Music Monday 13 (and 14)

Uh oh, unlucky number. Guess I'm going to have to write up two to make it okay again...

I know Christmas is actually over, but here are some (sort of) Christmas songs that I've been enjoying recently...

Winter Song by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson

What a combination! I never realized how similar their voices are before now, but it's really clear in this duet...Never one I would have put together, but I'm ohhh so glad they did! Perfect Christmas song if you don't want to be bombarded with cheesy lyrics and too many trumpets. Understated, elagant, sweet, sad - what more could you want?

And the second song: Walking in the Air cover, by the excellent Ryan Sheridan

Talk about contrast! Originally a song that made me cry every time I heard it, I can now listen to it in full and feel cool about it! Not to disrespect the brilliant vocals from The Snowman, but I think this version is really unique and again, brings a non-Christmassy element to a very Christmassy song - talk about a free pass for a guilty pleasure!

Hoping the music brightened up your day,

Allie

Nightshade, by Andrea Cremer - Excerpt

I keep nearly forgetting to track down excerpts for my reviews - usually I search for them before I write the review, since sometimes it's necessary to have a little teaser to go along with the book and make sure anyone reading gets what you mean....thankfully someone had thought to write up an excerpt and I didn't have to look very far for this one...

Here you go, a whole 2,035 words of wolfishness - the first chapter! You'll see what I mean about action from the very beginning...

I'd always welcomed war, but in battle my passion rose unbidden.

The bear’s roar filled my ears. Its hot breath assaulted my nostrils, fueling my bloodlust. Behind me I could hear the boy’s ragged gasp. The desperate sound made my nails dig into the earth. I snarled at the larger predator again, daring it to try to get past me.

What the hell am I doing?

I risked a glance at the boy and my pulse raced. His right hand pressed against the gashes in his thigh. Blood surged between his fingers, darkening his jeans until they looked streaked by black paint. Slashes in his shirt barely covered the red lacerations that marred his chest. A growl rose in my throat.

I crouched low, muscles tensed, ready to strike. The grizzly rose onto its hind legs. I held my ground.

Calla!

Bryn’s cry sounded in my mind. A lithe brown wolf darted from the forest and tore into the bear’s unguarded flank. The grizzly turned, landing on all fours. Spit flew from its mouth as it searched for the unseen attacker. But Bryn, lightning fast, dodged the bear’s lunge. With each swipe of the grizzly’s trunk-thick arms, she avoided its reach, always moving a split second faster than the bear. She seized her advantage, inflicting another taunting bite. When the bear’s back was turned, I leapt forward and ripped a chunk from its heel. The bear swung around to face me, its eyes rolling, filled with pain.

Bryn and I slunk along the ground, circling the huge animal. The bear’s blood made my mouth hot. My body tensed. We continued our ever-tightening dance. The bear’s eyes tracked us. I could smell its doubt, its rising fear. I let out a short, harsh bark and flashed my fangs. The grizzly snorted as it turned away and lumbered into the forest.

I raised my muzzle and howled in triumph. A moan brought me back to earth. The hiker stared at us, eyes wide. Curiosity pulled me toward him. I’d betrayed my masters, broken their laws. All for him.

Why?

My head dropped low and I tested the air. The hiker’s blood streamed over his skin and onto the ground, the sharp, coppery odor creating an intoxicating fog in my conscience. I fought the temptation to taste it.

Calla? Bryn’s alarm pulled my gaze from the fallen hiker.

Get out of here. I bared my teeth at the smaller wolf. She dropped low and bellied along the ground toward me. Then she raised her muzzle and licked the underside of my jaw.

What are you going to do? her blue eyes asked me.

She looked terrified. I wondered if she thought I’d kill the boy for my own pleasure. Guilt and shame trickled through my veins.

Bryn, you can’t be here. Go. Now.

She whined but slunk away, slipping beneath the cover of pine trees.

I stalked toward the hiker. My ears flicked back and forth. He struggled for breath, pain and terror filling his face. Deep gashes remained where the grizzly’s claws had torn at his thigh and chest. Blood still flowed from the wounds. I knew it wouldn’t stop. I growled, frustrated by the fragility of his human body.

He was a boy who looked about my age: seventeen, maybe eighteen. Brown hair with a slight shimmer of gold fell in a mess around his face. Sweat had caked strands of it to his forehead and cheeks. He was lean, strong—someone who could find his way around a mountain, as he clearly had. This part of the territory was only accessible through a steep, unwelcoming trail.

The scent of fear covered him, taunting my predatory instincts, but beneath it lay something else—the smell of spring, of nascent leaves and thawing earth. A scent full of hope. Possibility. Subtle and tempting.

I took another step toward him. I knew what I wanted to do, but it would mean a second, much-greater violation of the Keepers’ Laws. He tried to move back but gasped in pain and collapsed onto his elbows. My eyes moved over his face. His chiseled jaw and high cheekbones twisted in agony. Even writhing he was beautiful, muscles clenching and unclenching, revealing his strength, his body’s fight against its impending collapse, rendering his torture sublime. Desire to help him consumed me.

I can’t watch him die.

I shifted forms before I realized I’d made the decision. The boy’s eyes widened when the white wolf who’d been eyeing him was no longer an animal, but a girl with the wolf’s golden eyes and platinum blond hair. I walked to his side and dropped to my knees. His entire body shook. I began to reach for him but hesitated, surprised to feel my own limbs trembling. I’d never been so afraid.

A rasping breath pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Who are you?” The boy stared at me. His eyes were the color of winter moss, a delicate shade that hovered between green and gray. I was caught there for a moment. Lost in the questions that pushed through his pain and into his gaze.

I raised the soft flesh of my inner forearm to my mouth. Willing my canines to sharpen, I bit down hard and waited until my own blood touched my tongue. Then I extended my arm toward him.

“Drink. It’s the only thing that can save you.” My voice was low but firm.

The trembling in his limbs grew more pronounced. He shook his head.

“You have to,” I growled, showing him canines still razor sharp from opening the wound in my arm. I hoped the memory of my wolf form would terrorize him into submission. But the look on his face wasn’t one of horror. The boy’s eyes were full of wonder. I blinked at him and fought to remain still. Blood ran along my arm, falling in crimson drops onto the leaf-lined soil.

His eyes snapped shut as he grimaced from a surge of renewed pain. I pressed my bleeding forearm against his parted lips. His touch was electric, searing my skin, racing through my blood. I bit back a gasp, full of wonder and fear at the alien sensations that rolled through my limbs.

He flinched, but my other arm whipped around his back, holding him still while my blood flowed into his mouth. Grasping him, pulling him close only made my blood run hotter.

I could tell he wanted to resist, but he had no strength left. A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. Even if my own body was reacting unpredictably, I knew I could control his. I shivered when his hands came up to grasp my arm, pressing into my skin. The hiker’s breath came easily now. Slow, steady.

