Wednesday, 31 August 2011
I am guest posting - come along and say hi!
I would like you to know that I am guest posting this week on the blog of Laura Sullivan, the author of Brightwing. I am presenting one of my favourite English words. If you want to know what it is and why come along following this link - it would be really lovely if you comment as well!
You are also very welcome to participate - just contact Laura and write a story about your favourite word ! It is fun!
Tuesday, 30 August 2011
Mini review: The Summoner (Dominic Gray 01) by Layton Green
Book form: e-book, Kindle edition
Published December 8th 2010 (first published December 6th 2010)
Genre: thriller, adventure, mystery novel
Synopsis:
Harare, Zimbabwe. William Addison, an American embassy employee, is missing – allegedly he and his local girlfriend attended a religious ceremony after which he simply disappeared in front of hundreds of onlookers in a whiff of smoke. As he was a close friend and a golf buddy of the ambassador himself and the local police, understaffed and underpaid, can’t and/or don’t want to cope with such a mysterious case, Dominic Grey, a Diplomatic Security special agent, is ordered to investigate. Adding the investigation is a Czech religious phenomenology professor, Viktor Radek, and the local government liaison, Nya Mashumba.
Soon enough Grey uncovers crimes which can be traced back to a terrifying ancient cult and quite contemporary local mobsters, both of them ruthless, deadly and hell-bent to achieve their goals and kill him in the process. Will his violent, abusive childhood, martial art training and diplomatic connections allow him to get to the truth in time? Will he be able to protect the others?
What I liked:
One of the huge assets of this book was the fact that Zimbabwe felt very real, with its problems, poverty, crime, inflation, fauna and flora, culture etc. Somehow you can always tell whether or not the author has personally visited and explored the country he/she is writing about, even if you haven’t been to the country in question yourself. Here the answer to that question was definitely a yes. I might not have a chance to visit Zimbabwe so I was even more eager to dwell on every tidbit about the local culture and atmosphere. It was an interesting journey and it made this book more original than the usual fare.
The premise was interesting as well – few authors bother with religion-based crime and cults because, let’s face it, religion is a sensitive topic. Even if you don’t mean any harm some people will be outraged/offended anyway. Mr. Green put an appropriate disclaimer at the end of the story just in case – a proof that he knows how delicate a topic can it be. Still he managed to balance things nicely, at least in my very humble opinion, bringing up interesting issues of the power of faith and boundaries of our mind. Well done!
The research on Yoruba religions and Juju was impressive, detail-rich and absolutely persuading, exceeding the usual standards of such novels. I enjoyed it as African folklore is not exactly a well-known topic, definitely not as popular as European mythologies.
The pace of the narration was as fast as I like, with several twists and turns; the mystery – not so easy to solve. I swallowed this one in two evenings and I liked the way it was written.
What I didn’t like:
If only the psychological portraits of main characters were more profound I would be very pleased indeed. Unfortunately they weren’t, despite the offered background. The book is clearly plot-driven, not character-driven and it’s a pity. Let’s say just this: most of the characters had potential which was left unexplored.
Dominic was a bit too stiff to be totally likeable, not to mention his paramour, Miss Mashumba, who seemed to be a classic case of an introverted little clam. I know, I know, she has been mourning her late father; still her pain was not so terribly acute to prevent a little romance…and do not let me start on baddies who remained cardboard-flat and ugly, every single one of them…on the other hand I do hope not all is lost yet, there is at least one more book available; perhaps I will be able to warm to Dominic Gray, his beautiful Nya and even the mysterious, and a bit stodgy Victor.
Final verdict with a warning:
For the second time I was surprised that such a good book didn’t find a publisher – the Summoner is certainly better and more original than the average fare I have had the opportunity to get acquainted with. I will gladly continue reading this series. If you’re in the mood for an intriguing thriller, give it a try!
For those who are squeamish about torture scenes: there are some parts of this book that might make you uncomfortable to say the least of it. They are not very bad, not nearly the worst I’ve read, but bad enough. Here, you have been forewarned.
Labels:
book review,
Layton Green,
murder mystery,
The Summoner,
thriller
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Saturday, 27 August 2011
Mini review: Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin
I got this book as a gift from my good friend, The Red Witch – thank you very much my dear, I do appreciate!
