Tempting the Wizard

White Night
Jim Butcher

Ah, Harry Dresden. You never fail to make me laugh. Nor make my heart palpitate everytime you go into battle. The life of a wizard is never easy. I mean, it never gets easier as the books in the series pile up.

Today I wrap up my Readers Imbibing Peril V Reading Challenge with Harry Dresden. While I have failed to post a couple or so other titles in the past two or so weeks I barely posted (because eh, life gets in the way of blogging) I'd like to end the challenge laughing. Because Harry Dresden always make me laugh. Heck, even if I finished this book early this month. Way earlier than my previous post about Edgar Allan Poe.

To those who have yet to pick this series, a word of caution: this is the ninth book already. Whatever summary I may (or may not) include here, some parts obviously happened in the span of the eight previous books, in bits and pieces, in one form or another. I'll try not to spoil newbie Dresden readers and yet that's quite a daunting task considering the history of the eight books. The operative word is try.

This we already know: Harry Dresden is the only wizard advertising himself as such in Chicago. His abilities are tapped by the Chicago Police Department through Special Investigations, particularly Sergeant Karrin Murphy, when crimes appear out of this world (and I don't mean that in the X Files sense). The previous books dealt with the rapport between the wizard and the doubting policewoman but in this ninth book, Harry and Karrin are not just working together but are good friends. They trust each other.

The story starts with an apparent suicide and with Harry's trained eye he discovered that the supposed suicide is actually an attack by an adept magical being. Unearthing other apparent suicides from police files, Harry and Karrin realized that a magical serial killer is on the loose, out to get minor practitioners of witchcraft. In protecting the coven in Chicago, Harry now has to work with his first love, Elaine Mallory, to prevent further bloodshed. But Harry has another problem; the murders point to Thomas, a vampire of the White Court and well, Harry's brother, who hasn't been talking to him since leaving Harry's apartment to live on his own.

And if the vampire of the White Court is involved, are the killings part of the bigger war currently ongoing between the Red Court Vampires and that of the White Council?

Plus, Johnnie Marcone is here again. Mafia boss of Chicago. Lovely.

Oh but really, that's not all. But why would I deny you guys the pleasure of discovering for yourselves what Harry is up to?

As a big fan of the series it's quite easy for me to say go out and read this because it's sure to take you somewhere fun and exciting and all that magical, fantastical stuff that comes out of urban fantasy titles such as this one. But what I like best about the Dresden Files is that it never gets boring. While the story takes on darker turns as each book is done, and while Harry is continuously tested in each one of them, he remains to be that wizard with his heart in the right place, struggling yes, but never giving up the good fight. Yikes, that sounds so cliche. But true, too. I've read nine books so far (and starting on the tenth, but that's on pause since I left my copy in the metro a couple of weeks ago) and in those nine books I imagined and understood his struggle and yet I believed in him. A belief born of his experiences - from fighting his mentor, to being doubted continuously by the Council he still believes in, for disappointments, broken hearts and a taste of vengeance - he has matured yes, but remains the same Harry Dresden I met from the first book. Which is saying a lot for a book I read knowing that I'll spend my reading time laughing at Harry and his one-liners, or Mouse or whatever. It's like pop music; enjoyable, sweet, strikes you at the right chord and yet you know you can't go on listening to pop music all your life, particularly if you love rock. At least in my case. Hahaha.

It never gets boring and yet it remains wickedly fun to read. I say wicked because heck, Harry gets into more scrapes and stuff as each book progresses I'm starting to think he'd die in the last book of this series. But let's not go there yet. I'm sure Mr. Butcher still has a lot in store for Harry and let's hope death isn't one of them. Yet. Wickedly fun because in spite of the scrapes, bruises and other stuff that goes with reading the series, the story still matters. And that's why I like Butcher's ability to tie things together, neatly, with a bow even, at the end of each installment in the greater scheme of things. Even if it means going back to previous events. I need to remind myself sometimes to draft all the characters I've encountered so far from the first book on to be reminded of what already transpired, what Harry has encountered so far. Because those stuff are important in their own little way. Yes, even in the books I found less appealing compared to others. That after solving the required crime that occurred.

So there. Obviously I love the guy. I love Murphy too, as a good friend and foil to this wizard. I think the collection of Harry Dresden short stories has been released in the States already (it would take some time before it reaches Philippine shores). Which is ok, I still have the ten and eleventh book to look forward to. While I'd like to bide my time before I actually read them (or wait until the next installment of the series is released next year), I think I'd get back to Harry's world once I'm back in the metro.

Here are the links to my posts on The Dresden Files: Storm Front, Fool Moon, Grave Peril, Summer Knight, Death Masks, Blood Rites, Dead Beat, and Proven Guilty. Goodness, I feel like I've said the same things over and over for this post. Hahaha.

