Book Review: One Time on Earth

Novels are sneaky things. A reader never knows when one will capture his attention and for what reasons. That's how it was for me and One Time on Earth by Neil Newton. Newton tries to capture that moment in time for a 15-year-old English boy who's enraptured with the Apollo missions leading up to Apollo 11, when man first steps foot on the moon. It drew me in. I was that geeky kid at that time, explaining the moon missions to the adults in my world who couldn't comprehend the idea of going to the moon. In fact, my grandmother died a decade after the deed, believing it was a lie.

Times were surely
changing

Newton does a good job demonstrating the boy's obsessive nature with the event and how he perceives its significance. Set in an English city in the midst of an urbanization project that is tearing down the neighborhood and moving people out, the landscape becomes as foreign as the lunar landscape by the end of the story--some nice symbolism. Newton delves into great detail about the place. It will capture some, but at times it felt over-written. The travelogue adventures of time and place drew me into an England I don't know. I envision this story as a moody British movie ala The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner where the struggles are as much physical as they are emotional and cultural, responding to the change of times and events the late 1960s brought to us.

The dialogue drags a bit in this literary romp, but the subtleties of language along with the verbal sparring are what would have been appropriate in this era. And the one line I thought for sure would have been there ("That's one small step for man, a giant leap for mankind."), was told me in narrative form. Why? This is a top-shelf "4". And if your taste runs to British coming of age stories, some might nudge it up a notch. Well done.

Interesting Story

The theme of good versus evil sits on top of the question, 'What would you do for love?' Stephen Douglass's book, The Bridge toCaracas, is a heavily plotted story within the murky world of the oil and gas industry that he seems familiar with. It takes place in the 1960s through the 1970s, and centers on how Jim Servito steals boatloads of money from the industry and screws everyone who gets in his way.

The story has lots of potential, but neither Mike King, the protagonist, nor Karen Taylor, his love interest engaged me. No spoiler here--Karen is kidnapped by terrorist and presumed dead. Mike moves on and marries the wrong woman. Bad enough. It happens. Karen returns--no big shock--and moves on now that Mike is unavailable. What bothered me is that the convenient plot point of Karen's abduction, which sets up the star-crossed lover theme, seems to have had little emotional effect on Karen. I kept waiting for her horrendous life event to impact her current life and the story. It never materializes. And Mike, this really smart guy, blunders his way through traps set up by Servito to make Mike's life miserable without getting a clue. Mike seems at times to only be aided by chance (admittedly some of it in the beginning by shrewd moves), luck, coincidence, and finally, at the climax, assistance from a total stranger to solve his problem. Even when the women he loves is being brutalized by Servito in the middle of the story, he does nothing for months except to have rendezvous sex. What starts out sharp and thrilling, peters out for me. In the end, the events and actions felt more staged and Mike's actions reckless, reactionary, and without thought more so than realistic--often causing heartache and loss for others.

This is not to write that this is a bad book. The writing is fine and premise strong. The middle had copyediting issues, but not too severe. It just lacked the character development and story ending dynamics that should have been there considering the promise of the beginning. I occasionally mention books that should be read fast to skip over the weak points. This would be one of them. I can see lovers of action and adventure stories falling for this story. Had the ending been sharper, this novel might have been a "4." As is, it is slightly above average, a strong "3". 

MMWUC - 17-Year Cicada Cycle

This year is the 17-year Cicada Cycle when that strange spaceship noise will blow your mind. This is one of the sixty-six stories in BATHROOM READING--Short Stories for Short Visits that touches on this subject. Enjoy while you still can.

Cicadacide

At some point, Bob Zucker slept. At another point, he awoke, but as he lay there in bed, he couldn't recall either of those points in time or how long they had lasted. All he could think about was the damn noise the cicadas made. Hour after hour, day after day, night after night. And he left the noise of the city for the peacefulness of the country. He turned over in bed and realigned his pillow over his ears. “I could sleep better under the El.”

The cicadas seemed to be pointing their unwanted attentions at him. For the first three weeks, he heard them everywhere: home, work, at the park, fishing, outside the bowling alley, coming home drunk from the bar. “Ubiquitous.” The word dribbled out of his mouth, as he slipped out of bed and went to the kitchen for a beer and whiskey chaser. The sleeping pill wasn't working. He could feel tightness in his chest. He belched. Some relief. He noticed the cicada noise was a bit less intense in the kitchen, so he drank there.

