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Showing posts with label Trevor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Trevor. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 30, 2025

The Sibling by Elleston Trevor

The 1979 USA Playboy Press printing of The Siblings has one of those
fold out covers so you can admire the beauty of both Debby and Raff;
do they look like a 15- and a 16-year-old to you?
All she knew now was that everyone had been wrong; it wasn't going to be a white Christmas after all.  It was going to be another pitched battle, withering and unceasing and with no mercy shown on either side; and this time she didn't believe there would be any survivors.
Not long ago I read British author Elleston Trevor's 1956 novel about tank crewmen fighting the Normandy campaign, The Killing Ground, and thought it worthwhile.  And you know I am curious about Robert Bloch.  So why not read a "novel of terror and desire" published by Trevor and praised by our guy Bob?  The Sibling, which I am guessing is going to be exploitation trash about incest and murder, first appeared in 1979 in England under the Elleston Trevor pen name and here in the land of the free and the home of the brave as by Adam Hall one of the other pseudonyms used by the man born Trevor Dudley-Smith; ten years later the novel was reprinted here in America under the Trevor name.  I'm reading a scan of a 1981 paperback British edition, which has a silhouette of a bird on the cover--booooring.  I guess the theory was that Bloch's name, or Trevor's own, would sell the book.  The American Adam Hall edition has a properly provocative cover, one worthy of a book mentioned in Grady Hendrix and Will Errickson's Paperbacks from Hell that features an attractive young woman whose eyes are bugging out as she looks at a gift box which we have to assume contains some person's dismembered digit or ear or something.  This is what we are looking for--sex and violence!  The cluttered cover of the 1989 American edition is the most disturbing of the three, with its superfluity of hard-to-make-out text and its twin images of a pretty boy (recycled from the fold out section of the 1979 cover) that make you wonder if this is a novel about gay incest.  Maybe this edition was supposed to appeal to women?

Trevor spent his early life in Europe but eventually moved to Arizona and sets The Sibling in New England.  Obviously I wish he had set his tale in Britain or France or Spain or even Arizona, so I could feel I was getting legit local color and not just a foreigner's view of the Northeastern US learned from TV, but there it is.  I liked his book about armored warfare even though it seems he served in the RAF and not the British Army, so maybe everything will be OK.

The first scene of The Sibling takes place at the funeral of an eccentric old woman who has an Egyptian prayer (in English translation) read over her dead body and who is buried in her Rolls Royce.  (Nothing about this woman figures in the plot and she is not mentioned after the funeral so I guess Trevor started his novel with this funeral just to foreshadow The Sibling's occult and eternal life themes and make it clear the main characters are rich.)  We meet Lorraine Stuyvesant, 41, and her English friend, Alison Scarborough, 37, a jokey horny widow.  It is the holiday season, and Lorraine's 15-year-old daughter Deborah ("Debby") is coming home from her fancy school in Switzerland soon.  The birthday of Lorraine's 16-year-old son Raphael ("Raff") is just six days before Christmas, and after flirting with his own mother (gross!) Raff dances at his birthday party with Alison, who is sexually attracted to Raff and doesn't keep it a secret.  Debby was supposed to make it to the party, but she is delayed in Paris by snow, and we get the idea that Debby doesn't want to come home and that her relationship with Raff has long been terrible, the subject of much expensive psychiatric attention.  Lorraine inwardly fears this Christmas season is going to be a total disaster, Trevor foreshadowing that the large cast of characters (among them a genius pianist who defected from the Soviet Union, a teen-aged girl--Kim--who has a crush on Raff, and a teen-aged boy--Jerome--who has a crush on Debby) is going to be subjected to a massacre!  (See epigraph above.)  Spoiler alert, Trevor doesn't follow through on this foreshadowing, and Kim and Jerome quickly disappear from the narrative.  I feel like Trevor wrote the first two chapters or so of The Sibling with the idea the novel was going to go places it didn't end up going.

Debby finally arrives and Mom compliments how good her legs look and that sort of thing--Debby in turn wishes she was as sexy as her mother.  This novel has considerable appeal to incest fetishists.  Through flashbacks (for example, Raff tormenting Debby with a snake, and little boy Raff threatened by a berserk horse after Debby locks him in the stables--there are a lot of animals in this novel for some reason) and interior monologues we learn how much Raff and Debby hate each other.  Poor Debby is so scared of Raff that she vomits on the plane and pees her pants when she arrives at the family mansion.  But after three years apart, each of these two mental cases is shocked to see how the other has grown into a sexy teen and Raff and Debby instantly become enamored of each other, embracing so each can  feel the other's heart beating through their chests.