An ache deep within me made my fingers tremble. I wanted to run them over his skin. To skim the healing wounds and learn the contours of his muscles.

I bit my lip, fighting temptation. Come on, Cal, you know better. This isn’t like you.

I pulled my arm from his grasp. A whimper of disappointment emerged from the boy’s throat. I didn’t know how to grapple with my own sense of loss now that I wasn’t touching him. Find your strength, use the wolf. That’s who you are.

With a warning growl I shook my head, ripping a length of fabric from the hiker’s torn shirt to bind up my own wound. His moss-colored eyes followed my every movement.

I scrambled to my feet and was startled when he mimicked the action, faltering only slightly. I frowned and took two steps back. He watched my retreat, then looked down at his ripped clothing. His fingers gingerly picked at the shreds of his shirt. When his eyes lifted to meet mine, I was hit with an unexpected swell of dizziness. His lips parted. I couldn’t stop looking at them. Full, curving with interest, lacking the terror I’d expected. Too many questions flickered in his gaze.

I have to get out of here. “You’ll be fine. Get off the mountain. Don’t come near this place again,” I said, turning away.

A shock sparked through my body when the boy gripped my shoulder. He looked surprised but not at all afraid. That wasn’t good. Heat flared along my skin where his fingers held me fast. I waited a moment too long, watching him, memorizing his features before I snarled and shrugged off his hand.

“Wait—” he said, and took another step toward me.

What if I could wait, putting my life on hold in this moment? What if I stole a little more time and caught a taste of what had been so long forbidden? Would it be so wrong? I would never see this stranger again. What harm could come from lingering here, from holding still and learning whether he would try to touch me the way I wanted to him to?

His scent told me my thoughts weren’t far off the mark, his skin snapping with adrenaline and the musk that belied desire. I’d let this encounter last much too long, stepped well beyond the line of safe conduct. With regret nipping at me, I balled my fist. My eyes moved up and down his body, assessing, remembering the feeling of his lips on my skin. He smiled hesitantly.

Enough.

I caught him across the jaw with a single blow. He dropped to the ground and didn’t move again. I bent down and gathered the boy in my arms, slinging his backpack over my shoulder. The scent of green meadows and dew-kissed tree limbs flowed around me, flooding me with that strange ache that coiled low in my body, a physical reminder of my brush with treachery. Twilight shadows stretched farther up the mountain, but I’d have him at the base by dusk.

A lone, battered pickup was parked near the rippling waterway that marked the boundary of the sacred site. Black signs with bright orange lettering were posted along the creek bank:

NO TRESPASSING. PRIVATE PROPERTY.

The Ford Ranger was unlocked. I flung open the door, almost pulling it from the rust-bitten vehicle. I draped the boy’s limp form across the driver’s seat. His head slumped forward and I caught the stark outline of a tattoo on the back of his neck. A dark, bizarrely inked cross.

A trespasser and trend hound. Thank God I found something not to like about him.

I hurled his pack onto the passenger seat and slammed the door. The truck’s steel frame groaned. Still trembling with frustration, I shifted into wolf form and darted back into the forest. His scent clung to me, blurring my sense of purpose. I sniffed the air and cringed, a new scent bringing my treachery into stark relief.

I know you’re here. A snarl traveled with my thought.

Are you okay? Bryn’s plaintive question only made fear bite harder into my trembling muscles. In the next moment she ran beside me.

I told you to leave. I bared my teeth but couldn’t deny my sudden relief at her presence.

I could never abandon you. Bryn kept pace easily. And you know I’ll never betray you.

I picked up speed, darting through the deepening shadows of the forest. I abandoned my attempt to outrun fear, shifted forms, and stumbled forward until I found the solid pressure of a tree trunk. The scratch of the bark on my skin failed to repel the gnat-like nerves that swarmed in my head.

“Why did you save him?” she asked. “Humans mean nothing to us.”

I kept my arms around the tree but turned my cheek to the side so I could look at Bryn. No longer in her wolf form, the short, wiry girl’s hands rested on her hips. Her eyes narrowed as she waited for an answer.

I blinked, but I couldn’t halt the burning sensation. A pair of tears, hot and unwanted, slid down my cheeks.

Bryn’s eyes widened. I never cried. Not when anyone could witness it.

I turned my face away, but I could sense her watching me silently, without judgment. I had no answers for Bryn. Or for myself.

Oh, and excuse some of the writing behind in red. I'm in a  red kind of mood.

Allie

A post in which I bring you seasonal merriment and joy

Aye, 'tis not an apparition you're seein'! I'm back! And not just in spirit through a review! I am here to grace you all with my madness once again....

It's the 21st of December. My post has to be about Christmas. Or Yuletide. If I'm taking time out from all the preparations and excitement it has to be to blog about Christmas. Right?

Well...

Yes.

(Let's face it, what else can I write about, Easter? Not yet my friend, Jesus isn't dying just yet.)

Anyway. At least the post will be a bit more traditional, albeit infected with what I like to call my enthusiasm, and what other people would call taking insanity to a whole new level. But I digress.

We'll be doing those new memes soon - so watch this space! - but since I blog predominately about books, I thought I might do a kind of book-ish Christmas post. And no, it's not a wishlist of all the books I want for Christmas, because a) that's been done before and b) it would take forever.

Remember those old Christmas stories you used to hear? And no, not about Santa Claus, because just in case there are kids reading this we';re not going to even mention that one.

 A. J. Bayes illustration, 1889

My favourite was always the Little Match Stick Girl. You have to have heard it. It's so saaaaad....*takes out Kleenex*

On a long ago New Year’s Eve, a poor little girl tries to sell matches in the street. She is freezing badly, but she is afraid to go home because her father will beat her for not selling enough matches. They are so poor that she is in bare feet even though it has grown dark and is snowing.  

She takes shelter from the cold and lights the matches to warm herself. In their glow, she sees visions; a brightly decorated Christmas tree and a divine Christmas Day meal. As she lights her next match, she sees a vision of her grandmother, the only person to have treated her with love and kindness. The girl sees a shooting star, and remembers her dead grandmother saying that such a falling star means someone died and is on their way up to Heaven. 

She strikes one match after another to keep the vision of her grandmother nearby for as long as she can, until there are none left.The next morning, people passing by find her body on the street - perfectly frozen, as though the last rosy colouring of her cheeks is jut fading away. She died, and her grandmother carried her soul to Heaven -which I guess is kind of a happy ending if you compare it to going to hell - but the story is still so unbearably haunting...*snuffles*

Johan Lundbye

Several versions of this story exist, including the one by the Brothers Grimm but the most popular and well-known is the one written by Hans Christian Anderson. Though he was also a poet his stories became most famous, and they were always some of my favourites...in fact, the whole lyrical poetry thing was probably a reason why I liked them. He wrote it in 1845 when his editor sent him a copy of a woodcut by the young artist Johan Thomas Lundbye (who, coincidentally, was chronically depressed and died at the age of 29 after being shot, though it is disputed whether it was accidental or if he killed himself). 

