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Hey, What Ya Reading??? A book???

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southendmd:

--- Quote from: delalluvia on January 01, 2009, 09:25:48 pm ---Dan Brown is a hack writer for sure, but he sure can write a page turner.

--- End quote ---

Sure enough, Del, I enjoyed the story, but cringed at every turn of the page!

MaineWriter:
If anyone wants to join me at the E-book files, over on the creative writers board, I've been posting lots of good reads there...and many of them are available as ebooks and in print, too. The ebook version has the advantage of instant delivery and not having to deal with postage and shipping.

Today, I buzzed through Josh Lanyon's latest book which was lots of fun. We are not talking literature, this is a fun, easy read. Perfect for New Year's Day.



There's a dead body in Perry Foster's bathtub. A dead body in a very ugly sportscoat--and matching socks.

The dead man is a stranger to Perry, but that's not much of a comfort; how did a strange dead man get in a locked flat at the isolated Alton Estate in the wilds of the "Northeast Kingdom" of Vermont? Perry flees downstairs to get help and runs into "tall, dark and hostile" former navy SEAL Nick Reno.

Reno doesn't have a lot of time for drama queens, but, convinced that Perry's jitters are based on something more than caffeine overdose, he heads upstairs to investigate. By then the body has disappeared.

If there's one thing Nick has learned the hard way, it's to mind his own business. But Perry Foster doesn't believe in ghosts and isn't willing to let sleeping dead men lie. And Nick just can't convince himself to walk when it's becoming increasingly obvious someone wants the sexy young artist out of the way -- permanently.

For an excerpt or to buy, go here:

http://www.loose-id.com/detail.aspx?ID=826

L

MaineWriter:
For the booklovers among us, here's a cute little animation. Enjoy!

http://vimeo.com/2295261?pg=embed&sec=2295261

Kerry:
I've just finished reading Shane Weaver's moving autobiography, "Blacktown."

It was another one I simply couldn't put down. A true page-turner. It had me screaming with laughter and in floods of tears. I loved the author and loathed him too. I felt shell-shocked at the end. I'm not sure that I would have survived the tragedy he went through. Highly recommended.



 

Kerry:
I've just finished reading "Captain Corelli's Mandolin" by Louis de Bernieres. Not since reading the "Brokeback Mountain" short story have I shed so many tears over a printed page. It was a real roller-coaster ride of emotions, from having to put the book down because I couldn't see the page for tears, right to the other extreme where I was laughing out loud. They made a film of it. I've not seen the film. It's had bad reviews. I didn't want to see it because I heard they changed the plot and cut-out all the gay content. I love this book. It's one of my favourite books now, right up there with "Brokeback Mountain" and Mary Renault's "The Persian Boy." Please treat yourself and read this wonderful book. It is the most beautiful love story, plus so very much more. Bet it makes you Google "Cephallonia." I'll re-read it in a couple of years.

It's difficult to choose a favourite quote from such a beautifully written novel, but if I had to (please progress beyond this point with caution, as I am about to reveal an integral aspect of the plot), it would be Carlo's description of Francesco's death:

I put down my rifle and climbed out of the trench. The Greeks did not shoot at me. I reached Francesco and saw that the side of his head had been blown away. The pieces of skull looked grey and were coated in membrane and thick blood. Some of the fluid was bright red, and some of it was crimson. He was still alive. I looked down at him and my eyes were blinded with tears. I knelt and gathered him into my arms. He was so emaciated from the winter and the hardship that he was as light as a sparrow. I stood up and faced the Greeks. I was offering myself to their guns. There was a silence, and then a cheer came from their lines. One of them shouted hoarsely, "Bravissimo." I turned and carried the limp bundle back to my lines.

In the trench Francesco took two hours to die. His gore soaked into the sleeves and flanks of my tunic. His shattered head was cradled in my arms like a little child and his mouth formed words that only he could hear. Tears began to follow each other down his cheeks. I gathered his tears on my fingers and drank them. I bent down and whispered into his ear, "Francesco, I have always loved you." His eyes rolled up and met mine. He fixed my gaze. He cleared his throat with difficulty and said, "I know." I said, "I never told you until now." He smiled that slow laconic smile and said, "Life's a bitch, Carlo. I feel good with you." I saw the light grow dim in his eyes and he began the long slow journey into death. There was no morphia. The agony must have been indescribable. He did not ask me to shoot him; perhaps at the very end he loved his vanishing life.




 

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