Book info:
Hardcover, 288 pages
Publisher: Harcourt
ISBN: 0151014248
Language: English
Target audience: adults
Genre: fantasy, historical fiction
Summary (from Goodreads):
Lavinia grows up knowing nothing but peace and freedom, until she turns eighteen and the suitors come. Her mother wants her to marry her cousin, the handsome, ambitious Turnus. But omens and prophecies spoken by the sacred springs say she must marry a foreigner—that she will be the cause of a bitter war—and that her husband will not live long. She is visited by Vergil as an oracle, experiencing a kind of time travel. When a fleet of Trojan ships sails up the Tiber, Lavinia decides to take her destiny into her own hands. And so she tells us what Vergil did not: the story of her life, and of the love of her life which she lost only too early.
What I liked:
First, the idea to present ancient Rome at its very beginning, when it practically didn’t exist as a town, let alone a country, fascinated me. I haven’t read Vergil’s the Aeneid but I was roughly aware what it is about and I wanted to find out more. Le Guin made the obscure world of Bronze Age Italy a place one can feel and taste, a place where the influence of oracles and gods is clearly felt and people live in full accordance with nature and its forces. It is obvious the authoress did a lot of research concerning the daily life and early religious beliefs of proto-Romans and she created a very believable vision of their world which I enjoyed.
The narration was slow and a bit detached but with that mesmerizing, very reflexive, watchful quality of a fairy tale. Overall not unpleasant but still not fully satisfying…ok, you can finds my complaints below.
The main heroine, Lavinia, is also a huge asset here – she goes from meek, unquestioning, submissive maiden to someone who learns to stand up for herself and her child and lead others. She can be called a kick-ass heroine, for sure; she is determined to make her own choices but also fully aware of her own ficitionality.
What I didn’t like:
It is not exactly a fault but I felt that you cannot read this novel and fully appreciate it without having read Vergil's poem; what’s more, you really ought to have read it recently. Although I knew the outlines of the story of Aeneas sometimes I had to stop reading and remind myself about some details. So be warned: LeGuin's book is less a novel than a commentary in unconventional because fantasy-scented form. If you haven’t heard about Vergil, Troy and/or Aeneid, you might feel a bit lost.
Also, having read books with very complicated, dynamic plot lines previously I wished for two things reading Lavinia: more action and more linear narration. I must admit there was very little plot and you got flashes from the future in between. No surprising twists and turns in this one – something which took off the edge, making me less eager to finish this book because I (and the main heroine as well) had been told what would happen even before the action was actually described. I kept waiting for the climax and somehow I missed it.
Finally I would like to see more of Vergil (Publius Vergilius Maro), apparently a poet with an interesting biography.
Final verdict:
This was still a very fine, intelligent piece of work, and a pleasure to read, definitely encouraging me to try other LeGuin books.
Labels:
book review,
fantasy novel,
historical fiction,
Lavinia,
Ursula Le Guin
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Friday, 26 August 2011
Friday Flash Fiction
Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash on Friday - 350 words, give or take. Below you can find the picture posted last Monday:
After running from her mother's palace Alayne has been sulking for hours, sitting on her favourite glade, picking flowers or kicking them in fury. It didn't bring her the peace of mind she looked for. Her white doves kept her company, pestering her for food. They were always ravenous when she was angry, stupid birds. Why couldn't she have a falcon or an owl at her disposal? The answer was that her mother made her choose white doves, such nice, innocent birds, perfectly fit for a high-born, delicate maiden. Alayne snorted. If only people knew the real nature of doves - how they fight stray pigeons and even their own adult progeny mercilessly, how gluttonous they are, and how many times she had to change her dress and even wash her head just because one of these sweet white doves shat on her publicly, making people laugh and point and comment... Sometimes she hated them as much as she hated her mother and today she gave one of them such a solid swat when nobody was looking, that it was left unconscious on the floor of her room. She didn't care. Still her anger didn't recede.
