US Times Bestseller List & Review
Little Lower than the Angelsby Marty Gallanter, Christine Mrazovich (Editor)
"For you have made him a little lower than the angels and crowned him with glory and honor."Psalm 8 of the Holy Scriptures
A Little Lower Than the Angels is a spiritual novel inspired by an ancient Jewish legend that relates how God, throughout all of history, has placed among us thirty-six righteous people... three/i>/blockquote>/i>
"For you have made him a little lower than the angels and crowned him with glory and honor."Psalm 8 of the Holy Scriptures
A Little Lower Than the Angels is a spiritual novel inspired by an ancient Jewish legend that relates how God, throughout all of history, has placed among us thirty-six righteous people... three dozen human beings, each of whom "knows the divine will." Should humanity ever seek to know the will of God, there are always thirty-six among us to help us learn.
Suzanne Rosewell is a Wall Street lawyer, the youngest female partner in the history of her prestigious firm. She's a strong, driven woman with the will to succeed and a head start on her chosen path. She knows what she wants and is willing to do whatever is necessary to achieve her goals... until she meets Elias Garner, the enigmatic black Jazz musician, who carries an ancient golden trumpet and represents the even more furtive "Chairman" (whom we learn is "the head of the most powerful corporation on earth").
Elias wants Suzanne to set aside her career and take on the task of finding "five missing righteous people." Through a series of mystical happenings and strange coincidences, all of which seem to involve Elias, Suzanne decides to accept the quest, starting an odd journey that takes her from New York City, to the Black Hills of South Dakota, to a holy Native American shrine, and back to New York again.
Suzanne is not without opposition. Elizabeth Luckholt, a woman described by Elias as his "opposite" in the great unnamed corporation, is determined to stop Suzanne. Elizabeth sits at the left hand of the Chairman and has a vested interest in seeing Suzanne's search fail. And Elizabeth has the power to muster considerable resources in pursuit of this goal. All of this is set against a deadline for success set by the Chairman himself. Without 36 names on the list, it appears that the world itself cannot exist beyond the sunrise.
US Times Bestseller List & Review
- Dead End Street, LLC
- Publication date:
- Edition description:
- Product dimensions:
- 5.96(w) x 9.10(h) x 0.94(d)
Read an Excerpt
This is a place where there is no need for the illusion of power, no need for the indulgence of vast, empty spaces that lesser corporations create as display cases, for temples to the concept of an imagined self-importance. Not here. Here illusions are worse than unnecessary. They denigrate the real power.
Here decisions are measured by the proportions of history, not by the rise and fall of stock prices listed in The Wall Street Journal, nor by polls, focus groups, or consumer surveys. What they do in this room can always, and often does, impact the lives of hundreds of millions and direct the path of civilization for generations. When one considers the magnitude of the might that gathers within its walls, this is a very small room.
In the center of the almost stingy space rests a fourteen-foot, deep mahogany conference table, surface waxed to a flawless finish, more reflective even than the smoked mirror behind the bar tucked away in the corner. A half-dozen chairs are neatly set around the highly polished surface, three on each side, large and red-leather, like those in the best London men�s clubs, with stiff, carved wooden legs buried into deep pile, earth-tone carpet. Before each chair lays a fresh, green blotter, fulfilling its mission to protect the surface from fingerprints or the lines made by a carelessly used ballpoint.
A Tiffany-shaded lamp guards each spot, projecting a gentle ring of light that glows on the golden edges of the green blotters. Original lamps, they are, real Tiffany�s. Replicas will not do in this room.
There is a seventh chair, taller, wider, more imposing than its mates, placed at the head of the table -- set back because that�s the way its exclusive occupant likes it. He has no need to lean on the shined surface, and insists on the extra space so he�s able to stretch his long legs. No blotter or lamp is required to decorate the spot that belongs to his chair. This is the Chairman�s place. And the Chairman doesn�t take notes, ever.
As the Chairman enters, the room is still empty and dark, protected from the sun by tapestry-like curtains covering a picture window wall. For him, arriving for a meeting early and first is not at all unusual. It is something he likes to do, to have a few minutes in the understated mighty room all to himself before any of the others arrive, to think and ponder, completely alone, on the problems they are about to discuss, the course of action they might take.
The Chairman knows the absolute reality. There isn�t a single corporate decision made anywhere else in the whole blessed universe that has a wider impact than those that are made in this room. This indisputable truth is not the result of his ego. By any normal, human standard, the Chairman doesn�t have an ego. It is simply a fact and this room deserves the respect associated with immense power, almost a shrine at which to worship in isolation before getting down to the real business.
