Click on image to enlarge.

You Pay:

$7.99

Category: Mainstream
Description: Eileen Greenwood's first year at Southern Michigan University means freedom: freedom from the brother who molested her, from the father who refused to believe her, and from the sister who turned her back. Eileen tries to leave the past behind, but becomes obsessed with learning what transformed her brother into a predator. In the effort to understand, she will confront both her own memories and a monster far worse than her brother ... if she can find the strength to confront him. [Note: All royalties from the sale of this eBook will be donated to the Rape, Abuse, Incest National Network (RAINN).]
eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, 2003 Regal Crest Enterprises
EPIC eBookstore Release Date: November 2005

7 Reader Ratings:

Great	Good	OK	Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [303 KB], ePub (EPUB) [272 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [264 KB], Portable Document Format (PDF) [1.5 MB], Palm Doc (PDB) [300 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [262 KB], Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [295 KB], hiebook (KML) [706 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [311 KB], iSilo (PDB) [245 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [306 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [353 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [382 KB]
Words: 95374
Reading time: 272-381 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Portable Document Format (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"Goldfish Dreams breaks stereotypes. In a culture where pumped-up images of masculinity defined by domination and disconnection are increasingly prevalent, it's refreshing and relieving to meet many of the men in Hines' book. By juxtaposing perpetrators and pedophiles with male characters who find strength in respect, understanding, and compassion, Hines confronts us with the reality that there is more than one way to be a "real man." In essence, Goldfish Dreams provides us with hope--hope that one can recover from the trauma of sexual violation, hope that we can rebuild the trust between men and women that sexual violence erodes, and hope that by transcending the confines of rigid gender roles, we can all connect more fully with our humanity and heal together."--Jonathan C. Stillerman, Ph.D, Co-Founder and Co-Director, Men Can Stop Rape

"For some time there has been a growing movement in the realm of abuse and sexual assault prevention: men have joined forces with women and organized to battle against rape and sexual abuse. As a dedicated sexual assault counselor, author Jim Hines brings a sensitive and compassionate viewpoint to this unforgettable story about one young woman determined to face and defeat the demons that haunt her. This book is well-written and evocative. Not many male authors have created such a true portrait of a woman in pain and trouble. Hines has done it with effortless grace and with empathy and accuracy as well. This novel is for anyone trying to reconcile the terrors of the past with the hopes of the future. I highly recommend it."--Lori L. Lake, Midwest Book Review

"In Goldfish Dreams, Jim Hines weaves a memorable fictional tale of abuse, secrets and regrets, but he also skillfully handles the topic of incest, giving hope to those dealing with the haunting memories and scars of the past."--Robin Guddendorf, Bookideas.com

"Balancing great verisimilitude with thoughtful restraint, with honesty and passion, Hines brings to life one of the darkest and most difficult themes in the underbelly of the American family; he offers a poignant and yet sober new voice to the important and ever-growing genre of survival literature."--Heinz Insu Fenkl, Author of 'Memories of my Ghost Brother'

"Goldfish Dreams is a complex story of a woman's sexual abuse by her brother that is written with sensitivity ... one of those books readers will not forget soon; I know I won't."--Hattie Boyd, Scribes World Reviews

"...provide[s] a realistic portrayal of rape trauma syndrome, and therefore might be useful for first-year college students or high school seniors to read and discuss."--Pat McGann, Men Can Stop Rape

Fall Semester

The drive took a little more than an hour. My father spent the whole trip humming. He had his window down, and the air blew his fringe of hair into a gray half-halo. I sat with my feet on the dashboard and stared out the window.

Convinced that the highways would be murder with everyone moving in to college, Dad had decided to take the back roads. Rows of trees reached over our heads from both sides of the road, creating a tunnel of branches. The woven ceiling blocked most of the sunlight, except where the trees had been pruned to make way for the power lines. I saw one maple that had been trimmed in the middle, so the leaves thrust up on either side of the wire. The shape reminded me of a phoenix, with wings raised skyward. I felt like a child hunting shapes in the clouds.

That childlike excitement lasted throughout the drive. As we pulled into the Sparrow Hall parking lot, I had to fight the impulse to bounce in my seat. I forced myself to remain calm, knowing Dad might take my enthusiasm personally. I couldn't explain that it wasn't him I was getting away from.

During the past week, I had crammed my entire life into a stack of cardboard boxes that looked like something a child might build out of blocks. Clothes, toiletries, and of course, my books. Asimov, Card, LeGuin, Heinlein, and the rest would all be joining me at Southern Michigan University. I wasn't about to get trapped in a strange environment with nothing to read.

The campus was pretty quiet, this being the first day of Welcome Week. Sparrow Hall was one of the older dorms, built back when SMU was just a liberal arts college. I was lucky. The engineers and the other hard science types would have to walk nearly a mile across campus to get to class, but the social sciences all huddled together in the southwest corner, right next to my dorm.

The building itself was mostly brick and ivy: beautiful on the outside, but as we stepped through the door and into the heavy heat, I wondered if I was as fortunate as I had thought. The newer buildings might be uglier, but at least they probably had air conditioning.

We were both sweating as we dragged the first load of boxes across the lobby toward the front desk. An older woman at the desk window was bent double, stuffing flyers into rows of brass-plated mailboxes. She didn't look up until we dropped our boxes in front of the desk.

"Moving in early?" She had the weary courtesy of one who had spent too many hours over too many years dealing with the clueless masses.

I nodded. "Eileen Greenwood. I'm supposed to be in room 312."