And the Survey Says .... (with apologies to Richard Dawson)

An Opening Act of Unspeakable Evil

Jim Munroe

No Media Kings

Okay, blog readers, I gotta know ... would it bug you if I wrote about you on this blog? I know that I've already made some specific references to friends and family in these posts, but I haven't really spilled anything juicy. My mind has been occupied lately with thoughts about the collision of public and private space, where the boundaries are, and what rules can be applied to private thoughts in a public forum. More significantly, what are the moral implications of me writing about all of you without your permission? Hmmmm ....

Funnily enough, the heroine of this week's novel is facing the same dilemma. Kate registers a website (roommatefromhell.com) and dishes on the comings and goings of her ritual chanting, pentagram drawing housemate. A recovering yuppie, Kate is so fascinated by Lilith's otherworldliness that she asks her to perform her ritual as a performance piece at a gallery opening. The show goes so well that the two girls decide to take the act on the road and while on tour, they eventually evolve into the opening act for a rock band called the Everenders.

Part bildungsroman, part blog, An Opening Act of Unspeakable Evil is chock-a-block full of ideas that make a reader pause and think. Where is the line between private and public? What "qualifies" as Outsider Art? Can you ever really trust a narrator? What does it mean when life imitates art? I like books that make me ask a lot of questions. I'm going to give this one 2.5 stars out of 5.

My Boyfriend’s Back

Black Order
James Rollins
Harper

So, for those of you who are following along, I’ve got good news. My boyfriend’s back. That’s right, Grayson Pierce and I hooked up in Copenhagen this past weekend and I have to say, he was as, uh, enigmatic and energetic as ever.

This time, Gray managed to suck me into some kind of post-Nazi Übermensch drama. We originally went to Denmark to attend an auction (I had my eye on a Bible that once belonged to Charles Darwin) and all of a sudden, the bookshop that we were exploring went up in flames. Not that I’m complaining, my boy has skills, but I’m kinda getting tired of being shot at when I’m in his company. Maybe I should rethink this relationship.

Anyway, after a narrow escape, he whisked me away on a private jet to South Africa where we came face-to-face with a creepy Himmler type who had used his millions to fund his own gene modification/evolution project. Of course, Grayson blamed it all on me and my interest in that darn Bible. Apparently someone had hidden a clue in the book and our Himmler friend needed it to solve the riddle of his evolution device. Sounds complicated, right? Good thing Grayson has brains as well as looks …

Much like our first encounter, time spent with the boy was, well, curiously satisfying. I wonder where he’ll take me on our next date. Forget where … I’m even wondering when the next one will be. I have to say, dating an international man of mystery certainly has its disadvantages. The sex is quite good though. I’d say he gets a four out of five. There’s always room for improvement.

Crap Alert - Boys, Please Skip this Post

The Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever

Julia Quinn

Harper Collins

There has been a LOT of stuff going on in my personal life lately and I've been in a pissy mood as a result. After the ritualized torture of a session with my personal trainer this weekend, I wandered (okay, limped) over to the bookstore to see what I could find to improve my mood. Bad idea. Nothing spoke to me. I've blogged elsewhere about how books tend to choose me, but on Saturday morning, nothing or nobody was calling my name.

Since it is sacrilege to go away from my Happy Place empty-handed, I decided to try an old stand-by and I made my way over to the romance section. That's right, loyal readers, I picked up a Regency romance. The Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever follows the classic Regency formula:

• Girl meets boy and falls in love
• Boy is an entirely inappropriate choice
• Girl and boy end up hitting the sheets and girl's virtue is compromised
• Boy's honour forces them to marry
• Girl and boy have a falling out
• Boy and girl have an epiphany that they are destined to be together
• Girl and boy kiss and make up and live happily ever after in a manor house with a whack of children, some optional hunting dogs, and a lot of money

Why reading this crap cheers me up I have no idea. I think we'd probably have to pay a therapist a lot of money to figure it out. At any rate, Miss Miranda and her diaries held true to form. Maybe it's the comfort of the no-surprise ending. Maybe it's the old fashioned idea of a gentleman being bound by his honour. Maybe it's just the sex scenes (remember ... no boyfriend here.) Maybe it's the fact that when I dropped the novel in the tub when I was startled by the phone, I just didn't care. Whatever the reason, Miss Miranda didn't disappoint and helped me shed my gloomies. One pathetic star out of five.

