Meet The Characters
(All illustrations are courtesy of my very talented sister, Sommer-Rose Day - you can follow her art on Instagram, @sommerrose_artist)
NEW RELEASE!
Which Character are You? Quiz
Officer Arthur Lawrence
Brazen SFPD officer who uncovers the corruption behind one of San Francisco's biggest names.
'Lawrence knew what he hoped to uncover. A case to elevate his prestige. The Big One. The infamous Zodiac Killer.'
Mr. Friston
The Great Employer himself - proprietor of Friston Farm.
'The man was familiar: he was the image of America, the cowboy, the gunslinger, the pioneer, the self-made man, all rolled into one. With that grizzled masculinity, features lined with wisdom; crumpled like an ancient map. His clothes were a pristine version of the rancher’s, and he wore a denim jacket with torn sleeves that was tight to his chest – perhaps it had once fitted him. He slipped a Stetson onto his head, which shielded his eyes.'
Be warned: Mr. Friston is a monologuer
Friston Farm
'The drive along the farm track seemed to take forever, as hearts stammered with awe and eyes scanned all that the land had to offer.
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Fertile acres either side, fenced off by wire and entangled vegetation that had been baked in the sun. To the east, there were three sections of crop; each one stretched to the horizon. The first was a field of green, sowed with a bean of some kind (some kind, for although my father aspired to be a farmer, he had little knowledge or experience.) A raffish charm loitered, and dust rose from the parched earth. At the throats of the crop swept a cloud of pollen.'
Hamata Yamamoto
A dreamer from the small fishing village of Aisho Delta, Japan; Hamata yearns for a life of adventure. When tales of the United States pour across the Pacific, he knows that fate is calling.
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'My father relayed it in his mind, giddy with anticipation. His excitement mingled with the hard labour, amplifying his efforts into strong-will and strong arms, as he and another zealous immigrant carried a crate of sardines to the already cramped stern.'
Tenshi Tomiyama
Hidden aboard the Unmei, her and Hamata's stories entwine. In the United States, she must learn to let go of all that she left behind.
'She gave a desperate tug at the cloak as the boat jumped again on the turbulent waves. She said: “No – please, just go.” Paranoid glances flickered from her doe eyes to the crew members up the deck. They were oblivious to her, however.'
Tim Shackleton
The brute of Friston Farm. As loyal as a dog to Mr. Friston.
'“A troublemaker, hey?” Shackleton lifted Sora’s head by the chin; “Why di’n’t you wake up, hmm? You musta heard me, cos I was plenty loud ‘nuff. All ya’ll other friends are fine and dandy.” (Shackleton had forgotten the absence of the translator); “Lazy. That’s what you are – lazy. An’ when one goes boilin’ the coffee, it stokes the whole lot to think they can do the same. Laziness means trouble. You wanna know what we do wi’ troublemakers? It ain’t pretty, nor is it quiet."'
Mr. Pearson
Veteran farmhand and loyal devotee of Mr. Friston.
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A source of comedy because of his intoxicated tendencies and gargoyle features.
'Never was there a finer specimen of neanderthal man than Mr. Pearson. He rivalled Brett and Denver to the claim. An oaf that swamped Hamata in stature – as they had seen on the porch, where the house of a brute had ducked to fit through the door. His gait was slow and purposeful, as if he had anchors at his legs and had to calculate beforehand where he was going to step in case he should fall through the bottom of the Earth.'
Nathanial Lyncher
The leader of a sinister cult that terrorises the farm.
'“Ah, yes. Where are my manners. The name's Nathaniel Lyncher.” He shook hands with Mr. Friston from across the desk; “You don't know me, but I'm here to discuss a matter of privacy.” He looked over his shoulder at the three men, who had seated again. Most of his attention was fixed on my father, an expression of dislike.'
Sora
Love rival for Tenshi. Possesses the dream of going to New York and becoming a businessman.
'“Japan was too small for me. Where I came from, it was too small. The village – too small. I was ambitious, too ambitious for that place. I wanted something bigger and better of life, you know? Something magnificent, like I was destined for greatness – and I could hear the future calling me, calling across the waves. I was tired of fixing up broken heirlooms – vases, and fans, and clocks, and China sets – I wanted more."'
Yurushi
Friend and companion to Hamata and Tenshi. A practical and hard worker.
'Yurushi, too, had evidence of a transformation that my mother did not. Yurushi had a wooden quality to her. She had attempted to gird herself against the abrasion of the world, but the world had fought back – such as in her glass face, where chips and scratches had been abused into her.'
French
A journeyman who joins the farm during its Golden Age.
'Despite his scholarly and lean appearance, which would imply that he had never lifted a finger in his life, he was as strong as an ox. A scholarly appearance illustrated by his red-skinned double-breasted coat, which he wore despite the heat. It was of rich leather: worn at the cuffs but well-coloured. French’s tanned complexion was almost the same shade, and gleamed brassy on his balding but well-polished head, where strings of hair had been swept to disguise the patch. It would have been more effective to cover it with a bandana (he wore one round his neck.)'
The Translator
Allied to French.
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An enigma upon the farm.
'“How he never says his name. Not once. It’s been a month. It’s strange.” My father was forced to look, for Tenshi nudged him. She asked: “Do you believe what they say?”
“About him?” my father shook his head and looked down again; “No.”
“But look at him – there’s something not right. I know it.”'
The Veteran
A cameo for a war hero.
'The man continued: “I'd only signed up a couple of weeks before. Honestly, hardly knew what I was doing when it all wen' off. Our Major General was beefed, and I just wan'ed to get away.” He paused; a gruff stream of air passed from his nostrils; “Barbarism is what it was. Even that's not accurate enough.”
My father recognised the man's tone, of agony from past haunts – he had heard it in Mr. Friston.'