The siblings spend the next few days thick as thieves, playing games, including increasingly extreme versions of hide and seek and tag until they jump into separate cars and chase each other on a curvy road, leading to a crash that injures Debby.  She's OK by the time the Christmas Eve party rolls around, at which Alison comes on to Raff as they dance and then Raff comes on to Debby as he dances with her.  Then there is the bizarre incident at the party when Debby sips her drink and finds somehow she has been given a glass full of human blood!

At first, when Debby realizes her brother is getting erections while they are hugging or dancing, she tries to put an end to their physical intimacy, but is her heart in it?  After all, when she masturbates at night, it is Raff's face that comes unbidden into her mind!  Zoinks!  

Alison seduces Raff, and she expects to be in charge of his sexual awakening, but the boy goes berserk and knocks her out and rapes her, apparently possessed by some other being--even Alison realizes when she looks at him after she has regained consciousness and he has regained his composure that "...he looked like Raff....But he wasn't.  He was somebody else."

The story proceeds (The Sibling is like 290 pages, the rape of Alison occurring around a third of the way through) and while Raff and Debby's sexual desire for each other mounts, voices in Raff's head, apparently those of people from ancient times, like we are reading something out of Weird Tales, keep urging him to kill Debby.  Trevor is a good writer and everyone's dialogue and behavior rings true, and his descriptions of the moonlight and the temperature and the stars and the snowfall don't burden or slow down the narrative, but add to the atmosphere and the vividness of the images as Raff does risky things like walking on thin ice or climbing the mansion's mansard roof and then convinces Debby, who is falling madly in love with her brother, to join him in these life-threatening behaviors.

In the middle third of the novel what is going on with Raff becomes more clear as he has visions of life in a murky past of castles and chariots, seeing through the eyes of a young man who spends a lot of time witnessing a priest perform human sacrifices.  In a somewhat silly scene, the family psychiatrist hypnotizes Raff (without Raff's consent or even knowledge) and works some past life regression therapy on the kid.  The shrink finds that Raff is a reincarnation of Tarkon, some kind of prince (who I guess raped a woman--Raff was animated by the memory of that crime when he raped Alison.)  Tarkon had a sister, Iadris, of whom he was very fond and whom he rescued from an attack by a rabid canine.

While the shrink and Lorraine brainstorm ways to cure Raff, Raff uses adventure fiction tricks (like wearing a white lab coat as a disguise) to infiltrate a local hospital and steal small parts of cadavers.  You see, the priests of Tarkon's people would cut little parts off of their sacrificial victims and toss them to ravens (which is why the cover of the copy of The Sibling I am reading has a picture of a bird on it instead of one of a pretty girl and/or her pretty brother.)  Raff puts the parts in little gift boxes and leaves them in Debby's room.  Debby, though disgusted to the point of vomiting by these offerings, is so in love with her brother that she pretends to like these monstrous gifts and resolves to hide her brother's crimes from the world.  She tosses each gift out the window and a raven snatches them. 

Additional sneak-attack hypnosis sheds light on why Raff, who on the one hand loves his sister, is always putting her in danger.  When a plague started ravaging Tarkon and Iadris's country, the priests told their father that only the sacrifice of Tarkon or Iadris could end the plague.  (I guess these primitive people didn't think of shuttering the schools and restaurants and making everybody wear masks.  Civilization has come a long way!)  The weakest parts of The Sibling are Raff's repetitive and tedious visions/memories of Tarkon being told by his advisors that he had to make sure the priests killed Iadris instead of him.  Tarkon is shown to be a guy with a ferocious temper, always flying off the handle and having to be restrained from physically attacking some advisor.  These cardboard medieval or ancient or fantasy world or whatever figures are pretty boring compared to Trevor's 20th-century cast of people--the sad mother in the distant marriage, her perverted brats, their dutiful servants, the talented defector, the English immigrant who is horny for teenagers, and the shrink who thinks he is on the verge of making a groundbreaking discovery.  I wanted to see what happened to the Connecticut people, but these ancients and their nondescript setting left me cold.  

