This gallery contains 3 photos.
Category Archives: Books
The Night Circus is a 2011 fantasy novel by Erin Morgenstern. It was originally written for the annual writing competition NaNoWriMo over the span of three NaNoWriMos.
It’s an amazing read and thanks to Summertime for letting me know. I was enthralled from the 1st page to the last. I highly recommend this one.
The Night Circus is a phantasmagorical fairy tale set near an ahistorical Victorian London in a wandering magical circus that is open only from sunset to sunrise.
The circus serves a darker purpose beyond entertainment and profit. The magicians Prospero the Enchanter and the enigmatic Mr. A.H— groom their young proteges, Celia Bowen and Marco Alistair, to proxy their rivalry with the exhibits as a stage. Prospero teaches his daughter to hone her innate talents by holding ever larger and more complex magical workings in her mind. Celia takes her position on the game board as the illusionist who makes true transformations, adding tents and maintaining wondrous aspects from the inside. Mr. A.H— trains his orphan ward with books in the ways of glyphs and sympathetic magic and illusory worlds that exist only in the mind of the beholder.
And btw don’t read the Wikipedias plot all the way though. Big fucking spoiler alerts should be posted there.
“Whatcha doing over there?” Burgundy asked without taking her eyes off the computer screen. I looked down at the papers that I didn’t actually remember taking out of my drawer. It was my notes from the Cat-Lady-case.
“Just putting the finishing touches on our last case,” I lied.
“Right; because it’s very important for our files to include the favorite sex-position of our clients,” she teased. I chuckled and write that down just for fun.
The closet was where we were supposed to keep our old client files – and we did – but it’s also where old clothes and knick-knacks that we never used anymore went to die. I shuddered to think of all the things that were hiding inside that bottomless pit. I think there was even a box of my old sex-toys in there somewhere.
Don’t ask me why.
Listen, I understand that I’m giving off an impression here, but it’s not like I’m a sex addict or anything. Dad’s genes have just left me with quite the hankering. I kind of have sex the way other people have chocolate, or alcohol. It’s not like I would die without it, but it would be hard to stop, or go without a long time.
Of course, I would give up chocolate, alcohol and sex any day for Burgundy…
But until they have an missing case with a water nympf:
Burgundy and I shared a knowing look. The woman had to be an undine – a water spirit, at one with the water; they could take human form, but the form was essentially all made up of water. When the raindrops hit her, she would just have absorbed them, which was how she managed to look all dry and fresh.
“My fiancé is missin’,” she said. “He just vanished into thin air the night after his bachelor party.”
She paused, biting her lips like she was trying not to cry. Dear heavens, do not let her cry, I thought. I was horrible with crying women.
“I know what that sounds like, but my Thomas wouldn’t run out on me. He loves me. That might sound naïve, but it’s true. He’s the one came after me in the first place! Finally won me over, got me all pathetic and heart sick for him and then he goes and disappears on me. You have to help me find him.” She looked from Burgundy to me, and continued to switch back, waiting for one of us to speak.
“Have you talked to anyone else about this?” I asked. I preferred not to have competition.
“There’s no one else I can go to,” Lavender said, and she bit her lower lip again while looking nervously around the room There was obviously something she didn’t want to tell us.
“Miss Lacada, if you’re not upfront with us, we can’t help you,” I prompted. That seemed to convince her to suck it up and spit it out.
“Thomas is human,” she admitted quietly, as if afraid the place was bugged or something.
Read more @ Valentie and Maxwell
Bugger off to one of my beautiful author friend Rain who has concoted a great story for you with some lovely sleazy characters for you.
Sagemill is a city that puts cities like Las Vegas and Pattaya to shame. Those places think they have witnessed gambling, lust, all kinds of sin. They don’t know what sin is. They don’t know that a place can pull you in, chew you up, and feast on your soul until there’s nothing left of you but bone dust. Those places are nothing. They’re only human.
Humanity doesn’t survive long in Sagemill. It isn’t a human place at all, isn’t even in the same world as those pathetic little towns, towns that think bright lights and low morals make them any kind of competition for a place like this. There’s magic in Sagemill. Some say it’s just one little city in a big world full of magic, a world hidden from ours where only a few unlucky or stupid humans end up. I know nothing about a hidden world, but I know the hidden city. I know Sagemill; I know every dark little corner, every puke-filled gutter, and every monster that pass through the city gates. Sure as hell been here long enough to know it all.
Couldn’t tell you exactly how long, though. Time doesn’t mean a damn thing here. You play away your money, your property, your body parts, your mind, you sell your soul for a wish to the street peddlers, and then you fuck away what little is left of you.
Read more here writingupmyserotonin.wordpress.com
I’m Rain, and I’m a writer. Aspiring, so far, but hoping to remove that part in the near future! I am currently working on a fantasy novel with a YA and urban touch. All my stories in one way or another take place in a world called Hurst that I’ve built from the ground up through the years, and that I arguably spend way too much time in.
