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Book Review - Undead and Unwed by MaryJanice Davidson
ISBN: 978-0749936457
Publisher: Piatkus Books
Copyright: © 2004 by MaryJanice Davidson Alongi
Genre: Paranormal, Chick-Lit, Comedy
288 Pages, Paperback
There are bad days and then there are BAD DAYS! Betsy Taylor probably had the worst bad day ever. Her birthday, she's late for work then she loses her job, on returning home she finds a phone message from her step-monster (mother), and then she's knocked down by a car when she goes to save her cat. Next thing she knows she wakes up in a hideous pink suit and terrible shoes with orange make up on her face, and to make matters worse she's lying in a coffin.
This book was a pleasure to read, it tells the tale of Betsy who dies and comes back as a vampire, she has problems with drinking blood, and most things that harm other vamps don't seem to have any effect on her. Betsy is a sassy, 6 feet tall, blond haired ex-model, who loves a good cat fight and really does not like to be told what to do.
It appears that she is the long foretold Queen of the undead, but Betsy really does not want to be, not that the other Vampires intend to let her live her death in peace. The problem is though, she has a very deep well of tenderness that means she cannot turn her back, and unlimited access to the latest designer shoe collection helps too.
I found myself laughing out loud as I was reading and I definitely intend to read the other books in this series. A very easy read with a steamy sex scene or two, marvellous dialogue, well drawn characters and a chuckle factor that is off the scale.
Book Review - Olivia Joules & The Overactive Imagination by Helen Fielding
ISBN: 0330432737
Publisher: Pan Macmillan Ltd
Copyright: © Helen Fielding 2003
Illustrations copyright © Mick Brownfield 2003
Genre: Chick Lit, Humour, Adventure
344 Pages, Hardcover
I don't normally do this, but here is an excerpt from the cover of the book.
From the white heat of Miami to the implants of LA, the glittering waters of the Caribbean to the deserts of Arabia, Olivia Joules pits herself against the forces of terror, armed with a hatpin, razor-sharp wits and a very special underwired bra.
Olivia Joules is a reporter who believes she is destined for more exciting things than covering the latest fashion show or beauty event. Unfortunately she reads more into situations than is called for and ends up as something of a joke. Then one day her imagination runs away with her and saves her life, only to lead her into a far more dangerous series of events.
She travels ostensibly for a beauty story to Miami, LA, the Caribbean and Egypt, following the story but also following someone she believes is a terrorist. Dealing with guns, sharks, people trying to kill her and of course people not believing a word she says. The imaginative way she deals with bugging devices brings a smile to my lips every time I think of it.
I can't compare this story to Bridget Jones having never read the book or watched the film, but the humour appealed to me so much. The snappy dialogue and the flights of fancy all screamed aloud that Helen Fielding somehow "knew me", and so with that connection came probably the easiest read I've had in years.
It's never going to shake the world, it won't change long held opinions, but it made me laugh a lot, hopefully if you decide to read this story it will brighten your day too.
Book Review - The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova
ISBN: 0751537284
Publisher: Times Warner Book Group UK
Copyright © Elizabeth Kostova 2005
720 Pages, Paperback
Genre: Supernatural, Mystery, Literary Fiction
"My dear and unfortunate successor" those words, found by our narrator, at the beginning of a letter belonging to her father, open the door to a supernatural history connected by a series of books, pages blank apart from a woodcut print of a dragon and the word Drakulya. A tale of monsters, murder, fear and above all curiosity.
The Historian is a retelling of the tale of Dracula through a series of letters, documents and memories discovered by the narrator, a young girl, in 1972, her father and mother in 1954 and her father's mentor in 1930. It travels mainly through libraries, universities and churches of Western and Communist Europe, and touches America and England though it spans not just four decades but centuries.
As with any tale of vampires there are deaths and mysteries though these become almost secondary to the main theme of the driving need to find Vlad Tepes' tomb and the whereabouts of certain missing characters.
I enjoyed this book though would have enjoyed it more if it had been shorter, unfortunately it did go on a bit and I found myself sighing when I had to read through another verbose passage of description.
It also ends on a question, a sure sign to me that the story is not yet over. I'm not quite certain that I would read a sequel, to be honest I'm not sure how much more could be written about Dracula's history.
So in summary an enjoyable story, well researched, but unfortunately overlong.
Book Review - Room 22 by Bernard J. Rossi
ISBN: 978-1-60693-005-2
Publisher: Eloquent Books
Copyright: © 2008 Bernard J. Rossi
Author’s Website: Bernard J. Rossi
242 Pages, Ebook
Genre: Supernatural, Thriller, Crime
The story unfolds in Cairns, Australia; a tale of love, grief, violence and death, but throughout the words spoken by the narrator at the start, "Jack never meant to hurt anyone", should be kept at the forefront of your mind.
