I was told in elementary school that I only could read at half the speed for success in college. Oh well, one benefit of slow reading is you get to live with the characters a longer period of time. I read in a vain attempt to better understand people. At my other homes, I'm known as a spouse, pop, guy in the choir, physical chemist, computer/web dilettante and child-care provider. In theory, I'm a published author, if you consider stuff like Quenching Cross Sections for Electronic Energy Transfer Reactions Between Metastable Argon Atoms and Noble Gases and Small Molecules to count as publications. I've strewn dozens of such fascinating things to the winds.
This was an interesting enough story. It concerns the lives of Martin Legatt and Michael D. Crowther. Legatt is a young man who works for a logging concern in the forests of Burma. Crowther is the captain of a river boat that takes people up and down the Irrawaddy River between Rangoon and the inner depths of Burma (now Myanmar). Crowther has a Burmese "wife" and a young daughter. The stone was compacted by an earthquake on a night of eclipse. It was accursed. Its setting was misery, not platinum, and the spark which gleamed in it was the very soul of malevolence.