The rest of the Management Team knows the Chairman�s solitary habit. Out of respect, they always arrive exactly at the moment the meeting is called, never late, never early. They are willing to stand in the hallway if necessary and wait for the ancient, but accurate, grandfather clock to reach the appointed hour rather than disturb the Chairman�s few moments of introspection.
And on this day in particular, he needs some time alone. He appears unusually tired. His eyes stare out black and angry from what are normally gentle, warm circles. His always properly starched white shirt is limp with sweat and the jacket of the high-fashioned, hand-tailored gray pinstripe is less than carefully draped over his arm.
He hangs the jacket on the chair, brushing the fabric thoughtlessly as though his hand could cause the wrinkles to flee, and sits down, falling into the soft, loving arms of the familiar red leather. The Chairman sighs, filling the room�s corners with the sound of his pain.
If this were a regular day, a normal gathering, he would have opened the heavy, dark curtains himself. He enjoys the act of bathing the room in light, enjoys it so much that the maintenance crew intentionally closes the curtains to allow the Chairman the privilege. On a regular day, for a normal gathering, he would stand for a while in front of the wall of glass and rest in the green, rolling hills reaching out forever in front of his eyes.
Not today. Today he is relishing the very lack of light, retreating and using the quiet dark room to envelop and shield him for a brief moment from the weight of the day�s concerns. The Tiffany lamps glow gently, broadcasting their circles of warm incandescent light softly onto the six empty places. The bright colors, pieced together by the shades� artist become an eternal jigsaw puzzle, projecting silently against the ceiling, offering an alternative to the friendly, yet unfriendly darkness of the room. The Chairman seems uncharacteristically oblivious to his environment.
For a moment he leaves his trance to notice that all six places are lit. The full Management Team will not be meeting today, not on this topic. Only the Executive Committee, the Chairman and his two key assistants, will gather. He has already decided to limit knowledge of this problem to as few as possible until a solution is reached, and if not a solution, then at least a conclusion.
The Chairman brushes his thick white hair from his forehead and with the same hand, reaches down to touch a hidden control panel on the side of his chair. Four of the lights go dark, leaving only the ones on his immediate right and immediate left illuminated. Then, resting his chin on his hand, his unblinking eyes staring at the far dark corner of the Board Room, the Chairman returns to his fierce concentration.
This was the very pose, this position of intense contemplation, the Chairman had chosen for his official portrait. The painting hung on the wall beside him, a neater, more relaxed image. In the picture, there are no circles under his dark, brown, steel-hard eyes. His long, thick gray hair is neat and the artist had not permitted a single wrinkle in the severe suit that covers the physique of a much younger man. The broad chin is hairless and the mustache perfectly trimmed, while the real image would benefit from a barber�s gentle touch-up.
The Chairman actually seems more alive and vital in the frame. But that isn�t surprising. Like the lamps, the absolute best contemporary artist available had created the painting. With the Corporation�s resources anyone the Chairman wanted was available.
This wasn�t his first portrait, only the latest in a line of masterpieces. He had been the head of the Corporation for a long time, a very long time. Every so often the picture needed to be redone to show a leader who understood -- had actually lived - the Corporation�s history, but who still knew the meaning of being a modern business executive.
The clock in the tower outside chimes in perfect synchronization with the grandfather in the hallway and the Chairman brings his eyes and his mind back into the room. The rest of the Executive Committee are waiting for that impartial signal and would now enter. He takes a deep breath and throws his shoulders back. It would not be appropriate for them to see the true level of his distress.
"Good morning, Boss," says a cheery voice cast by the tall, thin black man with a modified Afro, Brooks Brothers suit and a smile that spread from his sparkling black eyes to the tips of his polished Florsheims. He�s younger than the chairman, but it�s hard to tell how much younger. In his right hand he carries a small leather attach�, the kind too compact to hold anything of substance. The man notes the unusual closed atmosphere of the room and is troubled. He keeps his concerns to himself.
A woman whose age is not revealed by her appearance immediately follows him. At first glance, she appears younger than the Chairman, but older than the man preceding her. An extended study might make one question this conclusion. A trained eye would likely expand the observation by saying that, while just as well-dressed as either of the two men, in manner and style she can only be considered the black man�s absolute opposite.
The gender difference highlights the contrast. His skin is bittersweet chocolate, hers paste-white. His deep black eyes and her pale blue ones are as far apart as the two ends of a traffic signal. His tight, curly, dark hair absorbs the light, making his soft-features even brighter, while her light blond, shoulder length tresses punctuate the sharp lines of her hard-set face. His suit, tie and shirt combination communicate a message that clearly says "modern and carefree." If her clothes were a shade darker she�d be properly dressed for a funeral... a very fashionable funeral.