How dared they ask her such a thing? It was true that her gifts were rather unique and her mother had previously announced several times that she, her princess daughter, had to make up her mind and finally share some of her powers but Alayne was never one for sharing. It was her who the goddess had chosen all these years ago, her gifts were her birthright and nobody should interfere, shouldn't they? So what the forests were dying somewhere in a distant kingdom? They should have kept them in a better order in their own best interest. So what they came to the court, begging, grovelling and cajoling her mother into sending Alayne with them? Nobody asked her view as if she was merely a clever dog or a pretty horse, or a slave. Apart from that Alayne knew that it was enough to agree one time and soon her mother would make her actually work for her upkeep, sending her to and fro, trading her gifts for different favours, alliances and money.
There was just one person who used to stand by her side and protect her from the Queen's rapacious appetites. Her father. Unfortunately currently he lived far, far away and never seemed to be too inclined to visit. Small wonder, last time he went to see his daughter, her mother made an attempt on his life during the farewell feast. Alayne wanted to run away with him but her mother, devious as ever, aticipated her move; she imprisoned her and kept closed in dungeons as long as it took to break her will. The problem was that Alayne couldn't live pernamently in an enclosed space, be it a palace or a simple hut. Without using her powers, touching the trees and grass, she would go mad. Her mother demanded from her a sacred oath on the goddess that she would never ever leave her mother's kingdom without specific orders. She was young, feeble, panicky and stupid. She agreed. All these years she has hoped against all odds that her father somehow would find a way for her to weasel out of this oath and set her free. In vain. He just has asked her over and over again to be patient and wait.
All of a sudden she heard some hooves. A young man on a horse was approaching fast, a winsome smile on his face. She was less than impressed. Another suitor or supplicant, sent by her mother to make her more inclined to cooperate. She frowned.
"Stop where you are and don't move or you will get hurt!"
"I am an envoy from your father, princess Alayne, I came..."
"Don't you dare lie to me!"
With one casual flick of her hand she made her doves into white feathered bullets which attacked the rider and sent him to earth. Although he fell he fought them with a desperate efficiency. A dove's beak can do a lot of damage to your face but he knew what to do with his fists to stun or kill all the birds attacking him. Now she was impressed a bit. He turned to her and said:
"I am not lying, I am your father's envoy coming to..."
"...to do what exactly?"
She managed to sound as mean as her mother. Such a voice made people cringe and run for cover but that man just smiled.
"To help you outwit your mother the Queen...and to marry you if I succeed"
That left her truly speechless.
Monday, 22 August 2011
Chick lit authors know the best women’s vested interest...or so they are supposed to do
I decided to write a critical essay based on my summer folly - the chick lit novels I've read and reviewed here. In order to be more even-handed in my assessment I also invited other bloggers, definitely better-read in chick lit than me, to express their opinions - thank you very much Melissa from Books and Thinks and Blodeuedd, the Book Girl of Mur-y-Castell for accepting my invitation! I am so proud I can host you on my blog - it is truly a pleasure to have such guests!
My guests of course always have precedence - first, let me present the take of lovely Melissa on the subject at hand, short and sweet:
I will borrow a definition I took from Wikipedia: Chick lit is genre fiction which
addresses issues of modern womanhood, often humorously and lightheartedly. I
agree with that definition and it is how I see chick lit and why I see it as popular
and has a vested interest in what women go though in the world. It can become a
friend that understands when the world does not seem to “get it”. It can shed a
different slant of light on your particular problem. It can just entertain you when
you just want to slip away from the world for a moment. I think these are reasons
chick lit is so popular.
However, I often feel that sometimes it doesn’t quite go far enough in the
problems women face. Chick lit is good for the smaller problems of life, but often
does not tackle the harsher side. Doesn’t mean that there isn’t a chick lit book out
there that tackles it (anything is possible) but often we do not turn to this type of
genre for those problems. Perhaps that is why some people shun the genre.
All in all, I do personally like an occasional chick lit book even though I tend
toward the paranormal UF type. Sometimes it is nice to see problems solved
within the pages of the book... by the end of the book. Sort of why we like
situational sitcoms.
What can I say? I like my HEA! Hey! That rhymes! LOL
Now our lovely lady Blodeuedd's very honest opinion:
When Ana asked me to write something I was scared beyond words, because she is one smart cookie and writes such wonderful essays. While I am more of the ramble on school, I am truly the queen of rambling.
