Friday, May 30, 2014

Getfisk - Mobile App Novella

Idgie Says: And how fun does THIS look!?!?! I love to keep little short stories on my phone for those rare times I don't have a book in hand and have 5 extra minutes. Also comes with bonus animated graphics - what's not to like? Excerpt link below!
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 GETFISK:
MOBILE APPS MEETS THE NOVELLA
IN NEW ELECTRONIC ADVENTURE SERIES
Some of the world's greatest adventure stories, from the likes of Charles Dickens, Alexandre Dumas, Herman Melville, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Stephen King and Michael Chabon have been written as serials.  Now the genre gets even more exciting with adrenaline-pumping serials created for the digital age. 
Combining the adrenaline rush of the thriller, the visual punch of the graphic novel and the portable technology of the smart phone or tablet, GETFISK is the cutting-edge, fast-paced entertainment for the millennium, designed to be read on-the-go. Created by Potboiler LLC, these mobile device suspense serials take readers where no eBook has gone before—to the edge of their seats through combining a traditional book format with elements from graphic novels, pulp fiction, and anime (the great art form and storytelling of Japanese animation).
No publisher has turned up the volume in the way Potboiler has by delivering espionage thrills in bite-sized chunks—20,000-word novellas with topics as current as the daily news. These novellas, released in daily chapters and monthly episodes, center on a mysterious figure known only as “Fisk” and his colleagues—special operative Carlos Madrid, actress Tarita Lee and United Nations Deputy Secretary General, Dr. Mai Lindstrom. Stories include:
·         PIRATE LAIR: An adventure on the high-seas when one of Fisk's oil tankers is hijacked in the Gulf of Aden off Somalia. To find the pirates and the missing tanker, he sends Tarita and Carlos into pirate-infested waters as bait in a dangerous game.

·         MIDNIGHT IN JUAREZ: Fisk gets caught in a hair-raising thriller when his operations in Mexico are being threatened by drug cartel warfare. He sends Carlos and Tarita to find the mysterious cartel boss named Paco Fuentes, who may or may not be Carlos' half-brother. 

·       JAVA JACKAL (Coming this summer): A mysterious and legendary revolutionary is operating in Indonesia as a Muslim holy man. Fisk sends Tarita to Bali under the guise of shooting a new blockbuster film, but in reality to take on the insurgent Imam, if they can find him.

The creative minds behind this publishing game-changer are former Google manager Jeff Gillis and publishing strategist Lynden Gillis, who bring together highly accomplished artists, writers, editors and designers to create this bold, new digital publishing vision.
Published in partnership with the digital publishing and distribution platform Vook, Potboiler accesses industry-leading technology to design and quickly produce their original ebooks and distribute them through Amazon, iBooks, Barnes & Noble, and anywhere e-books are sold. Single chapters of each novella can be viewed daily on www.GetFisk.com during the first month of that novella’s release.





 

Tor.com Short Stories

This is just a shout out to a great selection of original short stories that Tor.com (Sci-Fi and Fantasy) publishes on a regular basis.

 If you enjoy this genre, you will want to sign up to receive these stories directly into your inbox - they're free!

I personally love reading them. Great for lunch breaks, over the morning cup of coffee or even right before bed.

Click HERE for one of the most recent stories.

Click HERE for a special treat of 5 free Original Fiction Hugo Finalists.

Archives for all stories are HERE.

This link below takes you to an off-beat, break your funny bone laughing story they had last week.  Totally different than their usual but I loved it.

Click HERE.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Solsbury Hill

Solsbury Hill
Susan M. Wyler
Riverhead Trade Paperback
April, 2014

Idgie Says:
Though set in the modern day, this novel feels gothic from page 1.  It gives the impression of peering through a cloudy and weathered looking glass and watching scenes play out.   Eleanor is the main character, but she appears to float through the story - as if she were a ghost herself. She reminds me of a pretty leaf, caught in the wind.  The urge to tell her to "snap out of it" occurred to me a few times.  

This novel has a love triangle, a whopper of  a family secret, life changing decisions, beautiful English moors, ghosts...and oddly... ghosts that were never actually real people.

A nice read to lose yourself in for a while.


Click Here to read the article she has in the Huffington Post about writing a sequel to Wuthering Heights.  (Though I in no way felt it was a sequel..)

Book Description:
The windswept moors of England, a grand rustic estate, and a love story of one woman caught between two men who love her powerfully—all inspired by Emily Bronte’s beloved classic, Wuthering Heights. Solsbury Hill brings the legend of Catherine and Heathcliff, and that of their mysterious creator herself, into a contemporary love story that unlocks the past.

When a surprise call from a dying aunt brings twenty-something New Yorker Eleanor Abbott to the Yorkshire moors, and the family estate she is about to inherit, she finds a world beyond anything she might have expected. Having left behind an American fiance, here Eleanor meets Meadowscarp MacLeod—a young man who challenges and changes her. Here too she encounters the presence of Bronte herself and discovers a family legacy they may share.

With winds powerful enough to carve stone and bend trees, the moors are another world where time and space work differently. Remanants of the past are just around a craggy, windswept corner. For Eleanor, this means ancestors and a devastating romantic history that bears on her own life, on the history of the novel Wuthering Heights, and on the destinies of all who live in its shadow.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Hannibal, Enemy of Rome

Hannibal, Enemy of Rome
Ben Kane
St. Martin's Press
Hardback
May 27, 2014

First book in a series.


