O. Wilder

Happy Thanksgiving if you celebrate, loves. What could be more appropriate to the sentiment of the holiday than a cherub, completely in the nuddy save for a chef's hat, apron, and slippers, serving you the world's driest turkey?

I am a literary squirrel storing up books for winter.

Life's for the living so live it
Or you're better off dead.

- Passenger

The spirit was willing but - oh, who am I kidding? No, it was not.

While The Tommyknockers is objectively worse written than The Shining, I definitely enjoyed the former considerably more. Rare though it is, I do agree with King: There's a good book in there somewhere fighting to get out.

I know Kirsten Dunst plays Claudia in the film adaptation of Interview with the Vampire, and she did a wonderful job; but, considering Claudia is five years old in the book, I can't help hearing little Margaret O'Brien's voice instead; and I genuinely wish there was a reality where we could have seen O'Brien play her; and, my God, it truly does make her infinitely more unsettling.

Monstrilio opens with a mother who's having difficulty grieving cutting the lung from her dead son Santiago - as one does - then placing it in a jar, flying with it to Mexico City, and feeding it meat - because what else would one do with such a thing? - until it grows into the title character, a monster who feasts on neighbourhood cats while still managing to be more adorable and less unlikeable than Alf. As Monstrilio grows and transforms, he fills the void left in his family's life by Santiago, fighting to deny his monstrous nature and become the human they want him to be. Told from the perspective of both of Santiago's parents, as well as their mutual friend and even Monstrilio himself, Gerardo Sámano Córdova's debut novel explores grief, emptiness, what it means to deny one's self, and what it means to be human. It is a bizarre read, but one I definitely recommend.

Happy Army of Anthropomorphic Pumpkin Squash Men Offering To Massage Your Feet Night.

Recently acquired these from my library for fifty cents. So excited to read Interview with the Vampire. I've been hunting a copy for ages.

I swear Stephen King's The Tommyknockers has more pop culture references than an entire season of Psych.

Recent thrift store book haul. New Orleans Vampires: History and Legend is my current read.

There is something about ironing out a terribly wrinkled character motivation that makes me so giddy.

Passed a tombstone with the name KEANE engraved on it, so I started softly singing Somewhere Only We Go while I wandered through the cemetery.

Recent Barnes and Noble book haul. The Death of Vivek Oji has been in my unpurchased TBR for years now, ever since I heard it recommended by The Artisan Geek on YouTube.

I'd rather read a Beijing phone book written in binary code.

I am really feeling the page length of The Tommyknockers about now. No, King. Go right ahead. Quote another rock song to pad this out a little further. I can take it.

Recent Barnes and Noble book haul. I was a good girl. I told myself I could get one book, and I bought one book. I did also splurge on these adorable ghost stickers elsewhere.

Sheridan Le Fanu's Green Tea spoilers without context:

The Sun and Its Shade is the absolute worst book I've read this year, or even in years past. Amateurish, juvenile writing centred round insufferable juvenile characters (particularly the punchable pale protagonist) and their unhealthy romantic relationships, an absurd amount of unnecessary melodrama and repetition, ideas so derivitive they border on theft, and the constant misuse of words and phrases. Its value even as a paperweight or a doorstop is questionable. I want my $17 back.

Currently on a steady diet of Robitussin and cat naps.

You are not your intrusive thoughts.

Starting off the Hallowe'en season with a "Weird Stories" collection including An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge with which, heretofore, I was only familiar through the Twilight Zone "episode." Frankly, even if the stories turn out not to be of my taste, this book is worth having for that amazing cover alone.

Somewhere in the ethers, Nathaniel Hawthorne and Charles Dickens are embattled in a contest to see who can most overuse the comma and the semicolon; and Dickens is winning.

Some of you may remember my post from this group's previous iteration venting my betrayal at having left the air-conditioned comfort of my own home for an annual book sale that wasn't there. Well, the sale thankfully returned this year, and I think I was well-rewarded for the long wait: ten books for ten US dollars.