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This is my sixth novel for the Readers Imbibing Peril V and as I said previously, I'm wrapping up the challenge with this post. Here are the links to the previous books, stories and film that made the past two months perilously challenging for my not-quite-easy-to-scare brain:

The Strain by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan
SS: The Ladies of Grace Adieu by Susanna Clarke
SS: On Lickerish Hill by Susanna Clarke
The Passage by Justin Cronin
Film: Resident Evil:Extinction
We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson
The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler
SS from The Ladies of Grace Adieu and other stories by Susanna Clarke
The Beautiful Cigar Girl: Mary Rogers, Edgar Allan Poe, and the Invention of Murder by Daniel Stashower
White Night by Jim Butcher

I only read two books from the pile I initially posted (so maybe I'll post about them again next year, hahaha). I failed to post on the short stories of Joe Hill that I've read. That and a couple of Bradburys and H.P. Lovecraft. But that's ok. What's important is that I had a great time as always, reading about scary, scary books.

Hope all of you book blogging friends had a happy Halloween! Or at least gave a scary book (as the wonderful Neil Gaiman suggested)! Maybe next year we could add that to the RIP Challenge?

Death Most Foul!

I first encountered Edgar Allan Poe way back in my teens. That's some time ago. Yes, I'm old. I mean not that old. I still have a bit of spring to my steps and can pass for someone younger than my actual age but yes, I'm old. Adult. Yikes. But I digress.

Before the encounter I knew of this great writer. Who hasn't heard The Raven, or at least the attribution that he wrote The Raven even if you've yet to read the actual poem? Back then I was a fan of mysteries and suspense, spy stuff and well, romance. But when I got my hands on Edgar Allan Poe my world changed. Oh wait, that's too darn dramatic. But yes, I was captivated. To this day the only poem I can probably recall by memory is Alone. If you know me personally you'd probably assume a Shakespeare sonnet or even e.e.cummings or maybe none at all (as I can never write a poem). But no. While I can recite certain passages of The Bard's work, in the end, years later, it is the poem Alone I adore with all my heart. It held me in thrall. I can forget about the raven's "Nevermore" or the cask of that great drink. But I loved Alone then and it hasn't changed up to now.

Other than Alone and the resonance of the story The Tell-Tale Heart plus a handful of poems, not much however remained with that brief fling with Poe years back. I can barely recall most of them now.

So when I chanced upon this book I knew I had to read it. He died broke. He was an alcoholic. Other than that I'd like to know more about him, about the man that inspired someone going to his grave on his birthday dressed in black, leaving a fine bottle of cognac and three red roses. Oh and yes, the murder angle hooked me in, not so much for the crime but for the manner the author, Daniel Stashower used it for the tag line: Mary Rogers, Edgar Allan Poe and the Invention of Murder. I liked that tag. Invention of murder. Sinister.

The Beautiful Cigar Girl: Mary Rogers, Edgar Allan Poe, and the Invention of Murder
Daniel Stashower

One hundred sixty-nine years ago, the body of Mary Rogers was found floating out to sea a couple of days after being reported as missing by her fiance. Mary Rogers was a popular figure in New York. She used to be the cigarette vendor in Anderson's Tobacco Emporium. Her beauty captivated the adoring customers, inspired poems, pictures, stories. Even when she left the employ of Mr. Anderson to help her mother manage their boarding house, she retained her popularity. So the whole of New York City became aghast when her bloated body was finally discovered; bruised, and for all appearances brutally violated then murdered afterwards. The mystery of her death became fodder for journalists in the city, not to mention writers who cashed in on the story.

With this crime, Stashower circled back to the life of Mr. Poe and how he came to write The Mystery of Marie Roget, a short story based on newspaper accounts of Mary Roger's death. Of course I'm making it appear simple. Reading Mr. Poe's life isn't a simple task. And Mary Roger's death remains a mystery to this day.

There's something about the past that surprises me. Reading about Mary Rogers and the way the media handled her death is an eye-opener. I mean, some headlines nowadays are nothing compared to the vileness of some of the news reports back then. Talk about the creation of a sensationalist media! More than a hundred years ago at that! Of course I recognize that the search for the killer or killers was paramount. But the calculated manner by which some newspaper editors write, rather invent their scoops is shocking to say the least. Then again, if you aim to sensationalize then shock value is the way to go about it. [Aside: I wanted to be a journalist way back but the part of me that negated this want is strong - I do not want to encroach on other people's privacy. It's an almost-dream I knew I had to give up. I don't have it in me to ask questions to people who would rather stay quiet. I don't see myself running after people, asking questions they'd rather evade. Which is probably a no-no in a world where getting the next scoop is paramount to one's survival in the business. I know it's part of the search for the truth, but I'd rather do it in another way, the search for truth I mean. Like in the courtroom. Or research. Then again, research would lead to expose that would lead to people-chasing in the future. Ah, life.]