Idgie Says: 
At almost 500 pages, this is a nice hearty book that you don't want to read unless you're ready to settle in and spend some serious time with it.  Now to me, that sounds fantastic!  I love books I know I get to hang out with for more than a day. This book is chock full of historical content, epic war scenes, and a good set of fictional characters to follow through the events to keep you engaged in the storyline.  Also, as this is being touted as part of a series, you can plan on engaging with and continuing the saga of these characters for quite a while longer.

Book Description:
The great Carthaginian general, Hannibal, has never forgotten the defeat and humiliation of his people by Rome. Now he plans his revenge and the destruction of the old enemy. While Hannibal prepares for war, Hanno, the son of one of his most trusted military commanders goes out fishing with Suni, his best friend ― and is washed out to sea. Captured by pirates, transported to an Italian slave market, one of the boys is sold as a gladiator, the other as a field slave. Both believe that they will never see home or family again.

Against all probability, Hanno strikes up a relationship with Quintus and Aurelia, his Roman master’s children. But trouble is never far away. As the Second Punic War begins, pulling the world into chaos, Hanno’s life is threatened by a cruel overseer, while his friend battles to survive as a gladiator. The destiny of all four young people ― Roman and Carthaginian ― is to be an extraordinary one. So too is that of their families. The devastating war unleashed upon Rome by Hannibal will change all of their lives ― and history ― forever.

Goodnight June

Description: Description: https://s3.amazonaws.com/netgalley-covers/cover42388-small.pngIdgie Says:
For those of you who love the intrigue of 'how' a book  is born. 

First published in 1947, Margaret Wise Brown’s Goodnight Moon is an American classic. However, the origins of this adored bedtime story are shrouded in mystery. 

In GOODNIGHT JUNE (a Plume Original, on sale May 27, 2014), New York Times bestselling author Sarah Jio imagines Brown’s inspiration and offers a suspenseful and heartfelt take on how the “great green room” might have come to be.

Book Description:
June Andersen is the youngest vice president at Chase & Hanson Bank International. Although she has a pricey New York City apartment to show for her success, June is single, lonely, and estranged from her family. After the passing of her great-aunt, Ruby, June is called to her hometown of Seattle to settle her estate and determine the fate of Bluebird Books, the children’s bookstore Ruby founded in the 1940s and left to June as a legacy. June soon discovers that the bookstore is a trove of secrets, and embarks on a scavenger hunt devised by Ruby. 

Hidden in rare volumes scattered amongst dusty shelves are letters exchanged by her great-aunt and Goodnight Moon author Margaret Wise Brown. June detects  not only a sisterly bond between the two, but that  Ruby may have served as Brown’s muse as she imagined one of the most cherished children’s books of all time. As the bookstore struggles to survive financially, June must marshal her monetary and emotional resources while working a literary puzzle that can potentially heal her own sorrows.
In GOODNIGHT JUNE, Sarah Jio creates a beguiling mystery surrounding a treasured classic against the timeless themes of nostalgia for home and family, and the quest to preserve their untold value. Captivating and rewarding, this novel is the perfect summer read.

Friday, May 23, 2014

A Southern Girl

A Southern Girl
A Novel
John Warley
Foreword by Therese Anne Fowler
May 24, 2014
Story River Books/USC Press
 
Idgie Says:
This novel contains a totally different twist on being A Southern Girl.  What if you clearly stand out as not necessarily one of the Junior League Debutantes?  How do you work your way into society's mold - a mold that is very important to your parents who were raised with the privileged and "purity" of the Genteel South?  

This is what happens when little Soo-Yun, against all odds, is adopted by two privileged Southerners. Against all odds by the fact that she actually had a mother who was forced to give her up but kept wanting her back, and some horrific scars on her body from botched operations.  The chances of someone adopting a "damaged" baby when so many others were perfect were small.  

But it did happen and Soo - Yun moved to Charleston and was started on the quest to become a Southern Belle -- again against all odds.


This book has some great detailed description regarding international adoption and also traditions and issues in other countries where these adoptions take place.    It also has a huge overlaying discussion of adoption - how does the adopted child feel, do they know they're different? If they do, how do they feel about that?  Finally, how does the parent handle it when the child grows up and wants to know where they're from? 

Another interesting side to the story are the parents themselves. What if you were so invested in the ideal of the Old South that you yourself are unsure about bringing in such an obvious outsider?

A lot of good questions and struggles in this novel.  A nice hearty novel that you can't fly through - there needs to be some time spent with it.  I also believe it might leave you with some thinking time afterwords.    

A novel that lingers in the mind is always a good thing. 

I will say that in my opinion, there could have been some streamlining to the story itself, it bogged down and got 'dry' in places with too much detail that could have been removed without hurting the bones of the story - but again - that's just my opinion.

___________________________________________

Book Description:
The worlds of privilege and poverty collide in this moving tale of adoption, identity, belonging, dedication, and love.

Set against the exquisite, historical backdrop of Charleston's insular South of Broad neighborhood, A Southern Girl is a tale of international adoption and of families lost, then found anew through revelations, courage, and the perseverance of a love without bounds. With two biological sons and a promising career, Coleman Carter seems set to fulfill his promise as a resourceful trial lawyer, devoted husband, and dutiful father until his wife, Elizabeth, champions their adoption of a Korean orphan. This seemingly altruistic mission estranges Coleman's conservative parents and demands that he now embrace the unknown as fully as he has always entrenched himself in the familiar.


