My apologies in advance for the lack of bookishness, here, for the past few days. That's the officer writing the ticket he gave to the driver of the car that hit my son. I got the info in my last post a little wrong. It was a teenager who was driving the van. I don't know whether or not to believe that story about the brakes going out, but I will tell you that I am so impressed with my son's behavior at this accident. He wasn't angry with the other driver. He was friendly and shook the other kid's hand before we turned around to cross the street to take him home. Many thanks to all who sent up a prayer thanking God for protecting my son on Saturday.
I'm going to do my best to get a review written, tonight. I finished Through the Fire by Shawn Grady, this weekend, and it was awesome. Today, however, I'm in run-around mode. I emptied out the interior of my son's Honda but didn't have a key so I'll have to go back to the body shop to empty the trunk. I can't pop the trunk from inside, of course, since the left side of his car is completely caved in. As soon as I get him off to work, I'll have to pick up the police report, drop it off at my insurance company and then deal with the trunk.
Getting a glimpse of the interior gave me an even better impression of just what a walking miracle my child is. The fellow who towed his car also said he was amazed that Kiddo walked away with minimal injuries and asked me, "Did you see that steering wheel?" Yes, I did. I'm going to try to take photos of the interior because it's just so utterly shocking that I don't want to forget for one minute what my son survived.
Engineer husband says the impact was so severe that if Kiddo hadn't been wearing his safety belt, he would have undoubtedly been thrown out the opposite window. From looking at the interior of the car, I'm sure a lot of people would assume it would have been better for him to be thrown, but he is walking proof that safety belts save lives.
Buckle up 'cause I love ya!
Bookfool, still thanking God every minute for protecting my son
We just returned from picking our son up from the accident that crunched his beloved Honda. The other driver said her brakes went out; she had a red light and kiddo had a green. Our car was 20 years old and ran like a dream. We probably won't get much insurance for it and that sucks because it was such a great car, but at this point all we care is that he's okay. After a direct hit to the driver's side, our son walked away with cuts to his hands and foot and a sore side. He's truly heartbroken about the car. It was such a reliable vehicle and he absolutely loved driving it. But, he's okay.
Thank you, God, for watching over my son today. Love, Bookfool.
Cover flat picture borrowed from cheese_colored_mumu's photostream at Flickr
During My Nervous Breakdown I Want to Have A Biographer Present By Brandon Scott Gorrell Copyright 2009 Muumuu House - Poetry 80 pages
My apologies for turning an all-lower-case title into one with capital letters. I felt compelled, you see.
You can tell from the back cover of During My Nervous Breakdown (the left-hand side) what Brandon Scott Gorrell's poetry is all about. "Low Self-Confidence!" it shouts. "Alienation! Anxiety!" And, then, of course there's the title, anticipating a forthcoming nervous breakdown. If anything, I'd assume that putting it down on paper is all the therapy this guy needs, since it's now in print and print in an actual book with a real cover is validation. But that's just me.
So, open the book and read a little and you'll find that the entire book really fits the theme of those exploding word stars on the back. It's about feeling alone, depressed, anxious and confused in a world where most contact (for some humans) involves a computer screen and a mouse. You can look at it one of two ways: either this guy is the next likely man to get a gun and take out 20 people from a high building or hahaha, this is kind of funny!
Here's an excerpt from the poem entitled "brandon":
brandon has been considering taking the people that post one bulletin a day off his friend list for about a month now brandon thinks this is logical because in real life he only feels comfortable around quiet people and not people that feel the need to scream their names at 200 online contacts multiple times a day brandon checks facebook someone has body slammed brandon on facebook brandon feels depressed
I don't know what exactly it is about poetry like this that pleases me, but I like it. Another favorite excerpt is from"john and the space alien":
"I'm going to have a nervous breakdown soon," John says. "I can feel it coming on." "Me too," the space alien says. "I kind of want to have one. To relieve endless cycles of power struggle." "What is a nervous breakdown," John says. "What do you do in those?" "I think you just," the space alien says.' "I'm not sure," the space alien says. This little bit of poetry (if that's what it is -- free verse, I assume?) reminded me of Paul Simon's "Gumboots". Remember,
I said hey you know breakdowns come And breakdowns go. So, what are you going to do about it That's what I'd like to know.
4/5 - Good stuff; might freak you out a little. Very few references to sex, considering (but there are some) and plenty of violent thoughts that might have something to do with too much solitary playing of video games.
I feel bad about setting this book aside because the plot sounds so intriguing but I managed only a handful of pages. At that point, I realized that Ransome's Honor is the victim of bad timing. I've recently read two Georgette Heyer novels and I'm simply not in the mood for swishing skirts, delicate Regency manners, lords and ladies and romance. The storyline sounds so good, though! I know I'll want to read it, eventually.
From the cover:
When Julia Witherington doesn't receive the proposal for marriage she expects from William Ransome, she determines to never forgive him. They go their separate ways--she returns to her family's Caribbean plantation and he returns to the Royal Navy.
Now, twelve years later, Julia is about to receive a substantial inheritance, including her beloved plantation. When unscrupulous relatives try to gain the inheritance by forcing her into a marriage, she turns to the only eligible man to whom her father, Admiral Sir Edward Witherington, will not object--his most trusted captain and the man who broke her heat, William Ransome. Julia offers William her thirty-thousand-pound dowry to feign marriage for one year, but then something she could never have imagined happens: she starts to fall in love with him again.
Can two people overcome their hurt, reconcile their conflicting desires and find a way to be happy together? Duty and honor, faith and love are intertwined in this intriguing tale from the Regency era.
Doesn't that sound great? Ransome's Honor is the first book in a trilogy.
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Kaye Dacus has a Bachelor of Arts in English, with a minor in history, and a Master of Arts in Writing Popular Fiction. Her love of the Regency era started with Jane Austen. Her passion for literature and for history come together to shape her creative, well-researched, and engaging writing.
List Price: $13.99 Paperback: 352 pages Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (July 1, 2009) Language: English ISBN-10: 0736927530 ISBN-13: 978-0736927536
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Portsmouth, England July 18, 1814
William Ransome pulled the collar of his oilskin higher, trying to stop the rain from dribbling down the back of his neck. He checked the address once more and then tucked the slip of paper safely into his pocket.
He took the four steps up to the front door of the townhouse in two strides and knocked. The rain intensified, the afternoon sky growing prematurely dark. After a minute or two, William raised his hand to knock again, but the door swung open to reveal a warm light.
A wizened man in standard black livery eyed William, bushy white brows rising in interest at William’s hat, bearing the gold braid and black cockade of his rank. “Good evening, Captain. How may I assist you?”
“Good evening. Is this the home of Captain Collin Yates?”
The butler smiled but then frowned. “Yes, sir, it is. However, I’m sorry to say Captain Yates is at sea, sir.”
“Is Mrs. Yates home?”
