R.I.P. VI or, Huzzah! Fall is Nearly Upon Us!

Folks, this post finds me embroiled in the reading slump to end all reading slumps. It is a sad state of affairs, to be sure, and one that may become infinitley worse with the taking on of the Readers Imbibing Peril (RIP) challenge. What if I find myself unable to engage with a single book in its name? (The guilt! The knife-point pangs of heart-rending desolation! Can you hear the keening?!) But since first discovering Carl‘s reading challenges, years ago now, I’ve never denied myself participation. This year is no different.

So I’ll do my best. Meanwhile, my inner overwrought heroine will be shut up in the attic.

Regarding the whys and whats of his challenge, Carl says it best:

“…it is once again time to revel in things ghostly and ghastly, in stories of things that go bump in the night. It is time to trail our favorite detectives as they relentlessly chase down their prey, to go down that dark path into the woods, to follow flights of fantasy and fairy tale that have a darker heart than their spring time brethren. To confront gothic, creepy, horror stories in all their chilling delight.”

To that end, I am taking up Peril the Second, agreeing to (attempt) to read two books that fall within one of the following categories:

Mystery.
Suspense.
Thriller.
Dark Fantasy.
Gothic.
Horror.
Supernatural.

I’ll also be participating in Peril on the Screen: “This is for those of us that like to watch suitably scary, eerie, mysterious gothic fare during this time of year. It may be something on the small screen or large.” (Why did I see Fright Night prior to the start of this challenge? Why? Oh, right. David Tennant.) I’m even mulling over taking on Peril of the Group Read (for Fragile Things only, though. Thinking of more would be madness.) But back to my personal Peril reading.

Hopefully, two (or more) of these beauties will be read during the course of the challenge:

RIP runs from September 1st to October 31st.

Giveaway: A Conspiracy of Kings – Megan Whalen Turner

The good folks at HarperCollins sent me a paperback copy of A Conspiracy of Kings, the fourth book in Megan Whalen Turner’s lauded Queen’s Thief series, but, as it so happens, a hardcover copy has been pining for my attention for some time now. It only seems fair and right to share the love.

I’m not a fan of jumping or hoops, especially in combination, so all you have to do to enter the giveaway is leave a comment on this post between now and Thursday, September 1st. I’ll contact the winner via email (make sure to provide that key piece of info) on Friday. US addresses only, please.

About the book:

Publisher’s Summary:
“Sophos, under the guidance of yet another tutor, practices his swordplay and strategizes escape scenarios should his father’s villa come under attack. How would he save his mother? His sisters? Himself? Could he reach the horses in time? Where would he go? But nothing prepares him for the day armed men, silent as thieves, swarm the villa courtyard ready to kill, to capture, to kidnap. Sophos, the heir to the throne of Sounis, disappears without a trace.

In Attolia, Eugenides, the new and unlikely king, has never stopped wondering what happened to Sophos. Nor has the Queen of Eddis. They send spies. They pay informants. They appeal to the gods. But as time goes by, it becomes less and less certain that they will ever see their friend alive again.

Across the small peninsula battles are fought, bribes are offered, and conspiracies are set in motion. Darkening the horizon, the Mede Empire threatens, always, from across the sea. And Sophos, anonymous and alone, bides his time. Sophos, drawing on his memories of Gen, Pol, the magus—and Eddis—sets out on an Badventure that will change all of their lives forever.”

Giveaway is closed. Congrats, Britt!

Daughter of Smoke and Bone – Laini Taylor

Publisher’s Summary:
“Around the world, black handprints are appearing on doorways, scorched there by winged strangers who have crept through a slit in the sky.

In a dark and dusty shop, a devil’s supply of human teeth grown dangerously low.

And in the tangled lanes of Prague, a young art student is about to be caught up in a brutal otherwordly war.

Meet Karou. She fills her sketchbooks with monsters that may or may not be real; she’s prone to disappearing on mysterious “errands”; she speaks many languages—not all of them human; and her bright blue hair actually grows out of her head that color. Who is she? That is the question that haunts her, and she’s about to find out.