Elizabeth, a self-proclaimed liberal with a global sense of duty, is eager for the adoption, while Coleman, a scion of the Old South, is at best a reluctant participant. But the arrival of Soo Yun (later called Allie) into the Carter household and the challenging reactions of Coleman's peers and parents awakens in him a broadening sense of responsibility and dedication to his new family that opens his eyes to the subtle racism and exclusionary activities that had dominated his sheltered life. To garner Allie's entrance into Charleston society, Coleman must come to terms with his past and guide Allie toward finding her own origins as the Carters forge a new family identity and confront generations-old fears inherent in Southern traditions of purity and prestige.

Deftly told through the distinctive voices of Allie's birth mother, her orphanage nurse, her adoptive mother Elizabeth, and finally Coleman himself, A Southern Girl brings us deeply into Allie's plights—first for her very survival and then for her sense of identity, belonging, and love in her new and not always welcoming culture. In this truly international tale, John Warley guides us through the enclaves of southern privilege in New Hampton, Virginia, and Charleston, the poverty-stricken back alleys of Seoul, South Korea, the jungles of Vietnam, and the stone sidewalks of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, as the bonds between father and daughter become strong enough to confront the trials of their pasts and present alike.

The first release from Pat Conroy's Story River Books, A Southern Girl includes a foreword by New York Times bestselling novelist Therese Anne Fowler.
_________________________________
John Warley, a native South Carolinian, is a graduate of the Citadel and the University of Virginia School of Law. He practiced law in Virginia until 1993, when he moved to Mexico to write and teach. Now a full-time writer, Warley divides his time between Beaufort, South Carolina, and San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. His previous books include Bethesda's Child and The Moralist. He and his wife, Barbara, have three sons, Caldwell, Nelson, and Carter, born in Newport News, Virginia, and a daughter, MaryBeth, born in Seoul, South Korea.

Click HERE for Excerpt
___________________________________

A few glowing accolades below:

"John Warley's A Southern Girl is a stunning achievement: a beautifully written and heartfelt account of a father's love for an adopted daughter, and his struggles in helping her find her own identify in an elite yet conflicted society. Based on the author's own experiences, this triumphant story belongs to anyone who has ever loved, grieved, questioned, rejoiced, despaired, and risked it all for the strongest bond of all, that glorious, undefinable unit we call family."—Cassandra King, bestselling author of five novels including Moonrise

"With both skill and passion, John Warley carries the reader through generations and countries. Following plot twists and heart-turns, we become a member of many families, loving and loathing as we do in any real family. A Southern Girl is rich with trustworthy and vulnerable narrators who allow us the privilege of entering the secret traditions and lore-soaked South as well as the clandestine corners of the character's souls. This is a gorgeous, heartfelt book from a masterful storyteller; I didn't want to miss a word of Warley's whispered secrets."—Patti Callahan Henry, New York Times bestselling author of And Then I Found You, Coming Up for Air, and others

"John Warley's novel A Southern Girl takes us on a fascinating and powerful emotional journey that proves itself to be a richly rewarding story of life and family. It's simply unforgettable. Congratulations, Mr. Warley!"—Dorothea Benton Frank, New York Times bestselling author of ten novels

"Forget what you know about the South. John Warley serves up a unique perspective and challenges perceptions of the southern belle. A powerhouse of emotion, A Southern Girl explores the depths of parental love and the lengths to which it will go. Warley's words are fresh and urgent and beg you to keep reading."—Nicole Seitz, author of A Hundred Years of Happiness and Beyond Molasses Creek
"Nobody does family pride like a Southerner. But in his balletic, big-hearted new novel, John Warley cajoles and challenges the limits of that pride. Here, it's the beaming, fatherly love awakened by an adopted child that's cause for celebration, rather than one's ancestral silver or membership in the St. Cecilia Society. While reading A Southern Girl—-a rebel yell for the traditional, non-traditional family—I was wondrously reminded of theologian Stanley Hauerwas's great line: 'If you want to welcome the stranger, have a child.' No kidding."—Robert Leleux, author of The Memoirs of a Beautiful Boy and The Living End

Friday, May 16, 2014

The Buckle

The Buckle
by Rocky Rutherford

The Buckle

"Dust to dust, and then to ashes-
I forget the other part-
I can't say the words I want to,
I can't think---all's in my heart.,"
( from Nancy MacIntyre, A Tale of the Prairies)


A big long shiny black hearse pulled up in the front yard almost to the porch. A fat man in black got out, swung open the back door, then stood there looking at the house. Pretty soon a gaggle of kin, led by Uncle Bruce, came through, banging and scraping the coffin against the door frame almost knocking the old molding off. They struggled a while but finally got it in the hearse and the fat man slammed the door, wobbled around up front and got behind the wheel.
"Put 'im in the ground," scrawny, time wasted, Grandma Maudie Ramon McQueen hollered as they all piled in their cars and lined out behind the hearse.


Two things I remember about that. A picture of myself, twelve, tow headed, freckled and skinny. And how alone I felt when they carried my best friend away. An early autumn breeze nipped my cheeks and I shivered as it zipped around the corner and like my friend was gone. My first encounter with time.


After they left for the grave yard I went back into the little shot gun house for a final look around. I knew this would be the last time I would see it because my Deddy said as soon as Uncle Buck was gone he was going to doze the "eyesore" down. And he meant it. He didn't like any part of Uncle Buck's life; I knew that and it hurt to see Uncle Buck treated so badly by his own brother. His real name was Austin but folks called him Buck because when he was a kid he was always riding bucking broncs and anything else that bucked, he said. Rough stock rodeo man, that's what he was, he said.


All those coffee cups and ashtrays sitting around everywhere wouldn't be here now if Uncle Buck was alive. He drank his coffee at breakfast and never smoked in the house, always on the front porch where he rolled his own Bull Durham. And, boy, could he tell great cowboy stories.


