Last week I read, and loved this book! This scene comes from early in the book when the two main characters have just met....kind of. Quote comes from pages 44-45
The ringing stopped, and the low musical murmur of his voice drifted between the rooms. I rose from the sofa and walked to one of the bookshelves built in on either side of the mantel. The fire had been going for some time. It was small and compact and extremely hot, hissing and popping discreetly in a pile of spent ash. I ran my fingers along the spines of the books. A wide-ranging collection, I thought to myself, smiling; it ran the gamut from Dean Koontz to Winston Churchill to Virgil, in the original Latin. Nothing like a British boarding-school education.
The books were packed in tightly; in fact, no room had been left for anything but books. No pictures, not objets, no random clutter. Nothing personal, really, unless you considered a man's choice of reading material the most personal thing of all.
"Snooping, I see," came Julian's voice, far too close.
I jumped. "Jeez! You just took a year off my life." I nodded my head to the shelves. "Do you really read Latin?"
"Not a terribly useful skill these days, is it?"
"Not everything has to be useful. I assume you learned it at school?"
"Yes, an old-fashioned education."
Was that a note of strain in his voice? I turned and looked at him. His face had changed, had dimmed somehow, as though he'd gone through and turned off all the unnecessary lights. "Everything all right?" I asked. "The phone call, I mean?"
"Yes, yes. Quite all right." He folded his arms and smiled, somewhat forced. "I've got to fly up to Boston tomorrow, that's all."
"On Christmas Eve?"
"Hard luck, I know."
"Don't you..." I swallowed. "Aren't you going anywhere for Christmas?"
He shrugged. "Geoff has me over for Christmas dinner every year. And services, of course."
"Your family isn't..."
"Around," he finished for me. "Don't worry. I'm over it, as they say. See anything you like?" He nodded upward, and I followed his eye.
"Oh, wow," I said. "Patrick O'Brian. Are those first editions?"
"I indulge myself." He sounded embarrassed.
"I love O'Brian. Historical fiction in general. My friends were always giving me crap about it in college; everyone else was reading chick lit, Shopaholic, that kind of thing. Michelle thinks I was born in the wrong century." I laughed softly.
He didn't reply.
I turned around. He looked peculiar, preoccupied. The tiny lines about his eyes had deepened; his mouth compressed in an unyielding line. I tried to think of something to say, but he spoke first.
"Do you?" he asked, his voice wound tight.
"Do I what?'
"Think you were born in the wrong century."
I laughed. Well, not literally, I guess. I mean, who wants to die in childbirth? But I do sometimes wish.." My voice trailed off.
"Wish what?"
"Well, nothing's a life or death struggle anymore, is it? The era of honor and sacrifice is over." I looked again at the O'Brian novels, lined up in order. "Jack Aubrey's full of human failings - so's Maturin - but they have principles, and they'd give their lives for them. Or for each other. Now it's all about money and status and celebrity. Not that people haven't always cared about those things, but it used to be considered venal, didn't it?" I shrugged. "It's like nobody bothers to grow up anymore. We just want to be kids all our lives. Collecting toys, having fun."
One of the big advantages of being part of a book club is that you often find yourselves being encouraged to read books that you just normally wouldn't read. This is especially true if that particular book club has quite eclectic tastes. This year alone we have read Fifty Shades of Grey the book that shall not be named, To Kill a Mockingbird, and then this book among others.
A Parchment of Leaves is a book that I hadn't heard of before, or even the author! It is historical fiction, but it is firmly set in a particular time and place - the mountains of Kentucky during the early 1900s - one which I haven't read much about at all. Whilst the events in the larger world do have an impact on the lives of the people, they are also relatively self contained within their area. One reason why I found this era so interesting to read about it is that it seems kind of in between, especially in terms of technology. For example, whilst there were some cars and trucks, for most people this was beyond reach and so they still either walked or rode their horses and most chores around the house were still very labour intensive.
The book opens with young Saul Sullivan braving the rumours about a Cherokee girl who is so beautiful that men die when they see her and heads to her home, looking for work. He has his younger brother Aaron with him. Whilst he doesn't die as soon as he see Vine, he is slayed emotionally and he knows that she just has to be his wife. This is reiterated when his younger brother is bitten by a snake and Vine and her family save Aaron's life. Vine too is mesmerised by Saul and it isn't long before they are married, despite the opposition of their families who are concerned about their mixed marriage.
Together Vine and Saul build a house, build a life together, with Vine overcoming his mother's opposition and soon becomes close to Esme. Really, the only thing that isn't quite right is Aaron's obsession with Vine, to the point that he runs off and bring himself home a wife - one with more than a little in common with Vine looks wise.
With World War I raging in Europe, Saul goes off to log trees on another mountain which in turn will be turned into turpentine and shipped off to the battlefields knowing that the money that he earns will help set his family up for years to come. While Saul has his eyes on the future, in the here and now Vine is left to run the home, help Esme and Aaron's wife. Most worryingly the only man around the house is Aaron. The implications of Saul going away will be felt by everyone on that mountain for quite some time.
Whilst at it's heart this novel is about Saul and Vine, it is also about secrets, about race issues and the loss of the Native American identity (when families try so hard to assimilate into the surrounding community), about trust and forgiveness and so much more.
As for the characters, Saul was the strong, silent type. Vine knew that he loved her, but it was really in his letters that he was the most eloquent and able to tell his wife how much he appreciated and loved her. Vine was an engaging character - strong, resilient, resourceful and proud. She was a woman who found herself in a very difficult situation. Whilst it would be easy to sit and judge and say that she did the wrong thing, it would also have been very difficult for her to take another path, particularly at that time in history and in that place.
I mentioned before that this is a novel firmly placed in the Kentucky mountains, and this was clear from not only the use of the mountains as the setting, but also in the dialect that the characters used. It took a little while to get used to it, but there was a certain charm to it nonetheless.
Because it is Tuesday and I often do a Tuesday Teaser, and also because I am claiming this book as a read for the War Through the Generations (WWI) challenge, I thought I would share a teaser from the book about the day that the war ended. Initially I was going to only quote the second paragraph, but then reading the first again, I realised that it was a good example of how the author used nature to advantage in the novel. The quote comes from pages 184 to 185:
There was an early snow the day we found out the war ended. Just a light dusting that didn't amount to anything, but it seemed like a sign. The sky was a bright gray, and the sun showed itself like a silver ball hung there, so smudged you could look right into it. The snow drifted down and frosted the big rocks lining the creek, clung to thin tree branches. It stood like sugar in the yard. By noon it had melted away except where the sun could not reach; it striped the mountainside like white rows in a garden. The road turned to mud, and the yard was too wet to walk through. Even after it melted, the scent of winter had come in, solid and tough, letting us know what it had in store for us.