When one of the strangers—beautiful, haunted Akiva—fixes his fire-colored eyes on her in an alley in Marrakesh, the result is blood and starlight, secrets unveiled, and a star-crossed love whose roots drink deep of a violent past. But will Karou live to regret learning the truth about herself?”

Thanks to Janice, who is wonderful and took pity on me after I expressed my undying fangirl love for Laini Taylor, I had an arc of Daughter of Smoke and Bone in my greedy hands months ago. In an uncharacteristic display of bookish willpower, I didn’t read it. Posting a review that far in advance didn’t sit right with me, and I wanted whatever I said to carry the urgency of adoration that I would undoubtedly feel for it. But now, looking down the barrel of the book’s release date, I can finally express a smidge of the love I harbor for Laini Taylor’s writing and, specifically, the writing that throbbed and pulsed with life and gobsmacking beauty on the pages of Daughter of Smoke and Bone. Just know that whatever I say about this book, it will not be enough.

To my mind, Laini Taylor is one of the best, most brilliant writers writing YA fantasy today. There are very few who can match her imagination and execution of ideas – the only other, in fact, that immediately leaps to mind is Catherynne Valente, whose Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making thoroughly undid me in magnificent ways earlier this year. Realize I put forth that statement knowing that I’ll need to support it; knowing that trying to do so will be…daunting. My response to her work is specific to me, to who I am, and what I crave. It’s like I’m a well; each word Taylor writes is a drop of water that ripples out from my mind to my heart, settling in the deep down place that nurtures my daydreams and hopes and wishes. And it has been like that with each book of hers I’ve read, and I’ve read them all, including The Drowned, the graphic novel she collaborated on with her husband, Jim Di Bartolo. I have a personal and emotional relationship with her stories, and how, please tell me how, you can look at anything like that objectively and say here, this is why.

Perhaps the best way to start is to say that, without fail, I end up wanting to crawl inside Laini Taylor’s books, to take up residence beside her characters. That, to me, is a mark of excellent world-building. If she wanted to, Taylor could go on for paragraphs and pages, doling out the tiniest details, and I would be captivated. Her writing is evocative and visual and engages all of the senses. She takes intricately hewn bricks and brightly colored mortar and builds something special. That I take note of how things tick, the setting, and all the little bits and bobs is a testament to how well she crafts them. Daughter of Smoke and Bone is no exception.

And then there are her characters. I fell hard for Talon, one of many spectacular characters in Taylor’s Dreamdark books, and now Akiva has me ensnared. A taste (one that may change upon final publication):

“…he looked at her. Just looked. His gaze was heat across her cheeks, her lips. It was touch. His eyes were hypnotic, his brows black and velvet. He was copper and shadow, honey and menace, the severity of knife-blade cheekbones and a widow’s peak like the point of a dagger. All that and the muted snap of invisible fire, and facing him, Karou was jolted into the hum of blood and magic, and something else.”

Taylor’s characters – all of them, but especially her female characters – have an underlying core of strength, a self-assuredness that makes them infinitely appealing and more than a little intriguing. Karou is fully capable of taking care of herself, she’s smart and artistic, but she’s not unafraid. She knows what it’s like to feel vulnerable. And that, despite the whimsy of her blue hair and the surreal aspect of her childhood, makes her deeply real. Add a charming, offbeat best friend (whose nature is every bit as indomitable as Karou’s, and who is just as happy and secure in her own skin) to the mix, and you’ve got a winning combination.

There is so much I could say about this book. And I would. If I had any idea how to do so. In the end, I’ll just urge you to give her work a try, be it Daughter of Smoke and Bone or one of her Dreamdark novels. You won’t be sorry you did.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone will be released on September 27th.

Fan Fiction Find on…What day is it? Monday. Right.

Of late, when someone asks what I’ve been reading, my reply has been an exasperated (or tired, depending on the day) “I’m not!”. But that is not entirely true. Because I am reading. Just not books.* I’ve been reading fan fiction. And loving every single minute of it. Even those minutes – perhaps especially those minutes – that find me up and unwilling to put the computer aside despite the early morning hour.