I had an audio CD of the story. It was worse than reading it, because the woman's voice was so lovely and I cried when I first heard the ending, because I'd heard of the story but never been able to track down a version of it to read, or listen to as it turned out to be. I've long since lost the CD, but the story has always stuck with me. 

Thank you, Hans Christian Anderson, for ensuring that no matter how much I love it, no holiday can go past without my regular dose of depression. So, to celebrate, here is the story in full, definitely more beautifully than I could ever describe it:

How I always imagined her to look 

Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening-- the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.


One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by an urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a cradle when he some day or other should have children himself. So the little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from cold. She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she held a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole livelong day; no one had given her a single farthing.


She crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a very picture of sorrow, the poor little thing!


The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now thought. From all the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of roast goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that she thought. 


In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the other, she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she had drawn close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go home she did not venture, for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a farthing of money: from her father she would certainly get blows, and at home it was cold too, for above her she had only the roof, through which the wind whistled, even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags.


Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match might afford her a world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle, draw it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She drew one out. "Rischt!" how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed really to the little maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron stove, with burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The fire burned with such blessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too; but--the small flame went out, the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.


She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the light fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that she could see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl; when--the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's house.


Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked down upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when--the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.


"Someone is just dead!" said the little girl; for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.


She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the lustre there stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and with such an expression of love.


"Grandmother!" cried the little one. "Oh, take me with you! You go away when the match burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like the delicious roast goose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!" And she rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her. And the matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety--they were with God.


But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall--frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat the child there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. "She wanted to warm herself," people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother she had entered on the joys of a new year.

Allie

Who Brought The Shot Glasses?

So. Cheer up! This post is a post of things to celebrate! by your very own, Tora. Now, don't be alarmed. I actually find fun in much the same things as you... don't let your eye be drawn to that little 'much', OK?

So, first up~

1. Obvious ones first... what could possibly be the best celebration right now? Nailed it! We have 1,ooo page veiws!

2. Some people believe in this dude called Jesus. He was born over 2,000 years ago around this time of year. And there are some who also believe that he was the Son of God. His coming to Earth to walk amongst us people was apparently of such great joy, that people still celebrate it, 2,ooo years later. So if you are a follower of Christ, I bid you Merry Christmas!

3. Some people like to celebrate Yuletide, a fesival that precedes Christanity and Christmas by centuries. It centers around the coming of spring, the return of the sun, days getting longer and new life. A sure reason for celebration! Party out today, which is the Winter Solstice, or Midwinter.

4. Near 100 posts on the Blog! We just have to publish some of drafts we have lying around in the backlog of Unfinished Posts.

5. We have ideas that will actually give structure (Careful, now, no fainting!) to the Bubble. We have created some Memes of our own.

Coming soon, to The Twinsister Bubble!

See you, next time, non-exsistent, computer illiterate or plain lazy readers.

Tora.

Book Review 8 - Nightshade, by Andrea Cremer

First things first: forget what you've heard about the plot of Nighshade. Wolves, love triangle, blah blah blah. Just ditch the misconceptions and the assumptions and everything, OK?

Now, I'm not saying Nightshade was perfect, as my orders to carefully select/delete your memories of Nightshade's hype might suggest. But if you'll be patient with me - I know my reviews can turn out pretty long, but it's only because I love doing them, and when something's worth doing it's worth doing right, right? (Oh God, did I just nearly reference an ancient pop song there? Please pretend I didn't. You are feeling very sleepy....) - I will get to my point eventually.

So. Onto the review. Well, let's start with the cover first, shall we? I know there are several editions of it, but I have to say this one is my favourite. I could go on and on about it, but I won't. It was the cover of the copy of Nightshade I picked up, and I think the other ones - which have models on them - ruin the story a little, changing your imagination's perception of the book, whereas this one is stunning, simple and utterly divine.

Nightshade's beginning is graphic, and action-packed from about, ooh, the second paragraph? Scratch that, it's the first. I liked how it really grabbed you, and introduced you to Calla's world almost instantly. It's definitely not something for people who like gradually-built stories, because the details seem to intertwined beautifully with the action almost straight away - you need to be clever and really absorb the information, because you know you're not going to be told it twice.

The first quarter of the book was really promising. There was action, information, a dark seductive vibe, tension, and the beginnings of conspiracy. Some of the scenes had me so hooked I had to read them three and four times just so they'd get through in my head, and then I'd re-read them again to bask in their awesomeness. I was obsessed to the point that I was reading the pages faster than I could turn them.

Though the supernatural is a common feature of YA fiction now, the way the wolves were portrayed in Nightshade was refreshing and very well-written. The themes of hierarchy, power, ignorance and duty are thoroughly explored through the pack and their wider circle - including their masters, and this was one of my favourite unique selling points of the novel.

And then Calla met Shay.

At first, he was bearable. He was innocent, gullible, naive, an outsider, but he was smarter than he looked and I wanted to find out more about him. But what Calla was going to do for him - sacrifice her pack, her family - was implied from very early on, though we had no idea how it would actually be carried out, and it just wasn't believable. Not that he wasn't worthy of Calla's love - it was just that I had trouble seeing the reasons why Calla would be interested in him, apart from blind love-at-first sight, which is a shaky basis, at least when included in this kind of story. He didn't leap off the page, and his character seemed a bit flat.

Unlike Ren. Ren was the epitome of what everything this book should have stood for; passionate, fierce, flawed, powerful, irresistible, a risk-taker. He was betrothed to Call to create a new pack, but that didn't stop him for vying for her affections in the only way he knew how. He was a player, and every time I saw his name on the page I practically screamed with delight. He was the only character I genuinely, and whole-heartedly, loved, though the secondary characters of Ansel and Bryn definitely added something to the book.

However, the one thing I was horribly disappointed by in Nightshade was the way women were treated. It seems like a really absurd thing to say about a modern YA novel, right? But although at first I didn't notice, the way the female members of the pack were expected - and often forced - to become second to their male counterparts, and even worse, toys for them disgusted me. I did understand that it was based on their wolf nature and the strict rules of the Keepers, but it got out of hand. I was looking forward to Calla be the strong-willed, independent minded girl I'd heard about - and she was that, at the beginning, before slowly and surely she allowed herself to be degraded and weakened. Even worse than this, it was mostly on her mother's orders. What kind of message in that sending out to its readers? In the end she did stand up for what she wanted - Shay - but it was too long in coming, and the damage had already been done.