“Yes, sir. Please come in.”
“Thank you.” William stepped into the black-and-white tiled entry, water forming a puddle under him as it ran from his outer garments.
“May I tell Mrs. Yates who is calling?” The butler reached for William’s soaked hat and coat.
“Captain William Ransome.”
A glimmer of recognition sparkled in the butler’s hazy blue eyes. In the dim light of the hall, he appeared even older than William originally thought. “The Captain William Ransome who is the master’s oldest and closest friend?”
William nodded. “You must be Fawkes. Collin always said he would have you with him one day.”
“The earl put up quite a fight, sir, but the lad needed me more.” Fawkes shuffled toward the stairs and waved for William to join him. “Mrs. Yates is in the sitting room. I’m certain she will be pleased to see you.”
William turned his attention to his uniform—checking it for lint, straightening the jacket with a swift tug at the waist—and followed the butler up the stairs.
Fawkes knocked on the double doors leading to a room at the back of the house. A soft, muffled voice invited entry. The butler motioned toward the door. It took a moment for William to understand the man was not going to announce him, but rather allow him to surprise Susan. He turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open.
Susan Yates sat on a settee with her back to him. “What is it, Fawkes—?” She turned to look over her shoulder and let out a strangled cry. “William!”
He met her halfway around the sofa and accepted her hands in greeting. “Susan. You’re looking well.”
Her reddish-blonde curls bounced as she looked him over. “I did not expect you until tomorrow!” She pulled him farther into the room. “So—tell me everything. When did you arrive? Why has it been two months since your last proper letter?” Susan sounded more like the girl of fifteen he’d met a dozen years ago than the long-married wife of his best friend. “Can you stay for dinner?”
“We docked late yesterday. I spent the whole of today at the port Admiralty, else I would have been here earlier. And I am sorry to disappoint you, but I cannot stay long.” He sat in an overstuffed chair and started to relax for the first time in weeks. “Where is Collin? Last I heard, he returned home more than a month ago.”
Susan retrieved an extra cup and saucer from the sideboard and poured steaming black coffee into it. “The admiral asked for men to sail south to ferry troops home, and naturally my dear Collin volunteered—anything to be at sea. He is supposed to be back within the week.” She handed him the cup. “Now, on to your news.”
“No news, in all honesty. I’ve been doing the same thing Collin has—returning soldiers and sailors home. I only received orders to Portsmouth a week ago—thus the reason I sent the note express, rather than a full letter.”
“But you’re here now. For how long?”
“Five weeks. I’ve received a new assignment for Alexandra.”
“What will you do until your new duty begins?”
“My crew and I are on leave for three weeks.” And it could not have come at a better time. After two years away from home, his crew needed some time apart from each other.
“Are you going to travel north to see your family?”
“At the same time I sent the express to you announcing my return to Portsmouth, I sent word to my mother telling her of my sojourn here. When I arrived ashore earlier today, I received a letter that she and Charlotte will arrive next Tuesday.”
“How lovely. Of course, you will all stay with us. No—I will brook no opposition. We have three empty bedchambers. I could not abide the thought of your staying at an inn when you could be with us.”
“I thank you, and on behalf of my mother and sister.”
“Think nothing of it. But you were telling me of your assignment. Your crew is not to be decommissioned?” Susan asked.
“No. I believe Admiral Witherington understands my desire to keep my crew together. They have been with me for two years and need no training.”
“Understands?” Susan let out a soft laugh. “Was it not he who taught you the importance of an experienced crew?”
William sipped the coffee—not nearly as strong as his steward made it, but it served to rid him of the remaining chill from the rain. “Yes, I suppose Collin and I did learn that from him…along with everything else we know about commanding a ship.”
Susan sighed. “I wish you could stay so that I could get out of my engagement for the evening. Card parties have become all the fashion lately, but I have no skill for any of the games. If it weren’t for Julia, I would probably decline every invitation.”
“Julia—not Julia Witherington?” William set his cup down on the reading table beside him. He’d heard she had returned to Portsmouth following her mother’s death, but he’d hoped to avoid her.
“Yes. She returned to England about eight months ago and has become the darling of Portsmouth society, even if they do whisper about her being a ‘right old maid’ behind her back. Although recently, Julia’s presence always means Lady Pembroke—her aunt—is also in attendance.” The tone of Susan’s voice and wrinkling of her small nose left no doubt as to her feelings toward the aunt.
“Does Admiral Witherington attend many functions?”
“About half those his daughter does. Julia says she would attend fewer if she thought her aunt would allow. I have told her many times she should exert her position as a woman of independent means; after all, she is almost thir—of course it is not proper to reveal a woman’s age.” Susan blushed. “But Julia refuses to cross the old dragon.”
“So you have renewed your acquaintance with Miss Witherington, then?” The thought of Miss Julia Witherington captured William’s curiosity. He had not seen her since the Peace of Amiens twelve years ago…and the memory of his behavior toward her flooded him with guilt. His own flattered pride was to blame for leading her, and the rest of Portsmouth, to believe he would propose marriage. And for leading him to go so far as to speak to Sir Edward of the possibility.
“Julia and I have kept up a steady correspondence since she returned to Jamaica.” The slight narrowing of Susan’s blue eyes proved she remembered his actions of a dozen years ago all too well. “She was very hurt, William. She believes the attentions you paid her then were because you wished nothing more than to draw closer to her father.”
William rose, clasped his hands behind his back, and crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window beside the crackling fireplace. His reflection wavered against the darkness outside as the rain ran in rivulets down the paned glass. “I did not mean to mislead her. I thought she understood why I, a poor lieutenant with seeming no potential for future fortune, could not make her an offer.”
“Oh, William, she would have accepted your proposal despite your situation. And her father would have supported the marriage. You are his favorite—or so my dear Collin complains all the time.” Silence fell and Susan’s teasing smile faltered a bit. “She tells the most fascinating tales of life in Jamaica—she runs her father’s sugar plantation there. Collin cannot keep up with her in discussions of politics. She knows everything about the Royal Navy—but of course she would, as the daughter of an admiral.”
A high-pitched voice reciting ships’ ratings rang in William’s memory, and he couldn’t suppress a slight smile. Julia Witherington had known more about the navy at age ten than most lifelong sailors.
“William?”
“My apologies, Susan.” He snapped out of his reverie and returned to his seat. “Did Collin ever tell you how competitive we were? Always trying to out-do the other in our studies or in our duty assignments.” He recalled a few incidents for his best friend’s wife, much safer mooring than thinking about the young beauty with the cascade of coppery hair he hadn’t been able to forget since the first time he met her, almost twenty years ago.
Julia Witherington lifted her head and rubbed the back of her neck. The columns of numbers in the ledgers weren’t adding properly, which made no sense.
An unmistakable sound clattered below; Julia crossed to the windows. A figure in a dark cloak and high-domed hat edged in gold stepped out of the carriage at the gate and into the rain-drenched front garden. Her mood brightened; she smoothed her gray muslin gown and stretched away the stiffness of inactivity.