He cursed the cicadas. He cursed his boss, Mr. Barrister, for the pressure the bastard applied when he knew that Bob was having trouble sleeping. He cursed Acme HVAC for not fixing his air conditioning unit, and then not returning when he’d threatened them with a lawsuit. He cursed his wife, Matilda, for insisting on the move out to the country, and then for leaving him just after the cicadas started their racket. She claimed it was his temper, not the bugs. Everyone and everything else can dump on him, but he’s not supposed to get angry about it? Right! One beer became two. Two led to a third with another shot.

By the fourth one, he envisioned the death of each cicada. “Damn their crusty little empty-shelled bodies everywhere.” When he had opened the fifth beer and drank the third shot, he got up and staggered over to the gun case. He extracted the shotgun, and then decided on his deer rifle. “More noise for the little buggers to deal with.”

Out on the porch, he loaded four shells. He fired at the tall oak in front of the house. “Take that you bastards.” His neighbor's light came on and a voice rang out.

“Bob, are you nuts? Put that gun away before you hurt someone.”

“Screw you, Mark.”

Bob fired again and then laughed before noticing that the noise seemed to have diminished somewhat. “Hey, maybe the little buggers don’t like loud noises.” He fired a third shot higher in the tree. “Maybe there's more of you up there.”

“Bob, put the gun down.” Mark marched up Bob's driveway. His wife, Abigail, trailed behind him.

Bob sneered. “Can't you see I'm trying to help everyone out?”

“Mark, don't go there,” Abigail pleaded, tugging on his shirt tail.

“Just leave this to me,” he hissed back at his wife.

“He’s drunk again. Let it go.”

Bob laughed. Mark stepped onto the sidewalk leading up to the front porch. Bob’s demeanor changed. He pointed the gun at Mark. “Get the heck off my property.”

“Don't be stupid and don't point that gun at me.”

“I'll point it anywhere I want.”

Abigail stepped in front of Mark. “Let's just go.”

“Yeah, go.” Bob echoed Abigail's request.

Mark stared at Bob. With Abigail pulling on his arm, Mark finally turned and walked away.

Another shot rang out. Abigail screamed. Mark grabbed her. They both turned around to see Bob laughing, his rifle on his hip pointing to the sky. “Cicadas got you spooked?” Bob said, and then stuck out his tongue at the two of them before he dropped to the ground.

Later, Detective Stark examined Bob's prone body. “This is another one for that website about dumb people doing dumb things,” Stark said. “First he shoots at the tree, then he confronts his neighbor, then he fires one shot straight into the air, and damn if it doesn't come right down on him catching the artery just right. He bled out in four minutes.”

“Stupid bastard,” the patrol officer said. “Found the source of that noise. This white noise generator is set to turn on every night at nine. It was in the attic, but whoever put it there forgot to unplug it. Damn thing sounds like cicadas.”

“Yep, glad that racket's over with for another seven years,” Stark said, turning the noise generator around. “Says here, it’s the property of Maltida Zucker. She must be his wife.”

Book Review: Three Books For One

(1) Poems For A Platypus by me! Okay. This is self-serving, but I never had a book that I could claim is the #1 best-seller in a paid market (Australian/Oceanian) or #12 in the paid U.S market for 20th Century poetry books (even though we are in the 21st century). Platypi must be very happy about the poems in my book along with some of the human purchasers. But how do you rate a poetry book? I never really thought much about it. With 171 poems, do you have to like all of them? Half of them? One-quarter of them? Or, if just one poem moves you to tears or joy or happiness, is that enough to give it a high rating? I never thought about me being a poet. I just like writing my thoughts down that way on occasion. What's next? Poet Laureate of Chatham County? Surely, I jest. I do, well, you never know.

(2) The Bustacious Bunny by Andrew Peters is not a novella for everyone. The Private Investigator (PI) Otis talks to himself, good guys, bad guys, and the reader. That will certainly be off-putting for some, but I liked the off-beat PI from Wales living in Memphis, Tennessee, trying to solve low-hung fruit crimes, but who gets drawn into one that he openly admits is out of his league. Yet, he soldiers on, and like any good writer, Peters convincing puts Otis into a corner wherein the reluctant hero must take up the case.