My Deddy called Uncle Buck a story teller; we didn't call people lairs because that was too harsh, even for my Deddy who said Uncle Buck didn't know a cowboy from a hobo. Said Uncle Buck made it all up just to impress me, showing off, and pretending he was something he wasn't...an old cowboy. And he never won any big shinny buckles with his name on them and he was never all around cowboy or anything else. Huh, little did he know.


So what if he made things up and told stories; he made folks happy. At least he didn't go around grousing and grumbling all the time, making life out to be nothing but one damn thing after another.
Come on back here and I'll show you our bunkhouse. That big old iron bed is where Uncle Buck slept. And Grandmother Dillahey before she died long before I was born. That's her picture there on the mantle. That old lady you heard hollering when they carried Uncle Buck away was really a great aunt or something who always came to family funerals and yelled put him or her in the ground because she thought it should be done as quickly as possible so the soul could get on up to heaven. 


Take a look at this. It's his John B Stetson hat, a genuine 1920 head piece he wore when he cowboyed back in the old days. And these boots. Tailor made, 16 inch high buckaroos. And how about this pearl snapped pin stripped rodeo cowboy shirt he wore in the Frontier Days Rodeo? You see this buckle he's wearing in this picture? You can't see it too good but it's his All Around Cowboy buckle. He told me all about it. Won it up at the Calgary Stampede in Canada. Times got real bad for him and he had to sell it. When I get older I'm going to see if I can find it and bring it to the big ranch I'm going to have out in Oklahoma and hang it on the wall with all the buckles I'm going to win in the big rodeos. I'll put Uncle Buck's at the top because it's the most important one to me. He even wrote a poem about it. Want to hear it? Be glad to:


Buckle, Buckle Burnished Bright
Buckle, buckle burnished bright
Stuck on the pawn shop wall,
Who's number uno cowoby tonight?
Buckle, buckle what a sad sight,
Can't hardly see you in this bad light
Buckle, buckle burnished bright.
Buckle, buckle what great delight
To win you without having to fall:
Who's number uno cowboy tonight?
Burnished buckle do you think I might
Ask how much is your bid and call
Buckle, buckle burnished bright?
Buckle, buckle how much is right
For a life of a man who stands tall,
Who's number uno cowboy tonight?
And you, cowboy, what is your height?
Grab it quick, do not stall.
Buckle, buckle burnished bright:
Who's number uno cowboy tonight?


I showed this to Miss Burris my teacher and she said it was doggerel. But I told her it was about cowboys not dogs. Mama said it was silly and Deddy said it didn't make sense. Seemed like nobody knew anything about cowboys but me and Uncle Buck.


I don't mind telling you my uncle was the greatest rodeo cowboy in the world back in his day. He was all around cowboy a bunch of times and rode 79 straight bulls without being bucked off. Once when he was parade marshal in the Prescott Rodeo he kissed Lana Turner smack on the mouth; he danced with Marilyn Monroe and she loved him so much she wanted him to marry her but Uncle Buck told her he had so many lady friends it wouldn't be right to get married to just one. Besides, he never took advantage of a lady.


Most of all he was the best friend I ever had. I liked the way he smelled, like tobacco and whiskey, the way he talked like Gary Cooper, the way he dressed like an all around blue bell wrangler cowboy. He never complained, never whined, never put other folks down.


"Cowboy," he'd say, "Life is too short to go round bad mouthing and pissing and moaning. Life is meant to be lived. Let me at them big legged rodeo gals!"


The ranch, me and Uncle Buck called it "The Big Diamond D," although it was only a little shotgun house on Kendall Street out on the city limit line near Fair Grove Forest. I can remember when he didn't even have street lights and he kept his out house until the city made him hook onto the sewer. That really made Deddy mad because it embarrassed him with his city council buddies. 


"When are you going to stop lying and acting like a child?" I heard Deddy say to Uncle Buck. " You got the boy thinking you were a real rodeo cowboy and you know there isn't a word of truth in it. And why are you always doing things to embarrass me? To tell you the truth I think you're getting senile."


"A man's got to do what a man's got to do," Uncle Buck would say, smile and wink at me as if to say just me and him know what he's talking about. That really made Deddy mad. So he had a talk with me about it more than one time.


"Son," he said, "your uncle is senile. Do you know what that means?"
Of course I didn't and even if I did he'd explain it anyway. "He doesn't know what he's saying half the time, he makes things up, he thinks he's Tom Mix reincarnated." Nor did I know what that meant but from what Uncle Buck told me about Tom Mix he was a great man. So that made him okay with me. Uncle Buck said Bill Pickett, one of his best friends invented bull dogging. That's when a cowboy dives off his horse and wrestles a bull or steer to the ground and they come to a screeching halt in a dust storm and the cowboy who ties the fastest wins. Deddy said that couldn't be true because Bill was a black man and there weren't any black cowboys. Well, I know the Bible says you should honor your mother and father but in this situation I believe Uncle Buck was right and any friend of Uncle Buck's is a friend of mine, and I didn't give a hoot what color he was.


"And another thing, he's leading you to believe you can be a cowboy. Well, you can't. There is no such thing as cowboy. They died out even before your Grandfather was born. And Will Rogers was a clown, not a cowboy. A clown who made a bunch of money talking stupid. Now I want you to get all this nonsense cowboy stuff out of your head and start concentrating on your studies. College isn't that far off, you know. You keep this up and you'll wind up at Dix Hill up in Morganton where they keep the crazy people."