My advice: anyone who loves pure YA fiction, action and suspense will love this book. But feminists better stay away, or you'll end up burning the beautiful covers on a bonfire.

Writing: 3.5/5
Characters: 3/5
Plot: 3.5/5
Impact: 2/5 (I could give it five out of five for all the wrong reason, but I won't.)
In five words: dark, seductive, paranormal romance, mixed-message

Allie

And yes, I know we haven't been around for a while...*shame* But don't worry, there'll be plenty of reviews and posts coming up over Christmas to make it up to all of you.

Oh, uhm, we have a blog? Why didn't anyone tell me?

...
...
...

Hi.

*guitly look over at the corner*

OK, so, there havn't been any posts in uh, *checks* A while? Yeah, sorry. In the mean time, though, we did get our first comment from an unknown someone. Mr Mike Draper, who reviews books for his blog is having a giveaway currently, and obviously saw Allie advertising for other book giveaways. Check him out if you're interested in that~~

And so hopefully, next time I post I will be able to show you some peices from the inside the bubble... the other big creative splurge that is music.

I would also like to talk a bit about microcosms (Don't blame me! Currently studying Lord of The Flies in English) and the dreadful, all consuming little plague that is Facebook.

Tora~~

The Grace and Nate Story

This is another of Tora and I's writing collaboration. Grace and Nate have taken up a very significant portion of our lives, and are two character I, personally, am hopelessly devoted to :)

I'd explain all about them to you now, but I don't have to, because this video I made says it all for me. Hope you like it. Originally, it was just for twinsister dearest, but it's up on Youtube anyway, and what better place to share it than our dedicated ranting/venting/spouting the blog?

By the way, this was my first ever video, and I did it a while ago, so please excuse any terribleness you may find in it. And also, that music isn't Michael Buble's Lost. Not at all. No way. Never.

Allie

Book Review 7 - Wintercraft, by Jenna Burtenshaw

I first read this a while ago, long before I was considering books for review, and though I enjoyed it, I didn't get around to reading it for a second time until very recently! I hadn't heard of it at all, and basically picked it up at the library because I liked the sound of the blurb and the cover looked pretty cool....To me, it was less YA fantasy and more general fantasy, but I think maybe I'm just too used to reading American YA fiction...

This is one example of a book
where the cover really makes a
difference - it's gorgeous, and
really intriguing!

Anyway. The book's protagonist, Kate Winters, lives in a world where people and their communities are isolated, fearful, and ruled over from afar by the mysterious High Council. The country is in the midst of a war that seems to have been going on for ever, and to 'help' the war effort, the High Council send out wardens to take people from their homes and families. No one knows when they'll strike - ten years ago, they took Kate's parents.

When the wardens return to Kate's hometown, her uncle Artemis is one of the prisoners taken by the wardens onto the Night Train - but she has other problems to be worried about, what with her being hunted when she finds out she is one of the Skilled; a person cursed with the ability to see both the living and the dead. Along with her friend Edgar, she must run from one of the most feared men alive: the terrifying and sinister Silas Dane.

(OK, so I may be a little prejudiced towards Silas. How dare Jenna Burtenshaw sully the name of the best vampire character EVER? I mean the Silas from The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman, by the way. But I digress.) Add to that an ancient book called Wintercraft, and a setting that becomes a character in itself (the cities and the country are very vividly described and easy to imagine), and you have a combination of storylines that, given the relatively short length of the book compared to most other YA fiction, create a world that pulls you in from the very first page.

Within just a few chapters you have been given enough information, and yet there is enough with-held, to make you very curious about the history of this fantasy world and its characters. Some scenes early on in the book make you think the book is darker than it is, and indeed it does return to this tone later on, but you shouldn't be discouraged if you don't think it's your kind of thing. There is something for everyone in Wintercraft. The plot takes unexpected twists and turns at every corner, but still manages to have a steadiness to it. With so much mystery involved, it's important that it doesn't meander, and Jenna Burtenshaw's writing suits this planned style - she is a very skilled storyteller, especially in her description.

It did have it's downfalls, though, and they are obvious enough to really bring down the standard of what could otherwise be an outstanding story.

First, and most importantly: I didn't bond with most of the characters. Kate is a little bit too tame for me, and though there are times when she is required to be very courageous, it felt fake. She didn't jump off the page and it affected my desire to finish the story (though I am glad I persevered!) and Edgar, especially, got on my nerves - which isn't something that often happens for me - and I found myself wishing Jenna Burtenshaw had created a stronger secondary character. He did grow on me, but it impacts on a story when a character feels so out of place for so long like it did in this book. However, Silas (and his bird) is such an intriguing and complicated character that his ability to keep you guessing really keeps the reality of the story alive. The other criticism I'd have for Wintercraft is that it's pace was sometimes too slow even for me.

Over all, I think there was a lot of potential in Wintercraft that sadly wasn't utilised - though I also think that it's a very good start to a series that I will definitely be picking up again sometime in the future.

Writing: 3.5/5
Characters: 4/5 (but only because Silas is worth a point and a half all by himself!)
Plot: 4/5
Impact: 2.5/5
Overall: 3.5/5
In less than five words: fantasy, SILAS!, mysterious, intriguing, promising.

Allie

A Plea to Silent Readers

And yes, I totally needed to give this post a no-nonsense title. *stern look* You know what this post is going to be about, and you better listen up....


If you are a silent reader who never comments, we can't know if we are saying things that you like or not. Or what you would like more of, or less of.  So I'm asking you, please, silent readers of the blogosphere, let us know what you like about this blog. We want to know who you are!  I've personally fallen in love with blogging, whether I know there are readers or not, but I know that I get a lot more enjoyment out of it when I know that my efforts are not being wasted, and I can feel like  what I have to say is actually being heard. 


We're not asking to become the #1 blog on the net. We're - well, I - am just saying that a little interaction with our readers would be apprieciated.


Big love to y'all...(yes, I recently re-watched the episode of The Big Bang Theory with Sheldon's sister Missy in it. Her and Penny combined have had a bit of an unavoidable effect on my speech...)


Allie

Waiting On Wednesday #6 - Lies Beneath, by Anne Greenwood Brown

Meme borrowed from Jill at Breaking the Spine.

Today's book: Lies Beneath, by Anne Greenwood Brown

Publication Date: June 12th, 2012 (Soooo far away...)

Summary from Goodreads: Calder White lives in the cold, clear waters of Lake Superior, the only brother in a family of murderous mermaids. To survive, Calder and his sisters prey on humans, killing them to absorb their energy.

But this summer the underwater clan targets Jason Hancock out of pure revenge. They blame Hancock for their mother's death and have been waiting a long time for him to return to his family's homestead on the lake. Hancock has a fear of water, so to lure him in, Calder sets out to seduce Hancock's daughter, Lily. Easy enough—especially as Calder has lots of practice using his irresistible good looks and charm on unsuspecting girls.

