Tag Archives: Fiction

Review: Elizabeth Clansham

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Elizabeth Clansham
Elizabeth Clansham by Catherine E. Chapman
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

In pursuit of fulfilling her literary promise, Elizabeth Clansham moves from London to Scotland, seeking the quiet solitude of the croft to motivate her to write her novel. Teaching English to both a group of students by day and older folk by night, Elizabeth finds herself among yet apart from the townsfolk.

The adage “write what you know” plays a cruel trick on Elizabeth – she finds she doesn’t “know” anything worth writing about, since she hasn’t experienced anything worth noting. It’s not until she finally admits to herself that she must reach out of her comfort zone to find experiences that would give her novel substance, she casts aside her stiff demeanor and simply starts Trying.

The author does a fine job of using dialog to bring her characters to life, yet Elizabeth is still a mystery for most of the story. Other characters, including Andrew, Lauren and Dorothy, provide valuable insight into the character of Elizabeth. While the ages of the characters are largely unknown, since the British school systems and customs differ from the American, the reader can still follow along with the complexities of youth. Elizabeth Clansham is a finely-crafted tale of social interactions, of love and of finding yourself, all tied up into small-town life in the croft.

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Christmas Story (intro)

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It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

The snowflake lazily floating down, the clouds grey and swollen. Storefronts hasten to decorate, putting up mini pine trees with tiny colored lights.  The tinsel hanging from every available surface and then some.

The lights, the glitter, the music wafting out of everywhere, homes and businesses alike.  The toys, the cries of children as they make their lists and check them twice.  People calling hellos as they shovel their walks, thick jackets and thoughts of fresh coffee to keep them warm.

The lights, inside and out, spiraling up towards the tip-top of the tallest and smallest trees, blinking secret codes or steadily glowing in the night.  Candles and fireplaces blaze, lighting the way home and sheltering from the cold.  Headlights bursting from the darkness, guiding the way like an albino Rudolph.  The warmth and cheer of people around a table, laughing, smiling.

It’s the happiest season of all.

So why is it I’m so sad?

Knifepoint

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A tear trailed down her cheek, trembled at her chin, and fell.  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  I wasn’t supposed to love you.”

She felt Lucas stiffen, his hold on the knife faltering, but he stayed silent.  Her body trembled, her breathing ragged, she fought for control.  I deserve this, she thought, and closed her eyes.

Lucas slowly lowered the knife, not trusting his hand to be still any longer, and tucked it away in his belt.  He watched Ari’s face.  Normally so expressive, now it gave nothing away except her tears, which continued down her flushed cheeks.  He had expected a lot of things when he’d thought about this, but not love.  Not her loving him, at least.  His heart fluttered and before he could steel himself, he reached up to cup her cheek and wiped her tears away with his hands.

Arabelle’s eyes snapped open, searching Lucas’s face for a hint of his thoughts.  His body loosened, the tension visibly leaving his shoulders and face, and a hesitant smile appeared.  Still looking in her eyes, he leaned in to brush her lips with his.

“I had to know for sure.”

Review: Sorry I Pooped in Your Shoe

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Sorry I Pooped in Your Shoe:
Sorry I Pooped in Your Shoe: by Jeremy Greenberg
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

From the author that brought you Sorry I Peed on You comes the follow-up, the aptly-named Sorry I Pooped in Your Shoe. Adorable doggies show their good side as they try to explain why they ate the bacon off the table or why they bark at the vacuum cleaner.

Though short, the book does pack a punch and leaves you laughing. The pictures capture the “voice” of each of the dog, and the author does a good job of bringing that voice to life.

Full of stories from the canine perspective, often times subtly commenting on the things we human owners do to our beloved pooches, Sorry I Pooped in Your Shoe is sure to delight any dog lover.

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Review: The Measure of the Magic

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The Measure of the MagicThe Measure of the Magic by Terry Brooks

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
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Take the staff.

Those words haunt Panterra Qu at the end of Bearers of the Black Staff. Alone, surrounded by enemies both known and unknown, and doubtful, Panterra finds it within himself to take up the black staff from the fallen Sider Ament. Faced with the task of learning how to use the staff to save his people, Panterra travels from his village to the Elves to the outside of the valley to seek out and eliminate the threats that close upon the Hawk’s heirs.

Meanwhile, Prue Liss is far from safe at home. Trapped in the ruins of Deladion Inch’s hideout, Prue finds herself not only a target for the trolls outside, but also for the ragpicker, a demon hunting the black staff. In her desperation to return to and help Panterra, she makes a bargain with a reoccurring Shannara character, and gives up more than she bargained for.

Picking up where Bearers ended, The Measure of the Magic concludes the duology of the Legends of Shannara in true Brooks-fashion: innocent youth struggling to cope with and rise above challenges that the unbelieving adults cannot surmount. The characters of Pan and Prue are finely crafted, bringing them to light in a way the reader grips the pages and can’t let go.