And while the grisly work of a murder evolves upon the beaches and the efforts of the police trying to solve the case persist among the tourists, hotels and town; the mind is the place that holds many more clues and a bigger chance of apprehending the criminal. That is - Jack’s mind.
Jack Firebrace has a strong will, so much so that he is able to control most aspects of his life, and influence the people around him without their being aware of it. He helps people by using a benevolent form of mind control. But perhaps this time his interference has set a train of events in motion that he did not anticipate, because people are dying in Cairns.
When I started this book I wasn’t sure where it was headed and it took me a while to settle down and give my attention fully. Once I had though I was gripped by the characters and relationships that unfolded.
The main story is a set of serial murders and the solving of the crimes but there are many other sub-plots woven in and around this main theme and all seasoned with a touch of the supernatural.
Although I think that the novel sometimes gets a little bogged down in places, in the end Rossi adeptly juggles the numerous stories and then catches them one by one and lays them out to form a complete tale, albeit one that does not quite finish, in this book at any rate.
I enjoyed my trip to Cairns, though I’m thankful I was only a spectator to the events.
Book Review - The Magic Cottage by James Herbert
ISBN: 0 330 37625 X
Publisher: Pan Books an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Ltd
Website: www.panmacmillan.com
Copyright © James Herbert 1986
393 Pages, Paperback
I was expecting a horror story, as James Herbert is pretty famous for those, but I didn’t really get one with this book. I wasn’t disappointed though I just had to switch my expectations to another track.
Mike Stringer, the narrator of this tale, and his partner Midge (Margaret) Gudgeon relocate from busy London to the countryside, close to the New Forest. Their new home is Gramarye, a run down cottage set in woodland and close to the village of Cantrip. Odd though it may seem when they eventually move in, but the cottage wasn’t in such disrepair as they first thought, and the woodland animals are all so very friendly, almost tame.
Life is good, but there are bad times coming. The people from the Synergist Temple begin to call. The vicar from Cantrip comes with dire warnings. And just who exactly is that dark figure who keeps watching the house?
This was an enjoyable and easy read for me. Having read most of James Herbert’s books old and new I wasn’t surprised that the story greeted me like an old friend. Characters were funny and real, even the ones that weren’t human.
The story runs along and takes you with it, there are twists and turns but you can usually see them coming so they don’t come as any great surprise. An easy read but not one to stay in the mind after it’s finished and put back on the book shelf.
Book Review - The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield
ISBN: 978-0-7528-8167-6
Publisher: Orion Books Ltd
Website: www.orionbooks.co.uk
Copyright © Diane Setterfield 2006
456 Pages, Paperback
I started reading and immediately liked Margaret Lea the narrator. There was something in her quiet manner that reached out through the pages of the book, took my hand and gently lead me through the history of Angelfield House and the story of Vida Winter.
Vida is an author coming to the end of her life and wishes to have her biography written. She wants to “tell the truth” as she puts it. Margaret is her biographer. As the tale unfolds you are drawn into the dark places and secrets of Vida’s childhood and consequent to those revelations, you are entrusted with Margaret’s own secrets and fears.
The prose was magical to me, quite beautiful, and put me in mind of a modern day Jane Austen. Descriptions and characters were so well written that I can still see them now.
My opinion - A ghost story. A mystery. A love story. Whatever you choose to call it, this was a book that was recommended to me by quite a few people, well they were all dead right. A great story and a wonderful experience.
11 Eidon 29108 - The Plains
Light was barely awakening over the horizon as the telldron slid down over the plains through the dull of the night's ending. Kwatsura leaned against the car's dorsal rail gazing towards a small white grain of light being crushed under the dark sky and the exhausts and dust smoldering the lower atmosphere of the continent.
Beginning interim transmissions. Only a few hures ago there was Rsola, a massive shell swallowing my existence and now only a grain of sand melting out of view. The telldron build out took three decums. Naught Behd, neh. Islrinea saw me at the depature on South Edge. Me arms a legs are exhausted from the ladder pulley system, South Edge was yet another massive high tower, particularly apt for the long telldron ride. Didn't take any notes from there, third time seeing that departure ... nothing had happened.
She'll be applying for the egress visa; and if all goes smoothly I'll be meeting her in the next cities and negotiating with some grundas her access to Fgord library transmissions as well.
Didn't see Gsorn again. Nor the chiefs. Spent the last few days eating, talking. No rote. Nothing noteworthy of transmission, neh.