We learned of the war's end from some boys over on Buffalo Mountain. They'd heard the news in town, got drunk, and come back through, firing their pistols up into the air. America Spurlock lived out at the mouth of God's Creek, and she could hear them coming from a long ways off. She always was nosy. She got her shotgun, went out to the edge of the road, and waited for them. They bowed their horses up when they seen her there. They took their hats off and started telling about the war ending as fast as they could, each of them taking a turn in sharing the news. And of course she run up the holler, squalling for everyone to come out and hear the news. She had a a grandson over there and she was wild with the prospect of him coming home. She was so excited that she paid no attention to the shining mud that caked her shoes and lined the hem of her skirt.
I am glad that I stepped outside my comfort zone just a little bit to be able to read this one!
Rating 4/5
Synopsis
It is the early 1900s in rural Kentucky and young Saul Sullivan is heading up to Redbud Camp to look for work. He is wary but unafraid of the Cherokee girl there whose beauty is said to cause the death of all men who see her. But the minute Saul lays eyes on Vine, he knows she is meant to be his wife. Vine's mother disapproves of the mixed marriage; Saul's mother, Esme, has always been ill at ease around the Cherokee people. But once Vine walks into God's Creek, Saul's mother and his brother Aaron take to her immediately. It quickly becomes clear to Vine, though, that Aaron is obsessed with her. And when Saul leaves God's Creek for a year to work in another county, the wife he leaves behind will never be the same again. the violence that lies ahead for Vine will not only test her ability to forgive - both others and herself.
Every now and again I share a quote about books, bookshops, reading in general or libraries that I call Bookish Quotes. They are infrequent posts, mainly when I happen to find that capture my attention. It is always good though when a post can be used for multiple purposes, so today this quote from Passing Love by Jacqueline E Luckett (which I reviewed here last week) also counts as a Paris in July and Tuesday Teaser post. Got to love multitasking!
The quote comes from pages 149 and 150
By the age of fifteen, libraries and her father's infatuation with books had lost their charm for Nicole. Library as babysitter, as place to meet nice boys, as reliable locale to tell the parents she was when she really wasn't. (Oh, that Nicole? Such a smart girl, spending so much time at the library.) Not one library was as impressive as the one before her. The Bibliotheque Nationale was a palace: a house of books the length and breadth of a generous city block. A sign, written in four languages, directed her past a boutique window decorated with flying pigs statuettes and to the rue de Richelieu. Double gates, flags, and its name carved into the stone above marked the entrance where she surrendered her purse to an African security guard and passed through the metal detector.
The foyer was a corridor of remodeled beauty: a glass-enclosed bookstore, marble counters, a reading room - cordoned off by carts filled with three-foot lengths of steel poles. Nicole peeked through an open door at blue walls and table lamps, wooden desks comparable to church pulpits, and imagined Hugo, Dumas, de Tocqueville laboring inside the circular room. Farther down the hall, a curved staircase wound up to the second floor.
Nicole was impressed with just the entrance. Imagine how much more impressed she would have been had she made it into the oval reading room!
Of course, if I was going to be in Paris looking at bookish delights, I would also have to stroll among the booksellers along the Seine:
And I wouldn't be able to resist a visit to Shakespeare and Co. (quote from page 185)
From the Seine they went to the little bookstore whose reputation overcompensated for its floor space. The interior of Shakespeare and Company was a book lover's fantasy, every wall covered from beamed ceiling to checkered floor with books by English-speaking authors.
"This store is as popular as it was when it opened in 1956. There's even a little bit of black history here." Laurent ran his fingers over a few volumes. Nicole watched him examine the titles and take one from a shelf. Books lined one wall of his living room. An organization Squire, for all his love of books, never imposed on his.
"The owners held a reception for Richard Wright the same year they opened. Baldwin signed copies here of Go Tell It on the Mountain. Your father's favorite, Langston, read in the sixties. Abbey Lincoln sang and read poetry. I guess that's why Loot loves it here. It reminds him of the past."
Not sure that date is correct, but still.
By the way, did you know that there is a Shakespeare and Company podcast where they share some of the events they have at the store! I didn't know until today.
When Lisa at ANZLitlovers announced that she was hosting Indigenous Literature Week to coincide with NAIDOC week, I knew straight away that I wanted to participate and also which book it was that I was planning to read.
Last year when I went to Melbourne Writer's Festival, I was pleased to listen to Kim Scott talk with Kate Grenville and Rohan Wilson in a session titled Native Title, where they talked about the challenges of writing about the settlement of Australia. You can read my summary of that session here.
That same day I went and bought That Deadman Dance, and since then it has been sitting on my shelves waiting for me to find the perfect time to read it, and now, that time is here.
Today I though I would share a couple of short sections. The first describes the traditional dance performed as part of a ceremony and comes from page 58-59:
Then came the singing.
Emu dance first: the men did it together, sat back and took turns, each man with his arm extended, bent at the wrist, and moving like the neck of an emu. No special dances, and not the Dead Man Dance, though many were thinking of that one, hoping this important friend might lead them in something like that. And after the dance where men show their strength, standing on one leg, almost motionless but for the muscles quivering under their skin, Bobby Started playing. He did his shipboard dance: the rise and fall. The boys caught on, bobbing like things floating in the water and the wave moving along them; and Bobby took little steps side to side, like on the deck of a ship. The men lay down, and Bobby walked across their moving bodies, like the boat in the harbour going from ship to shore. Walking on the waves, see? And hen he was staggering side to side and mimed lifting a bottle to his lips: that dance the sailors do.
The singers tried hard not to laugh, and sometimes took up the rhythm and sound of some other dance, some safe dance, to get everyone back to a less cheeky repertoire. Time and time again they took the dancers back to the test of strength, one man standing motionless with the muscles quivering under his skin while the others stomped the ground, releasing all their strength into it.
