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“This summer will never end.  It starts every day with a shower of Mr Whippy notes and your best friend’s knock at the door, finishes it with long slow twilight and mothers silhouetted in doorways calling you to come in, through the bats shrilling among the black lace trees.  This is Everysummer decked in all its best glory.” – In The Woods by Tana French

Have you ever had someone spend twenty minutes telling you what they hated about a film, only to watch it yourself and find it’s not that bad?  They set your expectations a little lower.  It’s kinda helpful, actually.  I’ve had many a movie saved by my sister – my music muse – and her passionate reviews.  I’ve gotten to the point where sometimes I’ll ask her if she liked a film just so I’ll lower my expectations before I watch it.   Not every movie is going to be the next great epic.  Some of them are just fun weekend films.

The same is true for this book.  My sister read it a while back and HATED it.

I picked it up when I agreed to participate in a blog book reading being hosted by Love at First Book for the month of March.  We are all reading In the Woods and discussing it.  It has been lots of fun, though I got started late and then finished early.   I read some of the Amazon reviews and while many of them praised the book, most of them complained about the ending, which was also my sisters complaint.

My expectations were set.  (Not spoiled, just set.)  I knew going into this book that the ending would be less than satisfactory.  With that in mind, I was able to enjoy In the Woods knowing full well all my questions would remain unanswered.  (Sister saves the day again!)  Let me do you the favor she did me and take it the next step - if you read this book your questions will not be answered, and this is not a murder mystery.

Now, wait one minute you would say if you were maybe half way through the book, this is a murder mystery.  Nope.  The murder mystery is merely the catalyst and the harness for the story.  It is not the story itself.  If you don’t pick up on this early you risk hating this story!

What is the story?  (Here come the spoilers!)

The story is Parallelism.

A boy and his two friends: another boy and a girl.

A detective and his partner and extra partner:  a girl and another boy.

A wood where they spend their summers: Beautiful.

The apartment of the partner where they spend their evenings: Beautiful.

Something bad happens in the woods: the woods become evil.

Something happens in the apartment: he becomes suspicious of everything especially his partner.

He loses his childhood friends: they are murdered.

He loses his adult friends: he drives them away as he’s played by a psychopath.  They are taken from him both by his actions and the actions of others.

In the end he must face that while the woods gave him his darkest moments, they also gave him some of his best.  In the end, the reader realizes that the apartment was the place he also had some of his best memories, and now they are lost to him.

This book is the same story, told two different ways.  One is told in a very “child-like” way: summer, friends, monsters.  The other is told in a very “adult” way:  work, friends, inner monsters.  The author suggests at least twice that children don’t view the world the same way we do.  They still see the magic.  They still hope to find Narnia on the other side of the wardrobe, or to see an Ent, or get a Hogwarts letter.  They think it just might happen.  Adults don’t.  This is the story.  The child version and the adult version.

So….my thoughts as a whole.  This book was beautifully written.  The descriptions and characters were rich and vibrant.  I was glued to it the whole time.  I understand why, as a writer, you don’t want to let your readers in on too much from the beginning, but it is very hard for most readers to see what this story is about unless someone has already ranted about the ending.  This is not a thriller, a mystery, or a suspense.  This is literary fiction.  It’s just about the people involved.  It’s just about the man who once was a boy and in some ways still is.  I can’t say I loved this book, but it was too beautiful to hate.

I had a few points of frustration.  First, I found the timeline to be very confusing.  I’m the kind of writer who has three or four detailed timelines for my novels.  I have to know what happened on which day to which people.  I don’t like reading something in a book and not being able to tell if it happened during the main events or after the events.  There were several times I wasn’t sure if the case was being handled over the course of a few days or a year or so.  It draws me out of a book when I feel like the timeline is significant, but not clear.

The other frustration I had was the lack of hope or redemption at the end.  The only people you like at the end are the friends he loses.  You don’t blame them for leaving him.  You blame him for losing them.  You don’t like the boy/man and you might pity, but you don’t like, the criminals.  I’ve heard the arguments again and again about how things don’t all need tidy happy endings, and I agree.  Watch Six Monkeys.  Read Shutter Island.  Not everything has to be happy and perfect.  But, on the other hand, I think the sour taste left in everyone’s mouth at the end of this book comes from the lack of hope and redemption.  By the end you’re just hanging there hoping against all odds he will find one set of friends or the other.  He doesn’t.

In the end the case can’t be solved any more than he could get his friends back.  Only at the end, when he lost it all, did he remember the beauty of the woods.

Maybe this is the power of the book…. though I think it’s the wordsmithing myself….and maybe it’s the books downfall.

Read it and let me know what you think!