She enters the Board Room without word or expression, as somber as the Chairman, and gently brushes back her blond hair, making sure each strand is in place as she stares ahead through moist, unreadable eyes. Beyond the neutrality of expression, her thin lips are bent with the hint of a smile.
"Only the three of us, Boss?" The black man asks, as he settles into the red chair on the Chairman�s right, placing the leather case on the floor beside him.
"That�s correct Eli," the Chairman answers. "This is Executive Committee stuff. I don�t want the whole Management Team involved until we find a solution. I certainly don�t want the rank and file to know what we�re doing."
The Chairman�s hand returns to the control panel under his chair and the Board Room door locks.
"This sounds serious, Boss," the black man responds, his tone shifting to one of definite concern, his eyes drifting again to the closed curtains.
"Yes, very serious, but since it was Lucky who told me about the problem, she ought to make the presentation." The Chairman turns toward the blond woman who is sitting stiffly upright, her hands folded in front of her.
Invisibly... internally, the woman winces at the Chairman�s use of the hated nickname. No one else calls her "Lucky." No one else dares. Only a few of her closest associates are permitted to call her Elizabeth. Most simply refer to her as "Ma�am." And the masses get no closer than "Ms. Luckholt."
Elizabeth Luckholt is aware that the Chairman knows everything about her particular brand of protocol. No one has better information. The Chairman knows everything. That�s because he�s the Chairman, or maybe that�s why he�s the Chairman. Who knows for sure? But once he discovered Luckholt�s fastidious insistence that people at particular corporate levels use particular forms of address, the Chairman had instantly dubbed her "Lucky," just to annoy her, she was sure.
Though a minor humiliation, it is one that always reminds Luckholt who and where she is, of her failed attempt, some years before, to depose the Chairman and take control. Despite that singular, major act of disloyalty, she still sits at the Big Table and on the Executive Committee, because no one else can, or will, do what she does for the Corporation. Next to the Chairman himself, she is the most indispensable person in the company. So let him have fun with his silly nickname.
Without a further thought, Elizabeth Luckholt presents the problem.
What People are Saying About This
(Mindy Adams, US Times Bestseller List & Review)
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
See all customer reviews
i really felt taken by this story. read it. seriously. read it. you will be very happy you did.
'Little Lower Than The Angels' is this generation's 'Jonathon Seagull'. Classic story of good triumphing over evil by ordinary and believable characters. Mr.Gallanter captures the distinct nuances of people and places like very few authors. The only thing wrong with the novel: it either reads too fast or is written too short, i.e., it ended all too soon.
I am not one to speak in hyperbole, yet I feel the need to use such adjectives as 'extraordinary' and 'fantastic' when describing this parable. A wonderful effort from a first time author (unless I am mistaken, as I can find no other titles for sale on the web by Mr. Gallanter). In the parlance of my teenaged son, 'The book is awesome, dude!'
My name is John Rutledge. I work here at Dead End Street, the publisher of Marty's book. I would like to thank all of you for your kind words regarding the book. We have been overwhelmed with the popular response to the book and we are pleased to say that Marty (the author) has been booked on talk shows across the nation to talk about it, including The Rick Dees Radio Show. Please continue to spread the word. We have a real opportunity here to make the world a better place - even if only to a small extent.
I truly admire writers that can take popular storylines and intersprece a religious lesson without coming across preachy. In fact, I forgot that this was supposed to be a religious story. I got so absorbed in it. It is really quite splendid!
Like I said, I think this is a really good book.
A very fun read. Quite absorbing. The author does a great job of developing scenes.
this is a really good story
enjoyed this story very much
My sister advised me to get ahold of this first chance I got. And, being that she's a bit picky about what she reads (to say the least!), I took her advice. And I'm very glad I did. This is quite an extrordinary tale.
I also found the work a little bit predictable. But, you know what? I didn't mind. It was a really good story and I found myself taken in.
I truly enjoyed reading this book. The plot was spellbinding and I could hardly put it down. It is well written. I hope to read more books from the Author.
I enjoyed this book so much so that I read it completely within three days downloading it. I identify with several of the characters, especially the security guard (since that's what I am, and where I use my rocketbook most). This is my first review, and I can say this book is well worth buying. Just bring your thinking cap, because its not for dummies.
I read this in the orginal PDF format from Dead End Street Publications. It is a hopeful book, well-written with an optimistic outlook too often lacking in most of what we read.
What an amazing story. I am SOOOOOO glad I downloaded this book. At first, I wasn't convinced this newfangled idea of electronic books was such a good idea. But if any of them are as good as this book, e-books is a stroke of genius. Truly, I HIGHLY recommend this book!