To say that this blog’s ever stretching silence is troublesome to me is accurate if understating things a bit. So I thought, why not mention a piece of fan fiction that I’m enjoying? And if it affords me the opportunity to insert the brilliant piece of digital art** to the right into a post, well, all the better. It is rather leading, though, so it should come as no surprise that the bulk of fan fiction I’ve recently been imbibing has come out of the excellent and fiercely passionate Sherlock fandom.

The particular piece of fan fiction I’m about to link to has made me grin, it’s made me laugh outright, it’s made me squirm with bursts of warm, glowy happiness, and I haven’t even finished it yet. It’s told (in a voice that’s got me wrapped around its finger**1/2) by the daughter of John Watson, Genie. And in it, Watson and Holmes are married. If that’s not your thing, stop at Go, do not click, and please do not leave a comment telling me how horrible I am for enjoying such a thing. Because I do enjoy it, greatly.***

This piece is 28 chapters long and, according to the site, clocks in at 93,036 words. A nice bit to sink your teeth into. Without further ado, I give you:

The Blog of Eugenia Watson by Mad_Lori

Every now and again, I may mention a bit of fan fiction I’m digging here on the blog. (There’s been loads lately. All inducing those same types of reactions and feelings mentioned above in regards to Genie.) Feel free to ignore those posts, suggest fan fiction you’ve been enjoying in the comments (a list of fandoms I love are down at the bottom next to this –>****), or just click right over and start reading.

One day, perhaps soon, hopefully soon, I’ll have a more permanent breakthrough with books, but until then fan fiction will keep the reading is joy and love spark lit.

And a bonus ***** because I laughed. Repeatedly.

________________
*And at this point, if I’m being honest, it really is for lack of trying. (After awhile, and it seems I’ve gone and reached that point, all of the discarded no-really-it’s-me-not-you books piling up on the sofa, the kitchen table, and the somewhat less jammed bookshelf in my library become disheartening. I had one breakthrough – bless you, Laini Taylor! – but now I’m back in the book slump.)

**”John Watson” by alicexz.Very obviously it’s Martin Freeman *cue cartoon hearts fluttering round my head* I found it on Tumblr. Have I mentioned my unholy love for Tumblr? Oh, and I bought this print a heartbeat after laying my eyes on it (and gasping. Gasping was definitely involved.) I cannot wait to put it in my wall.

**1/2 It sort of, kind of reminds me of Georgia Nicolson. Only Genie is more…well-adjusted. And less awkward.

***And that was me mustering up the guts to say so. Don’t ask why it’s taken me so long or why I dragged my feet about it.

****Sherlock, Supernatural, White Collar, and Doctor Who. And Arthur/Eames (Inception). (And should I be reading Charles/Erik (X-Men)? Recs, anyone?) This list will no doubt grow; for now, those are the fandoms that are making me happy-sigh.

*****From “All’s Well that Ends Well” by stickstockstone:

“Thanks for that,” John smiles at him- still so novel- while waving his clipboard in the direction of the crime scene they are currently fleeing from. “Can’t say I enjoy working with Dimmock.”

“I’m sure very few people can.”

“I suppose,” the smile shifts to a grin, boyish and charming, and Sherlock grips his mobile but resists the urge to take a picture as it will ruin the moment. “You haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“Angelo’s. An Italian restaurant. You’ll enjoy it- you have a weakness for a good vodka sauce.” Sherlock brushes his rebuttal aside with a sweeping motion from his hand; his fingertips just brush John’s jacket. “And yes, I am still aware of the time, thank you. Surely there’s some sort of pre-dinner meal that people engage in. Starts with an R. Perhaps a C.”

“What, you mean lunch?”

“Yes, perfect, I shall treat you to this… lunch.”

and

“Sherlock finds himself utterly distracted by John’s lovely eyelashes, just a shade darker than his enchanting blond hair, helpfully displayed because John is tilting his head upwards, and easily examined because Sherlock is tilting his head down and-

The cab comes to a sudden halt, throwing both men forward.

