True Review
Current Issue Number 79 Vol.22   January 2012

Adiuvante Gratia Tua
(“With the Help of Your Grace”)

The following editorial was intended for our last update, True Review 78 . Then, the unexpected happened - the passing of my former colleague and friend, Carl Spicer.

Typically, I just replace the old with the new. Then, I re-read this editorial. All too often those that have a huge impact on our lives are forgotten. Placed in a file cabinet or on a shelf. That’s just wrong. And life’s too short. And we can never say “thanks” often enough.

However, as a fellow journalism grad and publishing cohort, Carl knew that you march on. Not so much forgotten but perhaps just moved to the side a bit for the next issue coming down the pike.

So, rather than take down Carl’s info, Carl’s page will now become part of “Our History” Page, to be added to as time goes on and I remember and recall all the people who were not too busy to help a young, sometimes brash, but eternally grateful kid along the way.

I confess I’ve never prayed much. This despite growing up Catholic under the guidance of lifelong, church-going Catholic parents, attending Catholic school and even assisting the priest as an altar server.

Each Wednesday was Novena, the Mass for our Blessed Mother Mary. Step by step, bead after bead, we would say the rosary, murmuring our prayers quietly under our breath.

I would rush through a mumble of “Hail Mary’s” at about 10-second recitals. A hyperactive kid really struggles through a Novena Mass, let me tell you.

One of the few times I can remember praying was when my son, Kevin and I were involved in a violent car accident in 2007. We both landed in the hospital – but, thankfully, with no lasting issues.

Still, I regret not praying when I should have.

On a somewhat cold day this past February, I headed out to run some errands with my wife, Debbie. (Ironically, as I was to find out, the first stop was her doctor’s office.) The previous night had brought a light coating of snow. So that morning before my jaunt, I had applied an “environmentally safe” de-icer to our sidewalk. (In this case, environmentally safe meant personally deadly.) Unfortunately, instead of melting and dissipating, the de-icer turned the sidewalk into a gooey (and unbeknownst to us) very slick surface.

Coming off the side door steps, my left foot went to the right, my coffee cup went flying , my weight shifted to the left and I pushed away, trying to avoid a collision with a brick wall. Suddenly…a pop, and the slow-motion feeling of helplessly falling and having no ability to ward off hitting the cold, hard concrete. (Unfortunately my Catholic upbringing did not stave off some choice words.)


The pain was fast and terrific. It felt like someone smashed me with a sledgehammer. But hearing the “pop” was actually more frightening than the actual pain.

My wife had started the car and pulled into the alley alongside our home, waiting for me. When she looked up, she could not figure out what I was doing on the ground. Leaving the car running in the alley, she ran over and tried to help me stand up to no avail. Then, realizing where she was headed, she flew into action. Gently placing me and my hapless foot into the car, she motored off, grabbing her cell phone and calling the doctor’s office to alert them I was coming. A quick exam and x-ray, one of many to come, and I got my diagnosis: fibula fracture. I would be off my feet for about 6-8 weeks – or more.

I was given a set of crutches and off we went to an orthopedic surgeon’s office, who said the X-ray showed a simple fracture. I would need to wear a knee-high removable boot and remain in a non-weight-bearing condition for two weeks.

Good. A “clean” break, if ever there was one – not a compound fracture.


Through the help of our local church ministry, a nurse visited and dropped off crutches and a shower chair. I was set to recover.


Two weeks later the orthopedic surgeon took another X-ray and found the break was “displaced.” “This just happens sometimes,” he said. I would need surgery. Two weeks and three days of useless “recovery.” More choice words. The surgeon installed a four-inch stainless steel plate with seven screws and wrapped a fiberglass splinter cast around the calf and foot. The cast would stay on for two weeks, after which I would return to the walking boot for several weeks.


Cast removed. All is good!


Next up -- several weeks of physical therapy to regain my walking ability. I’m introduced to water therapy in the HydroWorx® pool designed by Debbie’s former boss, Dr. Paul Hetrick. A treadmill in a pool! Many of the top athletic teams in the country, like my beloved Philadelphia Eagles, use this pool to condition and rehab. Really cool!


Finally, on Easter Weekend, I rise, crutch-free, and walk again!

Prayers answered.

Losing your ability to walk is bad for someone as independent and stubborn as I am. Having to endure the pain and humiliation of sometimes total dependency on others, and relying on the flexibility and strength of a remaining good leg, makes you appreciate your blessed ability to walk.

Even today, the feeling of walking again retains that sense of wonder.

The following thanks and prayers are wholly and sincerely mine:

Blessed be our gifted orthopedic surgeons and chiropractors. They are lifesavers.

Blessed be our gifted nurses, from which we are able to patiently endure and heal.

Blessed be our stubbornly patient and thorough physical therapists, without whom we wouldn’t be able to walk again.