There is a fair amount of funny asides and situational humor worthy of a few chuckles and pleasant harrumphs as the overmatched Otis goes about his business, his own bacon being saved again and again by his modicum of insight, and dealing with a flotilla of really big guys (good and bad) to spice up the story. Though the opening was somewhat confusing and the plot not too deep, the PI (and author) moved the story right along. I want to give it a five-star rating, and I will...barely.

(3) Cop Shot by David DeLee is a police procedural short story with strong, clear writing. It was too short for the mystery at hand and where he wanted to take it. For the depth that the reader is supposed to feel, this story needed much more of everything (mood, storyline, feelings, angst, clues, push-back, back-story, etc.). It brushed many topics lightly, and though it had several potential suspects, the twists were still a bit thin (basically one and done). What we are supposed to believe at the ending is sad, but again without any additional depth, the emotional appeal wasn't quite there for this reader. Now, you might be thinking I didn't like the story. I liked it. He held back information until needed, and tried to supply a gritty atmosphere. It's good, not great. It's a 4-rated story you won't regret spending time with.

Book Review: The White Mountain

I'm not sure how The White Mountain ended up on my Kindle. I was downloading a mystery when this one popped-up like a parasite. So I read it. I don't know why, but it felt like it took forever to finish this short novel, and when I got to the end, I must admit, it didn't satisfy completely. The ending felt like a lead in to the author's next novel without fully wrapping up this one. The two main characters were well drawn (kudos), but I never understand how Randall ended up with Alice, and some of the timelines didn't seem to jive. It was twisty, but with only one really big surprise moment in the middle. The main plot line took some hard swallows to accept, and I did guess way early on, who the "third" one was, even before I knew there was a third one. Perhaps I read too much? With all the preparation, cloak and dagger surprises, and organizational advantages, I was under-awed by the climatic situation the bad guys put the good guys into to satisfy their 'what?'.

This is one of the few self-pubs that has minimal grammatical issues (kudos). Occasionally I read a book, and think, "This would be better as a movie." This is such a book (kudos). I know this is odd, but many good action sequences seemed to slow down the novel. I liked the details and explanations, but they seemed too much at times while reading but would translate better on the screen. The author missed opportunities to give the characters more dimension with the unexpected. When Mein Kampf picks up the cactus to throw at Randall, I was ready for something more than continued unrelenting fighting. I wanted Randall to stop the action: ["No that's Alice's favorite," Randall pleaded. Mein Kampf shrugged, put the potted Christmas cactus down, and picked up a bowling trophy to hurl at Randall.] The bad guys were just too much from central casting.

If you are into adventure thrillers, super killers, or spy vs. spy vs. spy stories, this is for you. Go forth and read, you will enjoy it. Though there were places for improvement, this was, overall, a decent book. It keeps moving, has some nice chapter endings to keep us hooked, and as mentioned, plenty of lies and twists, all essential for a thriller. It's better than average, but it's not great. It's a "4".

MMWUC: The Long Cold Winter

I, for one, am enjoying the long winter of 2012-2013. It's the winter without end despite Punxatawny Phil's prognostication. At least Sir Walter Raleigh, Raleigh's own large rat, predicted the long winter correctly. I was sick with the adult croup, a bad cold, and then the neurovirus from the Tuesday after Thanksgiving until about January 20th. That was tree cutting time, garden rehabilitation time, and landscaping project time. Now it is all squeezed between now and whenever winter ends, because when it ends, the ticks will burst from hiding, the green pine tree pollen will be as thick as volcanic ash, day time highs will go from the 50s to the upper 80s immediately, and plants will grow while you watch them. I've been splitting time outside and inside. I'm a hot weather writer because I can't handle the heat and sun, so when this winter breaks, writing will begin in earnest. So, the production of the poetry book, POEMS FOR A PLATYPUS, continues heading for a deadline a week away, the short story that I'm writing has exceeded the 5,000 work maximum by 6,000 words, so now it is something else, and the pull of the next Detective Stark novel is getting too strong to resist. I'll get to it, I tell my subconscious, the moment winter ends.

Book Review: Firstborn

Firstborn by Bob Stewart has a villain that's as creepy bad as you can make him. No Mercy Percy lives up to his name throughout the story as he pursues those who he perceives have done him wrong or the offspring of those who have done him wrong. I'm not sure I'm going to invite Bob to any sleepovers on the off-chance that he has more of Percy to excise from his subconscious, where all scary stories evolve, but I enjoyed the story, and it was nice to read one that appeared to have been edited with loving care.