College? I thought no more about college than a man in the moon. I could read, that's all I needed. Besides, Uncle Buck told me more about the world I wanted to live in than all the colleges in North Carolina could do, and that includes the University at Chapel Hill.  Uncle Buck called his brand of education Cowboy U. Maybe they should have packed us both off to Dix Hill.


"Cowboy up," he'd say when I told him about a tough situation I faced and didn't know what to do. "Cowboy up."


It's not like Uncle Buck was a bum or anything. He had a night watchman's job at Plant B where they made bedroom furniture. If he said he was a rodeo man before I was born, then that's what he was. I always remember him working at night at the plant. I used to go with him on his rounds as he punched his clock at the different stations. In between rounds he'd tell me stories about his cowboy life out West, mostly in Oklahoma. 


Now, look at this. See this little book? It's old, 1912, old as Uncle Buck. It's really a poem but it fills a whole book. It rhymes and everything. It tells a story about a cowboy who roams about the West looking for his sweetheart who ran off with another cowboy. I never did really understand why the cowboy did that when he could be rounding up cattle or prospecting for gold or hunting down outlaws. Well, I got to liking the book because Uncle Buck read it to me over and over and the way he read it I could just picture in my mind the old West. The sunrises and sunsets, the snow tipped mountains, the dangerous trails, the mean horses and cattle and cowboys to boot. I'll just put it here on the bed.


Well, maybe I'll just put everything of his on the bed, his boots and stetson and fancy shirts. But I got to hurry up because they are expecting me at the graveyard for Uncle Buck's ceremony. I really don't want to go because I hate to think of him dead in the ground. And I hate to think of his stuff here in the house going to folks I don't even know.


Like I saw Aunt Agnes looking at Uncle Buck's stetson and saying "Why, that sure would look good on Joe Herman, don't you think?" Joe Herman was her citified son, a fatso who wouldn't even come to see Uncle Buck not even when he was bad off sick. Said he wasn't going to see an old coot who drank himself to death. 


And Uncle Ranelle who said he wore the same size boots as Uncle Buck and aught to have them because of all the work he had done around the place. Shoot, only place I ever saw him near Uncle Buck was when Uncle Buck saved his life by hauling him out of the pool room so drunk he couldn't walk and a bunch of hustlers was a fixing to kill him because he wouldn't make good on his bets. Besides, Uncle Buck wore size ten and that weasel Ranelle had a foot like a girl, maybe a six. 


"I aught to put this pointy toed boot right in the middle of his fat ase," said Uncle Buck more than once.


Ain't it funny how folks twist things around? 


Pretty soon everybody in the family was looking at things they wanted, like beds, and pots and pans and bed clothes, sheets and blankets. Why Amos and Alonzo, Uncle Buck's first wife's boys got in a fight over a pair of Texas longhorns that had hung on the wall for fifty years. Amos wanted to sell them as antiques and Alonzo wanted to strap them to the grill of his pickup for an ornament. Well, I'm gonna take them down right now and put them on the bed with the other stuff.


The bed? Oh, he called it his iron bedstead. Headboard of iron railings, foot the same. The springs were older than Methesulah, bouncy but firm. I bounced off it many times pretending I was coming out of chute number one riding Dy-no-mite. I spent nights curled up beside Uncle Buck, listening to his stories, half asleep, not knowing the difference between dreaming and believing. I liked the way he touched my head and whispered in my hair, the way he smelled of tobacco, collard greens, cornbread and red eye water back whiskey. The bed's just about full of stuff, huh? 


Oh, there's his Bible. He didn't preach at me or anything but he sure knew his Bible and read me a lot of stories from it. My favorite was Deuteronomy Chapter 25, verse 11, where it tells what to do with a woman who reaches between her husband and another man who are fighting and grabs the other man by his privates which is against church law. Uncle Buck said he grew up in the Deuteronomic Free Will Baptist Church and they enforced Biblical law to the nth degree. When he read this to me he kinda grinned and looked at me sideways.


"Know what the punishment is for doing that, cowboy"
"No, sir, Uncle Buck, I surely don't. 


Then he read the verse 12 which said to cut her hand off.
"The moral of it is don't go messing around with another man's wife. Got that, cowboy?"


"Yes, sir, I got it." I'll just put the Good Book here on the bed.
Uh, oh, I just remembered. He kept his single action colt forty five under the mattress. Yep, here it is. Excuse me. I think I'll take this outside and hide it under the house and come back for it later before they bulldoze the house down.


Excuse me, I've got to find a little note book Uncle Buck kept in his pocket to write down poems that came to him. Oh, yeah, he was a real good poet. If I can find it I think I'll just slip it into my pocket and keep it without telling anyone about it. Oh, here it is under the edge of the carpet. Listen to this:


I just hit town not a penny in my jeans
I been livin' on fig bars, coffee and beans.


Been out on the road the better part of a year


And what I been doin' just ain't no longer clear.


By Austin McQueen "Buck" Dillahey. That's Uncle Buck. He liked to be called Buck and he didn't mind me calling him that. Mama and Deddy said it wasn't right for a boy my age to be calling his Uncle a ridiculous name like Buck especially when his real name was Austin.
Well I guess I'd better get going. I've got to get on to the graveyard by the Deuteronmic Free Will Baptist Church just over that last hill.