Here’s the link to Rebecca’s Part 4 of our discussion: http://loveatfirstbook.com/2013/03/24/in-the-woods-week-4-you-made-it/

2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 5,500 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 9 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

“Everybody scream, everbody scream
In our town of Halloween!
I am the clown with the tear-away face
Here in a flash and gone without a trace

I am the “who” when you call, “Who’s there?”
I am the wind blowing through your hair

I am the shadow on the moon at night
Filling your dreams to the brim with fright
This is Halloween, this is Halloween
Halloween! Halloween! Halloween! Halloween!
Halloween! Halloween! 

Tender lumplings everywhere
Life’s no fun without a good scare…”

Happy Halloween Everyone!

Over the Memorial Day weekend, MJ passed onto me the Beautiful Blogger Award!! What an honor!! Thank you so much dear!!

In her words, “The award recognizes a blogs creativity, originality, and overall contribution to the blogging community.”

I hope I have accomplished this and continue to do so as I publish my first online series.

Here are the rules:
·         Post the award on your blog.
·         Nominate twelve of your favorite blogs for the award.
·         Share seven interesting things about yourself.
 
So…12 of my favorite blogs:
7 Things bout Me:
  1. I hated grammar and English in school.  I did not begin writing until I was in my early twenties.  I was inspired to write after my Husband read Lord of the Rings during a week of finals and decided to pick up a pen and try his hand at it.  We spent several years swapping stories and critiquing one another.
  2. I wear two necklaces every day.  One is a Tiffany key my husband gave me for my 30th birthday.  The other has two pendents on it, one for each of the books I have finished.  One is a crow, the name of the main character in my first novel.  The other is a man and woman dancing in the moonlight.  It signifies my two main characters in online series.
  3. I enjoy warrior tales.  I love a story about a man fighting against all odds for either his friends, his country, or his love.  Some of my favorites include Rambo 4, Expendables, Die Hard, the 13th Warrior, Willow and so many more.  Most recently it includes the Avengers.  I am also a big Star Trek and Firefly fan.
  4. I get up every morning at 5am to write.  This is my daydream time.  I usually squeeze in an hour to two hours before starting my day.  I became an amateur writer the moment I decided to pass up on sleep to write. I  will consider myself an author when I sell my first book.
  5. My day job is fashion.  I also write a fashion blog for our boutique.  I co-founded and co-own a set of consignment boutiques with my husband.  We bought our first boutique two weeks after we got married…I don’t recommend this.  We were crazy.  :-)
  6. My husband was both my first kiss and the only man I have ever dated.
  7. I was a reader long before I was a writer.  I used to hide from my family as a child to read and could average forty books a month.  Now, I’m lucky if I can read that many books in three years, but it is still my favorite thing to do.  I often read my own books when I just can’t figure out what to read next.  My Kindle has improved my chances of reading cause I can get to them more conveniently, but I miss the feel of paper and the smell of a book sometimes.

Dueling Vampire:
“Now we see if you can kill me.”

Quentin disappeared. I fumbled for my crossbow. A stinging slap across the face startled me, and I dropped it. My heart beat, trapped behind bone; it only desired flight from the damned creature. I reeled back clutching at my face. Another invisible blow cracked me across the back. I knew Quentin might just kill me if I did not recover soon. Dark memories surfaced with the pain. I swallowed them down, a sour vomit in my mouth.

“You insult my training,” he said from the shadows.

Training. Training. The word wormed inside me through my stuttering nerves sending messages of pain to my brain. I closed my eyes and anticipated. Anticipate. The only defense I held against a vampire. That and my natural affinity as a woman to sense the creatures of the night. That affinity was the one reason Quentin even bothered to train me.

Training. Anticipate. Affinity.

Each thought resounded with its own heart beat. Eyes still closed, I forced my breathing and beating to slow.

Duck.

His swing missed me.

Roll.

I scooped up my crossbow. Turned. Paused.

I opened my eyes.

Quentin’s skin gave against the tip of my silver arrow. One slip of my finger and he turned into a much older poof of dust than the creature I slew a moment ago.

“You hesitate.”

I examined his face through the wet strands of my dark hair. I saw the edge of his almond shaped eyes, so like my own, yet hypnotic and dead.

“If you had not been my teacher and my only friend, I would not have hesitated.”

I looked him straight in the eye as I spoken, even though my brain screamed a warning – “NEVER LOOK A VAMPIRE IN THE EYE”. Calm down, brain, I know what I am doing.

Quentin smiled, his half smile, scary, “I have job for you. Look around. Remember.”

