Hawaii is big on regional books. Books about Hawaii are generally stocked at bookstores and convenience stores, and they’re given a big section on the book tables at Costco. I was never able to take advantage of this because — despite that I am a Hawaii author — my books aren’t about Hawaii, and besides they’re that weird science fiction and fantasy stuff…

(Exception: the staff at the former Borders Superstore in Honolulu used to be terrific about stocking my books. If y’all ever read this, thank you!)

But what about Toby Neal’s Blood Orchids? (Full disclosure: Toby’s a friend of mine, and I created the ebook and did the interior layout for the print version.)

Blood Orchids is a first novel that came out at the end of November and has been doing quite well on Amazon with twenty-six customer reviews so far. The story is a police procedural set in the city of Hilo on the Big Island, and it’s loaded with local culture — which should make the paper version an ideal candidate for stocking on the rack of “Hawaii books” found at brick & mortar stores here. Not only would local people see it, but visitors on vacation could pick it up for a Hawaii read.

But you aren’t going to see the paper version of Blood Orchids if you’re on vacation in Hawaii. Here’s why:

A traditionally published book is sold as “returnable,” meaning that if the store that stocks it can’t sell the book, the book is sent back to the publisher. This is a huge liability for a publisher. The book must be printed, and the printing must be paid for, and then most publishers make the assumption that only one in two books will sell anyway.

Blood Orchids is an indie-published book, and print-on-demand — meaning that copies are only printed when they are ordered. This in itself isn’t a problem. Toby called up a rep from our only remaining bookstore chain and asked about getting the book stocked. The rep was helpful and enthusiastic, but when she looked up the book, she advised Toby that the store could only carry returnable books.

Right now the print version of Blood Orchids has a very affordable list price of $11.99 and is being sold at Amazon discounted slightly to $11.58. To make the book work in a brick & mortar store the price would have to be raised considerably, both to provide a fair return to the bookstore that sells it, and to cover the “loss” involved in selling only one of two books that are printed. This is why traditionally published trade paperbacks are generally far more expensive than indie-published books intended for online sale. It also points out the difficulty and risk of getting those indie-published books into stores. With print-on-demand books that don’t allow returns — which is the way I handle my print versions — potential losses are limited to the set-up cost of the book, a fixed amount that’s pre-invested.

But once returns are allowed, potential losses are completely unknowable. Not only are you at-risk for the printing cost, but also for the shipping on returns. For most of us with indie books, the loss risk combined with an expectation of reduced sales online when the cost of the book goes up by 30% or more, makes the struggle to break into the bookstore chains a struggle not worth having.

This all feels a little unfair, but in all honesty, it’s not. Publishing is a business, and someone has to take the risk. The story might be different if we had independent bookstores here in Hawaii, with an owner willing to try a few copies on spec, but that’s not the case. I sincerely hope this changes. Here on Maui we have one remaining bookstore, and that’s on the opposite side of the island from our primary population center, and an hour’s drive for me.

But for the immediate future, you won’t be seeing Blood Orchids in any Hawaii stores, even though it’s an ideal fit for the usual rack of Hawaii books and deserves to be there. And that’s a shame for both readers and writers.

Today was the 70th anniversary of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, the event which led to the United States entering into World War II. Every year Pearl Harbor Day is observed in Hawaii, but the 70th anniversary was a day of special ceremonies commemorating the dead and the handful of remaining survivors, all old men now, in their late eighties and early nineties.

My daughter and son-in-law were privileged to attend the early morning ceremony. They’ve put together a blog in words and images, capturing the mood of the day:

Seventy years ago, a quiet winter morning much like today’s hung over Pearl Harbor. War had been ongoing in the Pacific since 1937, and in Europe since 1939. Despite the surrounding conflict, the United States and its citizens sought neutrality; war had yet to reach our shores, and there was no desire or expectation of involvement in any of the conflicts.

Find the full post and photos here.

People who aren’t sports fan just don’t understand. I know this is so, because I used to be one of them. For most of my life, I paid little attention to sports. Sure, I enjoyed watching the occasional football game, but even when the final score was a disappointment it wasn’t personal. Then I got hooked on University of Hawaii Warrior football in the Colt Brennan years.

For those of you not acquainted with our little team, Colt Brennan was the quarterback who led us to a Western Athletic Conference championship, a win over Boise State, and a trip to the Sugar Bowl. Those were the glory years.

We haven’t done all that badly since then, but this season has been frustrating to say the least, and last night’s game against the Nevada Wolfpack was an extremely painful loss–a bizarre mix of wild luck combined with fumbles, interceptions, pointless penalties, and a star quarterback with a broken leg.

