Dear Friends,

As has become my tradition on release day, I've dispatched the interns into the wilds of the bookselling universe so I can wrestle control of the newsletter—just for a little while—and tell you what my brand new book, The Boundaries We Cross, means to me.

All novels are a reflection of their author. They can't help but be. And there are two aspects of this one that are especially personal for me.

The first is that it's set at a boarding school. As many of you know, I've been affiliated with boarding schools for many years as a faculty spouse and parent. My kids were basically raised on the campus of the boarding school where my wife worked. We spent many idyllic summers at another boarding school, where we went to camp as a family. My wife now works at a different boarding school, which my kids attend.

None of those places are the direct inspiration for Carrington Academy, the fictional institution in The Boundaries We Cross. But I definitely couldn't have written the book without them.

The other inspiration was something that happened to me at the beginning of the pandemic, which I talk about in this blog post.

It's about false accusations, and what it's like to be laboring under the weight of one.

This brings me to an aspect of this novel that a few people have found controversial. So I guess this is my trigger warning.

The Boundaries We Cross features Charles Bliss, a teacher at an elite Connecticut boarding school, who is accused of having an inappropriate relationship with Hayley Goodloe, a student from a prominent Connecticut family.

And he claims he didn't do it.

Discovering Charles's guilt or innocence is one of the main plot drivers in what is, after all, a mystery novel.

Yet it seems that in the wake of #MeToo—and with so many prominent people (almost all of them male) being credibly accused of sexual impropriety—the suggestion that a man might be innocent is disconcerting to some.

It was certainly unsettling to a few editors, who flatly told us they didn't want to publish a novel with this premise. Even the possibility of a backlash—for however theoretical it may have been—was enough to scare them off.

Here on Election Day 2024, you don't need me reminding you that we live in a divided nation. I'm not trying to tell you how to vote (though, please: do vote!); nor am I here to push any particular ideology.

There is one thing I believe fervently, however; something we've gotten away from in this country, and need to find our way back to.

It's the ability to have hard conversations with each other.

To me, books—fiction and non-fiction alike—are supposed to be a healthy part of that. They give us a safe space to explore all kinds of viewpoints, including those that some people might find objectionable.

Maybe it's because I grew up in an extended family where the dinner table was evenly divided between red, blue, and purple, but I've always believed it's okay for intelligent people to have honest disagreements about things.

You can still even love them when it's all through.

I know that's becoming increasingly rare in this country, where we've all tended to migrate toward our own tribe. But having hard conversations makes us all better. As people. As a nation. And as a world.

Sunlight is the best disinfectant. And we're never going to solve our thorniest social issues—be it sexual misconduct, racism, domestic violence, or any other ugly problem you can think of—if we're afraid of the backlash when we talk openly about them.

Anyhow, I don't want you to think The Boundaries We Cross is some kind of polemic. At its core, it's just a rip-roaring thriller, full of twists, surprises, and real characters thrown into untenable situations.

The feedback I've heard a lot about this one—whether it was from a Publishers Weekly starred review or from folks on Goodreads—has been, "I couldn't put it down."

Here's hoping that's enough to get you to want to pick it up.

For those who miss my bearded face, I will be going live on Facebook, doing a reading and taking your questions, on Thursday, November 7 at 8 pm ET/5 pm PT. Hope to see you there!

If you enjoy The Boundaries We Cross, I'd appreciate you telling your friends and leaving reviews in your favorite virtual places. Even for established authors like me, word-of-mouth and online reviews are everything—if only it's because that's how the algorithms know I still exist.

And, of course, whether you loved it or loathed it, feel free to tell me about it. You can reach me by replying to this email or sending a note to brad@bradparksbooks.com.

I'll be happy to hear from you, no matter what you have to say.

Happy Release Day,

Brad Parks

Buy The Boundaries We Cross:


	Dear Friends, As has become my tradition on release day, I've dispatched the interns into the wilds of the bookselling universe so I can wrestle control of the newsletter—just for a little while—and tell you what my brand new book, The Boundaries We Cross, means to me. All novels are a reflection of their author. They can't help but be. And there are two aspects of this one that are especially personal for me. The first is that it's set at a boarding school. As many of you know, I've been affiliated with boarding schools for many years as a faculty spouse and parent. My kids were basically raised on the campus of the boarding school where my wife worked. We spent many idyllic summers at another boarding school, where we went to camp as a family. My wife now works at a different boarding school, which my kids attend. None of those places are the direct inspiration for Carrington Academy, the fictional institution in The Boundaries We Cross. But I definitely couldn't have written the book without them. The other inspiration was something that happened to me at the beginning of the pandemic, which I talk about in this blog post. It's about false accusations, and what it's like to be laboring under the weight of one. This brings me to an aspect of this novel that a few people have found controversial. So I guess this is my trigger warning. The Boundaries We Cross features Charles Bliss, a teacher at an elite Connecticut boarding school, who is accused of having an inappropriate relationship with Hayley Goodloe, a student from a prominent Connecticut family. And he claims he didn't do it. Discovering Charles's guilt or innocence is one of the main plot drivers in what is, after all, a mystery novel. Yet it seems that in the wake of #MeToo—and with so many prominent people (almost all of them male) being credibly accused of sexual impropriety—the suggestion that a man might be innocent is disconcerting to some. It was certainly unsettling to a few editors, who flatly told us they didn't want to publish a novel with this premise. Even the possibility of a backlash—for however theoretical it may have been—was enough to scare them off. Here on Election Day 2024, you don't need me reminding you that we live in a divided nation. I'm not trying to tell you how to vote (though, please: do vote!); nor am I here to push any particular ideology. There is one thing I believe fervently, however; something we've gotten away from in this country, and need to find our way back to. It's the ability to have hard conversations with each other. To me, books—fiction and non-fiction alike—are supposed to be a healthy part of that. They give us a safe space to explore all kinds of viewpoints, including those that some people might find objectionable. Maybe it's because I grew up in an extended family where the dinner table was evenly divided between red, blue, and purple, but I've always believed it's okay for intelligent people to have honest disagreements about things. You can still even love them when it's all through. I know that's becoming increasingly rare in this country, where we've all tended to migrate toward our own tribe. But having hard conversations makes us all better. As people. As a nation. And as a world. Sunlight is the best disinfectant. And we're never going to solve our thorniest social issues—be it sexual misconduct, racism, domestic violence, or any other ugly problem you can think of—if we're afraid of the backlash when we talk openly about them. Anyhow, I don't want you to think The Boundaries We Cross is some kind of polemic. At its core, it's just a rip-roaring thriller, full of twists, surprises, and real characters thrown into untenable situations. The feedback I've heard a lot about this one—whether it was from a Publishers Weekly starred review or from folks on Goodreads—has been, "I couldn't put it down." Here's hoping that's enough to get you to want to pick it up. For those who miss my bearded face, I will be going live on Facebook, doing a reading and taking your questions, on Thursday, November 7 at 8 pm ET/5 pm PT. Hope to see you there! If you enjoy The Boundaries We Cross, I'd appreciate you telling your friends and leaving reviews in your favorite virtual places. Even for established authors like me, word-of-mouth and online reviews are everything—if only it's because that's how the algorithms know I still exist. And, of course, whether you loved it or loathed it, feel free to tell me about it. You can reach me by replying to this email or sending a note to brad@bradparksbooks.com. I'll be happy to hear from you, no matter what you have to say. Happy Release Day, Brad Parks *Buy The Boundaries We Cross:*