He disappeared. I stood alone in the wet alley. Always left to stand alone. I reached up and rubbed my arm. My fingers stopped at each scar. The round cigar burns first, then the smaller cigarette burns, followed by the longer lines from my ex-husband’s knife. The scars tied me to Mase forever. And yet, behind thoughts of Mase always came thoughts of Travis and I sighed. Pain, any sort of pain brought up those dark thoughts.

What a damned life. I took the power Mase’s abuse awoke in me and channelled it into vampire slaying. How the hell had I got here? Sigh again.

Look and remember. That’s what I was supposed to do. Look and remember. I found my leather bag crumpled in a corner from the fight with the young vampire and pulled out my flashlight. First look.

I shined the light over the alley and saw the dust of the vampire I killed gathered in gray piles here and there. The piles seemed to suck the light of my flashlight into them, leaving a dull gray, oatmeal colored film behind. No sparking, glowing, luminescent dust – he was not a fairy – but a matte emptiness, hollow and void of light.

The dust told me nothing.

Why had Quentin brought me to this bar, this place in town? In fact, why this town at all? He moved me two months ago to this medium-sized, middle class, middle of nowhere town. Why?

I grabbed my spare jacket out of my bag, the sweat on my skin cooling me. A strong shiver convinced me to pull on my matching fedora, too. Time to listen in on some conversation. My first visit to the bar lasted less then half a minute. – walk in, sense approaching vampire based on my sudden urge to vomit, walk out, slay vampire. My watch informed me only 10 minutes had passed. My heart told me it had aged 15 years in those few short minutes. I told it to get a life. We, my heart and I, had endured worse, much worse at Mase’s hand. It agreed and a peace washed over me. Survive. I always managed to survive.

Old described the bar like a compliment. Dirty described it truthfully. Dirty. Filled with smoke, cussing, grunting, bad light, beer signs, etc, etc. I pulled the strap of my bag over my head and dropped it on my shoulder letting the bag ride across my body. I made my way to the bar and ordered a beer. The Guinness set before me never looked so good. I watched the cascade of light and dark liquid as the head grew.

Several swallows and a sense of contentment later, I started listening in.

The conversations of the towns local late-nighters told me nothing.

Batting a thousand here.

But, I relished the fact I did not sense one vamp in the general vicinity. No unexplainable love for someone from Requiem, nor the need to run or slay at the mere presence of any other vampire. Quentin told me this trait alone made me rare. Normally – ha! normal – normally, women are either unexplainably attracted to all vampires, or unexplainably disgusted by all vampires. I’m the only woman on record who is both. I am attracted to the “good” ones and disgusted by the “bad” ones. As long as that holds true, I can slay to my hearts content knowing I am always going after the bad guys. A sudden fear it may not hold true sours the beer in my stomach.

I push the thought away, and I listen in at the bar while I order a second dark beer. Still no major news besides who won at cards or some other such gambling arrangement and who shacked up with who.

Time to go to the bathroom and rethink my approach. Look and remember were my two tasks. Look and remember now seemed pointless. I made my way to the bathroom, dreading what I would find. Right now i needed to ignored my personal phobia of public bathrooms. The nightmares this visit brought could take a number behind Mase’s nightmares.

I stepped in and my heart flipped. The beer inside my tummy bubbled, threatening to come up. I forced my body to calm down with a firm resolve. I was the hunter here. I could do this. Control your affinity, Quentin always instructed.

Vampires. Vampires visited this bathroom recently. They were not the good ones.

What would a vampire be doing in a bathroom? They no longer needed the facilities…

Remember. The vampire I killed. He had a tattoo on the back of his right hand. A servant tattoo – a piece of rotting fruit offered by a hand with long, broken nails. I looked around the bathroom for any such design mixed in with the crass graffiti, while I silently thanked Quentin for including quick-tattoo-sighting in his training.

Nothing popped out on the walls around the sink and mirror. I walked into the first stall and froze.

For a good time call Max: 666-7777.

It covered ever inch of the wall space. I could not believe my eyes. ‘Max’ was either regularly lucky with this tactic or really desperate. But…the handwriting – the handwriting on the wall, my brain boomed- differed every time. Each scrawled, printed, cursive suggestion to call Max for said good time showed a different writer.

I leaned in closer to one of the posts and saw a funny squiggle in the o part of the 6. Reaching in my bag, I dug around until I found my jewelers magnifying glass. I got up close and personal with the stall wall and put the glass up to my eye. Gross. Do not think about what you might be seeing, I warned myself. I moved the glass over the number 6.

Bingo!

In each bowl of the 6 sat a tiny,clawed hand holding a piece of maggot filled fruit.

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 666.7777…

Check out the Dueling Vampire Prose go to Sojourner Tales

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