She did not hear any movement across the hall. Slipping into her father’s dressing room, she found the valet asleep on the stool beside the wardrobe. She rapped on the mahogany paneled door of the tall cabinet.
The young man rubbed his eyes and then leapt to his feet. “Miss Witherington?”
She adopted a soft but authoritative tone. “The admiral’s home, Jim.”
He rushed to see to his duty, just as Julia had seen sailors do at the least word from her father. Admiral Sir Edward Witherington’s position demanded obedience, but his character earned his men’s respect. The valet grabbed his master’s housecoat and dry shoes. He tripped twice in his haste before tossing the hem of the dressing gown over his shoulder.
She smothered a smile and followed him down the marble staircase at a more sedate pace. The young man had yet to learn her father’s gentle nature.
Admiral Sir Edward Witherington submitted himself to his valet’s ministrations, a scowl etching his still-handsome face, broken only by the wink he gave Julia. She returned the gesture with a smile, though with some effort to stifle the yawn that wanted to escape.
He reached toward her. “You look tired. Did you rest at all today?”
She placed her hand in his. “The plantation’s books arrived from Jamaica in this morning’s post. I’ve spent most of the day trying to keep my head above the flotsam of numbers.”
Sir Edward’s chuckle rumbled in his chest as he kissed her forehead. He turned to the butler, who hovered nearby. “Creighton, inform cook we will be one more for dinner tonight.”
“Aye, sir,” the former sailor answered, a furrow between his dark brows.
That her father had invited one of his friends from the port Admiralty came as no surprise. Julia started toward the study, ready for the best time of the day—when she had her father to herself.
“Is that in addition to the extra place Lady Pembroke asked to have set?” Creighton asked.
Julia stopped and turned. “My aunt asked…?” She bit off the rest of the question. The butler did not need to be drawn into the discord between Julia and her aunt.
The admiral looked equally consternated. “I quite imagine she has somebody else entirely in mind, as I have not communicated my invitation with my sister-in-law. So I suppose we will have two guests for dinner this evening. Come, Julia.”
Once in her father’s study, Julia settled into her favorite winged armchair. A cheery fire danced on the hearth, fighting off the rainy day’s chill. Flickering light trickled across the volumes lining the walls, books primarily about history and naval warfare. She alone knew where he hid the novels.
He dropped a packet of correspondence on his desk, drawing her attention. She wondered if she should share her concern over the seeming inaccuracy of the plantation’s ledgers with her father. But a relaxed haziness started to settle over her mind, and the stiffness of hours spent hunched over the plantation’s books began to ease. Perhaps the new steward’s accounting methods were different from her own. No need to raise an alarm until she looked at them again with a clearer mind.
She loved this time alone with her father in the evenings, hearing of his duties, of the officers, politicians, and government officials he dealt with on a daily basis while deciding which ships to decommission and which to keep in service.
The sound of a door and footsteps in the hallway roused her. “Papa, how long will Lady Pembroke stay?”
Sir Edward crossed to the fireplace and stoked it with the poker. “You wish your aunt to leave? I do not like the thought of you without a female companion. You spend so much time on your own as it is.”
“I do not mean to sound ungrateful. I appreciate the fact that Aunt Augusta has offered her services to me, that she wants to…help me secure my status in Portsmouth society.” Julia stared at her twined fingers in her lap.
“It seems to have worked. Every day when I come home, there are more calling cards and invitations on the receiving table than I can count.” Going around behind his desk, he opened one of the cabinets and withdrew a small, ironbound chest. With an ornate brass key, he unlocked it, placed his coin purse inside, secured it again, and put it away.
“Yes. I have met so many people since she came to stay three months ago. And I am grateful to her for that. But she is so…” Julia struggled for words that would not cast aspersions.
The admiral’s forehead creased deeply when he raised his brows. “She is what?”
“She is…so different from Mama.”
“As she was your mother’s sister by marriage only, that is to be expected.”
Julia nodded. To say anything more would be to sound plaintive, and she did not want to spoil whatever time her father could spare for her with complaints about his sister-in-law, who had been kind enough to come stay.
Sir Edward sat at his desk, slipped on a pair of spectacles, and fingered through the stack of correspondence from the day’s post. He grunted and tossed the letters back on the desk.
“What is it, Papa?”
He rubbed his chin. “It has been nearly a year…yet every night, I look through the post hoping to see something addressed in your mother’s hand.”
Sorrow wrapped its cold fingers around Julia’s throat. “I started writing a letter to her today, forgetting she is not just back home in Jamaica.”
“Are you sorry I asked you to return to England?”
“No…” And yes. She did not want her father to think her ungrateful for all he had done for her. “I miss home, but I am happy to have had this time with you—to see you and be able to talk with you daily.” Memories slipped in with the warmth of the Jamaica sun. “On Tuesdays and Fridays, when Jeremiah would leave Tierra Dulce and go into town for the post, as soon as I saw the wagon return, I would run down the road to meet him—praying for a letter from you.”
His worried expression eased. “You looked forward to my missives filled with nothing more than life aboard ship and the accomplishments of those under my command?”
“Yes. I loved feeling as if I were there with you, walking Indomitable’s decks once again.”
His sea-green eyes faded into nostalgia. “Ah, the good old Indy.” His gaze refocused and snapped to Julia. “That reminds me. An old friend made berth in Spithead yesterday. Captain William Ransome.”
Julia bit back sharp words. William Ransome—the man she’d sworn she’d never forgive. The man whose name she’d grown to despise from its frequent mention in her father’s letters. He had always reported on William Ransome’s triumphs and promotions, even after William disappointed all Julia’s hopes twelve years ago. He wrote of William as if William had been born to him, seeming to forget his own son, lost at sea.
Her stomach clenched at the idea of seeing William Ransome again. “He’s here, in Portsmouth?”
“Aye. But not for long. He came back at my request to receive new orders.”
“And where are you sending him, now that we’re at peace with France?” Please, Lord, let it be some distant port.
Sir Edward smiled. “His ship is to be in drydock several weeks. Once repairs are finished, he will make sail for Jamaica.”
Julia’s heart surged and then dropped. “Jamaica?” Home. She was ready to go back, to sink her bare toes into the hot sand on the beach, to see all her friends.
“Ransome will escort a supply convoy to Kingston. Then he will take on his new assignment: to hunt for pirates and privateers—and if the American war continues much longer, possibly for blockade- runners trying to escape through the Gulf of Mexico. He’ll weigh anchor in five weeks, barring foul weather.”
Five weeks was no time at all. Julia relaxed a bit—but she started at the thump of a knock on the front door below.
“Ah, that must be him now.” Sir Edward glanced at his pocket watch. “Though he is half an hour early.”
“Him?”