The crime aspect of the case is a compelling read. Who killed Mary Rogers? Later on in the book you'd revise that question to "What really happened to her?" in light of circumstances that materialised later on. True crime is always fascinating and I mean that in the technical sense because you see, it's never fascinating to the victims and their families. True crime is mostly a study of the perpetrators and the victims they pick. It's what makes procedurals popular on tv as well as in print. There is a certain danger involved, and crime-solving as well. In the case of Mary Rogers all left for us are plain conjectures. The crime has yet to be solved. The evidence aren't enough to point to a certain person or persons. Suspicions will remain as that. Maybe, to console ourselves, the ghost of Mary Rogers is still with us, looking for justice in a world that has forgotten her.

Hard as it is to go through the death of Miss Rogers, it is harder still to stomach the media. Reading about editors one-upping the others, of quarrels on moral grounds, of fabricated stories made me want to call them fiction writers instead of journalists! That or the half-truths. It's like they paved the way for the half-truths we read in the papers now. Well, it's not like truth can't be spun. That's why there are spin doctors out there.

To me, it was more difficult to read Poe's life. And death.

Poor Poe, both literally and figuratively. Never a popular guy to begin with. Couldn't hold his liquor. Depressed. With a brilliant mind. Temperamental. With a certain sense of entitlement. And yet I felt for him all throughout this book when it was all too easy to hate him. If there was a man who appeared to be always out of luck, it's him. Partly through his own fault. Or faults. He was never an upstanding young man (and I say that not to besmirch his reputation). Biographies would tell you the same things I mentioned above and more. And it's easy to surmise that if he was more of a doer and less of a complainer he would've flourished and gained success in his lifetime. But no. We cannot talk about the past in terms of what could've been. The past is the past. It's there and it cannot be changed. Poe can write and write well, yes. But Poe was never a good employee. His sense of entitlement prevented him from being humble. And yet you cannot help but wonder why this man, who could write a tale of cold rational observation from Daupin's eye, couldn't be a bit friendlier to help himself at least.

Plus, with short stories and poems, who could really tell? It's up to the reading audience. And his audience back then, while appreciative, were never as avid fans as those who adore him now.

Reading this book reminded me that I've read a lot more of Poe than I ever thought. But not enough still, considering his body of work. Then again, I've no plans of reading his entire collection. But I am more appreciative of him now, knowing what he had gone through and somehow finding a certain sense of affinity with him. I still can't help but be sad about him, particularly near his death when most people he considered as friends turned their backs on him. Understandable really, considering that he practically begged for his existence back then. If I was surprised back then when I learned that he was found in the gutter reeking of alcohol; reading how he lived his life and how he turned out made that earlier fact more tragic.

To this I say bravo to Mr. Stashower for seamlessly stitching the stories of the two enigmatic people together in one compelling, fascinating book. So ends my nonsensical ramblings.

This is my fifth novel for the Readers Imbibing Peril V Reading Challenge.

A Fairy for Your Thoughts

Gloomy, cloudy days are fun. Without a hint of sunshine, it's best to spend the day curled in bed wishing the normality of everyday routine is but an imagination. Sigh. If only. Still, breaks are welcome. Such as lunch. So let me ramble for a bit.

Today I go back to the perilous travels to the fae world of Susanna Clarke both by suspecting and unsuspecting humans. Or vice-versa. Then again, I don't think there's such a thing as unsuspecting fairies. I could be wrong though. I posted previously on the first two stories of this collection. It's time to do the rest of them.

All stories mentioned here are culled from The Ladies of Grace Adieu and other stories by the wonderful Susanna Clarke.

Mrs. Mabb is a story of love. Rather, of what love could do to a woman. Venetia falls for Captain Fox, a man apparently in love with her also. Until he met the wily Mrs. Mabb. And Mrs. Mabb isn't just another cougar on the prowl for younger men. Mrs. Mabb obviously is a fairy. And if we go by fairy hierarchy, Mab is the meanest queen of them all! Ooops, I'm sorry. I think I'm strangely influenced by the first part of Jim Butcher's Small Favor, where Mabb, the faerie queen of Winter, appears and comes to collect on Harry Dresden's debt. So yes, I picked up the tenth book of the series already. And put up that wallpaper of Harry Dresden on my PC. I think I'm in love with Harry Dresden. But I digress.

Let me go back to Mrs. Mabb. You see, crossing a fairy isn't a good thing. You don't know what you're up against. But I like this story a lot. Venetia is a woman in love. And crossing a woman is love is much worse that crossing a fairy, whether you're up there in the fairy hierarchy or way down below. Oh dear, is that a spoiler?