Blessed be water therapy and Dr. Paul’s pool!

Blessed be our visiting volunteer nurses in ministry who donate their precious free time to providing absolute essentials to recovery.

Blessed be the crutches and the shower chairs, along with the people who make them.

Blessed be the many people on the street, who open doors, whose kindness and courtesy are beyond reproach.

Blessed be the power doors with the handicap placard button, one push and they open.

Blessed be the handicapped parking spaces and ramps to all the good places to visit and shop.

Blessed be the wheelchairs. Blessed be the power wheelchairs at my favorite supermarket.

Blessed be first-floor access to many facilities.

Blessed be shower chairs. Again.

Blessed be removable boots – what technology!

Blessed be our loved ones, who help us through this misery. If we thanked them a billion times, it would not be a billion times enough.

On a shopping trip a week before St. Patrick’s Day, a woman wielding a cane held the door open for me and said, “I do this for you hoping that when I need this done, you would do it for me.” I will do it for her 100 times over without question and without fail.

Heartfelt “Thanks” to all the wonderful people who make such a difference!

Oremus. Let us pray.

Andrew M. Andrews

In This Issue

SUPERVOLCANO ERUPTION FLASHBACK Click on book cover for review. The Astounding, The Amazing, By Malmont FUTURE MEDIA

Urban Fantasy Blood and Other Cravings The Haunting of 20th Century America Ghosts by Gaslight A Pleasure to Burn

The Gift A Dublin Student Doctor   The Price of Civilization The Deception at Lyme

Next Time In True Review
Realms of Fantasy - Aug. 2011


REALMS OF FANTASY, August 2011. Damnation Books (, $5.99.

There’s a great essay in here about “Women in Fantasy: The Images, the Artists” with illustrations of some of the best. The essay looks into the “urban fantasy babe” and her predecessor, the “woman warrior.” A sexist image? Some of the best illustrators are included, with Virginia Lee and Stephanie Pui-Mun Law.

Andrew M. Andrews
Realms of Fantasy - Oct. 2011


REALMS OF FANTASY, October 2011. Damnation Books (, $5.99.

Another great illustrator interview with (and profusely illustrated by) Ruth Sanderson, conducted by Karen Haber. Check this out!

Andrew M. Andrews
Deed To Death - cover


SAINTS ASTRAY, by Jacqueline Carey. Grand Central Publishing (, 2011, 356 pp., $14.99. ISBN 978-0-446-57142-5

Loup and girlfriend Pilar escape from military custody to be high-priced bodyguards for a British rock band. But they can’t leave their past behind – including their chance to stay in Outpost 12, a Texas border town, and bring out those they have abandoned.

Andrew M. Andrews
No Rest for The Dead - cover


THE PENGUIN BOOK OF VICTORIAN WOMEN IN CRIME, ed. by Michael Sims. Penguin (, 2011, 340 pp., $16.00. ISBN 978-0-14-310621-0

Michael Sims, editor of the PENGUIN BOOK OF GASLIGHT CRIME, brings together a wealth of authors to showcase the work of some great crime-fighters that could compete with Holmes and other classic sleuths.

Andrew M. Andrews
Promises To Keep - cover


MIRROR MAZE, by Michaele Jordan. Pyr/Prometheus (, 2011, 368 pp., $16.00. ISBN 978-1-61614-529-3

Jacob Aldridge is the victim of a curse, beginning with the death of his fiancée, encountering her doppelganger, all the while a demon stalks him, and draws others close to him into the dangers that await.

Andrew M. Andrews
Eyes to See


EYES TO SEE, by Joseph Nassise. Tor (, 2011, 319 pp., $22.99. ISBN 978-0-7653-2718-5

The story of a classics professor who, desperate to find out why his young daughter disappears, performs an arcane ritual that robs him of his eyesight in order to “see that which is unseen.” His new powers allow him to do some great things for people but also send him up against a terrible force that could cost him his own life, as well as that of others.

Andrew M. Andrews
Thomas World


THOMAS WORLD, by Richard Cox. Night Shade Books (, 2011, 396 pp., $14.99. ISBN 978-1-59780-308-3

Almost Philip K. Dick-like, the protagonist in this book, Thomas, sees his life spinning out of control. He believes that his life has been scripted, perhaps by his own doppelganger-like soul, watching him . . . why?

Andrew M. Andrews

Next Time In True Review

THE MAGNIFICIENT MEDILLS, by Megan McKinney. HarperCollins (, 2011, 456 pp., $27.99. ISBN 978-0-06-178223-7

2011, 716 pp., $37.50.

KAFKAESQUE, Stories Inspired by Franz Kafka, ed. by John Kessel and James Patrick Kelly. Tachyon (, 2011, 284 pp., $15.95.
ISBN 978-1-61696-049-0