I hate to leave all his stuff piled on the bed like that. After all that's all that is left of him. It will all be like ashes in the wind because pretty soon, after the funeral, the kin folks will come and take what they want and there won't be anything left to remember Uncle Buck by at all. I just can't bear it, seeing his stuff and his memory going up like a puff of smoke. And what does it matter now what happens to me, my best friend and companion is gone. Like Uncle Buck says, a man has got to do what man has got to do.
"No need to talk about it, Officer Morris, I'm ready to go to prison or the chain gang or to the electric chair, a man has got to do what a man has got to do." So there.


"So you just piled all your Uncle Buck's personal stuff on his bed wrapped it in a blanket, took it out behind the house and set it on fire?"


"Yes, sir."


"Why?"


"Because I knew when they got back from the grave yard they would tear through the house and take anything they wanted. And there was things I didn't want them to have."


"But, why burn them up? You could have taken them off somewhere and hid them." That kind of startled me and made me think of the revolver I hid under the house.


"I knew deddy would make me tell where they were and they'd take them away from me."


Officer Morris frowned but I don't think he was unhappy with what I'd done.
 
"Sounds like there was another feller with you for a while, Donny Ray? Who was he?" My heart jumped plumb up into my throat. But I didn't let on and I didn't bat an eye.


"He said his name was Bill Friendly. Said he was looking for his sweetheart who run off on him. He stopped by when he saw me on the porch. Said he was from Oklahoma." 


"Wanted to know which way it was to the bus station and I told him. Then he said adios, God Bless, and happy trails to me, and left."
He looked at me kind of sideways, grunted and went outside and I could see him talking to Deddy through the glass which distorted his face even more. Deddy grabbed his head like he normally did and yanked at his hair and glared my way. Right then I wasn't afraid of him and I didn't care what he did one way or the other. Anyway, all he would do is yell and complain about the valuable things I'd destroyed and how the money we could sell them for would help toward my education. He didn't really give a flip about Uncle Buck and to tell the truth I really didn't give a flip about him.


That night when Mama came in to say goodnight I hoped she would understand but all she could say was "Your father is right, Donny Ray."


She touched my hair like she always did and kissed me but I didn't feel anything. 


I woke up in the middle of the night. Someone called me. I went to the window and raised it. The air was crisp with autumn. I listened hard. Nothing. After being back in bed a while I heard my name again. This time I eased a chair to the window, sat down, and listened. The next thing I knew it was morning. I had laid with my head in the window all night but I woke up refreshed just like when I'd fallen asleep in Uncle Buck's bed.


In school that day I felt someone looking at me but I couldn't tell who.


Miss Burris asked me if I was all right and said she was sorry to hear about the death in the family. Said I'd be better off forgetting about it and get back to my studies. In the lunch room I felt somebody sit down beside me and when I looked it was only Bicey Edwards, a girl who liked me but I didn't like her back.


"Donny Ray," she said, "what is the matter with you? You haven't even spoken to me today. I heard what you did and I'm sorry you did it but you can still talk to me if you want to."


"I don't want to," I said and she got up and huffed away. Then somebody sat down beside me again, so close I felt it.
"Uncle Buck?"


"You betcha, cowboy," it replied. There he sat in his John B Stetson, his buckskin shirt, stove pipe Dan Posts, and wearing a buckle bigger than the Lone Star State.


"Uncle Buck, you found it!" He stood up, twirled his handlebar mustache, swept off his John B, bowed low, then let our a cowboy yell that could be heard all the way to Circle, Montana:
"Cowboys called me the Iron Man back in my day
'Cause I'd rode in 'em all, Calgary to the San Francisco Bay.
Top notch buckles, bucks, and ladies, I've had 'em by the score,
I'm the all around blue bell wrangler cowboy nineteen twenty four."
I jumped up, reaching for Uncle Buck. The cafeteria teacher told me to sit down but I ignored her. "Uncle Buck, you found it," I hollered this time so loud everybody dropped their soup spoons and gawked at me, their eyes rolling to the teacher disappearing through the door, no doubt, on her way to the principal's office. 


Uncle Buck did a high stepping cotton eye joe around the table while the kids gawked at me. Lightly he sprang up on the table, his high heels clicking and clacking like he was Fred Astaire. Then, suddenly he stopped, looked down at me, grinned from ear to ear, yanked off his John B Stetson, bowed so low his nose almost touched the table top, rolled his eyes to heaven and recited:


"Now when tomorrow gits the final whistle on me
Western cut, sanforized, slim fit and trim is what I'll be.
Cause I'm the blue bell wrangler cowboy in my brass butted jeans,
The blue bell wrangler cowboy livin' on blue bell memories."
He held his brown hand out to me;  I squeezed it and he was gone.
 
End
 
 
 

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Petals on the Wind - Movie and Re-release of the Paperback!

Photo: May 26.....movie, part 2!!!!!  Let the naughty continue. Idgie Says:
All of us "of a certain age" remember this Flowers in the Attic series very well!  The dirtiness and naughtiness of it.  The very taboo subjects of loveless and cruel mothers and incest.  The poisoning of children.  All of it made such a strong impression on us at the time.  A young adult read that most certainly should not have been such!

Flowers in the Attic was made into a movie last year and while I never watched it, I hear it received good reviews.  Now the next book in the series is coming out as a movie, and newly re-released paperback!  Remember this one?  Cathy, dangling all her men - including her brother - by her very pretty fingers... until one man loses his temper a little too much.  Then Cathy decides to take her own revenge, on Mamma  and Nana....  Again, this book is nasty, twisted, and totally unable to put down. 

V.C. Andrews wrote these herself - these are not by the ghost writer they use now - and it definitely shows.  This is the good stuff!


________________________________________________________
FICTION INTO FILM: Pick up Petals on the Wind May 20th and watch the movie May 26th!