*tAnymoreThanks

Acquired all of these for a dollar. Then She Was Gone pops up in quite a few posts so, for a quarter, I figured I'd give it a go. The Maugham is a rescue, as a good twenty pages are separated from the spine, and I've a mind to repair it and read it next year for Short Story Month. I've no idea, nor do I care, who Chelsea Handler is - but, of course, I had to invest a quarter for that title alone.

Some manga that I recently read and can recommend to those in search of a new series. The Way of the Househusband is quite popular for good reason, and I intend to catch up on the series. The Invisible Man & His Soon-to-Be Wife is fairly new, with its second installment set to release in August; but if its quality remains consistent, I hope that it too garners a substantial following. Both are humorous, sweet, and wholesome. Why either of these are rated Teen I cannot fathom. In absolutely no way are either of these inappropriate to anyone, so apprehensive parents in want of child-friendly manga can breathe easy.

Passed by Barnes and Noble and just couldn't resist that siren's song. I've been quite pleased with their ever expanding collection of Japanese works; and, this time, I didn't pass up Dazai. Underground has been in my unpurchased TBR since finishing Penguindrum. I hadn't heard of Feral Creatures, but a post-apocalyptic world experienced from the viewpoint of animal protagonists sounded intriguing.

For every chapter I finish editing, I reward myself with a new CD. (Unfortunately, Numb Bears is not included in this release.) I also at last picked up a copy of Jennette McCurdy's memoir.

Treasures from a garage sale. The Ghostmasters is worth it for the cover art alone. It will also serve as my introduction to Ambrose Bierce. The House of the Seven Gables came with a free bookmark hidden inside (hence the buckled cover). Although I despised The Scarlet Letter, I am willing to give Hawthorne a second chance.

Five title changes later, and another chapter has been edited. Only six more chapters to edit before I begin a final edit on Book the First as a whole. I'm equal parts excited and nervous.

Recent book order.

(All right, not-so-recent book order. I'm already on Volume 3.)

This Kindle cover for The Velvet Room is awful. Palmeras House is a stone structure, with an adobe wing and a tower. The titular Velvet Room is the topmost room of that tower. The house is surrounded by palm trees, as its name would suggest. This is not Palmeras House. This is a stock image of a Gothic “haunted house” with a corner window digitally painted red to simulate the red velvet curtains of the Velvet Room. If you were to literally judge this book by its ebook cover, you would assume, wrongly, that it is a horror tale, or a ghost story. I have not so thoroughly hated a cover since every cover of Lo**ta following Nabokov’s passing that features “Lo**ta” on it.

**ta

Twenty-three years ago I began reading this book that, much like the titular Velvet Room, I discovered hidden away behind a row of books. Before I could read past Robin finding the room, the book vanished like a phantom. Earlier this year, it reappeared; and I was finally able, now as an adult, to read it beginning to end. Oh, to have closure at last! I loved The Velvet Room, and I’m certain both children and adults will as well. The first two paragraphs of the book’s summary on the back cover is incredibly misleading, even including a quote that never once appears in the book. (Not to mention, ”everyone” is quite literally only one girl at the Village who warns Robin about the house and La Fantasma de las Palmeras.) The descriptions are vivid, the character motivations are understandable, and the characters are well-developed. For being written in 1965, this book also depicts childhood trauma and its effects on Robin surprisingly well, which can be attributed, I am sure, to Snyder’s long career as a schoolteacher. As a child, the Velvet Room is a beautiful, mysterious oasis. But, when reading this through the eyes of an adult, one sees the room for what it is - simply a room, Robin’s coping mechanism, her refuge from all the misfortune that’s followed her and her family for the last three years during the Great Depression. Believe me when I say this is far more than the ghost story it is typically marketed as.

Recent book order. I haven’t yet read Redemptor, but I give The Way of the House Husband a high recommend.

Last night I finished reading the The Paper Route by indie author Jacqueline Cayer Nelson McDonald, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. The book is a blend of mid-century Massachusetts family drama interlaced with dual murder mysteries.