“Aye. Did not I tell you? Captain Ransome is joining us for dinner.”
Before I put my copy of The Castaways in the "finished books" pile (okay, there's more than one stack . . . I confess), I thought I'd share a couple of quotes that caught my eye:
He went into their bedroom. Which was dangerous, he knew. It was a bad neighborhood where his feelings would likely get mugged. He armed himself with a stiff drink.
Phoebe popped pills, and rather than killing her, they seemed to be keeping her alive. So whereas Addison felt like he wanted to take a steak knife and eviscerate his insides, cut his heart out so it would stop hurting--Tess was dead!--Phoebe was as calm as a houseplant. She wasn't a person so much as a topiary. It's those witty little moments that keep me reading a Hilderbrand novel. Well, that and the gotta-know-what-happens thing . . .
Last night, when I finished reading The Castaways and put away my tissues (because, to be honest, this book was a total sobfest for me, although the tweets I've seen indicate that I'm just a sap), I had this terrific opening line in my head, sat down to write, and my 17-year-old said, "Would you stop with the tap-tap-tapping? I need rest!" So much for perfect first lines; now that I've had a few hours of sleep, the idea bubble has popped and we'll just have to go straight on to synopsis.
The Castaways is about the lives of 4 couples: Tess and Greg, the Chief and Andrea, Addison and Phoebe, Jeffrey and Delilah -- a tight-knit circle of friends who have vacationed together many times and call themselves "The Castaways" because they all somehow "washed up" in Nantucket and made it their home.
When Tess and Greg go for a sail to celebrate their 12th anniversary, everyone knows it's a bad idea. Tess nearly drowned as a child and is terrified of water. Jeff is not a very good sailor. Nobody stops them from going, though. The past year has been a rough one for them.
Tess and Greg die in an accident on that trip to Martha's Vineyard and the rest of the Castaways are devastated. This is how the book opens, with the news breaking and knees giving out, people crumpling as they find out two of their best friends are dead, their young twins orphaned. Since I've felt that kind of grief -- the kind that makes every part of your body ache and sucks the life out of you -- I could relate just a little too well and I had to set the book aside, walk away and calm down. But, I figured the heavy grieving scenes wouldn't last too long, and I was right. After the grieving, each of the people in their little circle of friends begins to question what happened, what they could have done to stop Tess and Greg, and whether their deaths were really an accident or worse. Addison is certain that Greg murdered Tess, the Chief is baffled by toxicology reports, Andrea wonders if it's her fault because she didn't become a nun . . . each has some "what if?" that gnaws at his or her soul.
The book isn't written in a linear fashion and it goes from the point of view of one character to another. The Castaways isn't even divided into chapters. Instead, it's divided by viewpoint and moves with surprisingly even flow from character to character. First, the Chief finds out his friends have died and has to identify their bodies. Then, it switches to Addison's viewpoint as he ponders how much he loved Tess -- and you realize that he and Tess were having an affair. As the story segues from one viewpoint to another, the reader gradually gets to know each of the 8 people involved in this little group, where they came from, who they were, what they went through to have children (or why they had none), how they ended up in Nantucket, how they found each other and became friends or lovers. And, gradually, their secrets are revealed.
I had so much trouble distinguishing the characters, at first, that I ended up drawing a little chart to sort them out. Jeffrey was married to Delilah but he used to date Andrea, for example, so I had Jeffrey and Delilah together as a couple, an arrow from Jeffrey to Andrea that said "former love" and an arrow from Delilah to Greg that reminded me that they worked together and Delilah had a bit of an unrequited crush on Greg. In the end, there were quite a few arrows and little notes beneath names because The Castaways is very character driven and the relationships were complex.
I'm not even sure what exactly it is that worked about this book. I tend to like a more plot-driven novel, but I was totally blown away by the depth of dimension in Elin Hilderbrand's characters. The Castaways would probably be an excellent book for discussion, simply because the reader knows the characters so well by the end of the book that to talk about the story and its characters could easily feel like gossip.
4/5 - An excellent, character-driven novel with a hint of mystery, amazing depth of characterization and a genuinely satisfying ending.
I took off a point for the annoyance of all that drinking and puking -- something that also stood out when I read my first Hilderbrand, last week. Her characters tend to drink heavily. They get drunk and throw up. They get pregnant and throw up. Their kids get sick and throw up. Bad news usually makes at least one of them puke. I could do without all that heaving and there were times I thought the bad language (usually a thought, not necessarily uttered aloud) was just a bit much. Their sex lives are complex but I didn't find the sex scenes overly graphic. I just wouldn't hand this one to a youngster.
This photo reminded me of the characters -- two seagulls having an argument while a third tries to intervene.
The Castaways is definitely great for vacation reading. You really get sucked into the characters' lives and want to know how things will end up.
I read this book as part of the blog tour for Hatchette Books, but I'm a little late posting, this morning, so I'm going to skip the links to other blogs touring, today, at least for the moment.
Just walked in:
The Myrtles Plantation: The True Story of America's Most Haunted House by Frances Kermeen -- oooooh, ghosties! My friend Tammy sent this one. Thanks, Tammy!!!
Next up:
A sneak peek into Ransome's Honor by Kaye Dacus. I just started reading this one and I'm not a fast reader, so I'm not sure I'll have the review up by tomorrow, but I'll try my darndest.
We have all seen disastrous results when a young adult refused to receive correction from a parent or person in authority and rebelliously went on doing what they wanted to do. How many times have we observed young people reported on television as doing some horrendous thing, and we wonder, How could they be so stupid? Don't they know they're throwing their lives away? Why did they think they could get away with it? What made them so arrogant as to believe there would be no consequences?
This particular passage from The Power of Praying for Your Adult Children jumped out at me, not because my own children have done anything awful but because the small town I live in has had a rash of assaults, in recent months, and several teenagers were arrested. One of them had been offered a sports scholarship to a university in Florida, which the university retracted after her arrest. I did wonder what on earth was going through that teen's mind. Imagine what her parents must be feeling, right now. What a crushing blow to have a child appear to be on the brink of something wonderful, only to have it taken away because that child did something very wrong.
In The Power of Praying for Your Adult Children, Stormie O'Martian takes special care to remind parents that we all do or say things that are wrong, at some point; we're not perfect and our children will make mistakes. Soaking yourself in guilt is not productive. The most powerful thing we can do for our children, not just through childhood but into adulthood, is to pray for them. She reminds you that with adult children, first clear the slate by asking your child for forgiveness for anything that may have hurt them -- without couching such apologies in accusation -- and then to keep on praying. When things go so utterly wrong as they did for that young lady's parents, she would advise them to pray that the teenager learned from her mistakes and used her experience for God's purpose in some way.