This is a suspense thriller not for the faint of heart. Which means if you like your villains on the order of Hannibel Lecter, Max Cady, or the Zodiac Killer, then this book is for you--a slam-dunk "5". The lawyer, well, for such a well-renowned, inquisitive defense attorney, he was a bit slow on the uptake. Bob did a wonderful job of planting clues that lead up to helping discover what was going on, but the 'bright' lawyer seemed a bit on the dull side to me. I kept shouting, "Connect the dots. Connect the dots." The reason for No Mercy Percy's transition from country bumpkin to super villain was remarkably believable, but his ability to disguise himself at times proved a bit tough to swallow.

I loved the peppering of the smaller details both in Texas and New Orleans. Made you feel right at home. While I love the fight in the expectant parents, balanced with the sense of betrayal, for none thriller lovers this is a fence-sitter, but it kept me up past my bedtime two nights in a row, so I'm going to nudge it ever so gently into the "5" rating side of the fence. Read in a well lit room.

Book Reviews: Two for the price of one

The opening of Tokyo Smoke & Mirrors sucks you right into the story. The ABNA Quarterfinalist richly deserves to be in the running for the finals. What can be better for a mystery than to find several dead bodies off the bat, and then two of what promises to be three main characters, struggling with their new situations that aren't quite what they were supposed to be. The smoke and mirrors action starts us out of the gate. Can't wait to see where it goes. It's a 5-star start.

AND NOW FOR THE MAIN EVENT

The PHOENIX PROJECT is a slim sci-fi novel about a possible future born from a deep recession in the United States. While the author's knowledge of neonatal care is obvious, the story takes too long to get to the main plot line. I do, however, like that we return to this knowledge later (kudos). A vague similarity to THE ROAD exists in that why things happened is not necessarily as important to the story line other than that they did happen. Unlike THE ROAD, however, the specific reasons for the manipulation of the populous, encompassing the terror of big brother, denial of freedoms, loss of family, forced eugenics, intrude and prevent a smoother read. Constant reminders of the outside world render what is happening in this enclave less believable based on what the heroine knows. And we know what she knows because this is written in the first person.

What was important was the heroine's attempts to manage her future and save her daughter. On some level, she does an admirable, logical job of trying to maintain family. On other levels, she flails. As revelations tumble out at the end of the novel, my reasons for being unable to embrace her are born out: no man seems able to resist her innate charms (black street youth, the old squeeze, the improbable new squeeze, the evil bad guy, her savior from the second banana bad guy); she's smart and talented beyond her years, yet barely uses that intellect to understand then undermine the ramifications of what she is doing; she can take beatings beyond reason and still keep on ticking. Sadly, the other major characters lack depth. Also, read fast. You may not fall into some of the plot holes that exist whenever a megalomaniac tightens his grip on people and place. I do like the rise of the bad guy's power represented through the conference room changes (kudos - Shades of the breakfast scene montage in CITIZEN KANE.)

Grammatical hiccups occur too often, though none are killers. However, the sequel-setting epilogue is an unnecessary information dump, wrapping up some things to make the ending palatable. The author missed a huge opportunity to make a moral, political, ethical statement by not providing enough information throughout the story to allow the ambiguity at the end to led to fevered discourse. Phoenix is a slightly better than average story that missed an opportunity to be a seminal work of fiction, a solid "3". This author does bear watching for future books. 

MMWUC: Responsibility to Dream

I took off last week from blogging. I was told, "Don't do that again?" I didn't know that my simple little reminder for everyone to start writing was influencing anyone. So, let's get back to basics. The worst words written are better than the best words stuck in your head. So write. Open the file now. Just write.

There was a man from Nantucket. No. The man from Nantucket wore his windbreaker like a shield against the latest Nor'easter. Ineffective. Wind pelted him like small stones; daggers of cold sliced threw the smallest opening; rain oozed through the same openings like evil creeping out of a cemetery towards unsuspecting young lovers. He sidled up to the oak tree, broad from two hundred years growth and stubby from long winters, short summers, and a constant on-shore breeze. The barren branches hung heavy to one side like a bad Trump over comb, but at least the near hurricane-force wind gusts didn't slap debris against him. The rain still came; the cold still bit. Soon,  however, the electricity went out and the small houses disappeared into the dark forming ill-defined shadows. King smiled. Another story blossomed in his head.