I kept on reading, not really with any view of finding another passage to share today, but then I read this short paragraph, and then I reread it again and knew that today I would be sharing two teasers! The second comes from page 106:
Me and my people... My people and I (he winked) are not so good traders as we thought. We thought making friends was the best thing, and never knew that when we took your flour and sugar and tea and blankets that we'd lose everything of ours.. We learned your words and songs and stories, and never knew you didn't want to hear ours....
It is my intention to post a review of this book later this week. We will see how we go.
One of my most anticipated new releases for 2012 has been Bitterblue by Kristin Cashore. It has felt as though we have been waiting for this book for ages and ages. Last year Kristin came to Melbourne and I went and bought Fire and Graceling to get signed and the question on everyones lips was 'when will Bitterblue be out?'. Finally, that time has come.
When I went to the library to pick this book up, I was really, really surprised at how big this book is. At nearly 550 pages, it is much bigger than both of the previous books but luckily I like big books. Not as much as I used to because there was a time that I bought my books based on how thick they were, but I am still happy to invest time into a big story and hopefully get lost in the pages. I wasn't quite so appreciative when I chose this to be my commute book over the weekend when I was going to the convention I was at and had to carry it around all day! Should have chosen a smaller book for that but never mind.
So far, I am enjoying the story although the reader is only slowly being drawn into what is happening in the book but to be fair, the main character, Queen Bitterblue, is only slowly finding out what exactly went on in her kingdom previously and what is going on in her kingdom now.
For the teaser today, I thought I would share a section from pages 126-127
"How is your puzzle going?"
"Dreadfully," she said, grateful to him for remembering. "I have lords like Danzhol, who stole for Leck, connecting with thieves who are stealing the things back, connecting with a strange piece of misinformation about gargoyles my advisers gave me, connecting with other kinds of knowledge my advisers seem to prefer to discourage, connecting with knowledge the thieves would like to keep from me as well, such as why someone would stick knives in their guts. I don't understand the courtyard decoration either," she said grouchily, glaring at the shrubberies that a moment before had been delighting her.
"Hm," said Giddon. "I confess, it doesn't sound very illuminating.
"It's a disaster," Bitterblue said.
"Well," said Giddon with mild amusement. "Your great courtyard is lovely in the rain."
I am looking forward to reading more and getting lost in Bitterblue's kingdom when I get back on the train tomorrow morning!
Do you ever sit down and read through your own blog posts? Every now and again I like to do so, and sometimes I am pleasantly surprised by what I read and other times I cringe! Today I took a few minutes to go through my past posts about Elizabeth Chadwick. The thing that stood out is that when I do post about her books, the reviews are overwhelmingly positive and filled with praise at the way that medieval life comes to life in the pages of her books. Whilst this isn't a review as such, I can guarantee if I was to get around to writing one it would be another positive one.
I have been working my way through her back list very slowly. I could have read more of her books, but the thing is that I know that once I have finished then I will have to wait for each new book. By not devouring them all, which is definitely tempting, I know that I will still have a Chadwick fix for a little while yet!
The interesting thing for me is that I think this book seems to be something of a turning point for Elizabeth Chadwick. As far as I can remember, prior to this, Chadwick populated her books with real historical figures, but the main characters were fictitious. In this book, the main male character is Fulke Fitzwarin and he is a real figure from history and has been suggested as a possibly inspiration for Robin Hood. You can also clearly see the transition that the author is making from writing meaty historical romances with strong historical themes to meaty historical fiction with strong romantic themes.
I have a number of passages marked to choose a teaser from. In the end, I decided to go with this teaser from page 228:
I told you that we should have ridden straight to Whittington when Papa died and taken FitzRoger then," William muttered as they led their horses across the ward and found a boy to tend them.
"Hindsight is a wondrous thing,' Fulke sneered. "Likely we'd have ended our lives swinging from a gibbet."
"Well, if you think there is going to be a happy outcome from this, you're a greater fool than you've ever taken me for."
Fulke rounded on him with bunched fists and Jean hastily put his wiry frame between the. "Peace!" he hissed. "We're not clear of the guards yet, and you do yourselves no favours by this childish brangling. If you cannot handle yourselves, then what use are you going to be before John?"
Fulke clamped his jaw until the muscles showed in two rigid grooves below his cheekbones. "You do well to remind me, Jean," he said with a stiff nod. He looked at William. "We need to be united by our brotherhood, not split by our differences of opinion. Are you ready to go within?"
William wriggled his shoulders within the thickly padded gambeson. "No point in coming just to stay outside." It was the nearest he would come to conciliation.
Do you have an author who you want to rush through their booklist, but you also want to take your time to savour?
A couple of months ago I read 84 Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff for book club. Like millions of other readers before me, I thought it was a lovely gem of a book. I loved the letters, the humour, the conversation about books and so much more!
I knew, therefore, that I wanted to read the follow up book, The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street. Unfortunately my library didn't have the book so I had to request the Helene Hanff Omnibus from another library via interlibrary loan. I was planning to read at least one of the other short books contained in the omnibus but I think I am going to run out of time because I actually picked up three interlibrary loans on the same day and they are all due back on the same day as well.
Now that I am a fair way through The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street, I do feel that I can compare the two books. Whilst Duchess is a fun read, I don't think it is as well balanced as 84 Charing Cross Road. Rather than being an epistolary book comprised of the letters between Helene Hanff and the staff at the bookshop at 84 Charing Cross Road, this book is more of a diary format, telling of Helene's experiences when she finally makes it to London after so many years of wanting to visit. To be honest, I miss the letters that provide a counterbalance to the voice of Helene. She is still funny, but there are times when it comes on too strong. I am withholding final judgment until I do finish it, but I think it is fair to say that I liked Duchess but it won't get as strong a grade as the one that I gave to 84 Charing Cross Road.
Having said that, I do find Hanff's pure joy of finally living her dream by visiting London and meeting some of the people that she had corresponded with for years totally infectious and is making me wish I could go to London again. One day I will get back.
One thing that I did find interesting that I thought I would share today is the story of Helene's reading journey.
Q (Quiller-Couch) was all by himself my college education. I went down to the public library one day when I as seventeen looking for books on the art of writing, and found five books of lectures which Q had delivered to his students of writing at Cambridge.