I'm not quite sure what I expected out of this book, but I think it's better than what I'd anticipated. O'Martian describes specific things to pray about -- for example, praying that your child will have a heart for God, understand God's purpose for his life, work hard and with integrity. These are all things a lot of us probably pray about for our children anyway, but I love the way she backed each of the chapters up with scriptures that illuminate exactly what it is that the Bible says God will do for those who obey him and desire to fulfill whatever purpose God has destined for them. At the end of each chapter, there's a prayer that you can use if you're not sure what to say.
3.75/5 - Very good, especially for those who feel they need guidance concerning what specifically a parent should pray for and a bit of advice about being the parents of adults -- whether they're still hanging around at home or out in the world on their own.
Next up: A review of The Castaways by Elin Hilderbrand.
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Stormie Omartian is the bestselling author of The Power of a Praying® series (more than 11 million copies sold worldwide), which includes The Power of a Praying® Wife and The Power of a Praying® Husband. Her many other books include Just Enough Light for the Step I’m On, The Prayer That Changes Everything®, and The Power of a Praying® Woman. Stormie and her husband, Michael, have been married more than 35 years and have three grown children.
List Price: $13.99 Paperback: 240 pages Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (July 1, 2009) Language: English ISBN-10: 0736920862 ISBN-13: 978-0736920865
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Pray That Your Adult Children Will See God Pour Out His Spirit upon Them
Once you have released your adult children into God’s hands and dedicated—or rededicated—their lives to Him (as I described near the end of the introduction), then the first and most important way to start praying is to ask God to pour out His Spirit upon them. It doesn’t matter what else you need to pray about specifically; you will be heading upstream against a strong current if you and they are not moving with the flow of God’s Spirit.
Every day we want the Spirit of God to come upon us and carry us where we need to go. We want Him to open our eyes to the truth and open our ears to hear His voice. We want Him to fill us afresh with His Spirit so that our lives can be lived for Him and we can move into all He has for us. And that is exactly what we want for our adult children as well.
Ideally, our adult children will ask for an outpouring of the Holy Spirit themselves. But realistically, many young people don’t even think about doing that, or understand what it means or why they should. It would be wonderful if our adult children would pray for all the things suggested in this book over their own lives, but whether they do or don’t, they still need our prayer support.
Pray That They Will Welcome an Outpouring of the Holy Spirit
A glorious promise God proclaimed to His people was first heard in the Old Testament through the prophet Joel (Joel 2:28) and then quoted later in the New Testament by Peter. It says:
“It shall come to pass in the last days, says God, that I will pour out of My Spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your young men shall see visions, your old men shall dream dreams” (Acts 2:17, emphasis added).
We are living in the last days God is talking about. If you are not sure about that, read your Bible and then turn on the TV and watch it for a week. You will see unmistakable signs of it everywhere. The promise for our adult children in the words “your sons and your daughters shall prophesy” is that, when the Holy Spirit is poured out on them, they will be able to hear from God. They will have a word from God in their hearts, and it will become the motivating factor in their lives. And God will be glorified in the process.
When our adult children can hear from God, then they will know where He is leading them, and they will understand how He wants them to serve Him. They may not know specifics, but they will have direction. Too often young adults can’t figure out the direction for their lives because they haven’t heard a word in their hearts from God about it. This can carry on for years until you have adult children who are aimless and don’t feel any sense of purpose or calling. But when the Holy Spirit is poured out upon them, they can sense direction from God, and He is able to lead them on the right paths and secure their steps in ways they couldn’t begin to do on their own.
I have known too many good, godly, believing parents who had an adult child who did nothing for years after he (she) graduated from high school. In each case he (she) refused to go to a college or a trade school and couldn’t or wouldn’t find a job. The parents prayed and prayed and threatened and prodded and begged to no effect. Then one day, after they had prayed that God would pour out His Spirit upon him (her), their adult child got up off the couch, turned off the TV, and went out and made a life for himself (herself).
You might be thinking, Why didn’t those parents just throw their lazy adult children out? But it is not as easy as it sounds. When you throw them out they can get into a lot of trouble. They can become more vulnerable to evil influences because they are afraid or desperate. You must have the mind of God about this. You have to be certain that throwing your adult child out of your house is what God wants you to do. In some cases it may well be, but it can’t be a decision born of human emotions, such as anger. I know some parents who shipped their adult child out because they thought it would do him good, and it turned out to be a terrible decision because he fell under some horrible influences.
We have to keep in mind that God can do far more for our adult children than we can ever do, and so we must ask Him to speak to their hearts by the power of His Holy Spirit. They need to be able to hear from God regarding every aspect of their lives, from decisions they make about where they go and what they do to the people they spend time with and perhaps try to emulate.
Some adult children are going to be more open to hearing from God and receptive to the move of His Spirit in their lives than others. Some will not be open or receptive at all. At least not at first. Whether they are open or not shouldn’t affect your prayers. You pray what needs to be prayed regardless of what your adult child’s attitude is toward the things of God. Your job is to pray, and it is God’s job to answer. Remember, you have released your adult child into God’s hands. That doesn’t mean you have given up on him or her. You’re not saying, “You take him, God. I can’t deal with him anymore.” Or, “That’s it, Lord. I’ve had it. She’s all Yours now.” It means you have surrendered the burden you have been carrying for your adult child to the Lord so He can take it off of your shoulders. Then the burden you carry is in prayer.
Pray That They Will Understand the Power of the Holy Spirit
I wrote The Power of a Praying Parent more than 15 years ago, and it has served me and others well in all those years. I have seen countless answers to prayer in my own children’s lives, and I have heard from thousands of readers about the wonderful answers to prayer they have experienced as well. Those of us who started praying for our small children back then have seen them grow into adults. And we have also watched the world change for the worse in some way every day. We must now have a new strategy in prayer for our adult children. Our prayers for the flow of the Holy Spirit in their lives will become a powerful protective shield from the flood of this toxic culture. They cannot navigate it successfully without God’s power.
Today’s cultural environment will chew our adult children up and spit them out if they are not strong enough to recognize the destructive, dark, and powerful forces that are in it and be able to resist them. No matter how horrible our own background might have been, we weren’t confronted with the outpouring of evil they are facing today. It is becoming so dangerous that even our adult children cannot successfully withstand it on their own. They need the power of the Holy Spirit, and they need our prayers to help them understand how He moves in power on their behalf.
We must not only politely ask God for an outpouring of His Spirit on our adult children, we must get on our knees and cry out for it from the depths of our being. We must recognize that already a spirit is being poured out on them right now—the spirit of darkness, death, perversion, lies, destruction, and evil—and only an outpouring of the Holy Spirit can negate that in their lives before it harms or destroys them. Only an outpouring of the Holy Spirit can connect them to the power of God.
Pray That They Will Be Influenced by the Holy Spirit of Truth
The Holy Spirit is the Spirit of truth (John 16:13). We all must have Him functioning in that capacity fully in our lives. And this is especially true for our adult children. The Spirit of truth will bring the truth to light and expose the lies.