The setting and characters are all well-established, unique, and realistic. I could easily imagine knowing these people, liking those the author intended me to like, and disfavouring those Jackie deems “dim.” The character of Jackie, especially, while certainly a bit of a precocious child, is also vulnerable, flawed, charismatic, and easy to like. The antagonists, for lack of a better word, are fleshed out, most being depicted with some redeeming qualities despite their shortcomings. The book balances tragedy and triumph quite well, allowing both to feel genuine. The mysteries in this book are also quite satisfying.

There are a few minor critiques, these being -

There are a substantial number of punctuation errors throughout, especially regarding misplaced or missing quotation marks within dialogue. The frequent and sudden changes from Jackie’s first person perspective to third person omniscent can be jarring, and the passage of time within the narrative is unclear. According to the text, from start to finish, the book takes place over two, maybe three years; however Jackie’s brother Moe, who is born near the beginning of the story, is already talking and acting like a preschooler very soon after. There are a lot of historical inaccuracies surrounding Jack Kerouac’s inclusion as a character, as well. The story commences in 1957 - a fact cemented by the death of Oliver Hardy, an important plot point in the book - yet Kerouac is married to Joan, who had in reality divorced him in 1951, and their daughter Jan, who would have been six at the time, is nowhere to be found. His sister, Caroline, is an important character in the book, but bears an in-name only resemblance to her real-life counterpart. Finally, the very last page may be dissatisfying to those unaware that there is a sequel to this book.

Nevertheless, these are all minor issures that do not detract much from the enjoyment of this book as a whole. McDonald shows a lot of promise as an author, and I highly anticipate her upcoming sequel. I definitely recommend supporting this indie author and giving The Paper Route a read.

Ordinarily, I don't preorder books; but when I read that a grieving mother plants the lung of her deceased son in her wall and it grows into a Mommy's Little Monster-style creature, I will not hesitate to take that plunge. What an adorable little guy there on the cover. Reminds me of Bat Boy. Saving it as an autumn read; just thought I would share it now.

Finished editing another chapter of my book; now only seven remain. Inching ever closer to that finish line.

Well, this is a first. This edition was published in 2011, so I’m not sure if the banning of this novella has or has not yet been repealed.

More often than not I ask myself while I’m writing, while I’m editing, “Who is going to read this? Who is this even for?” The answer to the former is probably no one. I can imagine someone picking it up and putting it right back down, maybe starting it and putting it on their DNF list. I can imagine reviews of “Too long, too many characters, did not finish.” I can even more easily imagine no reviews, because no one cared enough to bother. Then, why am I writing it anyway, knowing this? Because the answer to that latter question above is me. I am writing and must write this for me. I’ve lived in this world, with these characters for far too long to back out, to let them and me down. More people will probably read this post than read my book series, but they’re not the ones I’m writing it for. In fact, maybe it’s not even for me. Maybe it’s for that world and those characters who have kept me company for so long. They deserve to exist outside my imagination; and whatever books I finish will be their home. I cannot wait to hold my first book in my hand and say, “Welcome home, loves.”

I recently finished reading Night on the Galactic Railroad, a classic Japanese children’s book by Miyazawa Kenji. Young Giovanni wakes up to find himself travelling along the Milky Way on the Galactic Railroad. His only friend Campanella is there too, and throughout their cosmic journey, they encounter many strange sights and meet other passengers, all against a thematic backdrop of “Where is everyone’s final and ultimate destination?” and “What is true happiness?” Perhaps Campanella is right in supposing that: “people are happiest when they do something truly good.” It is a beautiful and sad, yet hopeful, tale, and I highly recommend reading it. The image is from the 1985 anime film adaptation, which, for the most part, follows the book rather failthfully. (Although, why the boys are cat people in the film, I do not know.) Read the book. Watch the film. They are both so good. Thank you, Penguindrum, for leading me to them. I can certainly see their influence on you. As a final note, I would like to mention that there is a poem and two short stories in the version of the book I bought, and those are all lovely also.