Book Review: The Circle of Law

The Circle of Law owes much to Judeo-Christian tolerance with a nod to eastern philosophies as the basis for its laws. At least no one spoke like Yoda. Law is a well-written tale with splashes of situational humor as the Ancients attempt to restore order to Cadeven and end the current realm, which has helped to devastate the land after the Ancients broke up years ago over internal squabbling. It is a quick and easy read, but there are a significant number of characters vying for space on the page that might be too much to keep straight for casual readers in such a short book. The power of the Ancients seemed to ebb and flow without much sense to me despite all the explanations.

For my tastes, the action lagged a bit. Despite a sad and disturbing opening (kudos), the story tension drifted for the first third of the book. The characters seemed to get almost everything they needed without much effort. Insufficient characterizations were common. I thought Marki was about 10 in the opening. Then, 4-6 months into the story, I find out she is really seventeen and attracting two suitors. The concept of time and distance was very loose. Some journeys seemed to take a couple of days. Later, they seemed to take weeks. (The king just seemed to happen by while everyone else struggled to get up Mt. Orr.) Just how long was a gestation period? Your pregnant. Boom, here's your baby. These issues disrupted my absorption into the story.

I wish the author would have dug deeper into the conflicted characters. At the 77% mark in the story, there is a very poignant point about outliving a loved one and how difficult it is to be in love knowing one partner is going to die early in life (kudos). I wish there had been more passages like this, digging beneath the surface. Issues aside, Law is a pleasant read. Those who enjoy this genre will like the redemptive aspects of the story along with the imaginative world in which the characters live. But for me, it was a little better than an average tale. It is a top-shelf "3".

MMWUC: Need an A$$hole

Do you need a real a$$hole in your novel? How about a dumb crook? Do you ever wonder if you think like the rest of America or are out of touch because you've been working on your novel inside your home, having your food delivered, family delivered, books delivered, and garbage trucked away? There are solutions. There are educational tools right at your fingertips. I'm too old (or unwilling) to put myself in the position for some activities, but that doesn't stop me from finding the answers to these and other probing questions.

Want to see some real a$$holes? Turn on Jerry Springer and to a lesser extent, Murray Povich. "Yeah, he slept with my cousin and her mom while I was pregnant and holding down two jobs, but I love him. Ain't he adorable?" Camera pans to some six-foot toothpick who smiles so all the world can see the halitosis seep out of this half toothless mouth like a light mist. Then, he becomes sharp-witted. "Yeah, well, duh! That twernt even my kid. You slept with my Dad." "Only once," she screams. "So when is the baby due," Jerry asks the rotund, four-foot, six-inch butterball. "What'cha all taking about? I ain't pregnant now." Inspired yet? Ready for the next class.

Switch over to Judy Judy or COPS. JJ can be mean, but then again she has to deal with some real dumb crooks AND a$$holes. "Yeah, I smashed my sons piggy bank in the middle of the night to get money for some beers. Hell I'd put money in it before." His right eye twitches. "You’re an idiot," Judge Judy yells, "Tell him Officer Byrd." Barely audible Byrd says, "No bulb on there." Judge Judy stares down at the guy in jeans and tee-shirt. "You were divorced three years already. You lived in another town. What gives you the right to even go into your ex-wife's house?" He meets her stare. "The door was unlocked, it was after midnight, and I had visitation rights that day." JJ's hair tips explode on fire, "You're an idiot and a thief." Byrd shakes his head and mumbles, "A$$hole." (Favorite COPS episode is when the guy swore he didn't have any dope, yet the cop got the camera guy to move and focus on the ear, where a joint was rolled up and stuck there. The cop pulled it out eventually. The guy looked surprised, "Guess you got me.")

This girl came up when
searching for Officer Byrd.

Family Feud. No, stop laughing. Some of these people are really unintentionally funny, especially when Steve Harvey is on a roll. I usually eat my breakfast during FAST MONEY. That's the lightening round where two people have to answer questions that were asked of 100 people to see how well they match their answers. Takes all of five minutes. Just enough time to eat a bowl of oatmeal, or two eggs with ham and toast, or a cup of cereal. Try to guess along with these people. You'll find out whether you're inside the lines of what others are thinking or that you really should stay in that house and right that book: SQUIRREL INVASION: Why You Should Never Fall Asleep in Your Backyard Wearing a Peanut Butter Make-up Mask.