Rainy Days and Sundays

The Day Watch

Sergei Lukyanenko

Anchor Canada

It's mid-afternoon Sunday and as I type this, I find myself seated in the lounge at the Island Airport waiting to catch a flight to Ottawa. I know it seems a little weird to be heading to Ottawa so early in the day, but it actually works out for me. You see ... I HATE Sundays. Absolutely detest them. I despise the feeling of dread that seems to linger like a black cloud over my day -- there's always so much to do; laundry, packing, running, friending, cleaning, writing -- and it all needs to get done before I head out on the road for another week. Traveling earlier the day means that when I get to where I'm going, I can actually relax and enjoy a few hours of solitude without the pressure of an unloaded dishwasher or an unmade phone call bringing me down. Between the lounge, the plane, and the time spent at the hotel, I tend to read a lot on Sundays and it is pretty much guilt free. Gotta like that.

Last week on the trip to Ottawa I started the next installment in the Night Watch series. I'll admit it -- I'm addicted. In this novel, there is less focus on Anton (although he is still a major character) and we are introduced more thoroughly to some of the Dark players in the game. What struck me in particular about this volume was Lukyanenko's use of setting to enhance/advance the story. After reading these books, I desperately want to go to Russia. Even in translation, he writes so effectively about place that Moscow seems to jump off the page. In some ways, it has a similar feel to the way Dumas describes Paris in The Three Musketeers.

If I had one criticism of the novel it would be the multiple story format. I'm not sure how these were originally published in the late 90s, but for the English editions, each book has a number of related tales that focus on different characters. Had I been the editor for the series, I might have been inclined to combine all of the stories into one bigger tale and identify different narrators for different "chapters". Some work would have had to be done to adjust the chronology, but it might have made the novel a little more consumable/interesting. Regardless, The Day Watch gets three point five werewolves out of five. Oh yeah, and for those of you who care ... the next novel, The Twilight Watch, has already been purchased. It's going to take me a few weeks to get to it though ... I need a break from my new friends. My boyfriend Grayson (remember him?) is getting jealous.

The Wanderer

Kiss the Sunset Pig

Laurie Gough

Penguin

Hmmm ... I think it's about time for another blog-inspired confession. Call me weird, but in addition to Joaquin Phoenix, fantasy novels, and CBC Radio One, I love road trips. Short ones, long ones -- it doesn't matter. Put me in a car, give me some sunshine, some tunes (and some junk food) and I am a very happy girl.

This past spring, some friends and I flew to San Francisco where we made our way to the coast and drove part of the PCH. At Cambria, we cut across the state and picked up Route 66 in Barstow. What a trip! Who knew the Mother Road could be so much fun? I kissed a wild burro in an old mining town, sat on a giant fibreglass jackrabbit somewhere in the desert, stood on the corner of Winslow, Arizona, and saw a million winking fireflies while jogging down a country road outside of Tulsa. Oh yeah ... we can't forget the evening spent getting ridiculously drunk at a biker bar named The Birdcage. Ah ... good times.

In Kiss the Sunset Pig, Laurie Gough, (a girl from Guelph) leaves her Canadian hometown to drive across America with the goal of finding herself (both spiritually and physically) in California. Along the way, she meets some friends, has some adventures and recalls earlier versions of herself that she discovered while traveling to other, more exotic, places in the world. The narrative is smart, funny, introspective, and not so personal that a reader can't relate. Her commentary on the differences between Canadians and Americans is particularly astute. Having spent a great deal of time south of the border, I don't buy into all of the stereotypes either. Three Steak and Shakes out of five.

The evil that men do lives after them;
the good is oft interred with their bones

Map of Bones
James Rollins
Avon

I met my latest boyfriend, Grayson Pierce, in transit. I was on my way home from Ottawa and he had been sent by the Vatican (and US special ops) to investigate a mysterious murder/theft from a cathedral in Germany. Our romance was fast-paced -- we hit five different countries in less than a week and it was mere hours after our chance encounter that I was up to my neck in spies, cults, cardinals and religious artifacts. I might have protested, but ... well, he was hot and it's not like I had anything better to do ...

Okay, so back to reality. Unfortunately for me, Grayson's not really my boyfriend. Sigh. I know -- you're completely stunned. He is, however, the lead character in Rollins' fast-paced, Ludlumesque thriller about an underground society that steals the bones of the three magi in an attempt to solve a centuries-old alchemical riddle. Throw in a bunch of murders, some special forces personal, corrupt church officials, and a psychotic grandma and you have a fairly brief (but accurate) synopsis of both plot and characterization.

I liked it. So much so, that I even recommended it to my dad. Map of Bones was a fine example of what I described earlier as True Grit Lit. If I am ever stuck in an airport without something to read, I won't think twice about picking up another Rollins' novel. Three shrouds of mystery out of five