Only this time Calder screws everything up: he falls for Lily—just as Lily starts to suspect that there's more to the monsters-in-the-lake legends than she ever imagined. And just as his sisters are losing patience with him.

What a brilliant premise! Completely unique. There hasn't been a good mermaid book on the YA scene in a while, let alone one with MURDEROUS MERMAIDS, and a MALE PROTAGANIST! Eeks!

From what I've heard, it really does live up to expectations - I have a feeling that the will-they-won't-they element that appears in it will have me on tenterhooks. There's a real obstacle stopping Calder and Lily being together, and if Anne Greenwood Brown utilises this in the way I hope she does, you really won't know what's going to happen.

Speaking of the author, she's likes the Coronas and Damien Rice and Franz Ferdinand! Score, sister! What's not to love? Really can't wait for this one.

Allie

A couple of book-blog contests for you...

Well, since we're not doing our contests here, (yet!) I thought I might as well share some giveaways from other blogs I read and follow, so you can have a chance to enter, too.

I don't have much time to search out giveaways right now, but here are the few I've seen so far today:

My Cute Bookshelf Giveaway - In Jennie's own words:

I've recently reached 500 followers on the blog and to celebrate this, I have decided to host a giveaway! 2 lucky winners will get a book of their choice from the list below. I've decided to include a lot of hot new releases. ;) Most of these are young adult books, but I've also included some adult ones I either loved or am looking forward to reading.

Xpresso Reads 500 Followers Celebration Giveaway - In Giselle's own words:


I'm incredibly excited to have reached 500 followers already and I have only been blogging for a bit over a month! It's amazing! I have already made tons of new blogger friends that I adore and I'm completely in love with my new hobby. I hope that you're all enjoying my blog and that it lives up to your expectations! ;)

WOW! There are so many books on those lists that I want to read! *dances* Go on, head on over and check it out...there's bound to be something there for you.

I'm going to edit in the other ones later...

Allie

It's A Feast of Stolen Goods Today (OK, that was a crazily obscure reference to one of our earliest posts...)

Continuing...

See title. Might as well do my own version of what Tora posted....'tis fun! Also 'stolen' but not from Alice's iPod.

 "Always assume you're being watched. That way, when people start shooting, there's no need to be alarmed."

"Life is always better with a soundtrack." (Actually, this is one of my own.)

"And shall I die - and this unconquered?" from 'Tamburlaine' by Christopher Marlowe - or my mate Kit, as I like to call him. (Have I mentioned how much I like the film Shakespeare in Love? Except Gwyneth Paltrow. I CANNOT STAND Gwyneth Paltrow most of the time. *shudder* Too much airy-fairy and not enough kick-ass. But I digress. She is all right in SiL. However, Joe Fiennes is simply unbelievable...in a very good way.)

"How do you come up with ideas?" - "By sheer perseverance to the point of madness." Charlie Chaplin. Highfives, Charlie! A perfect excuse to lock yourself in a room for eight hours trying to think of a path around writer's block.

"Anybody can make the holes. Only the Swiss can make the cheese." I don't have a clue who said this (except Joe Craig, whose website I found it on) or why they said it, but it can be interpreted in too many ways not to count for some kind of inspirational quote.

"Everybody lies." - Dr Gregory House, from House. What more can I say?

Allie

Waiting On Wednesday #5 - The Lost Princess, by Galaxy Craze

Meme originally by Jill at her blog Breaking the Spine.

This Wednesday's Chosen Book: Well, see the title of this post, but just to clarify, yes, Galaxy Craze is a person....
Release Date: May 8th, 2012 (the only bad thing about doing WoW posts is finding out how loooong we'll have to wait to actually read the books!)

Look at this cover! Isn't it stunning? I love how eye-catching  and contrasting it is. I'll give you the Goodreads summary to read after you absorb the gorgeousness of it.

Happily ever after is a thing of the past. 

The year is 2090. 

England is a barren land. Food is rationed. Oil has decimated the oceans. The people are restless. 

A ruthless revolutionary enacts a plan to destroy the royal family, and in a moment, the king is dead. His heiress, Princess Mary, and her brother, Jamie, have been abducted, and no one knows their fate. Princess Eliza Windsor barely escapes, and finds herself scared and lost in London's dangerous streets. 

With a mind for revenge and the safe recovery of her siblings, Eliza joins the enemy forces in disguise. There she is tempted by her first taste of independence -- and true love. Ultimately she must summon her courage and fight to ensure that she does not become... The Last Princess.

How amazing does this sound? Like historical fiction...only future-fiction. It's pretty unique in it's premise of featuring a royal family as the main characters against a backdrop of the classic dystopian scenario. I can't wait to find out how a tale of love and looking out for your family (while being a PRINCESS) can be intertwined with the danger and information needed to keep you hooked on a story like this - with so many dystopian novels round now 9and so many of them being brilliant, more to the point) it's important to stand out from the crowd, and from what I've heard so far about The Last Princess, it's doing it's job pretty well....

So, what are you Waiting On this Wednesday?

Allie

Spooky, scary, supernatural....

(I promise I promise I promise I won't do any more Halloween-themed posts...)

All right, so this post will basically do what it says on the tin. And I know Tora hates when I do those kinds of posts, but c'mon, I couldn't resist. Lately I've seen so many books around that could be classed as Hallowe'en-ish that I just have to do a post about them. I won't bore you for long though (unless you are a book-fan, in which case, WELCOME! and I hope you enjoy the post.) I'm going to do one of my favourite spooky/scary/supernatural books from both children's novels and YA books.

First up, taking the prize for (Funniest) Spooky Kids' book(s):  Debi Gliori's Strega Borgia Chronicles (to give it it's proper title). 

There are two trilogies; the 'Pure Dead' trilogy, and the 'Deep' trilogy. The books take place in the magnificent StregaSchloss (what a name for a house!) and features the Strega-Borgia family; Signor Luciano, Signora Baci, and the children, Titus, Pandora, Damp, and later, Nieve. They are bizarre and hilarious character who come to life very easily - the books are hilarious and action-packed. Think the Addams Family, but kids under 12 will probably get the most enjoyment out of it. 

Oh, and did I mention the cryogenically frozen Strega-Nonna, and the monsters Ffup, Sab, and Tock? (Better mention Multitudina the Illiterat too lest she bite my ear off...)

And now, taking the award for YA Supernatural/Scary/Spooky book for this Hallowe'en....

(OK, so it'a not so much a single book, as an author.)

L.J. Smith, you may take your bow!

Her books, especially the Night World series, feature the classic portrayal of vampires, but crossed with elements of romance, and of course set in our modern-day world. She also wrote the Vampire Diaries (that TV show...you know the one, with the AMAZINGLY HUNKY vampire brothers? Ha. I knew that would get your attention...! But it's true.) which I have read, though I have to say I don't like those ones as much. (No offence, AMAZINGLY HUNKY vampire brothers who feature in the series.)