"Just what I need!" I congratulated myself. I hurried home with the first volume and started reading and got to page 3 and hit a snag:
Q was lecturing to young men educated at Eton and Harrow. He therefore assumed that his students - including me - had read Paradise Lost as a matter of course and would understand his analysis of the 'Invocation to Light' in Book 9. So I said, "Wait here," and went down to the library and got Paradise Lost and took it home and started reading it and got to page 3, when I hit a snag:
Milton assumed I'd read the Christian version of Isaiah and the New Testament and had learned all about Lucifer and the air in Heaven, and since I'd been reared in Judaism I hadn't. So I said, 'Wait here,' and borrowed a Christian Bible and read about Lucifer and so forth, and then went back to Milton and read Paradise Lost, and then finally got back to Q on page 3. On page 4 or 5, I discovered that the point of the sentence at the top of the page was in Latin and the long quotation at the bottom of the page was in Greek. So I advertised in the Saturday Review for somebody to teach me Latin and Greek, and went back to Q meanwhile, and discovered he assumed I not only knew all the plays of Shakespeare, and Boswell's Johnson, but also the Second Book of Esdras, which is not in the Old Testament and not in the New Testament, it's in the Apocrypha, which is a set of books nobody had ever thought to tell me existed.
So what with one thing and another and an average of three 'Wait here's' a week, it took me eleven years to get through Q's five books of lectures.
I am not saying that I would like to take 11 years to read a single book, but I can trace my reading tastes and habits to a degree. For example, I read Diana Gabaldon because her book was given to me as a gift. From there I discovered Sharon Kay Penman and Paullina Simons. From Sharon I started reading Elizabeth Chadwick and from Paullina Simons I read Belinda Alexandra! I could go on and on, but it gives you an idea of what I am referring to.
Can you track your reading from one book or one author to the next?
This week as part of the House of Tyneford readalong we read chapters 10 to 15 and now we are around half way through the book! I am enjoying it a lot and find it difficult not to race through to the end. Then again, I have that trouble with a lot of readalongs!
Our host, Carrie, hasn't actually set questions for us to discuss this week. She has looked at a few of the characters and prompted us to post about our thoughts on this section. What I wanted to focus on was the writing, and the fact that it is Tuesday suggests that I could do a Teaser and the Teaser will have a Bookish Quote feel to it too! I do love multi-tasking blog posts!
Last week, I mentioned that I had read and enjoyed Natasha Solomons' previous book and so I already knew that I really liked her writing. That doesn't mean that I didn't find myself rereading small sections of the book because I just loved the way that the author was bring the scene to life.
There were a few sections in particular where the author caught my attention. One I don't want to say too much about because there is a charm and sense of fun about the scene that I wouldn't want to spoil. I will say, for the benefit of those who either have read the book or are participating in the readalong, that it was the scene involving fish and the whole village! It was funny and festive, and really indicative of the inclusiveness of the lives of everyone who lives at Tyneford. Given that we know that there are some challenges coming for the village as a whole, I think this was a really good way to show the cohesiveness that crosses the social hierarchy.
The section that I have chosen to quote from has a different tone completely but I was moved, and I loved the final line. To set a bit of context, there has just been a big, emotional confrontation and so Elise, the Austrian Jewess who has come to Tyneford to work as a maid, flees to the library. The author that she mentions below, Julian, is her father, Anna is her mother and Margot her sister.
I padded through the silent hall and into the library. I scanned the bookshelves and, finding what I wanted, reached up and drew down The Spinsters' Diary by Julian Landau, before creeping into the drawing room. The curtains were open and the moon filled the room with cold light, bright enough to read by. I sat cross-legged on the floor, the book open on my lap. It was not my favourite of Julian's novels and Anna actively disliked it, complaining it was unkind. That was why I wanted it with me tonight. With this book in my hands, I could hear my parents row. The three virgin spinsters were the great-aunts. Julian described them in cruel detail, down to the single hair sprouting from the round mole on Gretta's chin. Only in the book she was called Gertrude. Julian insisted that the aunts were transformed by fiction and Gretta, Gerda and Gabrielle (real life) had nothing to do with Gertrude, Grunhilda and Griselda (novel). Anna and the aunts remained unconvinced. When Julian attempted to justify himself over coffee and sachertorte, Gretta grumbled that she did not wish for her wart to be immortalised for eternity. After the aunts withdrew, dignity wounded, a fight echoed through the apartment. To Margot's and my tremendous delight, Anna threw a series of Meissen plates at Julian. We cheered her on from round the nursery door, wondering if she'd succeed in hitting and killing him - "Do you think we shall be orphans? Will Mama wear lipstick in prison?" It was terribly thrilling.
I had understood Anna and the aunts' fury - they were not angered by Julian's lies but by his honesty. He ought not to have stolen from life, but tonight I was grateful he had. As I shivered on the floor in the drawing room of an English country house a thousand miles from Vienna, I could see my aunts in the pages of the book. They smiled up at me, offering me sugar biscuits and grumbling over the supercilious waiters at cafe Sperl. I have no photographs of the aunts, and so they seem almost characters from a children's story - a clutch of creased fairy godmothers, fond of linzertorte and nieces - not quite belonging to the modern world. Yet they are preserved between the pages of Julian's novel like the crushed wings of a butterfly.
I suspect that Elise is destined for heartbreak in more ways than one in the upcoming section and that life at Tyneford is about to be changed irrevocably.
It is no great secret that I am a sucker for a series. I have way too many going on to keep up with and every now and again one falls by the wayside. Actually, it is more regular than every now and again! This is one of those series for me.
I am a little ashamed to say that I actually read the first book in this series over five years ago. It took me nearly two years to read the second book, and now, five years after reading the first book I am finally reading the third book in the series. There are actually now twenty books in the series, so at this stage I should catch up in about...oh....forty years or so!
It was hard to find a teaser to share because the voice of Falco is just so pervasive and there were just so many that I could have chosen from the early part of the book. He is like a jaded gumshoe detective but instead of living in New York in the 1930s he is in Ancient Rome. Like many of those style of detectives, Falco is down on his luck, just scraping by financially, and he often has women trouble as well! If it isn't full on trouble, it is definitely complicated!
This quote comes from page 38:
One thing was certain. I had committed domestic sacrilege. Helena Justina might overlook many insults, but my bumming off to Veii on her birthday was not one of the. The fact that I didn't know it was her birthday was irrelevant. I should have done.
"Didius Falco, Caesar ... " Before I was ready to concentrate on political matters, a major-domo who reeked of long-standing vanity and recently braised onions announced my name to the Emperor.
"That's a long face. What's up, Falco?"