I do love chick-lit books even if I like to think of that category as just being the funny, modern, real kind of chick-lit (think Bridget Jones), but Ana’s essay made me re-think this, and I had to think of all books aimed at women. And why we read and love them.
Escapism, pure and simple. In books like these people fall madly in love, men are willing to brave huge deserts, blood thirsty beasts and time and space to be with the women they love. The books just make you sigh and dream away. Sure I find them silly sometimes (coughs, often), but that is mostly because of sex scenes. Oh yes the wonderful world where men are well endowed, sex always works even if there are zombies outside the window, and you can do it 7 times in a row. But that is just fun in itself, it’s a nice dream. Would I then want that guy who pesters me 7 times in a night, tries to get into my knickers when there are zombies around wanting my brain and who is so big I faint. Eh, no thanks. Still, I love to read about it.
And have you thought how handsome the men always are? The women are sometimes plain but the oh so sexy men steps in and sweeps our heroine of her feet. Now who does not love reading about that. The sexy man, the playboy who gives up his life for his woman, the bad boy who stops his wicked ways, the alpha who only wants to protect etc. They are wanted by all women but then only want that one special one. It makes my soul ache and fly around cute pink fluffy clouds. I love stories like that. Now we check back to reality. Would I want the playboy who has Chlamydia because of all the women he has been with? No, I’d rather not go there. Would I become irritated if my man was so scared I’d get a splinter and die so he does everything for me? Oh sheesh, do not be too alpha now Mister! Or how about the bad boy? If I wanted a guy who is bound for jail I’d go to the courthouse. That sexy guy then, come on, you certainly want the sexy guy? No there too. It is not because all women would ogle him, it’s because too pretty is just too pretty sometimes. And everyone has a different taste when it comes to men. What is handsome for one might not be it for all. My own man is the cutest man in the universe (*shifty eyes, back off women!*), but I do realize that the rest of the women in the universe might not feel the same. But he is mine and I love him, I would not trade him even if Brad Pitt came sniffing around (not the best to choose since I do not find him attractive at all but you get the point). Still, bf is the cutest in the world! Oh sorry Ana, this was a text about chick-lit, not why bf is cutest (well he is and I have pictures to prove it ;)
So yes it is simple. The men are out of this world. The stories are filled with danger but always give us a happy ending. Everything is wrapped in a sweet pink ribbon and they give us all that which might not happen in real life. Everyone is happy, no one gets hurt and true love always conquers all in the end.
As you see Blodeuedd is only teasing you when she says I am the clever one, not her... in order not to sound totally inane let me finally present my very anachronistic and totally skewed point of view, concerning chick lit.
If you’ve read my blog this summer you know I’ve reviewed a lot of chicklit novels (if you are not familiar with the term - novels aimed mainly if not solely at girls and women which age might range from about 14 to about 104 no matter whether a book is considered to be an YA or an adult fare; as you see my definition is quite wide). It proved to be quite an experiment. Some of these books I enjoyed, some of them made me laugh, some of them annoyed me a bit but all of them got me thinking…not very encouraging sign in itself, is it? I started to think about the perception of women the authors, after all in 99% women themselves, share with their readers. In other words I wanted to pinpoint what makes these books so popular among female readers. It must be something about the perception…it turned out all of these are trying to address some basic women’s needs; of course those their authors consider the most important ones. My take might be highly biased, flawed even nasty – feel free to correct me if you want to. I’ve always appreciated a good, factual dispute.
1. Appreciation and self-awareness.
Firstly and foremostly every chicklit novel heroine wants to be appreciated for what and who she really is. I know - it’s better to be hated for what you are than loved for what you are not…but if you stand a chance to find somebody who actually loves you for what you really are then you should grab at this chance and do your utmost to keep it…I do think it is the common theme, recurring in all books I’ve read so far. It is also, in my humble opinion, something we meet in real life constantly. Let me be more precise.