My book marathon is re-reading Ed McBain and his novels about the detectives from the 87th Precinct crime series. I remember reading these as a 12 year old and loving them, now a few years later, 32 years later to be precise it’s quite fun to revisit these pulp fiction books and I still enjoy them…
So finished 5 of them in one week, only 52 to go 😨
New covers on my kindle but you gotta love the original covers.
Towel Day is celebrated every year on 25 May as a tribute to the author Douglas Adams by his fans. On this day, fans openly carry a towel with them, as described in Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, to demonstrate their appreciation for the books and the author. The commemoration was first held 25 May, 2001, two weeks after Adams’ death on 11 May.
A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapours; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-bogglingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can’t see it, it can’t see you — daft as a brush, but very very ravenous); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.
More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitch hiker) discovers that a hitchhiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitch hiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitch hiker might accidentally have “lost.” What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is, is clearly a man to be reckoned with.
Hence a phrase that has passed into hitchhiking slang, as in “Hey, you sass that hoopy Ford Prefect? There’s a frood who really knows where his towel is.” (Sass: know, be aware of, meet, have sex with; hoopy: really together guy; frood: really amazingly together guy.)
— Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
My favourite author has passed away, he has blessed me with uncountable hours of reading enjoyment. And of course my alias Rincewind is from his books. An amazing author who went on writing even with his Alzheimer disease. Sorry to see him pass away but his books will still continue to entertain me for many years to come.
Author Sir Terry sold over 85million books worldwide in 37 languages
Had public Alzheimer’s struggle and was vocal right-to-die campaigner
Writer was best known for fantasy novels set in flat planet Discworld
British fantasy author Sir Terry Pratchett has died aged 66 after a long battle with Alzheimer’s disease, his publisher said today.
He sold more than 85million books worldwide in 37 languages, but also waged a very public struggle with Alzheimer’s disease in recent years – and was a vocal campaigner of the right to die.
The author was best known for his satirical fantasy novels set in Discworld, a flat planet resting on the back of four elephants, themselves perched on the back of a vast turtle moving through space.
Announcement: Sir Terry’s thousands of fans on Twitter were alerted to the news of his death by a series of messages, finishing with: ‘The End’. The character of ‘death’ always speaks in capitals in the Discworld series
Build a man a fire, and he’ll be warm for a day. Set a man on fire, and he’ll be warm for the rest of his life.
Everything starts somewhere, although many physicists disagree.
Fantasy is an exercise bicycle for the mind. It might not take you anywhere, but it tones up the muscles that can. Of course, I could be wrong.
Five exclamation marks, the sure sign of an insane mind.
Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.
He was the sort of person who stood on mountaintops during thunderstorms in wet copper armour shouting “All the Gods are bastards.”
It is often said that before you die your life passes before your eyes. It is in fact true. It’s called living.
Why the world loved Terry Pratchett:
Anyone got any good tips for erotica novels, have been lax in keeping track of great new erotica writers.
So finished 3 books since last time. The first book on my review is why only 3 books since last because its bloody huge. 🙂
Steven Erikson “Gardens of the moon” – A great fantasy book which I definitely got stuck with so am happy that it’s a series so I can continue reading this wonderful fantasy setting. A definitely 5 star one. ★★★★★ (5 stars out of 5)
The Malazan world was devised by Steven Erikson and Ian Cameron Esslemont, initially as a setting for a role-playing game. Gardens of the Moon began as a movie script but evolved into a novel, which Erikson completed in 1991–92 but failed to sell. Say what! And damn u Bob, he is a Winnipeg author so another great reason except the hockey and food to visit. 🙂
Isaac Asimov “Foundation” – I remember reading this when I was a kid in love with scifi and its definitely not your normal science fiction book. Not much action but it gets you hooked. I am happy to say I still love this book. ★★★★★ (5 stars out of 5)
Terry Pratchett “Reaper man” – a super addition to the Discworld books. Death is getting replaced and he has finally time to use up before hos demise but that means no one is taking care of business so its up to the wizards and the undead Windle Poons (ex wizard) to sort things out. Great reading. ★★★★★ (5 stars out of 5)
So have actually just read great books this time. Hope you read them and agree with me.
Have been re reading The foundation by Isaacs Asimov, haven’t read it since I was 14 years old and totally forgot just how brilliant author this man was. Am enjoying my re education into his world’s again.
Asimov is widely considered a master of hard science fiction and, along with Robert A. Heinlein and Arthur C. Clarke, he was considered one of the “Big Three” science fiction writers during his lifetime. Asimov’s most famous work is the Foundation Series; his other major series are the Galactic Empire series and the Robot series.
Asimov was one of the most prolific writers of all time, having written or edited more than 500 books and he was a long-time member and vice president of Mensa International, albeit reluctantly; he described some members of that organization as “brain-proud and aggressive about their IQs”. LOL!