06 Feb The Adventures of Ruby Pi and the Geometry Girls Tom Durwood #YAadventure #ScienceGirls #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub @TDurwood @cathiedunn

FEATURED AUTHOR: TOM DURWOOD

Please welcome Tom Durwood as the featured author in The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour being held between February 6th — February 10th, 2023. Tom Durwood is the author of the YA fiction, The Adventures of Ruby Pi and the Geometry Girls (Ruby Pi Adventure Series),  released by Empire Studies Press on December 22,  2022 (147 pages).

Below are highlights of The Adventures of Ruby Pi and the Geometry Girls, Tom Durwood’s author bio, and an excerpt from his book.

To follow the blog tour, CLICK Tour Schedule 

HIGHLIGHTS: THE ADVENTURES OF RUBY PI AND THE GEOMETRY GIRLS

 

The Adventures of Ruby Pi and the Geometry Girls

(Ruby Pi Adventure Series)

By Tom Durwood

(Blurb)

Young adult fiction featuring gambling, bandits, swordplay, probability and Bayes’ Theorem. An English teacher hopes to engage students with colorful STEM adventures.

“In this outstanding collection, Tom addresses the chronic problem of our young women dropping out of STEM studies. His stories lend adventure to scientific thinking.” (~ Tanzeela Siddique, Math Instructor)

Buy Links:

Universal Link     Amazon UK     Amazon US     Amazon CA     Amazon AU   

Barnes and Noble     Kobo     Best Sellers Bookstore

AUTHOR BIO:  TOM DURWOOD

Tom Durwood is a teacher, writer and editor with an interest in history. Tom most recently taught English Composition and Empire and Literature at Valley Forge Military College, where he won the Teacher of the Year Award five times. Tom has taught Public Speaking and Basic Communications as guest lecturer for the Naval Special Warfare Development Group at the Dam’s Neck Annex of the Naval War College.

Tom’s ebook Empire and Literature matches global works of film and fiction to specific quadrants of empire, finding surprising parallels. Literature, film, art and architecture are viewed against the rise and fall of empire. In a foreword to Empire and Literature, postcolonial scholar Dipesh Chakrabarty of the University of Chicago calls it “imaginative and innovative.” Prof. Chakrabarty writes that “Durwood has given us a thought-provoking introduction to the humanities.” His subsequent book “Kid Lit: An Introduction to Literary Criticism” has been well-reviewed. “My favorite nonfiction book of the year,” writes The Literary Apothecary (Goodreads).

Early reader response to Tom’s historical fiction adventures has been promising. “A true pleasure … the richness of the layers of Tom’s novel is compelling,” writes Fatima Sharrafedine in her foreword to “The Illustrated Boatman’s Daughter.” The Midwest Book Review calls that same adventure “uniformly gripping and educational … pairing action and adventure with social issues.” Adds Prairie Review, “A deeply intriguing, ambitious historical fiction series.”

Tom briefly ran his own children’s book imprint, Calico Books (Contemporary Books, Chicago). Tom’s newspaper column “Shelter” appeared in the North County Times for seven years. Tom earned a Masters in English Literature in San Diego, where he also served as Executive Director of San Diego Habitat for Humanity.

Two of Tom’s books, “Kid Lit” and “The Illustrated Boatman’s Daughter,” were selected “Best of the New” by Julie Sara Porter’s Bookworm  Book Alert

Social Media Links:

Website     Newsletter     Twitter     Facebook    LinkedIn

Pinterest     Amazon Author Page     Goodreads

 

EXCERPT: THE ADVENTURES OF RUBY PI AND THE GEOMETRY GIRLS

 

1. ON TALLAHASSEE STREET

The most basic question is not what is best,

but who shall decide what is best.

– Thomas Sewell

The housing units for Tyndall Air Force Base, the Florida panhandle home to the 325th Operations Group, were well- equipped with dishwashers and refrigerators and televisions and air conditioning – all the modern conveniences promised in the World War. 

On an E-5 salary, Staff Sergeant Saginaw Smith, valued member of the Second Fighter Interceptor Squadron, had provided well for his family.

Right now, the Sergeant stood at the bay window in the carpeted living room of his home. He was using a military-issue pair of binoculars, leather lash around his neck, to scan the street and, beyond, the flat Florida vista.   