"Woman trouble," I admitted.
Vespasian enjoyed a laugh. he threw back his great head and guffawed. "Want my advice?"
"Thanks, Caesar." I grinned. "At least this heartthrob didn't run off with my armpurse or elope with my best friend..."
We hit a small moment of stillness, as if the Emperor had remembered with disapproval who my latest heartthrob was.
From the subtitle (Death Lies Beyond the River Rhine) and from the back cover blurb we know that Marcus Didius Falco is about to be sent to Germany so it's going to be hard to fix his domestic issues from that kind of distance!
I read quite a lot of historical fiction books and quite a few young adult books but for whatever reason I don't much YA historical fiction. I am not sure why that it is really because with so many great stories to be told from history, I am sure that there are many fascinating YA novels telling those stories that I just don't know about yet!
This novel tells the story of Adelaide and Angeline who decide to ride motorcycles across America in order to prove that girls are capable of helping out during times of war, and also hopefully to be able to gain the vote. The fact that this story is loosely based on real life sisters August and Adeline van Buren makes it all the more interesting. Another bonus for me is that the book is set in 1916 (during World War I) when the politicians in the US were trying to decide whether or not to join the theatre of war in Europe.
The teaser comes from page 13 of the ebook version of the book.
Having taken the podium from her meek husband, Mrs. Wentworth spoke clearly. 'Numerous women are riding motorbikes nowadays. I can name a few. Nevertheless, I feel if we gave the weaker sex" - a brief sneer of contempt for the previously used words accompanied this sentence - "a chance, they would indeed prove to be good candidates for dispatch riders."
The room broke out into much raucous chatter, but Angeline was mute. Thoughts were roaring through her head. Her brother had just brought home a motorbike. Women could ride. Men didn't think so, however. Something needed to be proven here.
With sudden resolve, Angeline made a quick and impulsive decision that she hoped she would never come to regret. With as much dignity as she could muster, she patted down what flyaway hairs she could, and with a grimace at her dusty dress, she stood in front of the entire assembly before speaking.
"What if a woman rode a motorbike across the country? Would that be enough to prove to you old-fashioned men that we, the weaker sex, can aid in the war effort as dispatch riders?"
I have had this book for a couple of months and it has been calling my name ever since I recieved it. I have decided that I just need to make room for it rather than waiting for a gap in my reading schedule. The idea was that I would read one chapter a day, but tonight on the train I ended up reading four chapters without even realising it! Looking forward to getting back to the story tomorrow.
I have been reading the Phryne Fisher series by Kerry Greenwood for a number of years now, although to be honest it has been quite a while since I read the last one. I really need to get back to the series. I was aware that Greenwood had another series that she was also writing but didn't really intend to read it just yet. You see, I had a plan. Once I was all caught up with Phryne, then I would start reading the Corinna Chapman books.
My book club which is due to meet on Friday night decided that the March books would be the first one in both series - Cocaine Blues being the first Phryne Fisher book and this book, Earthly Delights, being the first in the Corinna Chapman books. I don't think I will actually be able to attend this week, but it has given me the impetus to actually read this book.
There is the same sense of fun and a Melbourne setting but other than that the books are very different. Phriny's world is 1930s Melbourne - all glamour and glitz - and she is now a professional investigator. In contrast, Corinna is a larger sized woman who is a baker and therefore starts her morning at 4am every day and is in bed by 8pm. She spends her days in her work clothes and then in her track pants rather than any glamourous costume!
So far I am liking Earthly Delights, although it did take me a few pages to get used to the tone and humour. One thing that definitely helped though was finding references to another favourite author, Terry Pratchett, in the pages.
The quote comes from page 23 to 24 and sees Corinna visiting her friend Meroe:
"Looks like fate is taking an interest in your life at last, Corinna. And about time, I might add, though the ways of fate are inscrutable. I do wish they weren't. I spend my whole life trying to make them more scrutable. with only a little success."
"Any peep into the future is bound to be a bit fraught," I sympathised, hardly at all.
"I've been looking into the crystal ball," she said soberly, all traces of a twinkle vanishing from those disconcerting black eyes. This is the second overdose in a week. None fatal so far. But there will be another. Something horrible is happening in the city."
I could have told her that. It's a city. It stands to reason that something horrible is happening in it somewhere. I sipped in silence. She has a gift of stillness which is very attractive. If she hasn't anything to say, she doesn't say anything. She has no small talk, which for such a dedicated gossip is surprising. Like the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, she considers that a person who does not know the word on the street before it hits the street is just not trying.
Earlier this year, I read Olivia and Jai by Rebecca Ryman. It was a book that had been recommended to me as being good for anyone who enjoyed reading historical fiction set in India, particularly during the days of the English Raj. I really enjoyed the book but was disappointed to find that the sequel, Veil of Illusion, was not available through my Inter Library Loan system. I have been told though that the sequel is disappointing compared to the first one though, so maybe it wasn't a bad thing that I couldn't get it.
What was available through ILL was Rebecca Ryman's only other book - Shalimar. Once again, we visit the exotic locales of India, and I have to say I am enjoying it very much, particularly the interactions between the two main characters, Emma and Damian.
For my teaser today, I am sharing a scene that is pretty pivotal in the book, but isn't really a spoiler given that you know what is going to happen by reading the book's blurb. It does actually read a bit like a scene from a historical romance, which is right up my alley anyway, but the book really is drama-filled historical fiction with exotic locations, daring deeds and plenty of intrigue!
The teaser comes from page 101:
"As you are evidently aware," he said, his eyes never leaving her face, "I live in Kashmir. I do not know if you are at all acquainted with the Vale, but it is wild and beautiful, endowed by nature as no other place on earth. I live surrounded by everything a man could possibly want - material security, a fertile estate, a home arranged and furnished to my own taste with every creature comfort I require. I live as I please. I call no man master." His dark eyes were alive with pride. "There is, however, one vital component that my life still lacks." He hesitated a minim. "A woman."
The words took an instant to register. Emma stiffened, her cheeks flooded with colour to match the crimson of the curtains and her gaze buried itself in the floor. Continuing to observe her intently from behind his desk, he allowed her a few moments of silence. Her sense of shock finally receded; she thrust her trembling hands beneath her poche.
"If I understand your drift correctly, Mr Granville," she said in a voice acceptably steady. "I find it unworthy of comment. Indeed, I find both you and your proposition contemptible."