It’s an awkward scramble to get out of the vehicle, and Sherlock admirably resists the urge to strangle the cabbie with his scarf as he throws some folded bills at him; instead, he loops the fabric back around his neck as angrily as possible without asphyxiating himself, and wishes he had paid in coins.”

Not Here, Over There

Kellie over at ReaWrite asked me to write a guest post – my very first! – for her Favorite Authors Month. So that’s where I am today, fangirling it up over Anne Bishop’s Black Jewels books. If you are so inclined, get your Chelle’s-first-guest-post here around noonish.

Uncommon Criminals – Ally Carter

Publisher’s Summary:
“Katarina Bishop has worn a lot of labels in her short life: Friend. Niece. Daughter. Thief. But for the last two months she’s simply been known as the girl who ran the crew that robbed the greatest museum in the world. That’s why Kat isn’t surprised when she’s asked to steal the infamous Cleopatra Emerald so it can be returned to its rightful owners.

There are only three problems. First, the gem hasn’t been seen in public in thirty years. Second, since the fall of the Egyptian empire and the suicide of Cleopatra, no one who holds the emerald keeps it for long — and in Kat’s world, history almost always repeats itself. But it’s the third problem that makes Kat’s crew the most nervous, and that is . . . the emerald is cursed.

Kat might be in way over her head, but she’s not going down without a fight. After all, she has her best friend — the gorgeous Hale — and the rest of her crew with her as they chase the Cleopatra around the globe, dodging curses and realizing that the same tricks and cons her family has used for centuries are useless this time.

Which means, this time, Katarina Bishop is making up her own rules.”

Once again I’m playing catch up and [insert appropriate apology for any forthcoming memory loss, incomplete impressions, or brevity to be found in this post here]. There are two reasons it’s taken me so long to write a review of this book: 1) My reviewing mojo has been mojoing somewhere without me lately, and 2) I didn’t love Uncommon Criminals quite as much as its predecessor, Heist Society, and I can’t objectively articulate why. Which isn’t to say that I didn’t enjoy the ever-lovin’ out of it, because I did.

[A quick behind the scenes: I’ve written that introductory paragraph, and have sat staring at it for, oh, a good ten minutes. Well, that and at the cover of the book. I keep thinking no self-respecting con-girl would be caught red-handed in that Cleopatra’s necklace mocking purple top. It’s messing with me in an “Anderson, face the other way, you’re putting me off” kind of way. Soldiering on.]

As I see it, there are two points of concentration for the purpose of this post: 1) the heist(s) and 2) the infernal swoony relationship between Kat and Hale.

Since the first offers firmer ground, I’ll start there. As with Heist Society, I was fully engaged by Kat and crew’s attempt to pull off an unpullable heist. I would willingly walk the floor with Kat, theorizing on the best way to rappel here or slither out there, discounting “look, it’s a bird!” as a viable means of distraction; and that’s something to take note of, because it’s not often that the plot of a novel engages me in nearly the same way as characters do. [But, in this, I think Neal Caffrey - and the insatiable love I have for that beautiful, fedora wearing, sharp-dressed con-man - should shoulder some of the blame. All things con seem far more attractive now.] Add a curse to the potential dangers of a heist, and really, you can’t go wrong.

So there’s the excitement of the heist itself, the wonderful, take-me-there locale – Monaco – and the inclusion of a twist in the form of a wot’s-this?! character. And then there’s Kat. And Hale. Kat and Hale. And this is where I would blow out a breath heavy enough to flounce hair out of my eyes.

But this is all I’m going to say: I’m still fanning the flames of the Hale-crush that set in during Heist Society. He’s a wonderful character and, what’s more, a wonderful match for Kat. He respects her, worries about her, and is there for her despite his feelings regarding certain subjects and aspects of their maybe-relationship. Hale even gives in to a bit of angst in this book and, yes, it went a far way towards melting me like a candle. It’s because I like Kat so much, and because Hale is so Hale, that I want something GRAND for them. That’s it; that’s all I’ll say.

I may have liked and enjoyed Heist Society a wee bit more than Uncommon Criminals, but this second book is no slouch in the entertaining, read-faster category, either. And I hope, really hope, that these two books are only the beginning of a long, lasting relationship with Kat, Hale and the rest of their crew.

