Author - Andrew Blencowe
Series - N/A
Genre/s - Historical Fiction/Historical Romance
Publisher - Hamilton Bay Publishing
Release Date - March 12, 2014
Edition/Formats - Kindle and Paperback
Blurb/Synopsis -
Short Synopsis
What if, by the passing of just two events, Japan and Germany had won World War 2? The Goddess of Fortune explores the possibilities as a steamy work of speculative fiction revealing the private foibles, quirks, and lusts of the famous (and often rich) of the period.
Long Synopsis
What if, by the passing of just two events, Japan and Germany had won World War 2?
The Goddess of Fortune is a work of speculative fiction in which alternate history is explored, and consequences examined.
- Beautiful Louise, while only 24 years old, uses her intelligence, wiles, and body to dominate the so-called "stronger sex."
- Kaito Sasaki of the Bank of Tokyo, inspired by Lenin (“The best way to destroy the capitalist system is to debauch the currency”), proves just that with his printing of U.S. 100 dollar bills.
- The treachery of Hermann "Fatso" Goering is uncovered and his punishment is swift.
- The duplicity of Roosevelt and his so-called Brains Trust is exposed and the doubts of the urbane gentleman, Henry Morgenthau, are made clear.
As a work of historical fiction, Goddess reveals the private foibles, quirks, and lusts of the famous (and often rich) of the period. How could the end goals of the Axis come to fruition given these events? Goddess explores just how, and in doing so brings to light in imaginative prose the lives of historical figures we have only known from our history books. Prepare to reimagine history.
“United States Plans To Invade Canada!” was the headline in end-of-the-world type; these six words were the front page of each of the dailies.
“What the fuck is this nonsense?” the President asked.
Hopkins took a very deep breath; Tugwell was still staring at the floor, praying he was anywhere but the Oval Office.
“Well. It seems the Canadians have gotten hold of War Plan Red. And so too have the English, and the Australians, and so on, and so on, and so on. And they know all about our proposed poison gas attacks as part of the plan.”
“How the fuck could this happen? WPR is a fucking HyperSecret—that means, Eyes Only, no fucking copies.”
“How the fuck could this happen?” by now Roosevelt was screaming, well beyond merely shouting.
Hopkins quietly said, “It gets worse.”
“Worse, worse, how much fucking worse can it get? Are you fucking joking—worse?”
“Well, the Canadian papers say there is a handwritten note from you to Stimson that is supposed to say, ‘Henry, as we discussed, we need to make these dopey northerners the 49th state ASAP—this cuts across party lines, Franklin.’ And these papers say they have had the hand writing analyzed and it is ah, conclusively, ah, yours, ah, Mr. President.”
Hopkins prayed for an earthquake to swallow up the White House, or at least that he would be struck dead; neither happened.
Roosevelt said nothing, then simply asked—himself more than the other two—“How the fuck did this happen?”
“So, what should we do, Mr. President?” Rex asked feebly having finally summoned the courage to speak.
Roosevelt, the consummate dissembler, reached for a cigarette.
“Do? We do nothing, we do dick, zero, nothing, nada. We don’t need those fucking Canadians cunts. If they whine, fuck them, we will cut off all the milk and honey to Mr. Winston and see who needs whom then.”
Even before finishing this sacred magisterium, Roosevelt’s finely tuned calculus engine was already turning, and he returned to master manipulator politician mode.
“Pour me a drink, and take one yourselves, if you like.” In spite of it being two minutes before 11 in the morning, both did likewise.
“So who does this help? Obviously, Berlin, but also Tokyo. So it must have been one—or both (Roosevelt chuckled at this). I have to say, I thought I was the wiliest cunt in the henhouse until today. But these people make me look like a Hudson River hick.”
The straight Scotch steadied—if only a little—Tugwell’s nerves, and he realized he was playing at the top table—here the President of the United States was making a brief study that would please even Niccolò.
“So Berlin is clearly the first winner, but Tokyo also gains if those dozy northern cunts take umbrage. But we really do not need the ball-less wonders.” (Tugwell was reminded of the President’s frequent conjecture that “All—no, that’s not fair—let’s say 97%—of Canadian men were born without testicles.”)
The President chuckled, “We live in interesting times.”
As a weekend student of history, one point he noticed over and over was how a seemingly trivial action had such immense consequences. Regarding this point of minute actions, it is akin to a 1,000-ton boulder balanced precariously on a steel knife edge; at present still, but with the smallest nudge, an army of men cannot stop the monolith from rolling down the hill.
Another reoccurring point was how people's time frames are always myopically short; Zhou Enlai, when asked in the early 1970s about the significance of the French Revolution, was reputed to have answered, "Too early to say".
This myopia is daily becoming worse and worse as the destruction of the intellect by mobile "telephones" accelerates. Combined with iPads and other electronic reading devices, the ability of the human mind to think and ponder disturbance-free is being destroyed one interruption at a time.
These are some of the main threads in Blencowe's novels - the arrogance and massive overconfidence in the new (blithely and wrongly considered better); the panoply of quick fixes rather than a thoughtful analysis of the unexpected consequences of these often dangerous modern expedients.
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