“Quit watching, Daddy. Come have a lemonade.”

Jimmy Davis and the Twibell boys were playing street hockey out front.  Several neighborhood girls on bicycles circled the action. One of them was singing that old song, “At the Hop.”

“Two hours late,” he chided. “These big-city Negroes …”

“They’re not coming,” said Shawnee. “I’m almost happy. I’ve been all nervous about it anyway.”

“Hold your horses now, girl. Here’s someone … ”

A ’62 Chevrolet Bel Air approached, turning onto Tallahassee Street.  The car drove past the youth center, slowed down for the hockey game, and kept going past the Smith household.       

“Nope,” said the Sergeant. 

Shawnee and Cissy played cards without enthusiasm in the dining room. 

The card game changed from Crazy Eights to Slap Jack.

The distinctive drone of a fighter rose from outside. Torquing engines grew from a background noise to a roar, right overhead.    

“F-84 Escorts,” called the Sergeant. “Big shots. Too slow for the damn MIGS, though. Those swept wings …”

Now he saw two 1958 Plymouth Club Coupes, big and clunky and ugly, making their way up Tallahassee Street. .

The duo cruised cautiously up the street. They stopped to ask directions from Jimmy Davis. He pointed to the Smith house. 

The two cars approached and, tires crunching gravel, turned into the Smith driveway.

“Our guests have arrived,” the Sergeant announced.

 

2. LEMONADE

The best idea always wins.       

— Matthew Weiner

Four Negro men and two Negro women stepped through the screen door and into the carpeted living room.  Heads bobbed and hands shook.   

Sergeant Smith held the screen door open as they entered. “Come on in.”

“Master Sergeant Saginaw Smith, Second Fighter Squadron,” Shawnee’s father said.

“This here is my neighbor, Cissy Thomas.”    

Introductions were made.

“And this here is my daughter. Shawnee. She’s the one you come to see …”

In the center of the living room… sat a composed girl, all of fourteen.

She rose from her wheelchair and balanced on the leg braces.

Gawky on the way up, she stood tall and straight.

One of the women stepped forward. “Margery Rustin.”

“Shawnee,” said Margery Rustin. “We have come a long way to meet you.”

Cissy handed out glasses of lemonade from two silver trays.

“Martin,” said Margery Rustin.

The others stepped aside to make way.

A man in his late thirties stepped forward.

He wore a dark suit, despite the summer heat. He held a hat in his left hand.

He extended his right hand. 

“Martin Luther King, Jr., Miss Smith. Very pleased to meet you.” His eyes were wide-set and kind.

Shawnee could not curtsy, or even bow, not much anyway, without risking her posture, with her leg braces and crutches and all.

So she nodded her head in a most welcoming manner.

She shook hands warmly with her guest.

The quality of the girl’s smile upon holding the hand of the Reverend King made all else secondary.

 

3. THE CHALLENGE

Gold is its own country. 

— Matthew Hart

 “Professor Jamison of Florida Atlantic speaks so highly of you, Shawnee,” said Margery Rustin when they were all seated.   

“He urged us to make time. He seemed most genuine.”

A heavy-set man, Jules Telford, sat forward on the green stiffed chair where the Sergeant often sat. 

Glasses of lemonade were refilled from the pitcher on the silver platter.

“We detoured from Miami. We are anxious to learn of this mysterious equation in your letter.

GNNP = pop.  (@11 % ) @11% + capital  growth % – OC

And what you meant by the phrase ‘Gross Negro National Product.’”

Shawnee set aside her notes.

“Yes, ma’am.  I mean the Black American economy. Its dimensions and its changing nature, year over year.”   

“You have calculated that?”

“Yessir. You’ll see the charts. And we believe we have a method to dramatically increase that number.”

Jules Telford grunted.

The fan overhead whirred quietly, augmenting the air conditioning unit in the window.

“It’s just that you all have worked so hard,” continued Shawnee, “to gain rights from Congress for our people, when the truth is…” She took a napkin to swipe beads of moisture which had appeared on the silver platter.  

“The truth is that the Negro Nation,” she said, “does not need any help. We can do fine on our own. Economically.”

She smoothed her skirt.    

Her father nodded his head.

“Mine is a mighty God,” said Cissy softly, crushing the paper in her hand.

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