Usually, at the very beginning we find out our main female lead is outrageously underestimated by people around her, often her own family. Remember e.g. lovely Alexia Tarabotti from “The Parasol Protectorate”? Her family considered her to be just a plain, eccentric old spinster whom no effort whatsoever could guarantee a good position in a society (so a good marriage – the novel is set in a parallel universe’s Victorian London after all). Of course Alexia was anything but plain… Typical. I could quote many-oh-so-many other examples. Either our girl/woman is considered a bit too “weird” and wild or a bit too calm, normal and ordinary. The whole narration is often based on that premise – our heroine either has just started discovering who/what she really is or where her “otherness” stems from or somebody has just discovered her unusual gifts/ traits/features. Sometimes (e.g. Ann Aguirre’s Sirantha Jax) she is literally imprisoned in a lunatic asylum, awaiting a horrible fate, wondering what went wrong with her life and how to break free. No matter what the situation is, though, she craves a change. She really does. In those books when a woman craves something so much, believe me, she will get it or she will die trying.
2. True love is like ghosts – plenty of people talk about them, nobody has really seen them…sex is quite another matter.
Bear with me…I know, the subtitle is rather fancy and long but somehow I couldn’t get rid of it. Chick lit female heroines, not unlike their real life counterparts, want to find their true love. In any sense of this word. Even if outwardly they don’t want to acknowledge such a need at first. It might start as a love of their new career or job, embracint their fate, minority or social group or simply a new place in life (e.g. when our heroine is turned against her will into, say, a vampire, like Merit from Chloe Neill’s Chickagoland Vampires series and must find a way to fit in) but eventually and unfailingly it will lead to a discovery of her better (or worse) half. A classic example – Gini Koch and her super-alien-fighting character called Kitty Katt. Miss Katt is very lucky – aliens are just a bunch of extra handsome guys and she has plenty to choose from.
Overall chick lit heroines simply must have a paramour by their side, no matter how independent, kick-ass, kung-fu, ninja, professional superwomen they are. I only find it weird that usually their beloved comes in a shape of a hot, well-muscled, clean, handsome, well-dressed and quite well-off (but discreetly so, money is such a dirty topic) male who is not only protective, understanding and kind but also can ensure his woman reaches the highest level of sexual pleasure every single time they go to bed or, more generally speaking, have sex (a major snort here, sorry but I really found it difficult to check myself this time). It is also very funny that a true love absolutely can’t come in the shape of a, say, poor, bald, middle-aged ne’er-do-well with glasses, a paunch and short, bandy legs. Never. Such people don’t exist as love interests in chick lit fiction. There might be even more than one hottie around and then the ugly love triangle raises its dubiously interesting head. It is a beast I despise - I usually give it a whack in my reviews. Bad, bad beastie, go back where you belong - to fanfic sites and other unsavory places. I know, I am biased. Sigh...nobody is perfect, you know.
3. Security
Finally a chicklit heroine, in order to achieve a permanent HEA (HEA= ‘happily ever after’ – the perfect fairly tale ending when people marry and still stay happy no matter what) must feel secure in her life and find a place she truly belongs. It is a very important factor and very rightly so but most often executed in a ham-fisted way. Of course you might say that the sense of security is also connected to all these aforementioned things like love, lust and appreciation; you are completely right. However, it is strange that our heroine usually finds the sense of security not in her independence or a healthy partnership but rather in a support provided by a highly hierarchical group, resembling more a medieval court or an army than a contemporary family. Let it be a vampire coven, a pack of werewolves or any other community (zombies, witches you name it)- most often it is ruled by a single individual, an alpha male or female (less often female than male I must add) and the members, including our heroine of course, must swear allegiance to him/her. In return for their loyalty they get the sense of belonging, support and protection. Wait a moment – aren’t we living in a society where women strive to be treated as equals but are usually not given that much? Apparently it is reflected in the chick lit but in a slightly more subtle form – our heroines are more often than not simply too comfortable to argue their point any longer. A gilded cage…maybe with pink cushions, syrupy drinks and a candy cane but still a cage.
The final example in my short essay – the Psy/changeling series by Nalini Singh. A long paranormal romance series, ten books so far. YES, I admit it, I’ve read all of them but never felt like writing a review. No, it wasn’t a difficult reading challenge as plenty of elements are repeated over and over again – you can skip practically whole sections and continue the narration without any problem. Skipping I did.