Writing school is all around us. Just need some imagination.

Book Review: Southern Scotch

Like Quentin Tarantino movies? Like violence and mayhem? Enjoy a bit of magical realism in a retribution tale in America instead of discovering ice as in One Hundred Years of Solitude? This is your book. Southern Scotch is fast paced, twisty, and even has a good sense of character growth (or retardation) in it. It is well written and without many of the grammatical gotchas that plague many self-published books. It even has a dark sense of humor sprinkled throughout it reminiscent of Elmore Leonard.

All-seeing (despite one eye) and seemingly all-knowing Boss McTavin starts out as a lovable lump with issues, but a mistaken beating changes his life, and he becomes some sort of Avenging Angel with Jackie Chan-like physical abilities. With a reluctant grifter as Robin to his Batman, they move forward to avenge wrongs done to both of them. The story is centered in Atlanta and delves into the seedy side of life. It is a world that most of us probably have never seen or know about, but which the author does a good job bringing to life as the Dynamic Duo execute Boss's plan, that unfortunately has holes in it, relies on some good luck, and features some horrific bad turns for the Duo.

While I enjoyed the book, I must admit that there were times when I got lost in what was really happening. Sometimes the descriptions weren't grounded enough for me to form the necessary mental image. This may be unimportant to some readers just along for the ride, but it did bug me. The author took risks with the point-of-view, but pulls it off. The ending was awkward: every time I thought I was done, there was another ending and then another one. To me, it took away some of the magical nature of Boss and his situation. I have no problem with those who give this book a "5" rating. For me, this is top-shelf "4".  

MMWUC: Simplicity

Some days you just have to be reminded to focus on what is most important to you in the long run, short run, this week, today, or in the next hour. Whether it is a novel or a word, as long as you move it forward, that's what counts. And yes, losing 10,000 words through a great edit is moving forward.

I've been hammering on a short story that was nothing more than a spit of a memory, a lost night that meant nothing over forty years ago, that wasn't even an important night for me, but for someone else. I've been dragging characters around on the page like Linus with his blanket, sloshing them through the ink, so they could leave their mark on my MC. I've pulled other thoughts, feelings, emotions, and stories absolutely unrelated to this story and made them related like an unknown sibling found, embraced, and folded into the family. I've tapped into locations I've never been to and let Google Earth make them come alive. And I've watched on music video over a hundred times in the past week, making it speak to me in the haunting tone I want to bring to the story. I want slosh Samuel Addams beer on the reader; sniff the salty air of Asbury Park in the 1970s; touch a dead body that rises again; hear the voices in my head--my MC's head; and see the loves of my MC's life as clear as the person in the mirror in the morning.

The story wants to run out of bounds, but I keep reining it in, focusing it on the laser sharp original intent. After 3,100 additional words on Sunday, it is now 5,973 words. 973 beyond what is required, mandated, allowed. Tomorrow and the next day and the next, I will focus on editing it to make it sharper. Always focusing. Tightening. And if it should remain beyond this goal after the good editing fight is over, perhaps it will whisper that it was intended for another goal, and I am only a tool used to give it birth. Focus on that! And write.

Book Review: The Next Planet Over

Got Link?

The Next Planet Over by Dennis Burns is a futuristic novella that taps into some of the fears, actions, and reactions surrounding the rebirth then eventual decay of human existence on this rock, rendering it uninhabitable. These people must move on. Bottom line: the story needed to be extended. The fine characters needed more depth, especially given their situation. While I do get the punch line at the end (which would be a big spoiler if mentioned here), there were several points that weren't wrapped up satisfactorily for me, especially the climax. Others might be okay with it--the end justifying the means by which we got there.

The story telling is fine and the writing adequate (like most self-pubbed stories, there are some grammatical issues, but nothing horrible). Some geo-political touches and environmental points made in the story are surface thin. Is the author trying to be sincere, ironic, or sarcastic with them? I could not put a pulse on the intent. It causes the story to lose some traction as a tense science fiction drama occasionally.

Still, it's a nice rainy afternoon or bedtime read with a lot of nifty futuristic gadgets and gizmos that the point-of-view character explains, sometimes a bit more than necessary, slowing the story a bit. The world-building is solid, and I never felt like I was being beaten up by the prose. For me, this is a three. Except for the ending "shocker," it's an average read with a few surprises and twists as you would expect, but only minimal characterization. But, this is a story for sci-fi buffs. For them, I can bump it up to a tepid "4".