The final third of the novel begins with Raff killing a friendly dog owned by Kim's family--its appearance triggered Raff into reliving Tarkon's fight with the vicious dog that threatened his sister Iadris so long ago.  Raff's macabre thievery from the hospital escalates (he wants some fresher body parts to offer Debby.)  Lorraine and the shrink, fearing Raff might harm Debby, decide to separate her son and daughter, to send the boy to a madhouse and the girl to her European school.  Debby learns of this plan and in one of the novel's best scenes Debby gives an impassioned speech about how middle-class parents screw up their kids by working too hard and thus neglecting their offspring and then offloading them to shrinks who are all charlatans and instead of curing the kids just make them crazier.  This speech of course totally rings true to me (go Debby!) but at the same time we readers know that the real reason the kids are dangerous bloodthirsty incest-monsters is the reincarnation jazz.  

(I wonder if I might like this novel better if Trevor had concentrated on the bourgeois-parenting-turns-kids-into-killer-perverts angle and jettisoned all the supernatural reincarnation business.)

Raff gives Debby another gift--some poor bastard's penis!  Then he murders a guy, thinking to offer her an entire person, though events prevent Raff from lugging a corpse into the mansion and up the stairs into Debby's room.  (The scene of the murder is good horror stuff, written from the point of view of the victim but focusing on his fear before the attack, not the actual physical fight and the gore.)  The penis is almost a bridge too far for Debby, and she comes close to agreeing with her mom and the shrink that maybe Raff really should be sent to the funny farm, but her faith and love for Raff is strong enough to overcome her temporary flirtation with collaboration with the adult world.  Debby warns Raff about the plan to involuntarily commit him and the incestuous lovers run away from home in the Jaguar that Raff received for Christmas, driving into a ferocious blizzard.  (Wind is a theme of the novel, Tarkon and Iadris's unspecified homeland being very windy.)  

After a pretty well-written car chase (Trevor put out a ton of espionage novels and I'm guessing he wrote lots of car chases) the kids reach a mountain lodge their family owns, where we get the story's somewhat disappointing climax or climaxes.  Raff takes Debby's virginity, what we might call the climax of their relationship.  Obviously this is gross, but it is what we signed up for when we started this book, and the scene is solid.  That is not the disappointing part.

Debby is ready to fight the entire world at the side of her lover and brother, but then she finds out about the murder, that the victim was somebody she knew.  The fact suddenly comes home to her that Raff, all her life, has been putting her in life-threatening situations, as if he has been trying to kill her but just falling short of success.  Now that they are truly alone, separated from the rest of the world by snow covered roads, Debby is scared Raff is finally going to succeed in destroying her, and she takes steps to protect herself.  I expected some kind of showdown, a fight and/or a verbal exchange in which Debby tries to convince her brother to reject the counsels of his advisors, but what we get is one of the siblings getting killed by what amounts to an accident; the circumstances of the accident parallels the methods and practices of human sacrifice among Tarkon and Iadris's people.  As I have told my long-suffering readers many times, I hate deus ex machina endings--one of these horny creeps should have outfought or outwitted the other, surviving thanks to his or her abilities and willpower, and then had to suffer the moral and psychological consequences of killing or imprisoning the sibling they just had mind-blowing sex with.  Trevor's ending robs the survivor of agency and shields him or her from responsibility, which I don't like, even if the whole reincarnation angle implies that people lack agency and responsibility.

I guess I've now read four books mentioned in Hendrix and Errickson's Paperbacks from Hell, and The Sibling is perhaps the best of them.  I say "perhaps" because while I thought Garrett Boatman's Stage Fright and William Schoell's Late at Night were garbage and Trevor here with The Sibling outclasses them by miles, I also enjoyed Peter Tonkin's Killer nine years ago and my memory of that book, about people fighting an orca, is too hazy for me to choose between them.  Still, a definite thumbs up for The Sibling.