I read The Duke of Wellington Misplaces His Horse a few years ago. Neil Gaiman linked to it awhile back when the story was made available online. It's a story set in Wall, and the wall once breached by Tristran Thorn to capture a falling star in Stardust is once again crossed by the Duke of Wellington this time to eh, find his horse. And there he had to devise a means to escape this magical other side.

Mr. Simonelli or The Fairy Widower is by far the story with the most Austen-like feeling to it. I mean, I can't help but recall Pride and Prejudice while reading it. I can't help but laugh at certain circumstances that happened to Mr. Simonelli. It is an epistolary story. And it tells of Mr. Simonelli's unfortunate transfer in Derbyshire where he met with a certain John Hollyshoes. And he becomes embroiled in the search of a missing young mother not to mention five secret engagements with five beautiful siblings.

In Tom Brightwind or How the Fairy Bridge Was Built at Thoresby, I fell in love with the name Princess Lament-from-across-the-Water. Well, there's not much to the character, really. But I love the name. I mean, it's way better than Princess Kiss-upon-a-True-Love's-Grave which sounds so morbid. Or Princess Bird-in-the-Hand which sounds more like an occupation. That or it's quite tiring to imagine. Haha. Thing is, the princesses aren't the focal point of the story. It's more like a story on how fairies are, of how literal they can be, of how they live, at least for that small part we are briefly allowed to glimpse with their friendships with humans.

Antickes and Frets feels more of a witch's story and not of the fae. And it deals with real-life characters I am not familiar with in the sense that I'm not English, I didn't study English history and the apparent quarrel between the Elizabeth, Queen of England and Mary, the Queen of Scots is lost on me. I mean, the historical background. But this historical fiction is inventive, evil and judicious. Scary if you're on the receiving end of a curse.

The last story, John Uskglass and the Cumbrian Charcoal Burner, is about the Raven King. Maybe I shouldn't say that, he might hear me and rain curses if I told the rest of the world I pretty much adored the fact that a Charcoal Burner can be a match against this powerful faerie King. And why would a faerie king go up against a lowly charcoal burner? Thing is, he didn't have to. Oh dear. At least I realized this; you can be a great, powerful faerie king but you certainly have no match to judicious gods out there. Definitely a fitting end to the collection as it made me laugh like hell.

Did I just say laugh? To think I'm posting about six other stories meant for RIP V Challenge? Yes indeed. Laughter, nervous or otherwise is a good response as any to fear. In the six remaining stories of the collection there is always that element of danger, of peril to the characters involved; be it Venetia trespassing on Mrs. Mabb's territory, Mr. Simonelli trying to rescue Dido, the Queen of Scots wishing evil on her sister or of the Duke wanting to get out of the other side of the Wall, preferably in one piece. There's danger but there's laughter too, because in some instances you can't help but laugh. Comedy of manners plus peril. Comeuppance. Justice. Oh and while we see or feel sinister beings lurking in the vicinity, the right attitude not to mention preparedness is a good thing to have. At least the stories aren't exactly horror. With horror, even preparedness won't save you from the hand of the Reaper. Horror mocks your preparedness, actually.

The lovely drawings of Charles Vess are divine. As always.

I will certainly cherish this collection of stories. Well-written, well-imagined and so properly told, even if some of the characters are misbehaving! Again, it made me want to reread Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. I'd love to pick that up again and revisit the realm of the Raven King. I'd like to read that part where Arabella walked back to Jonathan's life via the mirror. I'm remembering things correctly, right? Sometime soon. Hopefully.

If you feel that the world you live in is drab and boring, pick this up and take a glimpse of the other side. You might like it there or you might find yourself scared. Either way, it's good exercise, mental or otherwise.

A Good Man

The Big Sleep
Raymond Chandler

It feels like summer here in the Philippines when it should be rainy, at the very least. There's a typhoon up north but the sun is shining brightly here in the metro. So there's nothing like the sunny weather to talk about Philip Marlowe, right? He who lives in the sun-baked streets of California. Oh well, forced but hopefully worth it this sunny Sunday afternoon.

I already pledged my undying affection to Philip Marlowe, Raymond Chandler's detective in his hardboiled crime stories. I have been waiting to get my hands on the first book, given that I started reading Chandler's stories with the penultimate book in the Marlowe series and followed it up with the final one. Which isn't a good thing, really. Broke my heart and all that. So now I'm ready to meet Marlowe like it's the first time.

It was about eleven o'clock in the morning, mid October, with the sun not shining and a look of hard wet rain in the clearness of the foothills. I was wearing my powder-blue suit, with dark blue shirt, tie and display handkerchief, black brogues, black wool socks with dark blue clocks on them. I was neat, clean, shaved and sober, and I didn’t care who knew it. I was everything the well-dressed private detective ought to be. I was calling on four million dollars.