Well, the novels weren’t very bad to tell you all the truth. We are presented with two opposite societies - the Psy (kind of superhumans with paranormal skills like telekinesis or empathy), who are devoid of emotions as they follow a kind of mental training/brainwashing routine known as the Silence. During the training which starts often in early childhood all emotions – positive and negative ones – are suppressed and eliminated. The goal is to create a perfect, uniform community without friendship and love but also without hatred, crime, prejudice, madness and other pathologies. Are Psy women independent? Yes, definitely so, you can even say in the most blatant way. They are assessed like males and their careers and success depends solely on their cunning, abilities and the strength of their character. Are they happy? No, not at all. In most of the parts of this series Psy women simply can’t wait when they finally find a nice domineering changeling male (or human; most changelings are not that willing and you can hardly blame them) and defect the perfect iciness of the PsyNet, a place every Psy is mentally connected to.
The author seems to indicate that, given a choice, a woman would prefer love and subjugation to lack of love and complete emancipation. Of course the fact that the changeling men are very handsome, protective, loving and caring towards their women/mates kind of sugarcoats the whole issue but still…it made my head spin a little bit. Especially that the author follows a kind of HEA routine, never daring to mention what happens if something, even quite accidentally, goes wrong. In her world if anything goes wrong it is simply not in our backyard, maybe even not in our neighbours’ backyard, just far, far away. Perhaps such a trick keeps most of her readers happy but others might find such a narrative too cliché as it really contains too little real-life surprises, twists and turns. If a heroine is ill, it is always practically guaranteed she will somehow recover or somebody will eventually find a way to cure her. She can’t die, go mad or become an invalid – she has a mission to fulfill. Keep all chick lit readers in good mood and make them return for more of the same fluffy sweet stuff when ugly reality bites. Not unlike all the alcoholics, drug and sweets junkies and other addicts around the world.
Can you get addicted to the smooth, trouble-free, artificial world of chick lit and HEA? Hmm…I guess so.
Labels:
chicklit novels,
guest post,
miscellaneous essays
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Sunday, 21 August 2011
Friday, 19 August 2011
Friday Flash Fiction
Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash on Friday - 350 words, give or take. Below you can find the picture posted last Monday:
I decided to be a good girl and write just a short story concerning the pic of the week (yes, I did take a leaf out of Bloddeued's book composing this one). If you wish to read the continuation of Kanji's story, state so in your comment - I might write it another time, maybe next week.
Her wish finally came true. She was younger and beautiful again. The most beautiful woman in the whole kingdom. There was just one snag - she lost her memory. Completely. She stood there, in the middle of a forest, her precious truth-saying mirror lying in the grass, not remembering her name, her identity, her purpose in life. She has forgotten what to do with her hands and feet. She has forgotten her mother tongue. Her brain was one big blank slate with nothing left apart from the simplest impulses and reactions.
Hunger. Fear. Pain. Keeping her balance to stand upright. Cold shadows. Sunlight on her arms. Everything new and strange as if she was standing on an alien planet and experiencing completely new feelings for the first time in her life. Suddenly she felt a pricking sensation on the nape of her head. She turned - another instinctive reaction. A small girl dressed in white with big opalescent wings of a giant butterfly was standing nearby, observing her with a casual, cheeky smirk. Any other human would say that the face of the child was cruel and mean but she couldn't know that much. She has forgotten how to read people's facial expressions. All she was able to do was to copy the smile. It seemed weird but somehow right.
"Are you happy now, my queen?" asked the girl, smiling wider and showing tiny, white, pointy teeth, belonging rather to an animal's mouth than to that of a human. Not getting an answer she cocked her head to one side. She would look cute indeed if only her face were less predatory.
" Do you understand me at all, my queen? You have forgotten how to talk, haven't you? If you can't answer I guess I am right, don't bother, I'm just checking the effectiveness of my spell. I would love to get Snow White see you in your current state, though - I bet she would laugh her pretty head off and kiss my both cheeks for such a fine piece of magical work. Bye for now and just in case, never make a deal with a fairy again. You are definitely not smart enough."
The child disappeared in a flash of shimmering light. The scene left her totally perplexed. She did hear the words and they somehow sounded familiar but she didn't understand their meaning. Now she faced another, far more urgent puzzle. How to move a leg?
