I’m getting ready to ship off a piece of my soul. Well, not quite. Not in the manner the BF has to do every four months (stupid government, wanting their share of his hard earned money.) My submission for the Golden Heart Awards is almost ready to go. Six copies each of the first 50 pages of Shadowdemon and the two page synopsis are sitting in a Kinko’s box on my dining table. Now all I need is to steal a box of binder clips from work, clip everything together, stick the disc containing the full manuscript in the box, and then reinforce the whole thing with tape (because those boxes are a little on the flimsy side) and then ship it all off to Texas.
Also, I’m going to apologize in advance for the lack of posts over the coming month. It is, after all, NaNo. I may or may not ignore the Rubber Duck Brigade the whole month. It depends on how well things are flowing. In the meantime, you might try occupying yourself with one of these fine books:
Betrayal of Trust J.A. Jance – Nostalgia had me reaching for this book, the latest in Jance’s J.P. Beaumont series. Beau and his partner-cum-wife, Mel Soames, are asked to investigate the apparent murder of a young teen recorded playing the choking game. The video is found on the phone of the governor’s stepson, and over the course of the investigation, Beau and Mel not only uncover the mystery surrounding how the video ended up on his phone in the first place, but a instance of cyber-bullying and child rape as well. As much as I’ve loved these books in the past, Trust lacked a lot of what I loved about the early books, which I remember as being much more gritty than the last couple books. It might have something to do with the fact that Beau, as a character, is getting old. Or it may just be time to put the series to bed.
Rock the Casbah: Rage and Rebellion Across the Islamic World Robin Wright – If you read only one book in the next month, please seriously consider making this that book. I mentioned it in a previous post, and I can’t recommend it enough.
Bloodlines Richelle Mead – After having made my way through most of Mead’s previous YA offering, Vampire Academy, I almost didn’t pick this one up. The six books that made up the previous series had dragged the story on a little longer than necessary, and Rose was starting to get on my nerves. Then I heard that Adrian Ivashkov would not only be making an appearance in Bloodlines, but would be a central part of the story, and really, I had no choice. I LOVE Adrian. Bloodlines switches narrators to Sydney Sage, the Alchemist who sticks her neck out for Rose a couple of times in VA. She’s been asked to help look after a young Moroi royal who’s been attacked. You don’t get as clear a picture of who Sydney is right away, not like you did with Rose. She’s not as vibrant. But her ingrained prejudices against the Moroi and dhampirs make for some rather interesting confrontations and interactions, especially with Adrian. Did I mention I love Adrian? I do. I heart him. What I loved the most about this book is you get to see whole other pieces of him that weren’t apparent before. I was actually mad when I finished the book that the second one won’t be out until next year. Boo.
The Strangers in the House Georges Simenon – Loursat is a recluse in the extreme. Preferring to limit the boundaries of his world to the few rooms of his house that he spends most of his days in, no one is more surprised than him to find him not only dragged into an investigation into a murder that occurred in the upper rooms of his mansion, but readily taking on the defense of the accused. Simenon wrote some 200 plus novels in his time, most of them short. Despite my love for most things translated from foreign languages (especially French) I didn’t enjoy this novel nearly as much as I’d hoped to. The Boxing Bar gang is relegated to the periphery, when they should have been front and center, and the evolution of Loursat from recluse to something…not as reclusive is stunted and needed several more chapters to fully explain why, and how, he became the way he was.
And in trying to obtain the goals I set for myself on my last birthday, I’ve been making my way through Dostoyevsky’s Notes from Underground. For such a slim book, you’d think you could tear through it in a matter of hours, a day at most. Not so much. It’s dense. It’s a lot for the mind to digest. He likes to rant. A lot. But his rantings are tinged with philosophical discussions, and sometimes my tiny brain just can’t handle it. Still, I can feel my IQ raise a few points every time I read a new section.