"Oh? Just what do you think my proposition is?"
"That in exchange for the cancellation of my brother's debt I should agree to become your mistress," she said, bluntly refusing the refuge of euphemism.
"My dear Miss Wyncliffe!" He threw his hands in mock horror, a model of outraged innocence. "You astonish me more and more. I find it difficult to believe that a pure, untouched English rose like you could even be aware of such dreadful creatures as mistresses." He laughed and crossed the length of the room to where she stood, his thumbs tucked in the armholes of his waistcoat. He halted so close to her that whiffs of his tobacco-tinged breath fanned her face.
"No, Miss Wyncliffe," he said, "mistresses I have galore. I doubt if I could accommodate more without inviting serious damage to my health. You will therefore be relieved to know that I do not want you for a mistress." His manner was casual but his eyes held a curious, piercing intensity. "I want you for a wife."
For an eternity, it seemed, the words remained suspended between them. The silence expanded and then thickened, punctuated only by the tick-tock of the clock. Emma stared at him wide-eyed and incredulously, unaware in her astonishment that she had folded back into a chair.
"So, Miss Wyncliffe," he murmured. "It appears that I do have the capacity to surprise you, after all."
Sophia Galloway, Lady Smythe has a secret identity. Whilst her husband thinks that she is busy doing whatever it is that ladies do (you know, charities etc) in reality she is Agent Saint, one of the top agents for the super secret spy group known as Barbican.
Adrian Galloway, Lord Smythe has a secret identity. Whilst his wife thinks that he is busy doing whatever it is that gentlemen do (you know, parliament and clubs etc) in reality he is Agent Wolfe, also one of the top agents for the super secret spy group known as Barbican.
If you have seen the movie Mr and Mrs Smith (infamous for being the movie where Brad and Angelina got together) then you will recognise the not necessarily subtle homage that the author has paid in the set up of this book. It is fair to say though that the author hasn't just taken the whole movie and plonked it into a historical setting, but it most certainly was a jumping off point.
With the end of the Napoleonic war, Barbican needs to cut back on the number of spies that it has in action. When both Wolf and Saint are among those that are no longer required they are both mortified. What on earth are they going to be do all day? They certainly don't want to have to spend time with their spouse-in-name-only.
Luckily they are both approached separately to undertake a private investigation. The prize at the end of the investigation? One spot, and one spot only back in the Barbican group. In the process their identities are revealed to each other. Both are shocked to say the least, but more than anything they both want that spot. They can work together despite their differing tactics and strengths but ultimately they are competitors. What neither expected is that their attraction to each other would be reignited.
I have read a few of Galen's books now, and the results have been hit and miss. In the first couple of books I really liked the heroes, but in the first book in particular, I really didn't like the heroine. In this book, I was glad to see that there was a bit more consistency in the characterisation.
Having said that, there were still issues. Adrian works his way through his cases by using meticulous research, careful planning and tying all the loose ends. Sophia is good with knives, but a terrible shot with a pistol, and is fantastic at what she does mainly because of her unerringly accurate intuition. Every time something is about to happen her nose itches, which is fine as a gimmick, but is it enough to say that her nose itches every time?
One of the other inconsistencies in terms of characterisations for Sophia in particular relates to her history when it comes to pregnancies. She has pushed Adrian away for years because she is so upset about the fact that she has suffered from multiple miscarriages. So far, that might seem like a perfectly logical step, but we are supposed to believe that this incredibly strong woman who doesn't flinch at violence or death, can't be in the same room as a pregnant woman without breaking down. I didn't buy it.
Adrian struggles between respecting the agent Sophia but also wanting to protect his wife Sophia, which I think would be a pretty realistic reaction, at least until he got used to the idea. I loved the scenes where the two of them compared their memories with what actually had been going on as exemplified in this exchange:
“Do you recall the time we were at the opera about two months after we were married? I went to the ladies’ retiring room and was gone about an hour. When I returned, I had blood on my gown. I told you it was jam.”
“Did I believe that?”
“You didn’t question it.”
“And what really happened?”
“An agent from Milan with orders to assassinate me showed up and shot me in the leg. I was in excruciating pain for the rest of La vera costanza.”
“Oh, I remember why I didn’t question the jam. I’d just returned from Strasbourg where I’d had some sort of chemical thrown in my face. It burned my eyes, and I couldn’t see a thing for a fortnight.”
My intro to the teaser I wanted to share has turned basically into a review! Whoops!
Every now and again you read a phrase that makes you sit up and think. In this case it was thinking along the lines that I have read a lot of romance novels over the years but I don't think I have ever seen this particular phrase used before.
Warning....this is from a very intimate moment and reflects their new understanding of each other's identities and their changing opinions:
"Come for me," he murmured. "I want to feel you. See you." He held his breath for a moment. They'd made love a dozen times and never been so intimate. Faces always turned away. Cries stifled. Climaxing politely.
No, I wasn't talking about the come for me line...the ability to climax on demands seems to be an inherent requirement for a romance heroine. Rather, that final phrase - climaxing politely - really caught my attention and seems to very succinctly refer to the sexual act within a marriage of convenience that is the basis of so many historical romances!
According to the author's website, there is going to be another book that is going to be connected to this one and it will be called True Spies. I am pretty sure we can tell from that title and the fact that we are talking about spy novels which movie has provided the inspiration for that book!
Synopsis
No man can outsmart him...
Lord Adrian Smythe may appear a perfectly boring gentleman, but he leads a thrilling life as one of England's most preeminent spies, an identity so clandestine even his wife is unaware of it. But he isn't the only one with secrets...
She's been outsmarting him for years...
Now that the Napoleonic wars have come to an end, daring secret agent Lady Sophia Smythe can hardly bear the thought of returning home to her tedious husband. Until she discovers in the dark of night that he's not who she thinks he is after all...
I am currently reading Liar Bird by Lisa Walker. I am not 100% sure how I would characterise it in terms of genre, but I am leaning towards the catch-all women's fiction or even chick lit. Whatever you want to call it, there is no way you could mistake the setting for anything other than Aussie.
My Bookish Quote/Teaser Tuesday comes from the page 5 so right at the beginning of the book when we are just getting to know the main character, Cassandra. Her perfect life is just about to fall apart in a big way.