I am deliberately not telling many stories about my own adult children in this book, and that is not because there aren’t any stories to tell. But Christopher and Amanda are adults, and these are their stories to tell. And I hope that someday they will, for the outcome in each case has been great to the glory of God. However, I will say that each one of my adult children at one point presented us with a challenge that made it necessary to confront them about some choices they had made with regard to the path they were on. They each had gotten off the path God had for them because of bad influences in their lives. I am not blaming the bad influences, because obviously something in each adult child allowed them to be drawn toward what they clearly knew was not right.
This happened in separate years and ages for each of them, and they were dealing with entirely different issues. However, in both cases I had previously sensed in my spirit that something was not quite right in their spirits. A parent can look into their adult child’s eyes and see if the Holy Spirit is reflected back in all His purity, or if something has come into their mind and soul that is competing with His presence. And this is especially true when you ask the Holy Spirit of truth to reveal what you need to know in order to pray effectively for their lives.
My husband and I felt something was not right, but we didn’t have any hard evidence. So we just prayed that God would reveal everything that needed to be revealed, and that He would not let them get away with anything. We asked God to pour out His Spirit upon them and convict them of whatever was in their lives that was not glorifying to Him. We asked the Spirit of truth to reveal the truth to them and to us.
In each case, not long after we prayed, someone called us to say they were concerned about our adult child and why. We went to each one and told them what the Holy Spirit had put on our hearts. We also told them what we had heard, although not whom we heard it from. (I never reveal my sources.) They each immediately admitted to what we suspected and were deeply and completely repentant.
This was a turning point for each adult child, because they were different from then on. They were more serious about their lives, their futures, and the Lord. They became far more careful and wise about their associations and actions. The Holy Spirit spoke powerfully to them, and their hearts were opened to a new level of His work in their lives. All this could not have happened without the Spirit of truth penetrating their lives and revealing what they needed to see.
Even though I am not using many stories from my own adult children’s lives—except in a few minor instances such as this, where their privacy is not compromised—there are countless parents of adult children with whom I have talked at great length about the problems they have faced with their adult children. These conversations have given me more than enough examples to illustrate what I need to in each chapter. However, so as to protect everyone’s privacy, I will not mention any real names or specifics that would allow someone to be identified. Plus, nearly every example I am citing is based on more than one case. So it could be any one of a number of adult children whom I am talking about in this book.
All that to say, I have seen countless answers to prayers for adult children. Were I to tell you all of them, you would be greatly encouraged in praying for your own. I hope the ones I mention will give you the encouragement you need.
If you have an adult child who has grieved or worried you, or caused problems for himself (herself) or for you or others, ask God to pour out His Spirit on him (her) right now. Don’t waste time blaming yourself, the other parent, or your child. I am not saying your adult children don’t bear any responsibility for what happens in their lives. They certainly do. But the overriding factor is that only an outpouring of the Holy Spirit of God on your adult children is powerful enough to withstand the onslaught of the spirit of evil coming against them. Asking God to pour out His Spirit upon your adult children is a simple prayer with powerful ramifications, both for you and for them.
I have asked God to pour out His Holy Spirit on you and speak to your heart as you pray for an outpouring of the Holy Spirit on your adult children. I can’t wait to hear about the results.
Prayer Power
Lord, You have said that in the last days You will pour out Your Spirit upon all flesh. I cry out to You from the depth of my heart and ask that You would pour out Your Holy Spirit upon my adult children. Pour out Your Spirit upon me and my other family members as well. Pour out Your Spirit on all of their in-laws, both present and future. Pour out Your Spirit upon whatever difficult circumstances each of my adult children are facing. Be Lord over every part of their lives and every aspect of their being.
Speak to my adult child’s heart and help him (her) to hear from You. Enable him (her) to understand Your leading and direction for his (her) life. Open his (her) ears to hear Your truth so he (she) will reject all lies. Help him (her) to move by the power of Your Spirit. Enable him (her) to rise above the onslaught of evil in our culture.
Where he (she) has walked away from You in any way, stretch out Your hand and draw him (her) back. Don’t let him (her) get away with anything that is not pleasing in Your sight. Convict his (her) heart and bring him (her) back to where he (she) should be. May the Holy Spirit poured out on him (her) completely neutralize the power of the enemy attempting to pour out evil in his (her) life.
I know You can do far more in my adult child’s life than I can ever do, and I invite You to do so. But if there is anything I should do—or should not do—make it clear to me so that I will do the right thing. Holy Spirit of truth, reveal the truth that needs to be seen both to them and to me. Guide me in my response to them always.
I pray my adult child will never grieve Your Holy Spirit (Ephesians 4:30) but will receive Him as a gift from You (Luke 11:13). Fill him (her) with Your Spirit and pour into him (her) Your peace, hope, faith, truth, and power. Let a spirit of praise arise in his (her) heart and teach him (her) to worship You in Spirit and in truth.
In Jesus’ name I pray.
Word Power
If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him!
Luke 11:13
You shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you.
Acts 1:8
Anyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man, it will be forgiven him; but whoever speaks against the Holy Spirit, it will not be forgiven him, either in this age or in the age to come.
Matthew 12:32
Prophecy never came by the will of man, but holy men of God spoke as they were moved by the Holy Spirit.
2 Peter 1:21
Repent, and let every one of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins; and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.
She turned on Claire with all the fire she could muster. "I'm not like you."'
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I am not a cheat like you. I am not a Madame Bovary in love with someone else!"
"I only asked if you were friends!" Claire said. "I didn't say anything about--"
"You insinuated."
"I did not! I just thought it was strange. You have to admit, it was strange, you and Edward here alone . . . "
"Adultery is a sin, Claire. It's evil. You want to know what I think? There it is. You are committing an evil sin. Against Jason and against your children and against yourself. You are betraying yourself. You are a good person, a person who remembers the mailman's birthday, a person who picks other people's rubbish up off the beach. But now you're different. Look at you--dismembering the crustaceans!"
"You asked me to! You said this was what you needed done . . . "
"It's like all of a sudden you don't care about your soul," Siobhan said.
Claire has a lovely house, a handsome husband, four beautiful children and an au pair. She's a successful artist whose blown glass is displayed in museums. But, she has trouble setting limits. After working too hard during her last pregnancy caused her to collapse and nearly resulted in the baby's death, she gave up her work at her husband's insistence. Claire's certain something is wrong with her baby and she feels guilty about his premature birth but she really wants to resume her glass blowing.
When she's asked to co-chair the committee that puts together Nantucket's annual Summer Gala, she can't say no. And, when the wealthy Lock Dixon insists that the only thing that will possibly do for the auction to benefit the island's poor children is a work of art by Claire, she agrees. Claire even promises to secure her ex-boyfriend, now a world-famous rock star, to sing at the gala.
Claire quickly finds herself in over her head. Yet, she's happier than she's been in a long time. Her work is exhausting but thrilling. And, when she finds herself drawn into an affair with the magnetic Lock, she doesn't know how to stop. Will Claire's marriage and friendships survive her summer affair?
