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It’s been a while since I’ve been known by my Hawaiian shirts and tennis shoes, at least in summer. Winters in New England are another matter.
For four decades, my career in daily journalism allowed me to pay the bills while writing poetry and fiction on the side. That labor of love saw more than a thousand of my works appear in literary journals around the globe.
My name, given while residing in a yoga ashram in the early ‘70s, is usually pronounced “Jah-nah,” a Sanskrit word that becomes “gnosis” in Greek and “knowing” in English. My favorite mantra of late is “Yay!” – thanks to a favorite young gymnast. These days I dwell near both the Atlantic Ocean and the White Mountains north of Boston.
My wife and two daughters have prompted more of my novels than they’d ever imagine, mostly through their questions about my past and their translations of social culture and tech advances for a geezer like me. Rest assured, they’re not like any of my fictional characters, apart from being geniuses in the kitchen.
Publication of "What’s Left" prompted me to thoroughly rethink the characters and events in the novels that formed the backstory. The revised editions – with new titles and new covers – have become "Daffodil Uprising," "Pit-a-Pat High Jinks," and "Subway Visions." I hope you enjoy them.