I'm definitely not a massive vampire fan, but they are my guilty pleasure, now revealed to the world. And, in a perfect twist of fate, there's probably a copy of one of her books in every library in the world, thanks to the recent craze -started-by-the-book-which-shall-not-be-named, so there's no excuse for not trying them.

Anyway, I better go now before twinsister dearest murders me* for mentioning the v-word on the blog.

*runs* 

Allie

*with a knife in the drawing room! We're so playing Cluedo tomorrow. And that will be the end of the Hallowe'en festivities. I swear I'm not into it as much as my recent posts have made out. It's just I've gone on a blogging binge and it happened to occur around this time of year...

Yes, Halloween is completely commercialised and Americanised and whatever other words there are for stuff like that. But....

As much as I try to abstain from it (unlike Tora, there will be no Halloween  parties for me - not even trick-or-treating) somehow, it always sneaks in...sly old fox of a holiday....

Our bathroom is currently a homage to Psycho. Blood-hand-print-stained shower curtain, and everything. There are a lot of Halloween sweets. And coloured hairspray for the others who are actually going to participate in the strange tradition of traipsing around from house to house in the pitch dark and freezing cold, with steadily growing bags of junk and money (OK, that part I'm not so objectionable to) with a large group of people dressed in varying types of black bin bags and white bed sheets.

(And all right, all right, I know there are so fantastic costumes out there. Like - hello! - Amy Winehouse. Picture this: little primary school kid, cute as button, with a huge knotty beehive and layers of mascara. Obviously without the alcohol and drug addictions, but still! Only at Halloween...)

And, even better. Bellatrix Lestrange! Can you imagine?


HOLD ON!

....            
                                           
Seriously, that comparison was not intentional....but I so have to put it live on the blog now.

Right, now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to find my missing black t-shirt....

Allie

Who We Should Aspire To Be Like

This will probably just be a quick post, but I realized the only mention I'd given one of my favourite blogs was just a fleeting link in a post ages ago, that's not even on the main page now (to any new readers: oh yes, there's more! We're nearing our one hundredth post, so there's a couple of pages for you to look at and help spread the insanity if you manage to get through this front page without overdosing on madness/becoming seriously maimed/scarred for life).

I first heard of Alice through the Post Pals charity. (You can see my previous post about it here - see how nice I am, linking you to it, and everything? - or, better still, visit the Post Pals website) I'd tell you about here, but what better way to do than through her own words? From her Blogger profile:

About Me

Alice x

Hi, I'm 15 years old and live with my parents and sister in Ulverston. I've been fighting cancer for almost 4 years and now I know that the cancer is gaining on me and it doesn't look like I'm going to win this one :( I'm hoping to write in here as much as I can and I'm also going to show my bucket list which I'm trying to get done before I have to go. Hopefully, I'll update as I tick each one off the list :)

Her blog is simply called 'Alice's Bucket List' (that was another link, by the way. In case you didn't notice), and well, it does exactly what it says on the tin. But also, much more.

It is a story full of positivity and strength, made all the more touching because this isn't just something in a novel you can pick up and put down at will; it is someone's life. It is a glimpse into the lives of Alice and her whole family (including her sister Milly who deserves a major shout-out too; she's an amazing fundraiser, as well as suffering from a condition called Crouzon Syndrome herself - and reminds you that the way bad things - whether health-wise, life-wise, or anything-wise - affect you is all down to your attitude. Where there is darkness, there must be light. Falling down, no matter how hard or how far or for how long, must always be followed by getting up again. This is what Alice does, despite the trials she has gone through, and the challenges facing her.

(Now you can see where the post title is coming from, right? So, Tora, if you'll forgive me this once for having it so straight-up and 'obvious', I think it really has some meaning.)

I am not saying Alice is Superwoman. She is an ordinary girl in extraordinary, harrowing circumstances that unfortunately affect too many people, who has decided that this chapter of her journey should be shared with the world.

(Am I preaching? I really hope I'm not. And if I am, well, let's just hope it has some kind of purpose. I think it does.)

So. Go there. Read and take inspiration. And then come back here and finish reading this post and see how different the light you see it in is.

I'll leave a space here to indicate you reading Alice's blog.




Sorta makes you appreciate being alive, doesn't it?

Allie

When I grow up...I am NOT going to be a member of the Pussycat Dolls.

....I am, in fact, going to, one day, get myself a writing-room/study, like this:

And yes, it IS going to be that tidy. Even though this is me we're talking about. I can't write with my room all messy or my feng-shui all messed up. (I knew that much before I even knew about feng-shui.) By the way, it is in a shed. So what? *pointed stare*

Or maybe...it's going to be like this:

Just look at that comfy chair! And the gorgeous desktop computer that probably crashes a lot less than my own dear laptop...I might swap the rug, but I'd defintiely have one. I'd need it there for when I get so frustrated I need to lie on the floor and throw missiles stuff at the ceiling. Couldn't do that without a nice fluffy rug. And it's in an attic! With a skylight! :D I have always written well in attics. With skylights. *nods*

OK, so maybe there's a third choice I have in mind....But LOOK! It's so pretty...! The only thing I woudl change would be to make the chairs softer. And bigger. And- what the hey, why not add a bed in there, as well? Knowing me I'll probably end up doing a lot of late-night writing/watching films while eating junk food pretending I'm writing and not consoling myself over stuff, and life in general...

I'm going to stop talking now.

Allie

This post will most definitely not be all about muffins.

No way.

But. I made muffins today. And they are delicious. Even if I do say so myself...

They are also even more delicious because fo the fact they were almost-but-not-quite stolen. Though thankfully they were not. Sighs of relief all round, people...

I can't cook much - hands up people who live off frozen food, toast and popcorn when left to fend for themselves? MEE! - but I like baking. A lot. Mainly because even when you mess up things still taste great. Usually. And, yes, I know stuff can still go wrong, but boy, all the exploding oven doors are SO worth it, in the end.

Also, LOOK! A cool frog I don't know the name of, but with funkiest frog-skin ever.

I have listened to some very funny songs, some cracking music (currently, Seven Nation Army by the White Stripes), talked to my twinsister about many things in a very short space of time, begun writing again after being too busy to do anything constructive for the past few days, and will be competing in showjumping tomorrow.

These are the reasons why I am happy right now.

Go forth and be happy too, dear readers!

A very cheerful Allie

You Are Not Alone, People Who Harbour Secret LotR Dreams But Are In A Caged Exsistance Of Being Unable To Express Their True Feelings. Ok. Maybe You -

ZOMG! There is actually a limit on the length of titles. That just ruined my whole day. Now I will never be able to write a title for my blog without the impending restriction of limit on length.