It starts with a new job for our dapper detective. An oil tycoon, retired General Sternwood asked Marlowe to look into a blackmailing attempt by an antique book dealer which involves Sternwood's daughter, Carmen. Marlowe's visit with the ailing, old man prompted the elder daughter Vivian to inquire whether or not his father wanted to find Vivian's husband, who disappeared and presumably ran off with somebody else's wife. Citing confidentiality, Marlowe rebuffed Vivian's questions. And it's not only Vivian that Marlowe will end up rebuffing by the novel's end.

It's a crime story so let's just say that it's enough to tease you who haven't read it with that. There's more than one blackmail, there's more than one dead body in the mix, and leave it to Marlowe to find those who disappeared, in the end. I mean, as far as crime stories go, you actually read it to get to the resolution, right? And there's that and more. It wouldn't be a crime novel without resolution, at least that much you expect in detective stories. Otherwise, you'd end up with a half-baked detective. And Marlowe is fully whole.

Those who love Marlowe to death, me included, find him different. Classy. Edgy. He gets the job done, for sure, and gets into all sorts of scrapes and bruises while doing it. I like his loyalty to his clients. I like his integrity. And he gets to kiss pretty ladies in the process. Or throw demented ones out:

She called me a filthy name.

I didn't mind that. I didn't mind what she called me, what anybody called me. But this was the room I had to live in. It was all I had in the way of a home. In it was everything that was mine, that had any association for me, any past, anything that took the place of a family. Not much; a few books, pictures, radio, chessmen, old letters, stuff like that. Nothing. Such as they were they had all my memories.

I couldn't stand her in that room any longer. What she called me only reminded me of that.

I said carefully: "I'll give you three minutes to get dressed and out of here. If you're not out by then, I'll throw you out — by force. Just the way you are, naked. And I'll throw your clothes after you into the hall. Now — get started."

I wasn't expecting to meet Marlowe that way, though. As far as first books go I think I got used to being introduced to characters at their fledgling selves. But here, Marlowe is Marlowe already: a detective with a good reputation. No mention whatsoever about his past, about why he's alone, why he's that way. I'm not saying it's a bad thing and I'm not complaining either. It just wasn't what I expected given that in The Long Goodbye and in Playback, there is a certain continuity of the story. So it was reasonable for me to hope for a backstory somewhat, at least of earlier experiences that made him the way that he was in the last two books. But eventually I'm left with a simple backstory: Marlowe is a detective and that's that. Well, at least it saves me the time hunting instances and psychoanalyzing him in the process. Kidding.

I still consider The Long Goodbye as my favorite Marlowe story after having read this. Maybe because I met him at his most grittiest self by then. But it was nice meeting a sort of younger Marlowe. A Marlowe that showed the toughness of the later stories. A Marlowe with the wits in him to understand that the case before him is not what it seems. I see why fans of the crime novel adore him to bits. I want more Marlowe! I want the rest of the novels! That way I could reread The Long Goodbye with all the backstory in place.

This perilous ride through the streets of Marlowe's crime-laden world is my fourth book for Carl's Readers Imbibing Peril V Challenge.

One line in the book baffles me though:

I said harshly: "Cute as a Filipino on Saturday night."

Now, what did Marlowe mean by that? [Frowns disapprovingly]

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An interesting fact I discovered just now. I clicked on Poodle Springs in the Wikipedia article on Raymond Chandler I linked to above and found out that the last Philip Marlowe novel is not Playback. Technically, Playback is the last complete novel that Chandler wrote. Poodle Springs was posthumously published, using the first four chapters of Chandler's then-unfinished Marlowe novel with a working title of "The Poodle Springs Story." Any Marlowe fan here who has read that? Is it any good? And I mean that in the sense of "Does it feel like it's a Philip Marlowe story?"

Reading Habits

I don't think I'm ready to write about the ninth book of the Dresden Files. It's not that I can't. I don't want to. Not yet. Because if I do I'd feel like I have to move on to the next book in the series. And the next. And after that, no more, until next year, I think. So I'll hold off on that one, probably before I wrap up this year's RIP V Challenge.

Instead I'm doing a meme, which is something I haven't done in a long time. I picked this up from Sumthinblue of Bookmarked. The meme is called Reading Habits and posted for Filipino Friday for Filipino Book Bloggers.

I'm taking Filipino time to the extreme by posting my meme on a Saturday, hahaha.

