Big talk and small talk are important in Oklahoma. There is a lot of it. But no one there is all talk.

My cousin once saw a man wrestle a gar with his bare hands, like you would a catfish. This occurred at the Grand Lake of the Cherokee, Grove, Oklahoma. Grove is where my family originates. It’s a small town with an artery that leads straight to a casino.

This is where my book was found, too. It’s a perfect lake read—all hooks. Not much point in reading a book that doesn’t get going within the first couple pages, according to my dad’s logic. The book’s author, Daniel Silva, gives us multiple assassinations and an explosion before the end of chapter one.

Baiting—something I can’t seem to help doing either. You could say it’s in my DNA. In my art practice I like to keep my viewer off balance through unexpected sensuality, gauche earnestness, and a bit of humor.

Silva’s The English Spy is an enjoyable read. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had been caught.