As I have suggested, Trevor's style is good, and the sex scenes and action scenes and horror scenes are quite effective.  My fears that Englishman Trevor wouldn't be able to convincingly write about Connecticut proved unfounded--I didn't encounter any major boners.  Not that there weren't a few odd notes.  We get "knickers" once, instead of "underpants," and once "cunny" instead of "pussy."  Four or five times Trevor gives us "bubbies" instead of "boobs" or "tits."  Well, let's say that Raff and Debby were under the linguistic influence of family friend Alison.  Trevor spells Halloween with an apostrophe ("Hallowe'en") which I don't think Americans did in the 1970s, but I can shrug that off.  One jarring moment was when, in referring to the Jaguar, Trevor used "squab" for "seat cushion," which I had never encountered in my entire life.  Maybe we can excuse that because it is a British car?  Another noteworthy oddity is how Deborah thinks "track-suits" are very sexy--track-suits figure in the most memorable sex scene of the book, as well as other scenes.  I was born in 1971, so didn't reach puberty until after the '70s were over, so am unaware if plenty of people in the Me Decade actually did find track-suits sexy, or if this just says something about Debby. 

I've already complained that the scenes set in unspecified ye olde antient tymes are vague and boring, and that the ending is kind of a let down.  I also think there are too many characters, or that too many of the characters don't receive the attention they deserve; in my view, each character should do something that is exciting or materially affects the plot and each should get some kind of resolution at the end, and many of the people in The Sibling do not.  For one thing, I expected more of the cast to be murdered, and was a little disappointed that anybody who actually was murdered was some minor character who was less developed than Alison the slut, the defector pianist (Raff's real father, Lorraine and Charles having a marriage marked by infidelity), and the shrink who believes in reincarnation.  Trevor concocted interesting back stories and motivations for Alison, the pianist, and the shrink, but he doesn't come up with enough stuff for them to do and story arcs for them that are as compelling as those backstories and are satisfying--shouldn't each of these people get killed or perform an heroic deed and/or suffer some permanent psychological scar?  The novel would be more satisfying if the pianist had killed his bastard son Raff or saved somebody from Raff, and if the shrink's career was ruined by his wacky (but accurate!) theories or he had gotten killed because he pursued his theories too boldly.  As for Alison, she should have gotten killed as metaphorical punishment for her depraved pursuit of teen-aged boys or used her body to liberate Raff from his ancient self's baleful influence so that she represented the healing power of the act of physical love--what stand a novel takes, whether it vindicates prudery or celebrates license, is less important than that it demonstrate its stand with power or eloquence.

So, I've got gripes and suggestions.  But The Sibling delivers the icky sex and grue that we look for in this kind of book, and it is actually well written because Trevor is a seasoned professional writer, leading me to strongly suspect The Sibling is one of the best of the Paperbacks from Hell.

**********

The printing of The Sibling I read, the British 1981 paperback, has some ads in the back all you historians of mass market genre literature might find interesting.  Are "Book Tokens" still a thing?  If not, when did they go out of circulation?  Did any of my readers from the UK or Ireland ever use a Book Token?  And what about this ad for New English Library bestsellers?  Which is the bestselling?  Which have you read?  I've read the Heinleins and started Dune, but that's it, though I've heard of many of those which became films.  Will Errickson has written about The Rats and The Fog, which I am guessing are the closest of the listed books in tone and content to The Sibling.

Friday, September 5, 2025

The Killing Ground by Elleston Trevor

With some of the men, Lieutenant Pope had lost his authority; with others, his claim to their loyalty.  Among the N.C.O.s he had lost respect.  It had come about in small ways, with a word or an action, most of them forgotten until another came, reminding them.  No one disliked him; to be disliked, a man must have a character of a kind; in Pope, even that was lacking.

As followers of my twitter feed are aware, the wife and I go to many antique malls, flea markets and thrift shops.  At just such a place years ago I picked up a copy of Bantam A1835, The Killing Ground by Elleston Trevor, who, wikipedia is telling me, was a prolific writer of mystery, espionage and children's books under various noms de plume.  One of my on-again-off-again interests is British military history, so the purported topic of the novel, British tank crewmen fighting in Northwest Europe, appealed to me.  It looks like Trevor served in the Second World War, but in the Royal Air Force, not the British Army, so does he know a lot about tank warfare and the Normandy campaign?  Who knows?  Let's check it out regardless as a break from the voodoo and space alien stories that make up so much of our diet here at MPorcius Fiction Log.  If we like this thing, Trevor has plenty of books for us to read including what look like crime/horror stories about an evil brother and sister and an evil nun praised by Robert Bloch and a gothic romance lauded by Mary Higgins Clark.