MMWUC: Pope Rick?

The writing job isn't going to well at the moment. Sales are very slow. Is it me or the market? My next promotional push is two months away. The poetry book is two months away. I got offered $15 for fifteen two-hundred word articles about the tensile strength of spider webs (that's a half-a-penny per word). I passed. There has to be something better.

Then this morning I see that there is an opening in Vatican City. I'm going to submit my resume to the College of Cardinals to see if I can't get the plum position of Pope. Hey, I'm Catholic. I've read the Bible, beginning to end, including all the begotting. I belonged to the Newman Club in college. My wife was the church organist at the Milwaukee Basilica. I know where my church is, and I visit it a few times a year. Heck, A MATTER OF FAITH deals with a lot of catholic dogma, a principle or set of principles laid down by an authority as incontrovertibly true. I can declare things with authority. I've seen the movie, Dogma, about thirty times, and The Ten Commandments a dozen times. I figure I can make some much needed changes and still have time to write on the side.

For one thing, the popemobile is lame. I'd convert the latest batmobile for my use. You'd scare the crap out of sinners and get to more people faster, people who need to see you. God's representative would once again be seen as all powerful and cool. Buddy Christ in Dogma might have been over the top, but it proposed moving the relationship in the right direction. I'd push that. The hat has to go. Hats lost their luster after JFK went without one at his inauguration, and it would get rid of the high-paid Cardinal whose soul (sic) job seems to be making sure the hat doesn't tip over. I'd keep the cape. In my papacy, I'm a superhero, as a Pope should be. I'd get rid of the forty pounds of vestments for one blinding-white, light-weight, bullet-proof vest with a cross in front, fish on each bicep, and the question, "Got God?" emblazoned on the back.

Also, too many Cardinals, Bishops, and other hanger-oners shuffling around Vatican City. You want to do the Lord's work, get out of the finery and visit a slum or at least a suburban enclave where heathenism seems to exist with impunity on television. Women priests? Yeah, I'm for that. We had a woman Pope once! Priests marry? Sure, why not? The only reason it was stopped was because of bad inheritance laws for Papal families. Fix that. Don't castrate the priests. Fish on Friday...I might actually bring that back. I'm a fisherman, and I need every excuse possible to put out a line, put up my feet, and pop a cold one. And these changes are only for starters. Yes, this might be the beginning of a beautiful story. Next, Pope Rick Versus the Alien Invasion.

MMWUC: No excuses

It's your Monday Morning Wake-Up Call, especially if you're a writer. Groundhog's Day is over. SuperBowl has been played. (I lost my bet with Sydney.) Christmas decorations have better been taken down by now. Yeah, sure, Valentine's Day is coming up, but most writers are probably looking for a new angle rather than another Hallmark sweet story.

- - - Turtle Love - - -

Johnny loves Debbie, but Debbie is an alien incapable of love, so Johnny tries to find a brain to transplant into Debbie. He finds Doreen, whose brain he believes has hardly been used. She's addicted to shoes she can't afford, pungent nail polish that is changed every eight hours, and turtles, and not even Ninja turtles, real-life boxer turtles. She's perfect for the swap. Unfortunately, Johnny finds out that he has a soft-spot for reptiles, loves the smell of fresh nail polish, and realizes that Doreen has some measure of fiduciary responsibility because she never buys the shoes she can't afford. She just plasters the walls in her rent-controlled two bedroom flat with pictures of them. When Johnny starts hanging out with Doreen more than Debbie, Debbie's dormant emotional synapses snap to life when the smell of Silver Streakiness nail polish follows Johnny home one night. Debbie's passion is ignited. Johnny, exhausted by attending an all night rave with Doreen, doesn't notice and falls asleep.

Debbie stalks the pair with pure hatred--not a hard thing to do because if they aren't home they're at the pet store where Doreen works. When Debbie confronts the pair, she says, "I hate you." Johnny pees in his pants in fear; Doreen screams so shrill dogs cry; the turtles slip into their shells. Debbie's eyes glow with laser intensity as she stares at the two of them.

"I never knew you could do that," Doreen says.

"Love must have been the next to the hatred synapse," Debbie responds.

They step over Johnny's melted corpse. The turtles follow.

- - - Or, Something Like That - - -

Now, get out there and make a day of it!

To Bee or not to Bee

Aunt Bee says, "Howdy." Man, did we run!