Husher

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He stepped out of the shadows, dark cloak hiding his face and hands.  He walked slowly towards the little girl, her blonde curls still springy in the summer heat.  She began to tremble, backing as far away from the man as her tiny hiding place in the store room would let her, pressing her back to the women behind her.

Kinley took the young girls’ head, stroking her blonde curls back from her face.  She didn’t know the girls’ name.  She would have liked to know, to mentally be able to keep track of every such instance such as this.  Such beautiful curls, such a calm face, to know such suffering.

Kinley looked up at the man in the dark robe.  No, she couldn’t let this man take this child.  Couldn’t bear the pain of this small girl growing up to be used by this withered man, no matter how much potential she had shown.

Kinley stated to chant under her breath, hoping the old man was too intent on his apparent capture of his new ‘apprentice’ to pay attention to his old one.  As he reached forward, the girl screamed, Kinley stood and gripped the old man’s arm, and his memory was gone.

Secrets

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She ran her finger slowly over the dark stubble on his face, tracing
the jagged white scar down to his chin.  He kept his eyes shut,
enjoying the feel of her soft fingertips on his face.  He sighed,
content as he hadn’t been in a long time.

Placing her hand on his muscled chest, she leaned in close, barely
touching his lips with hers.  His heartbeat quickened under her palm
as his body responded to her nearness.  Timidly, she kissed him, eyes
still studying his face under dark lashes.  When he returned her kiss,
she closed her eyes, relishing the feel of him.  Pulling back, his
head following to maintain their kiss, she saw his eyes open.
Beautiful silver-grey eyes stared back at her, traces of puzzlement
visible but quickly vanished, replaced with warmth that threatened to
still her heart.

He reached up to her and hesitated, unsure even then if his touch
would be welcomed.  When she didn’t back away, he placed his rough
fingers on the smooth, pale skin of her face, lightly cupping her
cheek.  She closed her eyes, her hand reaching up to touch the one on
her face.

Her other hand went behind her back, fumbling awkwardly, then
reappeared holding a knife.

Cassie

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“Run, Cassie!”

Feet already in motion, Cassie spared her friend a glance over her shoulder as she ran through the banquet hall.  Arrows pierced the air,
the tapestries burst into flames.  The crowd burst into motion,scattering in an attempt to find shelter from the attack.  Dishes
clanged to the floor, people screamed, but none of it registered in Cassie’s mind.

All that mattered was escape.

Spinning around a fallen Lady, Cassie careened into a hard body.  She bit back a scream, slapping at the wall of chest with her left hand
while digging for her dagger with her right.  Before she could get her dagger free she felt a strong grip on her wrist pulling her towards
the shadowed wall of the room.  She strained to pull away, her mind not registering the hooded figure as familiar.  Fingers closed over
her mouth.

“Shh.”  Hot breath spilled down her neck as her captor whispered into her ear.  “Stop fighting, Cass, we don’t have time.”

Nodding, she turned to see the Prince’s eyes looking out from the cloak’s hood.

At The Ball

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She kept her eyes downcast, but that didn’t stop him from noticing
her.  Her dark hair tumbled in curls down her back, tiny springs
coiled and ready to be pulled upon.  Her tanned skin accented by the
deep blue of her gown and the white lace of the trim, a style that had
come and gone yet looked fresh and new on her.  Her hands fidgeted at
her sides, drawing his attention to her flared hips outlined in her
skirts.

He had to know her.

Breaking away from his group of nobles, he strode towards her.

“Highness? A word?”

Damn.  Not now, he thought, though he almost said it aloud also.  “Sir
Isaac, I was just about to…”

The tall man took his arm, steering him away from his goal towards the
man’s own daughter.  “Never mind, Highness.  I saw you coming and I
knew you’d want to meet my Katherine.  Ah, here she is!”

He spared a glance over his shoulder to see grey eyes looking back at him.

Encounter

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She paused, wiping the sweat from her head with the back of her hand.  The sun beat down on her small clearing, melting the dusting of snow that had fallen overnight.  The need to keep her mind from wandering rather than a need for firewood had driven her out of her bed early, the songbirds greeting the daybreak with an enthusiasm that she lacked.

Now that she’d stopped chopping the firewood, she noticed how quiet it was around her.  Hefting her axe, she slowly turned around, searching for the cause of the tension.  Her corner of the woods was typically left alone, too far from any roads to get to easily and too out of the way for anyone to stumble passed.

Not that anyone knew she was there.

I hope, she thought.  Glancing at her hut, she shifted her stance, not quite able to shake the feeling that someone was watching her.  The hair on her neck prickled up, increasing her unease.  Her head spun around at a cry from her horse gave her the direction she needed.

She only got to take three steps before they were upon her.