The Killing Ground has nine unnumbered chapters; this novel is episodic, and each chapter is almost like a complete short story that can stand its own.  The first, The Sea, introduces us to the crews of two troops of C Squadron as they ride a landing craft to the beach at Normandy.  (Each troop consists of three Churchill Mark 7 tanks; the entire Squadron totals eighteen tanks.  Each tank has a crew of five.)  Each of the soldiers has his own particular character trait; this guy is religious and prays, that guy is thinking about his wife, this one is thinking about a system for betting on the horses, that one loves to play cards, this officer feels inadequate because he hasn't seen action yet and other members of his troop fought in the Mediterranean, etc.  This novel doesn't really have a central character, but rather a large ensemble cast, and depicts human relationships but little--each character seems very self-contained.  War stories are often about camaraderie (the relationships of fighting men to each other) and/or the weight of command (the relationship between an officer and his subordinates) but the men in The Killing Ground are isolated, and we spend a lot of time in their heads examining their inner lives rather than observing conversations between them.  This is a result of, or symbolized by, how often the soldiers in the book are told to be quiet lest they reveal their positions to Jerry or clog up the radio network with pointless chatter, how often the sound of gunfire makes conversation impossible, and how often dust and smoke and the dark of night obscure vision.

A main theme of this first chapter is how rough the Channel is and how over half the tankers are sea sick.  I found the best part of the chapter to be the description of the bombardment by Royal Navy warships of the French coast as perceived by the tankers, the sound, the smoke; also good is the description of the fire from the German 88mm guns ashore and the fate of some of the smaller British craft, hit by mines or enemy fire, or stuck on obstacles.  Trevor is good at visual details, throughout the novel painting vivid pictures of the movement of dust and smoke and all the little detritus on the surface of the water and littering the battlefield.

In The Beach, our guys are on the shore exchanging fire with German anti-tank guns in concrete emplacements, with machine gun nests, with a lone M. E. 109; they even blast an enemy artillery observer in a ruined villa.  All around them MPs, sappers and infantry men are subject to a rain of bullets and mortar rounds.  The tank commanders keep jumping out of their vehicles to grenade an enemy position or retrieve some item, and we get lots of descriptions of wreckage and dead bodies and people trying to aid the wounded.

The Land, our third chapter, has the tankers advancing through a little town, then trading shots with Germans who are deployed on a ridge, and then immobile and inactive as they endure an artillery barrage.  This chapter is the least satisfying in the novel, as I was skeptical about many details of the German artillery barrage.  For example, a German shell lands every six minutes, like clockwork, and the tank crewmen can not only predict when it will arrive by looking at their watches but hear it coming.  One round every six minutes seems like a pretty low rate of fire, especially if the gun firing on them is an 88mm as they suspect, and I had thought artillery shells (not mortar bombs, which move relatively slowly) traveled too fast for you to hear them before they got to you.  Also, the officers decide the men should leave their tanks and take cover nearby, even though they haven't dug any trenches--wouldn't you be safer from blast and from shell fragments if you were inside a heavily armored vehicle like the Churchill?  There's also a lot of business with the men griping that HQ won't let them move their tanks or shoot back, even though they were shooting back earlier, and anyway, how could they shoot back if this is indirect fire from behind the ridge?  Maybe they want to drive up the ridge?  The drama of this chapter works, but it is a little hard to tell what is going on and easy to doubt the chapter's realism.  

Singing Drunk takes place a week later, at night, as C squadron rests a half mile away from German positions.  The men hear someone, obviously drunk, singing loudly between them and the enemy.  Thinking the drunk one of their fellows, some of the British soldiers go out to try to rescue this guy, only to find he is a German willing to be taken prisoner.  The drunk German doesn't make it back to British lines alive, as a British lieutenant, Pope, mows him down with a Bren gun.  There isn't a lot of plot that carries over from episode to episode in The Killing Ground, but one plot strand is how Pope is changed by the experience of battle--his subordinates thought him a "right sort" back in Blighty, but here in France they lose respect for him as he grows corrupt and unsteady under stress.