Ride is a bit peculiar, failing sparking orruminae installments passing down over the first south west hip, then again with the third hip after. Car seemed to be leaning more to the east than normal, perhaps some bearings were in need of replacement. Damned egresss lines can have sheit part... Fecki-
<<cszhhhhhhhhhhh-cszhhhhhhhhhh-shhhhh>>
The jolt of the car bouncing over a orruminae charger lip knocked Kwatsura crashing onto his back towards the car's anterior hull; the transmission was interrupted as the ring flew off his finger from the abrupt force. He scrambled to his knees and retrieved the instrument which was glowing dim now under a sleeping passenger's bench. Fecking sheit.
Two Rsolan men stood against the back wall with countenances revealing only a slight hint of concern from the bounce. Kwatsura addressed them in a loud voice emphasizing the direness he considered of the situation and to counter their arrogance:
Turo-hu. Bsalin-alins cul-fsoran. Something's up with the bearings.
Ksaalll. Rsola-tu, Rsola-tu. Haha, they're are Rsolan-made pal.
Ksal, Kslau, wu-trols dsin-dsin consolr-hu. Yes, no worries my little continent friend.
Wu-dsan dsan, cul-fsoran-hu! cul-Telldron rislora trel-trel. Fsonasl dsin sentril-hu. Don't be foolish. Telldron's been riding rough. Stand in the center!
Dsellll ...
Kwatsura almost gave up trying to convince them and stood alone now in the center of the car looking forward across advancing tracks. Oh sheit, fecking massive lip is approaching fast. Feck!
Before Kwatsura even thought to grab a brake lever, the lip was upon them and jolting the car with even more ferocity than the one just before. A shower of white sparks covered the view of the open doors and plated windows.
Garsorllllll!
One of the Rsolan men shouted curses, trying to brace his balance as his torso fell forward to the east; the platform of the car sank below their feet as the left wheels busted out from under them sending the belly of the hull scraping across the metal tracks.
Feck! Woken up nows! Fecking things boosted, everyone on the fecking west side of the car or sheits gonna fecking fall off. To death! Feck! Someone! brakes!
Kwatsura spouted out random directives in a maddened fluster, pulled some passengers asleep and even threw some drunk men like sandbags to the west side of the telldron where they crashed into a painful awakening. The Rsolan pair had engaged the brakes and the car came grinding to a halt three thousand feet or so above the Plains and still five longs from the terminal station. The careful application of brakes and shifting of the car's weight to the west had spared the lot from hurling to their deaths into the soft dirt so many troks below them.
Feck, feck. Neht panicking. Transmitting events to the terminal now.
11 Eidon 29074 - Rsola - East Edge Descent
Kwatsura stood at the ledge atop the mid section of East Edge looking eastward toward a white sand plain baking in the late afternoon sun. Islrinea followed him shortly behind, repelling on the common rope against the slick walls gripping the peak. She jumped down the final four feet alighting on the ledge directly left of her grunda and then spoke with a voice oscillating in volume between deep cycles of breathing:
We'll repel a tenth of a trok down onto that buttress. Not meant for pedestrians, so we'll just have to take care in crossing to the connecting high tower. Let's skip climbing again up that one. Peak has only been surfaced, nothing notable there.
The two laughed at this. They carried themselves back near the cauldron pipe ingress to rest against in the wall. The stared out through the ban of open night reveling the massive tower of East edge and the sky now revealing stars and constellations in the firmament, the primordial inkwell of the cosmos. Were it not for the tower obstructing the view, Kwatsura could have imagined them in a cave atop some distant, mountainous wilder. The spot was nearly silent, so many troks about the city's heart.She we consecrate it then?Continent men never fail in such direct vulgarity. Already cut, so sure. But you have to promise to meet me in Urslan over the next few duns. I'll know that's you next stop and I'll heading there before Fporta and need you help making acquaintances with another chronologist I'll need to make grundas with for my studies.Shore, naught a problem my lady.Kwatsura pulled a stick and a small pouch of csoma from his coat pocket. Islrinea leaned now against him, her breasts pressed against his right side and head angled to his neck. She lifted her left hand to light the stick with a ring torch. Thanks. Kwatsura inhaled a puff and passed the stick to her. She drew a deep puff of blue red smoke and exhaled the fog, watching the lilliputian cloud flutter lazily to into turbulent eddies of air collecting between the floor and low flat ceiling of the lift point. He slid the アークover his left finger watching the thick lines glowing blue across the radius of his anterior forearm, under the mesh gray shirt (a visitor's garb he had worn under his coat for the day) and up the side of his neck. Transmitting rote? Isrlinea spoke in soft mumbles, now half asleep on Kwatsura's shoulder. Yes, hopefully a few bits on the East Edge climb. They continued in silence for three decums as Kwatsura replayed the rote, drained the arc of power and then offed the device to being falling asleep in the thickening starlight. Islrenea was now in a deep slumber, arms clasped about his waist. Feck, another long trek tomorrow.