I knew I had about ten minutes, maybe twenty - plenty of time. My feet sank into the hand-woven Turkish carpet as I padded to the meditation room. Pulling out my tattered copy of The Annotated Alice, I opened it randomly, closed my eyes and pressed my find to the page. "You don't know much," said the Duchess, "and that's a fact."
I nodded - so true. Spot on, in fact.
Why Alice in Wonderland? I know it's not what most thirty-year-old PR executives read. Well, we all have our means of coping. Some people are into Oprah; others, Buddha; and some - well, me - rely on Alice. I first discovered the wisdom of Alice at the age of eight...
What follows after this quote is a whole passage about how Cassie found the book and how much she treasured it, but it was too long to type it all out!
I can't imagine using a book like Alice in Wonderland as guidance for life, can you?
Before I finish this post, I thought I would share a video about the native Australian Lyrebird that this book obviously has taken inspiration from in terms of the title at least. This bird has the amazing ability to be able to mimic all sort of noises - other bird species, construction tools, cars, humans and more!
This video was all about Chook who was the male lyrebird at the Adelaide Zoo. He died recently at the grand old age of 32.
In addition to the mimicry, they can put on a very impressive display with their tails to help protect their territory. An all round amazing Australian native animal.
There has been an appearance of one lyrebird in the book so far, along with some other rare wildlife!
At the moment I am reading Ready Player One by Ernest Cline. Actually, I should have already finished it, but I haven't. I am well and truly past half way and so I am determined that I will finish it before taking it back to the library.
There has been lots of good things said about this book, but I thought I would share a little about the setting before sharing some teasers - although not the kind of teasers that I normally share!
Ready Player One is a book that is perfect for anyone who grew up in the 80s. I finished high school in 1988 so I would suggest that I am definitely in the target audience! It is chock full of references to movies and video games, songs and TV shows. Even the occasional reference to a book!
I wasn't a gamer as such, but there are lots of references that are in the general knowledge realm now, especially to things like John Hughes movies, Star Trek and so much more!
For my teasers this week, I would share some Youtube videos of songs that have been mentioned in the book! Hello 80's nostalgia!
If you watch this clip, you will also see some very familiar faces from 80's movies as well!
Ah Duran Duran. I wasn't the hugest fan, but if I hear their music now, I can sing along quite easily!
And an Australian contribution! Takes me back to when I saw Midnight Oil perform a couple of years ago. Fantastic concert!
So, I know I said that there was going to be no Teaser Tuesday post this week, but then I read this passage last night and changed my mind. Bookish Quotes, Teaser Tuesday, call it what you will!
It also seems like a kind of fitting post for a Valentine's Day as well, because if I met a man who knew to take me to a book store rather than buying flowers, I would be more than happy. Books and maybe chocolate, even better! Of course, that's a big if, but still.
It took me a moment to find my voice, and when I did, I couldn't stop grinning. "OK. Where are we going?" It was cold enough that I knew it had to be close; we couldn't stay out here much longer.
Sam's fingers were laced tightly with mine. "To a Grace-shop first. That's what a gentleman would do."
I giggle, completely unlike me, and Sam laughed because he knew it. I was drunk with Sam. I let him walk down the stark concrete block to The Crooked Shelf, a little independent bookstore; I hadn't been there for a year. It seemed stupid that I hadn't, given how many books I read, but I was just a poor high schooler with a very limited allowance. I got my books from the library.
"This is a Grace-shop, right?" Sam pushed open the door without waiting for my answer. A wonderful wave of new-book smell came rushing out, reminding me immediately of Christmas. My parents always got me books for Christmas. With a melodic ding, the shop door swung shut behind us, and Sam released my hand. "Where to? I'll buy you a book. I know you want one."
I smiled at the stacks, inhaling again. Hundreds of thousands of pages that had never been turned, waiting for me. The shelves were warm, blond wood, piled with spines of every colour. Staff picks were arranged on tables, glossy covers reflecting the light back at me. Behind the little cubby where the cashier sat, ignoring us, stairs covered with rich burgundy carpet led up to worlds unknown. "I could just live here," I said.
Sam watched my face with obvious pleasure. "I remember watching you reading books on the tyre swing. Even in the most stupid weather. Why didn't you read inside when it was so cold?"
My eyes followed the rows and rows of books. "Books are more real when you read them outside."
My book club book for January was The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. For me, this is a reread as I read this book, and I think Tender is the Night, during my high school years.
It is interesting to see what you can and can't remember from reading a book that long ago. I remembered certain parts, but others, like the ending, had left me completely. I think most of us had read it previously but we all seemed to enjoy it. At least, no one admitted to not liking it in the group! We all agreed that it was nice to have a short book to read over the holidays. The next book that we are due to read is even shorter!
A lot of the ladies in my book club are a bit older than me, so we had lots of discussion about the Robert Redford movie. I think I have seen it, but I am not sure. I am thinking maybe I have just seen clips of it rather than the whole thing. There was also a brief discussion about the upcoming Baz Lurhman version which I think we will go and see together. I wasn't all that fussed about going to see it because I am not that much of a Leonardo Di Caprio fan, but I think I will now as a result of having read the book again.
One thing that I think definitely enhanced my enjoyment of reading this book right now was having watched Midnight in Paris a couple of times over the summer, not so much because it represented anything to do with the story but just the overall presentation of lifestyle. The Fitzgeralds weren't my favourite portrayal in the movie though. That honour belonged to Hemingway. So intense, so good!
I thought that for today's Teaser Tuesday I would share a few thoughts about some of the passages in the book. A couple of them are pretty famous quotes from the book, but I guess that is okay. There must be a reason why people like them.
One of the things I really liked about Fitzgerald's writing was his ability to provide a picture of a character without relying on description of the physical aspects of the character.
Here Daisy talks, and to me you can see just how much depth she has, or hasn't as the case may be:
"It'll show you how I've gotten to feel about - things. Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was god knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling, and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. "All right," I said. "I'm glad it's a girl. And I hope she'll be a fool - that's the best thing a girl can be in the world, a beautiful little fool."
"You see I think everything is terrible anyhow," she went on in a convinced way. "Everybody thinks so - the most advanced people. And I know. I've been everywhere and seen everything and done everything! Her eyes flashed around her in a defiant way, rather like Tom's, and she laughed with thrilling scorn. "Sophisticated - God, I'm sophisticated!"
And here, our narrator Nick talks about the title character - the great Gatsby!
