If you'd rather place an order by talking to one of our cheerful order desk clerks, please call 1-888-232-4444 (USA and Canada only) or 250-383-6864. From Europe, ring our UK order desk clerk at local rate number 0845 230 9601 (UK only) or 44 (0)1865 722 113.

Redemption in Paradise

by Shane Joseph

229 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #04-1436; ISBN 1-4120-3608-9; US$21.00, C$24.50, EUR17.50, £12.50

A tale of redemption spanning the ages and set in present day war-torn Sri Lanka, once described by travelers as a Paradise Isle.

Read more!

About the Book

About the Author

Excerpts

Catalogue Information

About the Book

"THERE ARE NO right or wrong choices. If your choices do not lead to wisdom, you will get other chances. In this life - or in another," says Gunananda, a fi fth century sage, somewhere in Sigiriya.

This prediction follows a motley collection of tourists arriving in present-day Sri Lanka on a four-day tour. Aggressive Australian journalist Sarah has troubling visions of a past life. She desires John, an idealist from Vancouver writing a thesis on fear. American expatriates Margaret and Robert Keane are embroiled in a love-hate relationship, haunted by the memory of their dead son. Returning emigrant Lionel is anxiously seeking the country he left behind. And burly Jefferson conceals the secret that brought him east, whilst liberally indulging an appetite for prostitutes. Escorting them is hard-drinking Asoka, struggling to survive the hardships of life in the war-torn island. As they step on the tour bus, each traveller unknowingly makes an appointment with destiny.

Beginning with a roadside shooting of terrorist suspects, the tour meanders through Kelaniya, Dambulla and the rock fortress of Sigiriya, culminating in Kandy. Then things go terribly wrong and unexpected events force them to a temple in the jungle and a meeting with the mysterious Buddhist nun Gunanandani.

Mix in psychometry, a ghostly image captured on camera, arms smugglers and a tattered band of military deserters, and the travellers are swept into a confl ict that was never part of their itinerary.

In the tragic climax at the crumbling temple, valuable lessons are learned, leaving lives indelibly changed. And the prophecy of Gunananda is fulfilled.

---

About the Author

Shane Joseph began writing as a teenager living in Sri Lanka and is a graduate of the Humber School for Writers. He has travelled to one country for every year of his life and intends to maintain that record, more or less. Redemption in Paradise is his first novel. He has completed a second novel and is working on a collection of short stories.

Shane lives in Toronto, Canada.

---

Excerpts

The mule carried her through the jungle, the eunuch holding the reins and walking ahead. They travelled slowly, making frequent stops as soldiers were moving about the undergrowth, and one did not know which side they were on. Twigs cracked nearby and a figure emerged from the trees. It was the guru. He was walking towards them and away from Sigiriya. He may have been taking a stroll in the temple - his step was leisurely and measured. "Shh! Guru Gunananda - it is me, Sarala."

"Ah, my child. You decided to leave then?"

"Yes. Will you travel with us? It's not safe out here."

"Thank you. But I have to walk my own path now. And you have to go over to the one you have chosen." Then he looked at her closely. "You are still wearing the clothes of Kasyapa's house. You need to change. The conversion to the other side, if it is to be, must be complete."

She had thought about this when they set out from Sigiriya but could not part with the clothing that became her. She looked like a princess. She was a painting on the palace wall because of this.

"I can't. I won't. Gamini will accept me for who I am," she said emphatically.

"If that is what your inner voice tells you - then follow that path. Farewell, then!" The guru continued on his way. Soon he was swallowed up in the jungle. As they crested a hill, Sarala looked back. She could see the Rock on fire. Mogalana's troops must have broken through Kasyapa's army and were burning the rock fortress. Flames spat out of the mouth of the lion and the giant stone structure looked like a living dragon in the night.

"Stop!"

She turned around in the saddle to see men emerging silently out of the jungle. Their uniforms indicated they were Mogalana's troops. The eunuch reached for his sword but was hit simultaneously by several arrows. With a gurgling scream, that sounded more like a pig's squeal, he fell heavily onto the ground, dying instantly. The shawl fell off her head and slid down her shoulders revealing the headgear and necklace of Kasyapa's palace. Her proud breasts thrust through - the only defense against these bloodthirsty men.

She shouted proudly. "Take me to Gamini, Mogalana's general. I am his betrothed. You will not harm me!"

"Look at her. She is one of Kasyapa's women."

"Take her!"

"Rape her!"

"No - you are mistaken! Take me to Gamini, I say!"

"Kill her!"

Her pleas went ignored. She held her head high and preserved her dignity while the lead soldier, a big, fat ugly man, hauled her off the mule onto the ground and fell upon her. She ignored the pain and humiliation as they ravaged her body, one after the other, sometimes two from either side. She kept her thoughts on Gamini. Would she have grown to love him? Even Kasyapa crossed her mind, the pain of the moment evoking memories of her first night with him. Her regret was that this had gone wrong. She would never know what love is. But the guru said there were no wrong choices. And there would always be another chance. She blacked out and was spared further ignominy as they savaged her body until death released her spirit.

* * *

The house or walauwe, was a sprawling colonial relic handed down through many generations of Athukorales, with wide verandahs circling it on all sides, set in a four acre garden. The tiles on the roof were black with age and green moss hugged sections of the walls. Most of the outer garden was wild and unmowed, although a few flower beds near the foundations of the house were well tended, giving a splash of colour to an otherwise drab exterior. A Nissan sedan sat in the driveway, but its sides were showing the first signs of corrosion. Perhaps, some shine is going out of Camelot?

The wheelchair on the verandah should have given Lionel a sign of what to expect. His friend was in rattan armchair with a blanket draped over and did not get up to greet him. Lionel would always remember that bemused yet apologetic look on Mervyn's face. A face that had aged considerably - the eyes sunken with thinning hair streaked grey. Lionel tried to keep from gasping when he noticed that under the blanket, Mervyn had no feet - his legs ended in stumps at the knees. Anita, her hair also grey but tied in a konde, was dressed in a traditional green and yellow Kandyan sari. She greeted him graciously and tried to deflect from her husband's obvious handicap, by asking him about his trip, Canada and other trivialities. She too looked tired, but stoic. The rest of the evening was a blur of conversation:

"Those bastards planted bombs at the political rally, no men!"

"I told you not to run in the election. You men never listen..."

"We have to do what has to be done, no. If no one will step forward, who will lead this country?"

"What happened to the election?"

"Lost the seat. How to campaign, machang? I was in hospital for six months..."

"What about the kids? How did they take all this?"

"Sarath went off soon afterwards. He is an engineer in Saudi Arabia. He misses us. We miss him too...Anoma left last month to join her husband in Los Angeles. He's doing well - doctor. Hope we can visit them sometime when she is settled..."

"Aney, our Jagath here now wants to join the army. What nonsense, no? Lionel, can you talk some sense into this child? He won't listen, just like his father."

"What happened to your wife, machang? You said she was taking some treatment in your last e-mail. Sorry, I lost interest in correspondence after the bombing..."

"Prema passed away last year. Cancer."

"Sorry to hear

---