My Freak. *buries head in hands*



CAST-

Samwise- Barbara

(Hey, I'm Barbara, although I prefer 'Dippy', or 'Aerrow' as I'm known on some sites. I'm a gaming nerd and proud otaku, pleased to meet you!)

Frodo- Tibaba

('Sup, I'm Tibi, as my friends like to call me, and I can be known as very random at times! I'm the boffin of our group, and am constantly being yelled at by them for singing too much! I send you my Salutations! :P)

Gandalf The Grey- Harry

(Silence.)

The Balrog- Sam.

(Silence)

That's men for you. For all their great mathematical knowledge, they cannot sit in what could even be considered any sort of blood relative to a circle. But that's unrelated. Excuse the pun.

Enjoy the delirium, people.

Tora.

Side note: D'you how many ways people pronouce Tora? I've had (Tawwwwwwwwhra (Americans. Check out the Western drawl.) Tohh-rah (Londonians) Tahh-ra (Scots). C'mon. There are harder names to pronouce.

My Name is Allison and Sometimes My Twin Sister Really Does Seem To Be The One Who Was Born With All The Common Sense. (Just occasionally.)

OK, so this post is mainly in reply to Tora's last two blog posts...


Ciao is hello, too. I think. So you're OK.

OH, WOW!

I'D LIKE TO THANK-

On second thoughts, I'm not going to bother with the whole acceptance speech. I mean, yeah, Gwyneth Paltrow eat your heart out, but I seriously do not have the energy to type out ten minutes' worth of thank-yous right now.

I know I'm technically published, in a way, but I mean a book, that people can buy in shops. Or on Amazon. Or wherever. (Personally, I must promote LIBRARIES and BOOKSHOPS. Especially the ones with the comfy chairs and the muffins.)

However, I will settle for being published online. Which - technically - means I have been published may, many times.

WAHOOOOOOOOOOOO!

*does jig*

Onto the next post...

They use upside down exclamation marks in Spanish. They're very cool.

*laughs* Thanks for posting that, Tora. Makes me laugh every time.

(There's a lot of inside jokes there. If you want to know what they are - well, I'm not telling you. But if anyone does know, COMMENT! *highfives non existent people*)

And, just for the record, I share Tora's sentiments about the CV. I could rant about being indivual and everything, but I don't have time. So I shall leave you with this: Tora is...amaxzing. And so much more than a CV could ever describe.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to rescue a kitten.

Allie.

Oh, and hi, Anon/Annon/Rhiannon.

Music Monday 12

Meme originally by Zakiya at Walking Butterfly Feet.

The Coronas - Addicted to Progress

I have seriously had this song stuck in my head...ever since I heard it on the radio, but didn't manage to catch the tile. And now I've found it again and can't stop listening to it. What can I say/ It's...addictive.

Allie

Look, Insanity Even Comes With Up-Side Down Exclamation Marks!

Except Blogger doesn't allow that kind of non-sense. (If you want to know how to create them, the it's ALT/CNTRL/SHIFT/!. It works in Word, e.c.t!)

Now the time has come to choose my Work Experiance placement, I thought I'd share with you a bit of my CV!


Ok, it's really blurry, but I think you can read it! It's good, right?

Seriously, I've had to write a CV. And listing all of the things that's I've done in my lifetime that may count towards something is really stupid. Because it all counts. Everything I've done made me who I am today, and whether or not I would be suitable for such a job. Not just the things I've passed with recognized boards of exams or organization. *sighs*

Whaddaya think, Allie?

Reader (s)?

Tora, XXX

My Name Is Victoria And I Love My Sister A Lot.

Ciao.

No, wait, that's goodbye, isn't it?

I am sure you're all very grateful that I've not posted in such a while, and I've appeared to say you're very welcome. I've also appeared to knock the Stupid out of Allison.

Because publish means to 'share with'. If my dear reader (more bout that later) would care to reach back in her memory, we did post something earlier on this blog.

CONGRATULATIONS, ALLISON CLAY, YOU'RE A PUBLISHED AUTHOR!

I love you a lot, even if you're an idiot sometimes. There, tell the world, and all your pet brackets.

Why don't you publish something else for us?

In the meantime, I think it's time for us to throw a party, to celebrate our first reader! Ladies, and Gentleghosts, please welcome, Anon!

*applause*

*coughs* The pun is, Anon is not short for anonymous, which little miss really is, but Rhiannon.

And Allie, though I love you, did you know we havn't been getting any comments because someone set the settings to not allow any comments? Hmmmn?

ARG! Now I've stuck the thing on italics again... Ohhhhhh. Darn me.

Tora, XXX

Quotes of the Day

I'll edit this when I hear more, I promise. It's just a nonsense-post-about-nothing-in-particular.

WHAT AM I SAYING?

Of course every post on this blog has a purpose. They're not just an excuse to rant and spout whatever is on ours minds. Not at all. No way.

Anyway, the quote(s).

Heard in a musical a few nights ago:

Guy in musical: <name censored> I never married Tiffany, in the end.

Girl in audience: I'LL MARRY YOU, <CENSORED>

*cue entire crowd in tears with laughter*

Allie

Right. I claim to be a writer. Ummm....not so sure of that....

I mean, an aspiring writer. But that makes me sound like one of the many millions of people around the world who say they're going to write a book but never do.

Believe me, I am going to be doing my utmost to write a full-length novel worthy of publishing. I have tried already, but I have time (unless I get caught in a hit and run or something tomorrow. Which would not be good. But let's not tempt fate.) and apparently I should be focusing on getting smaller stuff finished (which, I have to admit is very good advice. HEED IT! The satisfaction of finishing something smaller helps in the long run. Or so I'm told.)

(I may repeat again; neither Tora nor I are published authors, except if you count via the internet or competitions. We are in-progress writers, we are artists, we are supernovas (or at least she is. Me, on the other hand...) and everything in between (that's more like it! I must remember to add that to my 'About Me' section) but we are also learning, and we will get there. Or at least she will. Probably before me.Because Tora is too amazing to not do something utterly brilliant...possibly by this time next week. If she hasn't already.)

(Wow, the twinsisterly love is really flowing here today.)

(As is the use of brackets.)

The poor, understated, underused, humble bracket. Remember when you first learn how to use them, and they are...simply addictive? And then they gradually fall into disuse...but never fear, BRACKETS OF THE WORLD! YOU ARE SAFE HERE!

Just in case they can't hear lowercase letters.

I'd put in a picture of a bracket but that would be going overboard.

(Read: No I am not obsessed, just bored, and trying to sound vaguely interesting. Even if that means sounding slightly hyper and very, very insane. More so than usual.)

*breathes sigh of relief*

I needed that. Rant over, readers.