He smiled understandingly - much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with the quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced - or seemed to face - the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favour. It understood you so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey. Precisely at that point it vanished - and I was looking at an elegant young rough-neck, a year or two over thirty, whose elaborate formality of speech just missed being absurd. Some time before he introduced himself I'd got a strong impression that he was picking his words with care.
Even with just a few words, Fitzgerald conveys much. I particularly loved the second half of this sentence:
Then the valley of ashes opened out on both sides of us, and I had a glimpse of Mrs Wilson straining at the garage pump with panting vitality as we went by.
I know a lot of people don't really like this book because of the shallowness of the characters and to a degree the plot, but this didn't actually bother me. I am pretty sure that the idle rich lifestyle that is portrayed in the novel would be familiar to some people even now. Maybe the toys that the rich and famous get to play with are different but the fundamental humanness of these characters is never far from the surface, despite the fact that they are the kind of humans that most of us wouldn't necessarily want to associate with.
I couldn't forgive him or like him, but I saw that what he had done was, to him, entirely justified. It was all very careless and confused. They were careless people, Tom and Daisy - they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made....
And, the best place it seems to finish up this series of quotes:
"They're a rotten crowd," I shouted across the lawn. "You're worth the whole damn bunch put together!"
This may well have been a prompt that I needed to both revisit Tender is the Night and also to read some of the books that I haven't previously read by Fitzgerald.
Rating 4.5/5
Synopsis
F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby brilliantly captures the disillusion of a society obsessed with wealth and status. Young, handsome and fabulously rich, Jay Gatsby appears to have it all, yet he yearns for the one thing that will always be out of his reach, the absence of which renders his life of glittering parties and bright young things ultimately hollow. Gatsby's tragic pursuit of his dream is often cited as the Great American Novel.
By the way, I will be sharing one final quote from the book on Friday!
It is inevitable that as soon as I say that I am possibly that last blogger alive to read this book, there will be a chorus of people saying 'I haven't read it yet", but I am going to say it anyway....
I am possibly one of the last bloggers to read this first book in the Flavia de Luce series written by Alan Bradley. I had borrowed the book a few times from the library, but returned it unread. Last night I was checking my list and realised that I was in danger of repeating that pattern, so so decided to read it once and far all. Now the question to be asked is ... what on earth was I waiting for?
For my teaser this week, I wanted to share a passage from the early part of the book (page 27). Flavia has already displayed the precociousness that she is infamous for, but the humour has also been on display as well. This is a lot longer than the two sentences that are normal for a Teaser Tuesday post, but more about that later. To put a little context around the section, Flavia has just discovered a body in the cucumber patch and she has just led Inspector Hewitt and his two policemen to the body:
I stepped forward eagerly, almost salivating, for a closer look.
"I wonder, Flavia," Inspector Hewitt said, stepping gingerly into the cucumbers, "if you might ask someone to organise some tea?"
He must have seen the look on my face.
"We've had rather an early start this morning. Do you think you could manage to rustle something up?"
So that was it. As at a birth, so at a death. Without so much as a kiss-me-quick-and-mind-the-marmalade, the only female in sight is enlisted to trot off and see that the water is boiled. Rustle something up, indeed! What did he take me for ... some kind of cowboy?
"I'll see what can be arranged, Inspector," I said. Coldly, I hoped.
"Thank you," Inspector Hewitt said. Then, as I stamped off towards the kitchen door, he called out, "Oh, and Flavia ..."
I turned, expectantly.
"We'll come in for it. No need for you to come out here again."
The nerve! The bloody nerve!
I have another couple of quotes to share at some point too. The book is actually chock full of gems!
I have been trying to decide what I wanted to do about Teaser Tuesday. I have been participating in the meme, which is hosted at Should Be Reading, for about two and a half years, and I do still enjoy doing so, but I don't seem to have as much time to be able to go and visit as many of the other participants. It hardly seems fair for me to put my link up expecting others to come and comment on my post when I know full well that I probably won't get to theirs!
The other thing is that often I want to provide a longer tease, like the one above, or I want to actually expand a little bit more on my thoughts about, post teasers from multiple books etc. I guess what I am saying is that I want to move away a little bit from the standard format!
Therefore, if I find a teaser which fits the standard format, then I will link up to the meme and make an effort to connect up with the other participants, but if not, then I will just post whatever, something completely different like a Top 10 Tuesday or maybe not even post anything on a Tuesday at all like last week! Wouldn't that be a shock to the system!
This week my teaser comes from Far Fly the Eagles by Evelyn Anthony which is the third book in the Romanov trilogy. This book was originally published in 1955 but the edition that I am reading was published in 1989 but I am having absolutely no luck in tracking down the cover that the copy that I am reading has. I really don't like it when I can't use the exact image in my posts! Might even have to scan it in before I send it back to the library. Instead I bring you a couple of the other covers I have been able to locate.
One kind of odd thing is that all of these covers show the title as Far Flies the Eagle, but the edition that I am reading has the title as Far Fly the Eagle. Anyway, enough about hard to find covers.
The book is set in the lead up and duration of the Russian war with Napoleon. The teaser comes from page 100:
"Either we stand and fight, Sire, or we make peace with Napoleon. The temper of the army and the Court won't stand another retreat."
Teaser Tuesday is hosted by Miz B at Should Be Reading. Head on over to find out all about it, and how to join in!
I am getting a slightly early start to the Australian Women Writers Challenge of 2012 and the Aussie Author challenge by reading All that I am by Anna Funder.
The teaser comes from page 1:
When Hitler came to power I was in the bath. Our apartment was on the Schiffbeuerdamm near the river, right in the middle of Berlin. From its windows we could see the dome of the parliament building. The wireless in the living room was turned up loud so Hans could hear it in the kitchen, but all that drifted down to me were waves of happy cheering, like a football match. It was Monday afternoon.
Teaser Tuesday is hosted by Miz B at Should Be Reading. Head on over to find out all about it, and how to join in!
The ringing stopped, and the low musical murmur of his voice drifted between the rooms. I rose from the sofa and walked to one of the bookshelves built in on either side of the mantel. The fire had been going for some time. It was small and compact and extremely hot, hissing and popping discreetly in a pile of spent ash. I ran my fingers along the spines of the books. A wide-ranging collection, I thought to myself, smiling; it ran the gamut from Dean Koontz to Winston Churchill to Virgil, in the original Latin. Nothing like a British boarding-school education.
