Earlier this year, the final book came out of a series that I have been reading most of my adult life. Its author never lived to see the final books published. The Wheel of Time is a master work and is a treatment of the Epic in prose form for the modern age.
Standing as a primitive log structure atop a small rise, the round house was built as a sacred place for special Ojibwe ceremonies and Native American gatherings. But in 1988, when Geraldine Coutts emerged from the abandoned building beaten, raped, and doused with gasoline, it became known as the scene of a crime that would forever alter Geraldine, her husband, Bazil, and their thirteen-year-old son, Joe.