended one of my husband’s archery competitions instead. She passed during the night.
Gramma had always been the kind constant in my life—more giving than my mother—and her departure from this world was a blow to my defenses. Its full impact, however—my shame especially— didn’t hit me until later. Even then, as I first stood by her open grave under that scorching sun, dry martinis in ice-cold glasses were all I was thinking about.
In her will, Gramma instructed she be buried at Forest Lawn, in the Everlasting Love section, next to her beloved husband, my grandpa. He had succumbed to a stroke a few years earlier, and his demise rendered Gramma spiritually unbalanced. Or as she put it, without him by her side, her life had no joy. At the time, I didn’t associate Gramma’s spiritual imbalance with a literal imbalance, the type of vertigo that caused her to misjudge a step, take a spill and break her hip, but the connection seems obvious to me now.
I also see now the deep imprint that my grandparents’ long and loving marriage left on my psyche. My parents’ marriage was fragile and my own romances were flops. But Gramma and Grandpa’s bond truly was everlasting—in life and beyond. Who doesn’t yearn for that?
No doubt that if my native Californian Gramma had been in charge of the matter, her burial would have taken place on a rainy dawn in winter. As it turned out, however, the fates preferred a cloudless afternoon in July. The night before, a Santa Ana wind had blown in, delivering a day of gusts so hot and dry they all but set fire to the lungs. The service at the Wee Kirk o’ the Heather Church had been reasonably well-attended, but most of the mourners, including my husband, skipped the burial. While immaculate and stubbornly green, the lawn the cemetery was famous for had absorbed the wind’s heat, making standing graveside more hellish than heavenly.
The minister-for-hire went through his rituals as quickly as was socially acceptable. But as he was delivering his final words over Gramma’s coffin, the birds and insects of Forest Lawn went abruptly silent. I felt the silence more than I heard it, but I sensed instantly that something was off and something else was eminent. And just as that anticipation hit, the sky’s light dimmed and the air dulled. We had been plunged, midday, into dusk.
During the next few seconds, my ears started to ring, or rather, hum. My heart raced, and I gasped. Then I fainted. My knees gave out and I tumbled to the ground. I toppled just inches from the open grave, my left arm dangling over the side. I quickly recovered but when I opened my eyes, the world was tinged with red and the air that swirled around me was frigid. I could hear murmurs of concern and felt someone touching my back. Embarrassed, I struggled to my feet and assured everyone I was fine.
And for a time, I fooled myself into believing that I was fine. On the drive home from the cemetery, I heard radio bulletins describing the total solar eclipse that had just occurred in the Northern Hemisphere. Everything I had experienced during the funeral was unusual but explainable. A natural phenomenon.
Or was it? Was Gramma’s funeral occurring at the same time as a rare astronomical event a coincidence? Or had Fortuna influenced the scheduling somehow? What had I seen? What had I felt? Had I felt through that cold wind Gramma’s spirit heading for the Afterlife? Or was it the stirring of my own sorrow, blowing around me in warning? Or both?
Mystery and intrigue abound in this climactic book by A.D. Price. Set in the gritty underbelly of postwar occult culture, The Birthplace of Eternity smartly weaves a world where seances are the norm and psychics have their secrets. This is a captivating mystery rich in historical illustrations, con artists, and crime.
The story centers around private investigators Kit and Henry, who are planted squarely in the middle of a thriving postwar paranormal culture. They are hired to find Lillian, who is missing along with her in-spirit lover, Tashin.
There is no shortage of gripping drama, intrigue, and mystery in The Birthday of Eternity. I thoroughly enjoyed the depth of the characters, and the author did an excellent job integrating each story into the whole. The believable and relatable stories make this an enjoyable and spellbinding tale. Readers who are interested in mystery, crime, and seances will enjoy the twists and turns that continually test the limits of the 3rd dimension.
I categorize this as a richly complex story that was enjoyable and thought-provoking. One of my favorite aspects is the description of the postwar time period, which was relevant and easy to imagine. The author added numerous details that set the story up as a captivating adventure for the reader.
While gripping and enthralling as a mystery novel, the interwoven relationships added even more depth to a great story. I would also categorize this as a tidy novel with no plot holes.
Of interesting note, I work as a psychic medium for humans and animals, and I deeply understand the relevance of mediums working today. Those of like-minded fields will see the impact con artists, crime, and mystery have had on the unseen spiritual (occult) world. That being said, readers who love a good mystery will enjoy the deeply immersive storyline.