1. Apparently, my book is helping to inspire David Spina, who plays for the ECHL Premier 'AA' Hockey League. If he makes it to the majors, I intend to take credit.

2. I was honored to win two American Library Association Awards. It was nominated as one of the best books of the year. It was also selected for the 2008 Alex Awards, as one of the top ten books for young adults.

3. I am currently in the process of researching my next book about mixed martial arts. Expect to hear more from me soon. And when I say soon, I mean, in about two-three years!

It got me to thinking...

Because so many readers have requested signed copies of American Shaolin, I decided to set up a paypal account and figured out shipping costs.

If you are interested for yourself or for The Old Man (June 17), simply email me (matthew@mattpolly.com) and we can work out the details.

The book lists for $26. I can mail anyone in the U.S. a signed and inscribed copy for $24. Canada for $25. And England, well, $26. (Sorry, mates.) Any other countries will require specific calculations.

This will be a one-time limited offer, because my editor is expecting the proposal for my next book yesterday. Since I'm still undecided, all suggestions are welcome.

As the Shaolin monks say, "May the Buddha Bless you."

Best,
Matthew Polly

PS If you'd prefer to purchase directly, click on the image below:

But thanks to The Times of London and their wonderful photographer, Shahar Azram, I now have some advice.

First it is very important when performing flying kicks in a suit that you wear the knee-length dress socks. Sure, they are less comfortable, but no one wants to see your pasty white calves. Second, always apply a little hair gel. It gets windy out there on Broadway and 44th, especially if your flying kicks are, like mine, fast as lightning. Third, unbotton the top botton. Otherwise the suit bunches up and it makes it look like you've got a gut.

Hope that helps.

Gerry and Michal: you are innovative; you are the best. I hope you'll invite me to read at your amazing store.

In that spirit, this one is a shout-out to werethylacine, who is the first blogger to use a quote from my book as an epigram. She also referred to it as "very-worth-reading." That along with the fact that she goes to art school and plays D&D makes her the trifecta.

May her "lot of like" with the boy in her life turn into love.

Jeff Gabbard has done one of the most thorough reviews of American Shaolin on the web or in print, which you can read here. While this is no doubt due to his interest in martial arts literature, it is still rare in the MA community to find someone who can write as well as he can.

Riffing off Jeff's review is forsythferret, who says memorably of American Shaolin that it is "made up of several parts awesome." If only I could get The New York Times to say the same.

Also, I'd like to say before I stop complaining that editors perform a highly underated function. They protect writers from their worst instincts. They catch egregious mistakes. They prevent us from publishing some alienating screed late at night that might end our careers. While it is amusing to imagine some of the boozy diatribes Hemingway, Faulkner, or Fitzgerald had locked up inside them, it was better for them that they never had access to a blog during their darker moments.

But me thinks I doth protest too much.

So onward and upward into the brave new world of publishing.

In contrast an iron crotch master would have shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes after each whacking. I know because I once had the dubious honor of repeatedly kicking Shaolin’s iron crotch expert in the groin.

The year was 1993, and the Shaolin martial monks were putting on a show-stopping performance for a group of V.I.P. Beijing Party officials and their German diplomatic guests. Into the performance hall walked this monk who I’d never seen before. Using rudimentary hand gestures he made it clear that he was inviting audience members to kick him in the groin. An awkward silence descended as it became clear no one dared.

At this moment I made the mistake of looking over at Monk Deqing, who was my kungfu instructor. He made it clear with a fierce stare and a sharp chop of his hand that I had better get my skinny white ass on stage and start kicking away or there would be hell to pay the next day in class.

So with reddened cheeks I walked up to the iron crotch master, who put his hands on his hips, spread his legs, and gave me a level stare. Half-heartedly I snapped a weak right front kick into his crotch. He didn’t move or flinch but a slight smirk turned the corners of his mouth.

“He’s laughing at me,” I thought. And more than a little annoyed I let him have it. Eight full blasts to his groin. At the time I had a reasonably strong right front kick and each one of them lifted him six inches off the ground. Around the sixth kick, I felt a sharp pain on the top of my foot and realized I’d bruised it on his privates. And not for a moment was I able to wipe that damn smirk off his face.

I went on to have other odd adventures with Shaolin’s iron crotch master. I wouldn’t want to spoil them for you here. But thanks to the copyright infringing magic of youtube.com you, dear reader, can watch this same monk from whom I tried and failed to elicit a reaction in action.