Wait a Minute, Mr Paperback

My review of Robert Paul Weston’s Dust City began like this:

What I’m about to ask you to do won’t be a hardship, I promise: Take a look at that cover.

Just so we’re on the same page cover, here’s what I bade you look at back on October 6, 2010:

The very first time I saw this cover, I pulled back the breath I was about to exhale. I held it there, in my chest, while my mind pushed around words like glorious, and delicious, and want. The very first time I saw it, I was in a pleasure induced daze brought on by this cover’s refusal to lay off the aesthetic button in my brain.

And? Bonus: It echoes the tone of the novel with pitch perfect resonance.

But now the paperback is being readied for release. With a new cover. And I could weep. Look, look what they’ve done:

Oh, I know I’m being melodramatic. This newly imagined cover is not bad, not by any stretch of the imagination. But it is not, to me, as glorious. It is not as delicious. And it does not make everything inside of me growl with want.

Based on the original cover, I would have picked up Dust City in a heartbeat. Faster. It wouldn’t have mattered what it was about. The paperback cover inspires none of that bookish lust in me. And having read the book, it doesn’t fit the story I experienced in those pages.

And so, petulantly, I’m going to ignore this new cover’s existence, and keep my gaze longingly, lovingly on that first dark and delicious stunner.

Touch of Frost – Jennifer Estep

Publisher’s Summary:
“My name is Gwen Frost, and I go to Mythos Academy — a school of myths, magic and warrior whiz kids, where even the lowliest geek knows how to chop off somebody’s head with a sword and Logan Quinn, the hottest Spartan guy in school, also happens to be the deadliest.

But lately, things have been weird, even for Mythos. First, mean girl Jasmine Ashton was murdered in the Library of Antiquities. Then, someone stole the Bowl of Tears, a magical artifact that can be used to bring about the second Chaos War. You know, death, destruction and lots of other bad, bad things. Freaky stuff like this goes on all the time at Mythos, but I’m determined to find out who killed Jasmine and why—especially since I should have been the one who died. . .”

This is going to be a quick one, folks, not to mention woefully inadequate due to the length of time that’s passed since finishing Touch of Frost. It’s also one of those cases in which, niggling in the back of my mind, there’s this sense that something about the book frustrated me; like a splinter that constantly caught and pulled at my favorite sweater, I’d acknowledge the source’s existence while reading, but carried on anyway. That I can no longer recall exactly what it was means two things: 1) it must not have been too bad and 2) it didn’t overwhelmingly and negatively impact the overall enjoyment I took from the story.

And I do enjoy novels that invoke mythology – Greek, Norse, it doesn’t matter – but it seems that consistency is a problem: some are wonderful, others are…not. Touch of Frost finds a middle ground: it’s fun and highly readable, but it doesn’t take or twist the mythological elements in a “new” or surprising direction. What the story does do is incorporate a mystery angle that may not have kept me guessing, but succeeded in keeping me entertained and onboard. Basically, if you’re looking for a few hours of light, escapist fun with the added bonus of a hot Spartan, well, Touch of Frost may do the trick.

Quick thoughts:

• It took me a while to warm up to Gwen; she seemed a little slow on the uptake at times, for one, and I wasn’t entirely convinced she was the nerd girl she professed to being (the type that has superhero posters on her wall, carts around comic books in her backpack, and wears Wonder Woman t-shirts. Oh, she did all of those things, but it almost, sort of felt like an act).
• The first few chapters were somewhat repetitive, with Gwen going over her ability in pretty much the same detail over and over to the point that I felt like snapping, “Yes, okay, I’ve got it.”
• I liked a few of the secondary characters: Daphne, Carson, and Vic. Wait until you meet Vic. *grin*
• I will definitely be picking up the next book, Kiss of Frost, because…Logan? There simply wasn’t enough of that hot Spartan in this first Mythos Academy outing, and I’m looking forward to learning more about him.

