Praise for HARVEST OF A QUIET EYE- ". . .the charm of Craig Stevaux's tale lies in the lyrical recounting of how a newly arrived farang becomes accustomed to, and learns to love, the way Thais walk, talk and think, in keeping with Thai customs, culture, proverbs and the Buddhist Path." -THE UGLY AMERICAN BOOK CLUB- In this poignant tale and unlikely love story, newly-assigned Peace Corps volunteer and Vietnam War opponent, Malcolm Jossogne, arrives in Udon, Thailand to find a once quiet, upcountry town transformed by the presence of thousands of American soldiers into a vulgar shantytown of massage parlors, strip joints, bowling alleys, and neon-lit nights where bars and brothels outnumber Buddhist temples. Where saffron-robed monks once padded in silent contemplation, Led Zeppelin now blasts from the doorways of GI bars, and drunken Americans on all fours vomit into the gutters. But it's here in this unlikely setting that Malcolm meets a Thai girl, "the other half of his flesh."

These papers, written in the intervals of parish work, have appeared in the pages of the Leisure Hour and the Sunday at Home. Their publication in a collected form having been decided upon by others, it only remained for me, by careful revision and excision, to render them as little unworthy as might be of starting for themselves in the wide world. I shall not say that I am sorry that they are thus sent forth on their humble mission. Indeed, I am glad. "Brief life is here our portion":—and surely the wish is one natural to all earnest hearts, that our work for our Master in this sad and sinful world should not have its term together with thex quick ending of our short day's labour here:—and a book has the possibility of a longer life than that of a man. The Night cometh, when none can work; how sweet, if it might be, that when the day is ended, when the warfare, for us, is over, we may have left some strong watchwords, or some comfortable and cheering utterances, still ringing in the ears of those who stepped into our place in the unbroken ranks. Yes, the evening soon falls on the field; the day is brief, nor fully employed; inanimate things seem to have an advantage over us; streams flow on, and mountains stand; "While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, We men, who, in our morn of youth, defied The elements, must vanish:—be it so! Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour." And I may be permitted to hope that possibly these meditations may have such power and perform such, service in their modest way. They have but the ambition of a flower that looks up to cheer, or a bird's note that tranquilly, amid storms, continues a simple melody from the heart of its tree. They will, like these, be easily passed by, but, like these, may have a message for hearts that will look and listen.

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