1. Do you snack while you read? If so, what are your favourite reading snacks?

No, I don't. I don't like the idea of crumbs getting into my books. Crumbs or stuff. Goodness, I can't imagine gravy or any kind of sauce staining the pages of my books! I just read when I read. That or the occasional background music. But since I have this tendency to focus my attention on what I am reading, the rest falls away. Or something to that effect.

2. What is your favourite drink while reading?

Water.

3. Do you tend to mark your books as you read, or does the idea of writing in books horrify you?

It depends on the book and whether or not I have a pen near me while I'm reading. But yes, I mark books. I highlight lines I find interesting (though now I stopped using Dermatograph on fiction since it's practically crayon which has a tendency to smear the next page with waxy substance). Sometimes I correct them, you know the occasional misspelled words or something. Hahaha. Marking for a reason does not horrify me one bit. Defacing a book is another story altogether. Though for some people the two are the same thing. Rather, marking is but one aspect of defacing, or something to that effect. Then again, to each his/her own.

4. How do you keep your place while reading a book? Bookmark? Dog-ears? Laying the book flat open?

Bookmarks (actual or otherwise) or dog-ears would do and that's fine by me. I remember that in reading Fire and Hemlock by DWJ awhile back, laying a book flat open is a no-no. So I try to stop doing that. If I have no choice I lay them angled instead, to support the spine still and not break it, which happens when you lay a book flat.

5. Fiction, non-fiction, or both?

I read everything, so both and then some.

6. Are you a person who tends to read to the end of a chapter, or can you stop anywhere?

I can stop anywhere though most of the times I'd like to stop when there's a certain break in the story as well, be it a chapter ending (and goodness, chapters are arbitrary since it's not a constant measurement) or just a paragraph break.

7. Are you the type of person to throw a book across the room or on the floor if the author irritates you?

I'm the type who contemplates about it but restrains at the last minute. And then I'd vent my feelings on the author here, sparing the book the agony of being thrown.

8. If you come across an unfamiliar word, do you stop and look it up right away?

No as I try to take words in context first. But yes, I do check word meanings when I can. I have my very old Webster dictionary at my bedside pile. However, if the word is not there and I'm comfortably tucked in bed, reading, I usually just wait until I could look the word up online after.

9. What are you currently reading?

Tender Morsels by Margo Lanagan

10. What is the last book you bought?

Tender Morsels by Margo Lanagan

11. Are you the type of person that reads one book at a time, or can you read more than one?

I usually read more than one. I'm quite used to reading more than one book at a time. Particularly before I sleep when I juggle between paragraphs of two or three books just to find that sweet spot where I'd either read on or eh, sleep.

12. Do you have a favourite time/place to read?

I'm most comfortable reading in bed before sleeping.

13. Do you prefer series books or stand-alones?

Either. I'm after good stories whether they are stand-alones or in a series.

14. Is there a specific book or author you find yourself recommending over and over?

No. I usually talk about authors and/or books I love here. Dealing with people asking for book recommendations would depend on the person I'm talking with as I try to gauge their reading taste when I recommend something. It's a bit snobbish, I know, but gee, I wouldn't recommend a totally hilarious book say like Plato and a Platypus Walks Into A Bar to someone who considers the Twilight series as the best books ever written. Or maybe I would. But odds are against that someone picking it up and thoroughly enjoying it as I did or even more so.

15. How do you organize your books? (by genre, title, author’s last name, etc.)

Oh, the sad thing is that I don't have a system. You see, I don't have the shelves to organize all my books. Hence my bedside pile. And then there's that modular kitchen contraption I actually use as a book shelf here in the metro for books I've yet to read. In my room at home I have boxes and boxes of my favorite books I've read, each wrapped in plastic, piled one on top of another, inside my closet. I do have one tall bookshelf and it houses my Murakami collection, lots of paperbacks and some hardbacks I haven't the time to read yet. And then there's my study table where my comicbooks are enshrined, a handful of Pratchetts, Gaimans, and my Michael Stipe-signed book of R.E.M. pictures by David Belisle. Yes, enshrined is the proper term. You'd even think that when you see it.

What are your reading habits?

Sweet Poison

We Have Always Lived in the Castle
Shirley Jackson

The last thing I want to do now is to actually discuss the book. Discussing it would diminish everything that I have felt while going through the pages in Merricat's voice. Merricat. Mary Katherine Blackwood. I met her before, you see. When I first got this book a couple of years ago, the cover flap inside introduced me to her: My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had. I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides, the death-cup mushroom. Everyone else in my family is dead.

And I left it at that. There's more to read at the back cover flap. Plus the drawings of both the mushroom and the spider. But dear readers, I'm not going into it. The last thing you need to read is another person's take on the plot that can very well reveal everything about the story. I let it sit in my shelves for quite sometime and waited until I felt myself ready to pick it up. I'm weird that way. There are books I could pick up any time of the day and read it without any ounce of preparation. And then there are books I bide my time with, allowing myself to be prepared with its onslaught, so to speak. I did that with a lot of books. The Book Thief comes to mind as the last book prior to this one. I let that hang for more than two years or so and I only picked it up last August. Gee, I haven't even posted about it. I'm not even close to trying.