Book Review: Murder Most Academic

Bonus Review this week...Murder Most Academic by Alicia Stone

Read the ARC. Former call girl and now a History Professor, Trinity Pierce, is a survivor. She's a loyal friend, solid colleague, and now must morph into a detective for the sake of a friend's request despite the danger that exposing someone else's past can have on her buried former profession. The great writing makes this slim novel fly by, making it a perfect read at the beach, on a plane, or while some boring professor drones on in the classroom. This is a solid mystery delving into two worlds that don't usually cross paths: prostitution and academia. It's a delicate balance that the author carries off with style. The twists will keep you looking over your shoulder as much as they do for Trinity, and the danger to her current life grows as the story progresses. Can Trinity catch a kidnapper and murderer, and save herself? Read, find out, and be surprised. First book for 2013 to put the little piggy toe into the 5-star rating camp.

Book Review: The Fall of Billy Hitchings

In the write (sic) hands, The Fall of BillyHitchings would make an interesting indie movie. It has some quirky characters, sharp action sequences, unexpected plot twists, and an interesting take on morality with regard to "does the ends justify the means" both for the good and bad guys. As a novel, though, it missed out on the opportunity to be a very good book through some sloppiness. It needed a pass-through by a more thorough editor, not for the writing mechanics, but for ironing out the rough spots.

After a fast-paced, but hard to swallow opening, the plot settles into a story with a cast of characters that you just know are going to merge later to help clarify what's happening. Give it time. Though the characters are distinct, most are somewhat superficial. A number of "jumpy" points caused me to retrace who was saying what to whom. And by the end, some characters and subplots just disappeared (Crazy Jenny for one) from the pages without solid wrap-up. It was more annoying than story killing. Also, the black moment was hard to visualize even with the vague clarification afterwards. How does one character get away with the "good" guys while another gets whisked away by the "bad" guys when they are feet apart? The flip-flop of who had the plates (not a plot spoiler here) didn't make sense in the end, considering their value to the "owner".

On the upside, some humorous situations, mostly at the expense of the Indian character trying to master American idioms and the wiles of feminism, keeps things moving. It's word-play not slap-stick and usually well done. The book does have a good plot and John Reeves could evolve into an interesting series anchor. The story moves and is a quick read. I had a lot of empathy for Billy and his situation. Despite some of my nit-picking, this is a decent beach read and squeaks into a 4 rating.

MMWUC: Controversial Poetry

I'm working on a poetry book for April 1st, the beginning of International Poetry Month. I consider myself a novelist not a poet, but I've been scribbling poetry since high school, mostly while hiding in dark corners of the Shop-Rite supermarket where I worked or other such venues. Occasionally  I'd write something nice, but most of the early stuff was like a Hallmakesque bad trip, mahn.

Later it got better. Recently, it's more like haiku format, but without the strict defining form of haiku as originally penned--though sometimes I get it right. I've also written a fair number of Twitter-related poems bound by the 140-character limit. Writing using twitter is actually a neat exercise in minimizing your style, that is, distilling down your words to get the maximum meaning from your rambling nonsense. Later, you can add back in the nonsense if you desire. I've found it quite useful. You should give it a try. It's like what the NASA scientists must do to anything sent in space: How much can we put in this tiny space to get the maximum results? Even if you're writing a flowing literary fiction piece about the affect a sneeze had on the love life of a rich woman's downfall from grace to poverty and ultimate rise at the cost of the downfall of her lover who dies of syphilis from an angry short-lived affair with his aunt after she was raped by aforementioned woman's father who had relapsed from his opium addiction and was out of his mind, (breath) tightening is the number one rule of good writing. (You would have thought that I would have tightened that sentence for you. Where would the irony have gone?)

Back to the main point: uncomfortable poetry lies at both ends of the spectrum. gushy love poetry from day's of yore:

Love
-----
Love comes in different ways,
and to most of God's creatures
on unexpected days.

Or, to the really weird stuff that enters the head and needs to be purged least you go insane thinking, where did that come from?:

Jeffrey Dahmer's Cat
-----
I found myself up on a hill
where I caught a little chill
I went hunting for a thrill.
Shot a cat. Kill, kill, kill, kill.

Both extremes will be in the poetry book, POEMS FOR PLATYPUS. Readers will have to decide whether to befriend or run away from me. But in either case, do so efficiently.