WATCH: The movie trailer, and tune in to Lifetime on  Monday, May 26th, 9:00 pm ET to watch the World Premier of Petals on the Wind!

ENTER TO WIN: Go to the Pocket Books Facebook page beginning May 20th to enter the sweepstakes for a prize pack of Flowers in the Attic and Petals on the Wind, and the Flowers in the Attic DVD.  Visit right before tuning into Petals on the Wind late May for the sweepstakes giveaway (date to be announced)!

Petals on the Wind cast:
Heather Graham              as Corrine
Ellen Burstyn                      as Olivia
Dylan Bruce                        as Bart
Rose McIver                       as Young Cathy (played by Kiernan Shipka in Flowers in the Attic)
Wyatt Nash                        as Christopher (played by Mason Dye in Flowers in the Attic)



 

Monday, May 12, 2014

The Greatest Star on Earth

Idgie says:
Book Two has come out for this cute circus series of books.  Once again, I personally believe they need to lower the age group for these books.  This is much more for the 4 to 7 group.  Today's 10 year olds wouldn't touch these books.  But they are cute and colorful and contain real stories, not just a sentence a page so I do recommend them for the younger reader. Of course a 4 year old would need them read to them, but that's how the interest starts right!?!  

Book Two of The Show Must Go On
By
Kate Klise
May 6, 2014
Algonquin Young Readers

Everyone knows Sir Sidney’s Circus is the best in the world. But who’s the star of the show? The Circus Times is having a contest to find out. Just thinking about it gives Sir Sidney a worrywart, and it’s quickly clear why. Soon after he goes off to rest, the performers start thinking too much about winning the trophy and not enough about putting on a good show.

Meanwhile, it looks as if ringmaster-in-training Barnabas Brambles might need some help managing the crew, so Bert and Gert, the sly brother-and-sister mice who travel with the show, set out to write a book to teach him how it’s done.

Does Bert and Gert’s plan work? And who is the star of the circus? All will be revealed in The Greatest Star on Earth.

________________________________________________

Three Ring Rascals - The Show Must Go On!
Author: Kate Klise
Now in PAPERBACK!
AGES 7-10 • Grades 2-5

Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls!

Step right up and hear the amazing tale of Sir Sidney’s Circus.

Listen to how Sir Sidney, a kindly old circus owner, needed a rest.

Read and weep when Sir Sidney leaves the circus in the hands of a big mean baddie.

Shriek with terror as Barnabas Brambles cracks his whip at Elsa the elephant.
Cry in horror when Mr. Brambles tries to sell Leo the lion to a zoo.

Hide your eyes as the Famous Flying Banana Brothers perform death-defying feats to get the circus train to the show on time!

Can they do it? Will they make it? They better, because THE SHOW MUST GO ON!

Sunday, May 11, 2014

"Happy Nurturing Day"

To ANYONE who cares, loves and nurtures another.....  Happy Mother's Day.

Saturday, May 10, 2014

Follow the Dew reviews and stories via email

Tired of checking various sites for new content or scrolling hundreds of Twitter and Facebook posts to see if your favorite sites might have something new? Hoping your sites aren't the ones "hidden" or "lost" that day? 

The Dew is trying to help by letting you receive new goodies via email.  Give us your email and never miss hearing about a good book or the chance to read a great short story again.

My Local Ladies' Spring Collection............

Which to read first.................

Friday, May 9, 2014

Mr. Mercedes is coming!

In the gloomy pre-dawn hours of a distressed Midwestern city, hundreds of unemployed hopefuls are lined up for a job fair. Without warning, a merciless driver plows through the crowd in a roaring Mercedes. Eight people are killed; 15 are wounded. The killer escapes into the early-spring fog never to be seen from again. Until now... 

Detective Bill Hodges is a battle-hardened and streetwise crime fighter originally assigned to the Mercedes killings. Now retired, Hodges has lost his way in boredom and depression craving the thrills of taking down the region’s most notorious criminals. When a disturbing letter from the Mercedes Killer arrives at his door, Hodges soon finds himself uncontrollably drawn into a cat-n-mouse pursuit with stakes beyond comprehension.

Mr. Mercedes is Stephen’s first “hard-boiled detective tale.” It will transport you into a vibrant and dangerous world filled with gritty characters living on the bleeding edge of reason. Be prepared, Mr. Mercedes will be released in Hardcover, eBook and Audiobook formats on June 3rd.





There is a two page excerpt in this week's Entertainment Weekly, but I believe you may have to have a subscription to access it.   I couldn't get it to come up online to link it.

Video Pomo HERE. 

Looking for Me - now in paperback

Review first published May 30, 2013.  Re-posted with additional information and goodies!  Blog Post and Q & A below!

Idgie Says:
An interesting story about a young woman finding her way through life.  She grows up with a passion her mother thinks is pish-posh and useless but that her father secretly supports.  She "runs away" from home after school to pursue her passion.  Her mother holds a grudge about this for years.  Her brother turns from wildlife lover to bitter activist.....until one day he simply disappears.  No one knows if he got caught sabotaging poachers, fell down a cliff, or simply wandered away.

Eventually Teddi finds romance, comes home to make peace with her mother, and perhaps gather additional clues about her brother and where he might be or what happened to him.

Nothing earth-shattering, nothing outstanding.  A gentle read about Teddi "Looking for herself" and coming to terms with what life is, what she wants out of it, and her way forward. 