Wednesday, 17 August 2011
Wishful Wednesday, 17 August
The meme is hosted by Brooke from Brooke Bluestocking Guide.
Welcome to Wishful Wednesday!
This week my wish is simple, nice and oh so predictable... a new book of
David Liss was published on August 9th by Random House. Its title is:
The Twelfth Enchantment
Here is the blurb (from Goodreads):
Tuesday, 16 August 2011
Summer mini review: My Life as A White Trash Zombie by Diana Rowland
Book info:
- Paperback: 320 pages
- Publisher: DAW; Original edition (July 5, 2011)
- Language: English
- ISBN-10: 0756406757
- ISBN-13: 978-0756406752
- Target audience: adults
- Genre: urban fantasy, thriller, crime mystery
Synopsis:
The book opens with Angel waking up in the hospital after the accident. She was brought in as a suspected overdose and rape victim – policemen found her lying naked on the side of a road. Her scattered memories and the mysterious package left for her at the hospital hint at something entirely different than just a nasty date and an accident, though. Angel is given an anonymous message, telling her that a new job awaits her; she must keep it for a month or she goes back to jail (she is still on a parole). Next to the message there are some containers with strange coffee-flavoured stuff – she is supposed to drink it once a day.
Angel is directed to a local morgue and becomes a van driver and a morgue tech, helping with autopsies and such. I know, a rather grim choice of a job for a young woman but somehow Angel doesn’t mind. After a very short period of time she becomes even fond of her job as it provides her, apart from a decent wage, with a substance necessary for her survival and normal functioning (guess what). Of course the reasons why she has been turned into a zombie and who her mysterious saviour is are revealed only at the end of the book. In fact the majority of the novel is about how being turned into a zombie is one of the best things that has ever happened to her – otherwise she might have never had the strength to change the odds and do something positive with her life. Oh, and don’t forget a bit of mystery - a serial killer starts murdering people around, cutting their heads off. Angel suspects a fellow zombie has gone rogue and finding the perpetrator asap is in her best interest (braaaaiiiiiiiiiinss are becoming scarce).
What I liked:
I must admit it: I am not a fan of zombies (smelly, messy, disgusting, psychologically simplistic creatures they are) so I was a bit skeptical about this premise at first. The title was provocative, though and the Dan Dos Santos' cover art sold me on giving this one a chance, especially as I’ve read so many enthusiastic reviews on other blogs. I'm glad I did. Here are the reasons why:
· This book is filled with surprisingly complex characters and really decent story lines.
· Reading about Angel's prior decline and present rise, while stumbling through her revelations on becoming a zombie was a hoot. As a main female lead she is naïve enough to be realistic, prickly enough to make you laugh more than once and sympathetic enough to make you forget about her little zombie problem and root for her. She is a heroine you can connect to easily even though she could be one after your brain.
· I loved the supporting cast (now it is clear Ms Rowland has worked with the police force) and even, surprise, surprise, the little love story at the end. It was very nice indeed.
· The narration was quick and clean, the mystery full of surprising twists – overall it was a very pleasant, entertaining read. Rowland puts new twists on old ideas in a very clever way in this one and she never grosses out her readers.
· Finally, don’t mistake this book for a fluffy pink romance with some local zombie colouring. Although it features a white-trashy redneck heroine with a pill addiction, it has surprisingly deep moments. After all it deals with the problem of finding a better way of life when you are an underdog and nobody provides you with any clues.
What I didn’t like:
· It was too short. I would gladly read a sequel. Even with a pink cover. Pretty please.
Final verdict:
A very nice surprise and a great summer read – Ms Rowland’s zombies definitely exceeded my expectations. I recommend this book even for those who are, like me, not exactly zombie fans. I liked it far better than the previous novel of the same author, Mark of the Demon, reviewed by me not so long ago.
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Monday, 15 August 2011
Musical Monday 15 August
What new great songs have you heard recently (I mean new for you, of course) ? What songs do you eagerly return to? Would you like to share? Here is my pick for this Monday - Adele and "I set fire to the rain" song. Enjoy!