Is this book good? Indeed. You'd think it's such a short book but it's not. It isn't thick compared to other books I once pictured on my bedside pile. The words inside are densely packed in single-spaced goodness. It's like the words themselves, viewed from arms length, are claustrophobically enclosed in the pages, like sardines in a can.

The one last thing you need to read, especially if your version of the book is like mine, is the introduction by Jonathan Lethem. Don't get me wrong, I adore Jonathan Lethem. I just detest introductions. Rather, I detest reading introductions when I'm not familiar with the book yet. Introductions are full of spoilers you don't want to read. And it's a good thing that I have this personal rule when reading a book with introductions in them: I ignore them completely and merely read it after I'm done with the story, if I feel like reading them at all. I think I share this same personal rule with other book blogging friends I met through the years. Introductions = Spoilers. And I'm emphasizing it now since this book is Chris's pick for his readalong and the discussion will come up sometime November. It's best to be surprised by the story, any story for that matter. Unless of course you're the faint of heart type and can't be bothered by stuff that is sinister or shocking.

So what am I left to discuss? Thomas Ott.

He created the gorgeous cover of this book which you should see in its entirety. This is the perfect cover of the book. That cover alone is enough to induce fear in the hearts of puny men and women. And yet you look at the two central figure, particularly the girl holding the cat, and realized she's unperturbed while the other hides behind her, afraid. If you're like me you'd take in the expressions of every single one of them: the cheering guy at the back cover, the scowling man beside him, the woman with the headband with a sad frown, the little boy with his tongue stuck out, a hand with a bat raised high. There's more. I picked this book up a lot just to look at that cover. And I spent some time going over it again and again after I read the story.

That cover is enough to place this book as a perfect fit for Carl's RIP V Challenge. This is my third book which actually came from the pool I picked for this year. Hahaha.

Read this, you won't be sorry.

Defying Gravity

The Light Princess
George Macdonald
With illustrations by Maurice Sendak

Once upon a time there was a king and queen in a faraway land who had no children yet. But after years of waiting, the queen finally conceived and the kingdom was blessed with the birth of a little baby girl. The king was ecstatic and invited all the important people for the christening. But we need a curve ball to the story so he forgot to invite his sister, Princess Makemnoit, who took it upon herself to go to the affair. And obviously curse the little princess as well.

This is but a short fairy tale about a princess who defies gravity, literally. And the adults around her trying to find the solution to her problem. And then there's a prince in need of a wife. Princess plus prince equals possible match? Yes since it is a fairy tale. But how do you solve the problem of gravity, not to mention the fact that the princess appears, for all intents and purposes, silly? Then again, that's just me. Hahaha.

I like the description of Princess Makemnoit best. Talk about labeling villains, not to mention the possible discussions to be made with the general assumptions based on her description:

She was a sour, spiteful creature. The wrinkles of contempt crossed the wrinkles of peevishness, and made her face as full of wrinkles as a pat of butter. If ever a king could be justified in forgetting anybody, this king was justified in forgetting his sister, even at a christening. She looked very odd, too. Her forehead was as large as the rest of her face, and projected over it like a precipice. When she was angry, her little eyes flashed blue. When she hated anybody, they shone yellow and green. What they looked like when she loved anybody, I do not know; for I never heard of her loving anybody but herself, and I do not think she could have managed that if she had not somehow got used to herself. But what made it highly imprudent in the king to forget her was - she was awfully clever. In fact, she was a witch; and when she bewitched anybody, he very soon had enough of it; for she beat all wicked fairies in their wickedness, and all clever ones in cleverness. She despised all the modes we read of in history, in which offended fairies and witches have taken their revenges; and therefore, after waiting and waiting in vain for an invitation, she made up her mind at last to go without one, and make the whole family miserable, like a princess as she was.

With the story slightly taking jabs at my college major and with very good use of word play in just about a hundred pages (exclusive of the lovely drawings by Maurice Sendak), this is a good sort of story to take me out of my reading slump one rainy evening. Yes, it took me off my sudoku-before-sleep addiction. And I don't know if that's a good thing. Hahaha.

Short and sweet like your usual fairy tales made all the more lovely by the illustrations. I actually wanted to read other Sendak books because of this. Yes, for a book addict, I haven't read a Sendak book yet. Stop screaming at me, I know.

And I think my brain is floating as well and cannot churn out other thoughts for now.

Clanker or Beastie?