A Summer Affair
was my first Elin Hilderbrand book and, boy, it is one juicy summer novel. In a previous post, I referred to A Summer Affair as "a soap opera of adultery" and that's still what stands out, to me. Claire is a weak person in many ways, but adultery is not something anyone who knows her would expect of her. She's nice--almost too nice. She also carries a lot of guilt. Claire and her friends shouldn't have let Daphne Dixon get in her car, the night of her accident. Claire shouldn't have worked in the hot house when she was pregnant. She carries her guilt with her everywhere and in everything she does.
Claire's a little afraid of Lock Dixon, at first. Surely he blames her for the head injury that caused his wife's personality to change. But, when he invites her to sip his favorite wine and talk, what Claire discovers is that Lock actually admires her work. Sparks fly between them and pretty soon they're involved in a torrid affair. Meanwhile, Claire is practically killing herself in her zeal to create the perfect work of blown glass for the gala auction. And, she's deceiving the people she loves. Her co-chair is a snob, the man in charge of incoming funds is skimming, and the thought of her former boyfriend and all they went through reminds her of simpler times.
I don't know what I expected to find in an Elin Hilderbrand novel. Maybe a little less angst? It's hard to remember, now that I've actually read one novel and I'm in the midst of another, but I don't think I expected the kind of character you want to shake. All the way through the book, I kept thinking, "Claire! You've got to stop! Think of your family!" I think half the reason I kept turning the pages was to find out if she'd ever come to her senses.
The scene I quoted made me chuckle and I always love it when there's some witty, smile-inducing moment (that scene also happens to be a pretty revealing and is important to the plot). I'd have liked a few more laughs, but in general I liked the tone of the book.
3.5/5 - Very good, brain-light summer decadence with excellent characterization. I enjoyed this read. Women's fiction is definitely not my favorite genre, but I found the book was well-written, with a lot going on at once. Hilderbrand creates plenty of questions to keep you reading. This one has a touch of graphic sex and some language, as well as talk of drug and alcohol use so I'm giving it a Not Family Friendly warning, although it's no worse than a lot of young adult fiction I've read.
Since aqua seems to be the color of the day and I can finally load photos, it must be time for a polar bear photo from the Memphis Zoo. Doesn't he look like he's having fun?
This is going to be a really difficult book to describe, so bear with me. First things first: Valley of the Shadow is the second in a series, but it stands alone brilliantly. I had absolutely no problem figuring out the setting: there was no missing backstory that left this reader with a sensation of being lost. I do, however, want to read the first in the series because this second book was so mind-boggling, tense, amazing . . . more on that in a minute.
Valley of the Shadow
takes place in two settings: the real world and Interworld. Interworld is a place everyone must pass on their way to heaven or hell, although those who head to heaven mostly appear to just zip right past it. Those who fall into a coma or are not quite dead end up stuck in Interworld.
In Valley of the Shadow, five people entered Interworld at the same time. After "dying" on the operating table for 20-30 minutes, Conner returned to life a new man. He remembered absolutely everything from his time in Interworld, including the names of the people who arrived there at the same time he did. Now, with a brand new faith in God, Conner has looked up the other people he encountered and found that one of them is in a juvenile detention facility and another lies in a coma. Convinced he was brought back to life for some higher purpose, Conner tells his story to everyone and is rebuffed. His boss puts him on leave.
While Conner is attempting to find out what he can do to help out, Mitch (who is comatose) is stuck in Interworld and his father is on the verge of unplugging him from life support. Inside Interworld, someone named Nathan tells him that he needs to get off the farm where he believes he's been living for 5 years. However, time is not the same in the Interworld as it is in real life and Mitch has only been in a coma for 2 months. Mitch has been staying with a man named Howard and isn't sure whether or not he should trust Nathan, although Howard gives him the creeps.
See how complicated this is to describe? Basically, you've got people fighting to bring Mitch back from both sides, a juvenile delinquent who has brought something on the order of a demon back with him and may be beyond saving, a couple of men who think it's their mission to help out, and this black, scary thing that wants to grab Mitch and pull him into hell. And, a bunch of other scary things that pull people away, but . . . let's just say this is a really creepy book in a good way. In spite of the overlapping storylines, it's really not so confusing as it sounds. It's just difficult to put it all into words. You just have to read it. Sorry. I'm at a loss.
4.75/5
- Excellent! A fast-paced, suspenseful thriller with a Christian theme, creepy creatures from hell, some tense chase scenes and a knock-your-socks-off conclusion.
Side note:
My youngest son read this book the day it arrived; and, he also had no trouble with the fact that it is the second in a series. He filed a request with the Book Ordering Mom-person for a copy of Vanish, the first book in the series.
Just for fun . . . the following photo was taken during our home fireworks show. Fireworks are legal in our county, although they probably should have been banned, this year, due to over 3 weeks with no rain. Hubby hosed down the dry lawn and both guys stomped out stray embers. This is a photo my husband suggested that I take, of youngest son running through the smoke from one of our little smoke bombs.
I received two books from Paperback Swap, today, and I'm curious how other people feel about their PBS experiences. One of the books, a book of short stories by Miranda July, arrived in pristine condition. The other didn't meet my conditions. Lately, it seems like I'm running about 50/50. Half the time, I get books in very good condition, and half the time the book police ought to arrest the sender for tome abuse. Are you a PBS'er? If so, has it been a good experience or are you receiving a lot of bad books? Just curious.
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Tom Pawlik, winner of the 2006 Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild’s Operation First Novel contest has drawn praise from critics with his first novel, Vanish. Novel Journey has declared, “Tom Pawlik writes a scary, fascinating, suspenseful story; one you won’t want to miss” and Faithful Reader said Vanish “…delivers a Christian message and certainly succeeds in stirring the imagination and the spirit.”
Tom Pawlik has a BA in communication and works in the marketing field. He has been active in Christian teaching, youth work, and music for over twenty years. In addition to writing fiction, Tom is an accomplished songwriter and musician who writes and records at his home studio. He and his wife, Colette, live in Ohio with their four children and a dog.
List Price: $12.99 Paperback: 432 pages Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers (May 13, 2009) Language: English ISBN-10: 1414326793 ISBN-13: 978-1414326795
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Freezing. Devon Marshall was freezing.
Darkness enveloped him. Thick and heavy, wrapping around him like a blanket. He could feel its weight pressing in on him. Squeezing him. Smothering him. And far off in the darkness, he heard sounds. A deep rumble mixed with a jumbled, muddied squawking. The noises were muffled and distant but growing steadily louder. Like a train approaching: the thunder of the engines and the clacking of its wheels on the tracks.
A pinprick of light blazed in the darkness. Tiny at first, but getting closer. Every second it grew larger and more intense. The sound roared now as the light rushed toward him and then . . .