Back to the world of sandpaper, apple tarts, wrong ingredients, door stoppers, strange songs, sleep deprivation, and doing whatever else we students are supposed to do. Studenting?

I mean, studying!

LOOK! A RAINBOW! *points*

*runs*

Allie

Random blog post, because it's a better use of my time than making homemade bunny ears.

Don't ask. Just. Don't.

So, I should have something to say, shouldn't I?

Ummmm...

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

Well, I'm sitting here with my laptop in front of me trying to write, and failing, because MY CREATIVITY HAS BEEN SQUASHED OUT OF ME BY THE MONSTER THEY CALL ENDLESS STUDYING, and blogging seemed like the only other reasonable thing to do with the little time online I have right now.

I wish I had something exciting to write about. L;ike the awesome Kiersten White over at her blog Kiersten Writes (see what she did there?! LOVE IT). Where she is not afraid to post pictures of herself  posing with fishes or self-deprecating posts comparing herself to the other writers she has met on her book tour (Bad Kiersten!!) or even having very public conversations with her Laptop. Where the laptop actually answers for itself.

Oh, how I wish I was like that.

Or even like Tahereh Mafi over at Grab A Pen/Stir Your Tea (the latter's the bit that shows up on the URL. Decided I'd just slap it onto the link there in case it's the actual name of the blog instead of Grab a Pen which comes up on my favourites list.) who has just received copies of her book Shatter Me (Which I did a Waiting-On Wednesday post about, if you remember, loyal readers who may not exist) and is feeling a little bit weepy....well, I would be too, wouldn't you?! Weepy in a good way, I mean. Not weepy as in cry your heart out over The Notebook or My Sister's Keeper because you feel like doing nothing else with your life. 9I'm sure they're great movies. But just not my style. (Point of interest about me: I don't cry at books, or movies. Ever. Never have, probably never will. I HAVE A HEART OF STONE. *wails*)

Or maybe even Veronica Roth....(SORRY SORRY SORRY I haven't read Divergent yet, but I will be soon. Promise.) over at her website and blog, where she's just moved to ROMANIA (Not on the blog. Like, seriously, actually MOVED TO ROMANIA.) among many other exciting things.

< - A version of the Divergent cover. Isn't it jaw-droppingly, amazingly, absolutely stunning?! If I sdee this anywhere, I'm buying it. Immediately.

I think that's enough links for now. Slash-things-I'm-pointing-out-because-they-point-out-exactly-what-a terrible-and-boring-blogger-I-am.

I think I've self-indulged for long enough now. Hopefully karma won't kill me because I've just accidently-on=purpose promoted some of my favourite blogs by some people who are truly brilliant (at least, this is what I'm led to believe. I've never met any of them. Either THEIR BLOGS LIE!

or:

If any of the authors I have mentioned want to come over and oh...my...lord... I'mgoingtohyperventilateatthethoughofitsoI'dbetterstopnow.

Allie

Wow. I sure did use capital letters to their full effect in that post.

Hey, the reason I listen to the radio while doing homework is to make sure WW3 doesn't break out while I'm busy concentrating on chemistry calculations.

I hope you all enjoyed Tora's appearance during the week - and yes, I know her posts are more interesting than mine.

(I'm thinking it was a good idea for my twinsister to not talk about manga. Because if she did she would publicly berate me for not reading as many of them as I should be. For anyone who's interested, I'm currently trying to get through the utterly fluffy and my-guilty-pleasure-of-the-manga-world, Mars. But don't ask me to give you detailed information about it. I just like the drawings.)

By the way, while she's been away, Tora married Matthew, as in Matthew of the Gospels in the Bible, and had two sons. Mark, who became one of the other Gospel writers, and James, who I have to say is clearly underachieving compared to the rest of his prolific family.

Anyway, neither of us have been able to blog lately because of school and many, many other commitments, but I'll try to schedule some posts soon just to keep you going. And, by the way, it would be great if anyone who's been reading this could comment, so we could know for sure you're here!

Today, I finally got to the library for the first time in nearly three weeks. It was like a light in the darkness. An exodus to the Promised Land. Autumns leaves swept through the door and swirled in the air around me before being laid carefully on the ground before me to comfort my tired feet. Books and fellow book-readers cried my name in praise and choirs of angels swung down from heaven-

OK. So it wasn't exactly like that.

It was more like me noticing - hallelujah! - that there were new books on the shelves (I can literally tell if there's a single book out of place by now.) and that there were just waiting for me to pick them up and take them home...I could turn it into an In My Mailbox post, but I can't be bothered to take all the (undoubtedly pretty) pictures and upload them. So, in a brief summary; Forever by Maggie Stiefvater (a series which Tora despises for certain unmentionable - no, not that! - reasons, but which I can't seem to help but love), Passion, by Lauren Kate (OK, so I've cheated myself out owning the third book as well as the first two with this one. But I couldn't wait any longer!), TimeRiders Day of the Predator and The Doomsday Code by Alex Scarrow 9isn't that just the best name ever?), Jane Austen Stole My Boyfriend, by Cora Harrison (I own I was Jane Austen's Best Friend. I was given an uncorrected book proof actually, so I got to read it before a lot of other people, but I had to wait forever to get the sequel...) and several others I now do not have time to mention.

Au rev- well, actually, I can't spell that version of goodbye, so you're going to have to puit up with me sticking to plain old English. Until next time, citizens of the blogosphere!

Allie

You know I've been trying to read Skullduggery Pleasant, Tora...

Did I Last Sign In Before or After WW3?

Tricky one. Huh.

Wait a moment.

World War 3 hasn't happened yet, has it?

Hey-ho, people-who-have-ghost-complex-who-read-this-blog-but-who-might-actually-not-exsist, Tora remembered you do exsist! I'm not going to blab about my life. I'm not going to tell you how much work I've had ( a lot), how Iannoyed I have been at Allie for not reading certain books ( A lot), how surprised I've been by the books she has read which I've read but she didn't tell me and I didn't give to her... (wait, what was the question?), or how different Yr 10 is (a lot), and I'm not even going to mention manga.

All of which leaves me with nothing to say.

Sorry about that.

*fidgets*

Alright! Since you don't want to know, I will also just breifly (not) mention how abseloutely amazing the musical Jesus Christ Superstar is. Though, of course, our school's production beats annnnnnnyyy of the films so far... *coughhintcough*

Tir Na Og! Woot. Love that story.

I may talk a little about the Guants House Summer Gathering, the most beautiful event each year. The music is spectacular, the workshops are brilliant, and the setting's just so full of love. I have great, great friends there, from all around the country, drawn together, and now I sound like a real hippie. Before you lose interest, I would just like to say I'm running out of synonyms for amazing, but you get the picture. Guants is my second home.

Tora, XXX.

Still almost mad. Still almost sane. Still that shade of grey region inbetween.