This 2016 publication by Genevieve Cogman is a fantasy novel, the first in a series. It has been called, “… a stunning work of art that has me absolutely begging for more…” by The Fantasy Book Reviewer. I have to agree that it left me begging for more, and I have already ordered the second book which came out in September. I cared about the characters and would certainly like to continue following them and their adventures/misadventures.
Irene, one of the protagonists, is the daughter of Librarians and a “professional spy for the mysterious Library”, which is an organization that collects important works of fiction from all the different realities.
Kai is Irene’s assistant, and the mystery as to his secret/identity left me reeling as I read.
The two are assigned to an “alternate London,” whose world is “chaos infected”–meaning the laws of nature are bent by “supernatural creatures and…
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Blogger Jeni Rankin wrote: “Now is a time of re-discovering the wonder of the natural world, remembering all that I had forgotten and seeing things I have never noticed before.”
Some bloggers blow me away with their nature writing. Mind you, it’s writing that would never use terms like ‘blow me away’ — and that’s a good thing!
Lavinia Ross and Andrea Stephenson write about the seasons — the seasons of the year, of place and life.
Take, for example, this post about August on Andrea’s blog, Harvesting Hecate:
“August is a month of waiting. Not the desperate waiting of winter, when you can no longer stand the darkness, but the sweet longing for something anticipated to come. I look at the calendar and am always surprised that the month isn’t yet over.
“There are days in August that seem poised on the edge of time. Perfect days, like this…
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I am in love with words. Blunt statements go far, so why not start the day with one?
I love how simple words strung together can express thoughts and feelings; how those same words can take on a different meaning depending on what part of the world we live in, or what we’ve gone through in the past.
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Language is too.
Turning words to the left or to the right, looking at them upside down and using them like they’ve never been used before — I think that’s love, and art.
Words are always expressed with intention and expectation. They invite audiences in, sometimes seductively enticing us on a journey or fighting us into submission to hear what cannot be ignored.
Does one have to be good with words to love them? I don’t think so. I listen to…
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When first drew me to “But I Smile Anyway…” Ritu’s blog was a picture of a little Spiderman, sitting crosslegged, meditating. He appears every week in “Spidey’s Serene Sunday” a feature of the blog. Each Sunday, Ritu and her muse, Spidey, put forth a quote then elaborate and comment on it. For example, Sunday, September 10th featured this quote:
“Don’t worry about failures. Worry about the chances you miss if you don’t even try.” These “Musings and Memories, words and wisdom…of a working family woman,” the subtitle of her blog, are insightful, helpful and downright inspiring.
As are her poems. I ordered from Amazon a copy of Poetic Rituals, and enjoyed it immensely. Many poems I have shared with others who welcomed their wit, humor, and wisdom. Poems range from the humorous( a “label” for a chocolate cake, assuring the consumer that there are no calories in it, just…
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Mrs Howe. How on earth I remember that after so many decades, I do not know… but that was the name of my headmistress on my very first day at school. I can still ‘see’ her in memory… can see her in assembly, holding up the vases she collected for the school… could still describe her office, where we sat and read to her, one by one and where, every Christmas, the glittery wings were affixed to the archangel. It is probably the only time in my life I have been angelic… but it took me years to stop picturing Gabriel as a girl.
I started school at four. Before that, there was nursery school, when I was going on three and I remember that too. I remember my grandmother waving us off, that very first day and telling me to be a good girl. The raised beds, like hospital…
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Paulette Jiles is a San Antonio poet, novelist, and memorist. In this 2016 publication, she describes in poetic, vibrant wording the realities and hard times of the western frontier.
She tells the story of Captain Jefferson Kyle Kidd, aka “Captain” and “Captain Kidd,” a “reader of the news” of the world. Captain Kidd travels from frontier town to frontier town in a wagon bought from a snake oil salesman, which has the faded letters, “Curative Waters” on its side. Captain brings news of the world to each town, reading from newspapers from New York, London, and other hub cities. He censors and edits his performance readings depending on the politics and conditions found in each town. My Oral Interpretation professor would certainly have given him an A+, for he keeps his rough, uneducated audiences spellbound by the sound of his voice.Early in this page-turner, he takes on the task of…
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