Leviathan
Scott Westerfeld
With illustrations by Keith Thompson

Today's the first day of my favorite month of the year. It's also the month of release of Behemoth. It's probably fitting that I post about Leviathan today. Or not.

I'm probably the last book blogger out there to have read Leviathan. I have an excuse actually, which may sound lame by Scott Westerfeld-fangirl standards. You see I waited for the paperback copy. I never had a hardbound Westerfeld so why deviate from my norm, right? Lame, I know. That doesn't make me less of a fangirl anyway. And yes, while I've seen glowing posts on the book about a year back, I never got into the meat of book reviews then as I wanted to be surprised by the entire thing.

I was easily taken in by the entire Clanker versus Beastie story. So taken in by the introductions of Alek and Deryn that I found myself wishing for a Huxley or goodness, a semblance of sword fight lessons. Kidding. I was on Deryn's early pages into the book when I felt this sudden gush of emotions remembering the intricacies of the Uglies series, the tridecalogisms of the Midnighters, and even the creepy feeling left by Peeps that I just had to tweet the author "I love you, Scott Westerfeld. Seriously." sixty-six pages into this book. Excuse me for being a fangirl.

To those who lived under a rock and quite simply surfed their way into this post upon emerging from it, here's a brief background on Leviathan. It's a story about an alternate past. Alternate. Past. Let that sink in first. It's 1914 and Europe is on a brink of war. A different Europe. The English forces have huge, scientifically-engineered animals as both weapons and ships, hence the term Beasties. Other parts of Europe, say the Austria-Hungarian empire (where Alek is an heir to the throne) have machines as weapons, hence, Clankers, far advanced that what we now have. And that's just the view from the top.

If we go by characters, we meet Alek first. The son of the recently assassinated Archduke and his wife, he goes on hiding with the loyal followers of his father and plans to escape to a neutral territory to avoid assassins out to eliminate him from the royal succession. As far as spoiled heirs go, Alek is a natural, and I say that lovingly. And the escape from bloodthirsty warmongers is enough to prod the boy into taking a serious look into the politics of war. Grieving for his parents' death must come later.

And then there's Deryn. In this alternate past not much has changed when it comes to women. Deryn has to pretend to be a boy in order to be allowed into the British Air Service. And once in, she has to maintain her disguise lest she be tried for treason. So for the better part of the book, her shipmates call her Dylan. It's funny when she thinks "What would a boy do?" in situations she finds herself in.

Uh yeah, what about the title of the book? Leviathan you see is the name of the ship, err animal, uh a genetically engineered animal that is also a flying ship. If that's not enough to whet your steampunk appetite, I don't know what else to tell you. Then again, your steampunk appetite should've been whetted by the idea of Clankers alone!

Now that I'm done with the book (I finished this late August, I think), here's what I have to say:

I still love you, Scott Westerfeld!

Hahaha!

I don't think the man could write something that I'd hate.

Which somehow makes this post biased. Then so be it.

It's a great story anchored on facts that may be familiar to those who took up the intricacies of the first World War. Seamlessly integrating a well-imagined, futuristic science into the story is simply precious! I imagine what's it like flying a Huxley. I love those animals featured here and I want more Beasties! Though in real life I'd probably be scared to death of them. And Westerfeld's notes at the end are helpful. I didn't know that thylacines are real animals. Then again, there are lots of things I didn't know about the past.

The whole Clankers versus Beastie thing doesn't make for the great story. It's a great element alright but what makes this story great are the twisting plots that make your heart skip beats and characters you actually root for. Alek, despite his initial spoiled self is redeemed right in front of our eyes. Deryn's heroic acts all throughout. Dr. Barlow's mysterious eggs. The talking lizards. I mean, uh they don't exactly converse with you but hey, it was fun to read. The supporting casts. And the war.

It's never easy reading about wars in general. This book is no different. You keep reminding yourself it's alternate fiction. You agree on the idea of "villain" easily, since labeling means less emotional attachment. For now there are no specific villains but forces of a country hell bent on eliminating Alek. And it's but natural to root for Alek's safety. The rest has yet to unfold.

And a shout out to the lovely, lovely art of Keith Thompson. The drawings are precious! And gee, one of the Clanker weapons reminded me of the evil robot thingy in Will Smith's movie Wild, Wild West. Hahaha.

Oh yes, this book is the first part of a series. Didn't I tell you that earlier? The second book will be released a day before my birthday. I guess I'll wait another year for the paperback copy.

If there's one thing I hate about my paperback copy it's this: I hate the cover. No, I don't mean the actual cover which is great. But the paperback cover actually curls up like a flyaway hair and does not stay put unless you put other books on top of it. Tsk tsk tsk. So yes, being practical means having to make do with cover paper that doesn't stay in place.