My son thinks I’m weird to get so wrapped up in what’s happening on a football field. Sorry kid. Life is no fun without emotional involvement. I’m a football dilettante. Don’t ask me about play formations or any of that, but I’ve been in the stands of Aloha Stadium screaming my throat raw and feeling the balcony shake under me. I’ve stood in front of the TV shaking my fist and yelling “WTF were you thinking??” I’ve traveled with my husband — only a couple weeks ago — to Moscow, Idaho just to watch a Warriors’ away-game. I think it’s a tribal thing. This is a small state, and this is our team (and my alma mater!).

When it doesn’t go well I’ll get as angry and critical as the next fan. But on the day after, I have to say that I can’t imagine how hard it must be to play your heart out in front of a demanding, critical audience, and still not quite measure up — not to your own hopes and expectations and not to those of your fans — and yet to come back the next week and play your heart out again.

Even a non-sports fan can admire that.

We don’t do daylight savings in Hawaii, and given that I haven’t lived in the mainland United States since I was nine, it was a new — and disorienting! — experience to undergo the “conversion” last weekend while visiting in the great state of Washington.

The concept is easy for those of us sitting out here in the middle of the Pacific. After the winter change, the west coast is only two hours away, and the east coast only five. (It’s a three and six hour difference in the summer.)

But when one actually undergoes the change…what time is it, anyway? All clocks immediately become suspect. Did someone reset that digital display? Did someone adjust the analog dial on the wall? And who resets all the clocks in hotel rooms? I expected the staff would do it, but that didn’t happen at our airport hotel. Who resets the clocks in all the rental cars? That’s probably a crowd-sourced effort, but after the switch I just ignored the clock in our car. I was a bit unsettled when, on our flight back to Maui, the pilot kept saying we would arrive at 1:40pm when in fact we were due to arrive at 2:40pm, and did arrive at 2:40pm. Seriously, who resets the pilots? Isn’t time kind of important to navigation? (I’m sure they navigate with GMT, or GPS, but still…)

Both my Netbook and a wristwatch that I carry in my purse are set to Hawaii time, so I could always calculate the proper time, but those are crutches. There is one, true reference that I trust to provide me with correct local time, and that is Verizon Wireless, of course! Thank goodness for my cell phone, which is clever enough to reset the time when driving from one timezone to another and has no problem at all with daylight savings.

The winter conversion did illuminate a minor mystery to me. During the first part of our trip I was marveling at how long daylight lingered, given that it was so late in the year. Then on Sunday night, darkness suddenly fell an hour earlier, and all seemed normal again.

Personally though, I’m glad to live in a state where clocks can keep the same time all year round.

At South Point, Hawaii. Notice the rock wall behind us, and the lighthouse in the background. I forgot to bring my hat on this trip, thus the bandanna–which worked quite well in the extreme wind.

The farthest point south in the United States lies at latitude 19°–slightly south of Mexico City, on the parallel that passes through the lower Yucatan Peninsula and Haiti/The Dominican Republic. This is the southernmost tip of the Big Island of Hawaii, and is known simply enough as “South Point,” though sometimes it’s called by its Hawaiian name Kalae which is an equally simple nomenclature meaning “the point.”

Over the weekend the husband and I visited South Point as another “bucket list” item. Getting to South Point isn’t a difficult trek–the road from the main highway is narrow, but it’s smoothly paved most of the way. Part way down there’s a “rough road” sign. Being from Maui, this made us laugh. At the end, the road is “patch paved” but it’s still not bad.

This is me, about as far south as I could go:

The area is hot, dry, and extremely wind-blown with severe offshore currents.

Farther down the coast there’s supposed to be a green sand beach. We didn’t venture that far, but we did see patches of green sand strewn on the shore. I can only guess that the density of the olivine particles is different enough from the lava and coral bits that they tend to drop out of the waves at the same time to make these patches. At any rate, I’m fascinated by the close up view of sand:

Several people were fishing from the top of a cliff, using scaffolds to (I presume) raise and lower the lines. The lines are held by floats, which seem to be pulled out to sea by the current.

The wind blew powerfully from the shore out to sea. Standing at the top of the seacliff, the ocean did not look flat, but looked much higher just a tenth mile offshore–a very strange effect.

I’ve lived in Hawaii most of my life, but there are lots of things I’ve never seen and done, so the husband and I have been making an effort to fill in some of the experiential holes. We’re just back from the Big Island, and volcanoes, of course, were one of the highlights of the trip.

For those not familiar with Hawaii, all the islands are volcanoes, but only on the “Big Island,” (more properly known as “Hawaii”) are there active volcanoes. Hawaii island really is much bigger than all the other islands. It’s made up of five volcanoes: the very old Kohala Mountains, dormant Hualalai, dormant Mauna Kea (site of the world-famous astronomical observatories), intermittently active Mauna Loa, and continuously active Kilauea.