Thoughts on: Cowboys & Aliens

After the first trailer was released, I admit, my interest was piqued. Earlier this year, Jack Schaefer’s novel Shane walloped me over the head with the crazy idea that, actually, there were aspects of the western genre that greatly appealed to me. When I saw the sprawling, craggy desert, the dust-choked town, the brim of Craig’s hat tilted just so, my gaze was a touch covetous, I’m sure. And then, reports started coming out of Comic-Con that the movie was good. Some said real good. Further nudging may not have been required at that point, but a hefty push in the form of Annalee Newitz’s io9 review came along anyway:

“All most of us really want when we plunk down our money for these blockbusters is to see something giant and fantastic that we’ve never seen before.

That’s why Cowboys & Aliens succeeds brilliantly as a summer film. Beautifully designed, full of crazy action sequences that are genuinely original, the flick is a perfect escapist fantasy into the Weird West. Is it a character study like Another Earth, or a dark political satire like District 9? No. It’s a fireworks show that will get you cheering, and leave you satisfied. Along the way, it will introduce you to a strange genre mashup — the scifi western — that’s rarely been done so well.”

The review may be all-things-said-and-done positive, but it doesn’t turn a blind eye to the film’s flaws, with Newitz culling a few instances where a character arc or bit of storyline fell flat for her. To put in my two cents: I agree with one of her points, and disagree – or had a different experience with – the remainder. But her main argument, that Cowboys & Aliens packs a satisfying punch, aligns with my thoughts exactly.

If I may, I’ll start with Daniel Craig. He is, in simple if inelegant terms, a badass – one that donned the clothes, demeanor, and swagger of a western antihero with exacting, hell yes precision. His role is that of the iconic loner, the drifter, the man with layers buried so deep, he comes across as all fist and no heart when, in actuality, the opposite is true. Craig played Jake Lonergan to type. And I was absolutely okay with that. I would love to see more westerns in his future; he was, to my eyes and mind, that good.

Harrison Ford’s Woodrow Dolarhyde is set-up to be the character most likely to experience emotional growth, and if I were inclined to throw around the word cliché, this is one of the places it might land. Dolarhyde is the tough-as-nails, “be a man” spouting, ornery cattle rancher that submits to a softening of heart in the face of personal tragedy. Ford made it work, mostly. At times, it sounded like he was forcing grit and gravel into his voice to convey the “I carry the big gun around these parts” role he was playing. And the dialogue failed him more often than any of the other characters. But overall? I enjoyed his performance. (If I’m being brutally honest, I might toss out there a certain lack of chemistry between Craig and Ford. That’s not to say they weren’t good together. They were. But their antagonistic relationship could have crackled and sparked, and, with one brief scene excepted, it didn’t.)

There were other characters that tugged the show out of Craig’s and Ford’s hands at times: Adam Beach’s Nat Colorado was cast in perhaps the most clichéd role, but he imbued his character with this honest, sweet nature that softened things a bit; Walt Goggins as Hunt, slight though his screen time may have been, provided excellent, underplayed comedic relief; and Sam Rockwell as Doc, also hauling a fair share of the movie’s humor, played his pushed around, waiting for the impetus to take a stand role with aplomb. In Newitz’s said-it-better-than-I-could words, “the town’s cast of characters quickly fill out your classic Western plot, about men who show their love for each other by looking past each other’s assholery to the goodness beneath.”

I may not be able to recall the source, but it was said in some discussion of the movie that Favreau used The Searchers as inspiration, with the aliens being responsible for the abduction of loved ones, thereby forcing together unlikely allies in the search to get them back. That, to me, grounded the premise to a surprising degree. I’ve always been ambivalent about anything aliens, and that was the one piece of Cowboys & Aliens that, prior to seeing the movie, left me feeling ‘meh’. Having seen it, I can’t say I’m a convert, but the aliens, with their ships and advanced weaponry, ratcheted up the stakes, heightened the tension, and lent the action an almost made-you-startle edge.

I left the theater smiling, eager to discuss with my husband the highs and lows of what we had just seen, and shortly thereafter called my western-loving father to urge him to see it. Will it be for everyone? No, I’m sure it won’t be. But I reckon I enjoyed it a great deal.