Beth Hoffman's Spring/Summer 2014 Tour:
NAPERVILLE, IL, Anderson's Bookshop, May 1
WICHITA, KS, Watermark Books, May 6
KANSAS CITY, MO, Unity Temple (with Rainy Day Books), May 8
WOODSTOCK, GA, Foxtale Book Shoppe, May 13
FAIRHOPE, AL, Page & Palette, May 15
EVANSVILLE, IN, Vanderburgh Public Library, June 15

 
________________________________

Looking For Me
Author: Beth Hoffman
Hardcover: 368 pages
Publisher: Pamela Dorman Books (Penguin)
(May 28, 2013)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0670025836
ISBN-13: 978-0670025831

Book Description:
Teddi Overman found her life’s passion for furniture in a broken-down chair left on the side of the road in rural Kentucky. She learns to turn other people’s castoffs into beautifully restored antiques, and eventually finds a way to open her own shop in Charleston. There, Teddi builds a life for herself as unexpected and quirky as the customers who visit her shop.  Though Teddi is surrounded by remarkable friends and finds love in the most surprising way, nothing can alleviate the haunting uncertainty she’s felt in the years since her brother Josh’s mysterious disappearance. When signs emerge that Josh might still be alive, Teddi is drawn home to Kentucky.  It’s a journey that could help her come to terms with her shattered family—and to find herself at last.  But first she must decide what to let go of and what to keep.

_________________________________________________________


A chat with New York Times bestselling author Beth Hoffman


How did you come up with the idea for LOOKING FOR ME?

I was sitting at my desk going through stacks of old photographs. The more I sorted, the more I thought about my family and my childhood on the farm—how simple and uncomplicated life was, how much I missed the old barn and the fields that backed up to woodlands. I stared out the window and relived those days, and while I was caught up in the nostalgia, something flashed in my periphery. I turned to see a red-tailed hawk land on a tree branch. The morning light glaze across his pale chest, and just before he settled, he spread his rusty-red tail feathers. And then …WHAM! I had the beginning of my story.

Your book has dual settings of Charleston and Kentucky. What was it about those two settings that inspired you?

The atmosphere of the story I want to create determines the setting. I need to feel connected to a location’s history and culture, and I love to explore opposites. The juxtaposition of Charleston’s refinement to Slade, Kentucky’s rugged wilderness intrigued me. Red River Gorge is wild and mysterious while Charleston is known for its gorgeous architecture and gentility. Historic downtown Charleston was the perfect place for Teddi to reach for her dream while Kentucky was ideal to hold her roots.


LOOKING FOR ME touches on the power of objects—through them we remember our past and face our future—what are some objects that have held meaning for you in your own life??

I treasure photographs, letters, and the old jewelry that’s been passed down from the women in my life. By nature I’m a neat-nut and about as opposite to a hoarder as anyone could be, so I’m not inclined to keep things unless they truly have strong meaning to me. I do think it’s important to keep things that hold memories like family heirlooms, books, photographs and letters, but there’s a fine line between keeping what is precious or sentimental, and overloading my basement and attic with stuff.

What do you love to do most in your free time?

My greatest joys are simple—spending time with my husband and our four-legged fur-kids, studying nature, working in the gardens, and reading. I also love to go antiquing with girlfriends, and just recently I’ve taken up photography.

________________________________________

Beth Hoffman is the internationally bestselling author of Saving CeeCee Honeycutt and Looking for Me. Before beginning her writing career, she was president and co-owner of an interior design studio. Beth lives, along with her husband and their four-legged fur-kids, in a historic Queen Anne home in Kentucky. Her interests include the rescue of abandoned and abused animals, nature conservancy, birding, historic preservation, and antiquing.
You can visit Beth’s website at: www.BethHoffman.net                                                                
Facebook: www.facebook.com/BethHoffmanNewYorkTimesBestsellingAuthor   
Twitter: @wordrunner
 

 ___________________________________________



What is it About Southern Writers
by bestselling author Beth Hoffman

“What is it about Southern writers?” That question, asked by a gal with smiling eyes and pinkish-red hair, was posed to me following a luncheon where I spoke to ninety-three women and four men.

I looked at the line of people waiting to have their books signed and voiced the first thought that came to mind: “Southerners are born and raised surrounded by storytellers, it’s in their blood.” Then I signed her book and she was gently nudged aside by the next person in line. When I got back to the hotel, I thought about her question and wished I’d answered by saying this:

No matter where we live or temporarily hang our hats, our lives are shaped and re-shaped by the art of story. Whether told by those who were present when we entered the world or those who bid us farewell upon our exit, our individual and collective stories live on.

I believe the art of storytelling, and embellishing, is as Southern as sweet tea and tidal marshes. Most Southerners hold a bone-deep nostalgia for their kin, and it doesn’t matter one iota if they were benevolent folks or ruthless scoundrels. Nowhere in America has there been more glory, ruin, pride, shame, grace, and ancestral fascination. And Lord knows there certainly seems to be an abundance of ghosts. Even after they abandon their earthly bodies, some Southerners just can’t bring themselves to leave their homes and heirloom sterling behind. And I get it. I love my home so much that I named her Mamie, and truth be told, I suspect I’ll have difficulty leaving her when the time comes.

These are the things I wish I’d said to the woman who asked about Southern writers. Yes, even the bit about ghosts. Upon my demise if you pass by Mamie and happen to see a fleeting shadow of a woman tending her garden or sitting on the porch with a cat curled up in her lap and a little black-and-white dog at her feet, that woman will surely be me. And should you look up high to the angled windows, you just might see me there, too. It’s the room where I crafted (and embellished) my stories—Southern style.