Everything exploded into chaos.
Light and sound washed around him like a giant whirlpool. He could feel himself spinning inside it. Being buffeted and pulled along by a current.
And he was still freezing.
Lights flashed in his face. A dizzying array of reds and blues. Light and darkness. Shadows loomed over him and moved about. He tried to focus on the shadowy images as they swirled around him. Then he recognized them.
People?
He was surrounded by people. Actual human beings! They were speaking to one another. Devon could hear distinct voices but still couldn’t make out the words. And the voices sounded worried. Anxious.
Devon’s vision was becoming clearer. Several people with uniforms and badges hovered over him. An ambulance was parked nearby, and two police cars, their lights flashing.
Paramedics? And cops? Was there an accident somewhere?
His mind was a jumble of thoughts and he tried to recall what had just happened. Images flashed through his mind. Terrifying ones. Disjointed and vague memories of huge, empty buildings. Skyscrapers. An entire city, void of life. A dull, overcast sky. Gray, faceless creatures reaching out hands with long, bony fingers like enormous spider legs.
And a farm out in the middle of nowhere . . .
Terrell. Where was Terrell? They had been together just a few days ago. Or had it been only a few minutes?
Devon tried to turn his head but couldn’t. Something was holding him in place. He struggled to move but was too weak.
He had to get out of here. He had to find Terrell.
He could hear the voices better now. One of them called for help. Something about a stretcher. Legs and feet shuffled out of view, then back in again. More lights.
Not far off, a row of strangers huddled together, watching. Devon scanned their faces, and one of them caught his eye. One face seemed out of place in the group. One man was standing off a little ways by himself. Standing in the shadows, staring right at Devon. His face seemed to draw Devon’s gaze toward him, as if pulling him down into a pit.
It was long and narrow. Pale skin almost glowed against the shadows behind him. His cheeks were gaunt and sunken. And his eyes . . .
His eyes shone a pale yellow. But they seemed hollow. Then he smiled. His thin, puckered mouth expanded into a wide grin. Rows of brown, rotted teeth dripped with black saliva.
Devon couldn’t take his eyes off the man. Then someone passed between them and he was gone.
Suddenly Devon felt himself moving. Floating. He could see several people standing around him. Cops and paramedics. They slid him into an enclosed space where white light surrounded him. Two people climbed up beside him.
What was going on?
Devon heard doors slam shut with a thud and a click. A moment later, he could feel himself moving again.
His eyes widened and his breathing grew more rapid. The crowd. The paramedics. The cops . . .
They were there for him!
They had put him into the ambulance!
One of the paramedics leaned close. He had reddish brown hair, green eyes, and a broad, freckled face. “. . . what I’m saying? You’ve been shot. . . . going to be all right . . . Cook County Memorial . . . understand?”
He was pressing something against Devon’s chest. Devon glanced down. Now in the light he could see his shirt was cut open and drenched in blood. A large, white piece of gauze was taped to his chest.
Devon looked back up at the medic and his breath caught in his throat.
The man’s face had changed. His eyes glowed yellow. His lips parted in a twisted grin, showing dozens of teeth. Dark and rotted, all jammed together in his mouth. Black liquid, like tar, dripped onto his chin.
“The door is still open,” he croaked. His voice was gargled and deep.
“Leave me alone!” Devon squeezed his eyes shut. “Leave me alone! Leave me alone!”
He felt a hand on his forehead and opened his eyes again. The medic’s face had returned to normal. The guy was working on Devon as if nothing had happened.
Devon tried to slow his breathing. His chest burned and a sharp pain knifed through his ribs with every breath. He struggled for air as darkness began to close in around him. Sounds grew muffled. The medic’s voice sounded urgent but began to fade. Devon could feel them moving around, trying to save him.
This will probably be my last Georgette Heyer for a month or two because, much as I love her, I'm reminded that I have to space out the works of a single author or I begin to hate them. Having said that, I'm still of the opinion that Georgette Heyer was unable to write a bad book and I can't imagine ever despising her writing. I just don't want to let myself anywhere near that possibility.
Cousin Kate
is a departure from the typical Heyer romance. Kate is an orphan who spent many years living in billets on "the Peninsula" in Spain and Portugal, mostly raised by her soldier father. 24 years old and having just returned to her nurse Sarah's home after a disastrous attempt at life as a governess, she's considering going into service as an abigail (ladies' maid) or dresser. Sarah protests, saying she comes from blood too fine to end up lowering herself to such an extreme and writes to Kate's only known relative, her father's half-sister, Minerva Broome.
Lady Broome sweeps into town and spirits Kate away, seemingly out of duty and kindness, but there is more than meets the eye, when it comes to Aunt Minerva. At Staplewood, the Broome estate, Kate finds that her 19-year-old cousin Torquil, who is sickly and flies into dangerous tempers, is living in one wing of the estate. Minerva lives in the center and Lord Broome lives in the wing opposite Torquil's. Lord Broome is fragile and seems only to perk up when his nephew, Phillip, comes to visit.
Kate settles in and attempts to do her part to calm Torquil, without great success. Otherwise, she is profoundly bored. There are no parties at the great estate, Aunt Minerva gives her useless chores, and Torquil isn't allowed to go anywhere unaccompanied. Eventually, Kate will find out the real reason Aunt Minerva has invited her to stay at Staplewood and she will unravel the cause of the screams she hears in the night. But, will Cousin Kate find out the truth too late?
Goodness. What a story. I can't say this was my favorite Heyer, but it was certainly gripping. I'm afraid to say much, but there are a few points worth noting. Cousin Kate is primarily a gothic novel and it does have an element of romance, but the romance is less prominent in this book because the story is really a tale of a dysfunctional family with a terrible secret.
Kate is, however, the typical bubbly young lady with poor prospects and that fact makes the book a bit uneven. As events unfold, Kate loses just a little of her fizz. She's still a happy, upbeat person who wants to believe the best of everyone, but eventually there are incidents that even Kate can't come to terms with.
The older cover, at right, depicts one such scene. Cousin Torquil has obtained a gun and when he sees the friendly dog Kate has been urging to leave the property, he instantly decides to shoot it, barely missing both the dog and Kate. Not long after, Kate decides she must leave Staplewood, but worse things will happen. Will Kate make her escape in time?
3.75/5
- Very good; excellent characterization and a decent plot. As usual, Heyer is faultlessly entertaining, although Cousin Kate is kind of an awkward blend of suspense and romance. Not my favorite, however I still had trouble putting it down because I had to know what was going to happen.
I'm still stuck on my little laptop (one of those tiny e-book things) and it's a bit of a pain, so I haven't spent much time blog-hopping. Hopefully, we'll get our desktop problems resolved soon so I can visit other bloggers. I'm starting to feel a touch of withdrawal. Hope everyone's having a fantastic weekend!
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Bye-bye, little Honda. You served us well.
