February 5th was the 14th anniversary of my first post on Murder is Everywhere. It was a guest post opportunity extended by the late, great inimitable Leighton Gage. That post led to another guest post, and ultimately to an invitation to be a permanent member of the MIE writing family. Agreeing to write that first post turned out to be one of the best decisions of my mystery writing life, for it's led me to more friendships, opportunities, and rich experiences than I'd ever imagined.
That same guest opportunity is now available on Sundays to other authors. I can assure you that you'll be well served on taking up that invitation. For one never knows where it can lead as we hit the six million views mark.
Here's what Leighton had to say in his blush-inducing generous introduction of my first post:
Saturday is the day that we reserve for guest authors.
Today it's the turn of the estimable Jeffrey Siger.
Jeff was born and raised in Pittsburgh. He
practiced law at a major Wall Street law firm before establishing his
own New York City law firm and continuing as one of its name partners
until giving it all up to write full-time among the people, life, and
politics of his beloved Mykonos, his adopted home of twenty-five years.
When he’s not in Greece, his other home is a farm outside New York
City. Murder in Mykonos (Poisoned Pen Press 2009), the first in
his Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis series, was the #1 best selling
English-language novel in Greece, and the Greek version of his just
published second novel in the series, Assassins of Athens (Poisoned Pen Press, 2010), instantly became one of Greece’s top ten best sellers.
Here's Jeff in his own words and pictures:
I
live within the cradle of European civilization, less than a mile from
the birthplace of the god of light, amidst a circle of islands that once
hosted the crossroads of trade for the ancient world. But it’s eons
since the birth of Apollo, two and a half millennia beyond its glory
days of commerce, and 2000 years since the island heart of this Cycladic
chain was obliterated from the face of the earth and its 20,000
residents slaughtered or sold into slavery in retribution for backing
the wrong protector.
Over the ensuing centuries a succession of
plunderers, foreign and domestic, made off with its treasures and the
small, razed island came to serve as little more than a source of
building materials and hunting grounds for surrounding islanders. In
1872 things began to change. The French School of Archeology started
excavations and today it represents the most varied collection of ruins
in all of Greece, conveying to visitors a sense of eternal spirituality
that no doubt was what made it second only to Delphi in sacred
importance to the ancients.
But that’s Delos. I don’t live there. No
one does. No one is allowed to, or for that matter to be born or die
there. The Athenians decided in 425 BC to purify Apollo’s birthplace,
and removed all graves to the nearby island of Rhenia. I don’t live
there either, only a handful do, but the spear fishing off its shores is
about as good as it gets in that part of the world.
My
home is on another neighbor island, and though larger than Delos (one
and a half times the size of Manhattan) it barely received much notice
in Delos’ heyday. Yes, it was known for agriculture and highly
desirable clay deposits used to create that era’s equivalents of tuna
fish cans, pickle jars, and cereal boxes, but it definitely was not the
main show. Not even an opening act.
It
was an island of granite, forced to endure centuries of foreign
occupiers, one after another from the Middle Ages through the middle of
the 20th Century. Those years generated a lot of history,
filled with daring pirates, dashing heroes (male and female),
bittersweet realities, and many tales, but there’s no time to tell those
stories now.
Besides, times have changed, the focus of
visitors today is on the present and I doubt a time traveler from just
fifty—certainly seventy—years ago would recognize my island home today.
It is a new sort of international cross roads, one of dazzling beaches,
mega-yachts, private jets, and 24/7 lifestyles. It is Europe’s most
popular tourist island, the sexy Aegean island of Mykonos.
Assuming you’ve never experienced my
island’s incredible light, the unmatched beauty of its sea, and
omnipresent energy that would do the gods of Delos proud, the thought of
my choosing to live in such a “tourist paradise” might lead you to
question my sanity or at least my taste. Believe me, there are a
lifetime of reasons for asking that question, but my decision to make
Mykonos my home is not one of them; and for a very simple reason:
Mykonos is not Disneyland, it is a real place filled with remarkable
people.
Mykonians
are a warm and hospitable breed, raising families in keeping with
deeply held traditions, and yet they are among the most accepting people
on earth. I’m continually amazed at how tourists intrude with cameras
upon the most personal of public events, such as a funeral, and not one
local objects. I once thought that was because Mykonians considered
tourist season some sort of annual tsunami that rushed in upon their
island for three months leaving them no choice but acceptance until it
receded in September. But I’ve come to think differently. Mykonians
overlook behavior from visitors that they would never tolerate from one
of their own because they know no offense or ill will is intended. They
accept that behavior for what it is: foreign.
There
is an additional reason I live there. I write mystery thrillers that
just happen to explore serious societal issues confronting modern Greece
while touching upon the country’s ancient roots. During tourist
season, many visitors from the mainland and beyond willingly share their
private thoughts and confidences in relaxed beachside chats or pre-dawn
whispered conversations in a club or bar. The world comes to party on
Mykonos, and I sit with pen and (inconspicuous) pad in hand gathering in
all the material they’re willing to share. Yes, I’ve learned to surf
the tsunami. Fish it, too. Hard work, but alas, we must suffer for our
art.
You can, and we here at Murder is Everywhere hope you will, visit Jeff at his website:
He's a great guy, and a fine writer!
––Leighton
––Jeff
Jeff's Upcoming In Person Events
Posts
Happy MIEnniversary, Jeff! I just realised that almost everything I know about Greece comes via your books or your posts or reading a news bit simply because 'Jeff and Barbara might be somewhere around there'
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