And as it fell, you rose to claim it,
It was dark and I was over,
Until you kissed my lips and you saved me,
My hands, they were strong, but my knees were far too weak,
To stand in your arms without falling to your feet,
But there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew,
All the things you'd say, they were never true, never true,
And the games you'd play, you would always win, always win,
But I set fire to the rain,
Watched it pour as I touched your face,
Well, it burned while I cried,
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name,
When laying with you I could stay there,
Close my eyes, feel you here forever,
You and me together, nothing is better,
'Cause there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew,
All the things you'd say, they were never true, never true,
And the games you'd play, you would always win, always win,
But I set fire to the rain,
Watched it pour as I touched your face,
Well, it burned while I cried,
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name
I set fire to the rain,
And I threw us into the flames,
Well, I felt something die,
'Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time,
Sometimes I wake up by the door,
And heard you calling, must be waiting for you,
Even that when we're already over,
I can't help myself from looking for you,
I set fire to the rain,
Watched it pour as I touch your face,
Well, it burned while I cried,
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name
I set fire to the rain,
And I threw us into the flames,
Well, I felt something die,
'Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time, oh,
Oh, no,
Let it burn, oh,
Let it burn,
Let it burn.
Sunday, 14 August 2011
Friday, 12 August 2011
Friday Flash Fiction
Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash on Friday - 350 words, give or take. Below you can find the picture posted last Monday:
Right. I agree with Tink/Dottie - a great choice, Blodeuedd, an incredible picture, full of mystery and potential, begging for a new, interesting story, but... I promised to continue and now I was scratching my head, wondering how to do it... Well, I tried and here are the results - it is the part three of Kanji's story from the previous weeks.
When you regain consciousness, it is really difficult to say how long you was out. One minute, one hour? Maybe half a day? Kanji opened his eyes asking himself that very question. He found no answer but still was nicely surprised. He was lying in a comfortable four-poster bed in a big, well-lit room. His head was woolly and tender but no longer aching. He felt better, loads better than previously when he had woken up in a gutter. He tried to pinpoint the exact reason. After a while he found out there were several of them.
Firstly he was clean. He didn't smell like homeless trash any longer, his hair was still damp after washing and his numerous cuts and bruises were either covered by an ointment or dressed properly. Secondly he had some fresh clothes on and they seemed to be made of purest silk. He'd always felt good in silk. He smiled. Somebody not only had rescued him from the gutter but also had taken good care of him and contributed to his well-being. Everything was right again - he was a prince, he deserved the best and he got it, failure or not failure.
Then he closed his eyes and reminded himself of that particular rescuer. It dampened his spirits a bit and Kanji frowned. True, it was a beautiful young lady but at that time she didn't seem exactly the epitome of sympathy and kindness. She had spoken to him harshly, without due respect; she even mentioned, imagine the cheek, a price for helping him...or maybe it was just his feverish imagination playing tricks again and again? Perhaps she'd changed her mind? He had such an effect on ladies after all, he thought vainly - after taking a closer look at him most women definitely became nicer, softer and more forthcoming. It was a universal truth: his face was regular, smooth and pleasant, his body - well-muscled, lean and proportionate; in short he was the handsomest among six brothers, really nice to look at. Or touch. Or pamper. Immersed in more pleasant thoughts, smiling in reminiscence, he didn't realise somebody was standing next to his bed until he felt a straw touching his upper lip.
"Drink, Kanji. You are thirsty."
It was her voice and her perfume - his rescuer didn't forget about his needs. Now he felt real thirst and here you go, she was giving him something to drink immediately. Good service - it should be always that way. He took several satisfied sips of a liquid which tasted like diluted, spiced wine and tried to open his eyes again. He couldn't.
He was sleeping again. In his dream he saw another female face. Her head was covered by some dark cloth, her silhouette almost indiscernible from the swirling darkness. The woman's facial features were definitely alien, as if she came from a foreign country: large, round eyes, a short, rather wide but graceful nose, lovely lips, red and full. Kanji wouldn't mean such a slave, even a concubine. He smiled. The woman held a bottle with green, luminous substance in her hands and was offering it to him. Kanji took it - he always liked gifts and he was intrigued by her.
"Will it help me?" he asked.
The woman nodded and started to cry.
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