On this trip we visited Kilauea Caldera, the very top of the ~4,000′ mountain, which is in a rainforest, and part of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. For decades the primary site of eruption has been a vent called Pu`u O`o, much farther down the mountain, but the caldera area has been more active lately. Here’s what we saw, one evening in the park:

Steam/fume cloud rising from Halemaumau, Kilauea Caldera, August 30, 2011

This level of steam/fumes is new in my experience. Lava can’t be seen, but after sunset the red glow of lava can be seen in the steam cloud.

Half-an-hour drive away, this was the view from our hotel room in Hilo, looking toward 14,000′ Mauna Kea. (Kilauea would be off to the left, far outside the photo.)

Near the 13,000′ level on Mauna Kea is a tiny, but permanent water feature known as Lake Waiau. It’s by far the highest elevation lake in Hawaii, which has very few lakes at all:

Lake Waiau, Mauna Kea, August 31, 2011

We went to see the lake, since it’s such an odd geological feature. We’ve been told the water used to be crystal clear, but sadly, it no longer is. We can only guess that someone threw nutrients into the water.

Algal growth in Lake Waiau

At any rate, while having lunch, the cloudbank on the Hilo side pulled back and we were left looking at this . . .

Pu`u O`o from 13,000' level of Mauna Kea

. . . and after a minute we realized that plume was not a wildfire or a cloud–it was a volcanic vent. It took a few more minutes to realize that a higher elevation “cloud” rising over the ridgeline . . .

Halema`uma`u and Pu`u O`o seen from 13,000' level of Mauna Kea

. . . was actually the plume from Halema`uma`u Crater in Kilauea Caldera, where we had just been the evening before. So we were looking at both eruptive sites of Kilauea Volcano. I have to admit I found this a little bit unnerving, because from where we were sitting Kilauea Volcano looked so very active. It’s easy to imagine earthquakes shaking the whole island–which does happen. But the sight was awe-inspiring too.

We all learn to live with the dangers inherent in our lives, but I have to give special acknowledgment to people on the Big Island who live every day of their lives with this very active volcano just a few miles away. Then again, after spending a few days in and around beautiful Hilo, I can easily understand why people fall in love with the windward side of the Big Island.

Hawaii is a small state. Small enough, that we have one area code, 808, to cover all the islands.**

This has been the case for as long as I can remember, but in recent years people have come to celebrate it, and “The 808” has become a slang term for the state of Hawaii.

You’ll find “808” on t-shirts, bumper stickers, and business names like our own “Cafe 808” here in Kula, Maui.

This explanation, and post, is inspired by my son-in-law’s latest tweet:

Happy #Hawaii Day, everybody! Today is #808! 😀

So…Happy Hawaii Day! August 8th, 2011.

**Not that this means no long distance charges between islands.

Living in the Uttermost West, we operate on Hawaiian Standard Time (HST). Since we don’t do daylight savings in Hawaii, we are five hours behind the eastern USA in the winter, and six hours behind in the summer. The time difference with the west coast is two and three hours, depending on the season.

We are, for practical purposes, the last. There is another time zone beyond us, though I’m not sure if anyone lives there. Move just a little bit farther west and you cross the International Date Line and jump a day ahead.

One drawback of living here is when government or corporate reps forget there is a time difference and call at 5:30 in the morning. Business people will often have to be up for conference calls at 5:00am. And I’ve always thought stock traders must be challenged when they have to get up everyday at 3:30am for market opening.

One cool thing about living here that I’ve only recently become aware of is that our day overlaps in interesting ways with the days of other people around the world–something that’s become obvious to me by using twitter.

By the time I get up in the morning, generally around 6am, my twitter streams are full because people in the mainland USA have been awake for hours. It’s midday on the east coast and things are slowing down a bit. The Brits will soon be winding up their day.

Activity is pretty steady for hours after that. Very distracting! But towards evening here things can get very quiet as the mainland USA winds down. People from Hawaii seem to post a lot at this time. Ultimately, the Brits start showing up again. I follow a couple people in southeast Asia, but not closely enough that I’ve figured out their schedules yet.

Anyway, I enjoy the daily rhythm. And yes, I spend too much time online.

This is where I was today:

That photo was taken outside the United Kingdom Infrared Telescope, looking toward the actual summit of the mountain, which is at the top of the background cinder cone, at 13,796-feet. We (husband & I) walked over there a few minutes after this photo was taken. It took about five minutes to “summit.”

We drove to the top purely as a tourist endeavor, but this was something I had wanted to do for years, so it was exciting.

Somehow we managed to pick a perfect morning for our adventure. Volcanic smog had been thick for the previous few days, but a lot of it blew out to sea early in the day, leaving the air clear. It was also surprisingly warm, even though there was still snow on the ground.

Here’s a shot looking past the twin domes of the very famous WM Keck Observatory, back towards my home of Maui (the dark, cloud-wreathed mountain on the horizon).

Here’s a link to the University of Hawaii Institute for Astronomy’s page on the summit observatories.