The Start-line begins with a veteran noncom (in his own mind) assessing Pope, suggesting that the lieutenant killed the German prisoner in a panic and that courage is a finite resource and Lieutenant Pope is expending his and will soon suffer a total collapse.  It is a month since the landings and the British are going to launch a carefully prepared Corps-level assault on hardened German veterans; the first part of this chapter is a briefing given by a major to the tank commanders about the coming operation.  The second part is the start of the attack, a British artillery barrage followed by the advance of the British tanks into a German barrage.

Not Far to Where? picks up immediately after the previous chapter as C Squadron's Churchill tanks drive forward, negotiating mine fields, enduring fire from Nebelwerfers, and facing ambush by self-propelled guns.  Flail tanks and flamethrowing tanks of another squadron lead the way, blasting open a path for our characters to follow.  Our cast gets bogged down and here, half way through the book, we get some flashbacks to some of the characters' earlier lives that flesh out their personalities and help explain their behavior here on the battlefield.  For example, Pope had a distant relationship with his father and he feels he has no roots and so all through his academic and military careers he has been trying, without success, to build a stable identity for himself.  Pope, taking a walk outside his tank, encounters an injured man and helps him--this event has a remarkable, perhaps beneficial, effect on Pope's character.

Moonrise is a long chapter that focuses on one of the tank crews we've been following since the first chapter; these guys have gotten themselves lost behind enemy lines and now their tank has broken down.  Trevor does a good job describing their efforts to remain concealed at night and deal with the German armored vehicles that eventually show up.  An entertaining action chapter, more focused and less impressionistic than the earlier battle scenes and with a more traditional plot in which the characters face obstacles and strive to overcome them and in which Trevor provides a climax.

Three weeks later, in Peace, C squadron is resting some miles from the front lines, the men sleeping and banging French chicks.  One of the men who survived the against-overwhelming-odds engagement in Moonrise returns to the squadron from hospital--he survived because he ran away from the fight, and was in hospital for psychiatric reasons.  He lies about what he did in the fight--will he be found out?  A theme of this chapter is guilt, that felt by this liar and by the entire squadron as they rest, aware that their comrades in other units are fighting and dying while they are enjoying themselves, as well as the guilt felt by one of the tankers who has been having sex with a local teenaged girl--she has fallen in love with him and is heartbroken when the squadron has to return to the front line, and she makes him promise to return and take her away with him to England, something he has no intention of doing.

The final chapter is The Battering-ram.  C Squadron participates in the attack on the town of Falaise, taking part in the assault on a village that is a suburb of that town.  In the fighting between the British Churchills and the German armored vehicles and machine guns emplacements all of the squadron's tanks are knocked out but several of our characters survive, and live to hear that Falaise has fallen.  There is a measure of triumph in this chapter, as we see B Squadron and infantry exploit the opening made by the now devastated C Squadron and the surviving C Squadron tankers cheering them on and then participating in mopping up operations (in particular hunting snipers.)  The final paragraphs of the chapter and the book suggest Pope has learned how to be a good officer and has regained the respect of those of his subordinates who have survived and he will soon be issued a new tank and continue fighting the Germans.

But this final chapter also has lots of man's-inhumanity-to-man business.  There is a lot of talk of "taking no prisoners."  Some of the more fanatical Nazis refuse to surrender, and some wounded Germans even reject medical aid so the British leave them to die or even finish them off.  The British troops discover some Germans hanging from nooses--they obviously died by hanging and have not hanged themselves, so must have been murdered, hanged at gunpoint in an act of vengeance.  It is strongly implied that a Jewish member of C Squadron, a refugee from Germany, has committed these murders.

The Killing Ground is well-written on a sentence by sentence basis, with many striking and memorable images, and some good action scenes.  As I have described, there are limitations when it comes to the plot and characters, but this seems like an artistic choice rather than a blunder, Trevor sacrificing the narrative tools of conventional entertainment in an effort to portray the haphazard nature and isolation of our real lives, characteristics of life more starkly evident in wartime.  If you are looking for a novel in which you get to care about a main character who appears on every page as he determines the curse of the plot and faces and overcomes obstacles you may be disappointed--several characters in The Killing Ground have little arcs in which they grow over time, but each of them only appears here and there, every so often, and their personalities are too flawed and their adventures are too distressing for you to really enjoy spending time with them.

The Killing Ground is good enough that I probably will read something else by Trevor; stay tuned.