I made this for myself, but thought you might want to have it to. Its a Æther Shanties desktop wallpaper!
For Windows, right click the image and select "set as desktop wallpaper".
For Mac, control click and "Set as desktop Wallpaper".
I'm really happy with how that artwork turned out: Dark and Distressed, and rusty and weathered...but very strong feeling. I see no reason why Steampunk can't be rough and tough as nails. Silly and fluffy is fine, but not all the time - as you will see when you hear this album.
The SwingGoth people in San Fransisco are having an Æther Shanties listening party, and that got me thinking...
Do you run a Nightclub, or organise a club night that wants to have an Æther Shanties Listening party? Let me know.
Also, what about a virtual "live listening" party? I picture a chat room, and a lot of people all listening at exactly the same time, talking about what they hear. Is there a way to do this? Maybe more importantly, is there a way to do this that people could just record the whole damn thing and then not buy the album? :(
Complete 101 preset tasks in a period of 1001 days.
The Criteria:
Tasks must be specific (i.e. no ambiguity in the wording) with a result that is either measurable or clearly defined. Tasks must also be realistic and stretching (i.e. represent some amount of work on your part).
Why 1001 Days?
Many people have created lists in the past - frequently simple challenges such as New Year's resolutions or a 'Bucket List'. The key to beating procrastination is to set a deadline that is realistic. 1001 Days (about 2.75 years) is a better period of time than a year, because it allows you several seasons to complete the tasks, which is better for organising and timing some tasks such as overseas trips, study semesters, or outdoor activities.
( Complete list under here! )
There was the familiar sound like an ancient space coffin being opened releasing a thousand of years of pressure--hissing out stagnate air. It was followed by the frantic rustle of a space suit as someone dressed down in the depressurization chamber and airlock. The rooms fast, heavy metal door slid open and a man came running out. He collapsed to his knees and a bright red streak ran down his forehead. “There’s something out there! Something took Mike!” he said as he tried to catch his breath.
There was the long hissing sound again. “Someone’s opening the outdoor door and the inner door isn’t shut yet!” Sarah quickly slammed her hand against a raised red button on a control panel. The heavy gray door, full of blast marks from night time brawlers shut and then something banged hard against it. “Whoa! She said as she jumped back frightened; the metal door reverberated from the hefty, solid blow. “There’s something really big in the depressurization chamber!”
Franky plopped his small frame on the black leather stool and the metal of it creaked slightly as he swung his legs around to face the servant. He slapped his hand on the wood of the counter and the sound echoed through the metal room. “Give me a tall raspberry juice Jed.” Jed is what he called any servant without a name tag.
The stranger who collapsed to his knees, held his chest with a clawed hand trying to slow his panicked breathing. “Mike’s still out there! You gotta let him in!” He stood up and grabbed the thick, worn cotton of Sarah’s white shirt collar and slammed her against the wall. “You gotta open the door!”
His face was inches from hers and his were lips rolled back, as he bared his thick yellow teeth in anger. The sweaty stink of his breath hit her and she turned her head and gagged. “Can I have a little help here?” she managed to get out.
“Give you a tall what?” said Jed to Franky. The servant leaned over on a ring of water that looked silver in the rooms dim light. He sopped it up off the juice bar’s counter with a thin paper napkin and brushed the moisture off his nearly transparent, pale skin.
The stranger with wild white eyes and sweaty wet strings of black hair, planted a sturdy back foot to the floor and leaned his bulky shoulder in to little Sarah. He gritted his teeth and grunted as he splayed out the gritty fingers of his hand, reaching for the button on the wall to open up the depressurization chamber.
Sarah quickly raised both hands and violently pushed him. The stranger was sent reeling backwards to the hard metal floor with an astonished look. “That door is not getting opened!” she said triumphantly, and felt as surprised as he was. She’d never shoved a man back like that before, but then again, she’d never tried.
“A raspberry juice.” Franky said to the servant. “You aren’t getting hard of hearing now are you buddy?” He listened closely for the mechanical humming whine of the androids servo’s--a tell tale sign it was in need of a good overhaul. “When was the last time you got a check up?” He visually checked the servants ghostly looking, whitish hands for leaks--he didn’t want any foreign liquid going in to his drink from a Jed with a careless owner.
A cold sweat ran down Sarah's face and she bit hard on her lip. She steadied herself with both feet apart and quickly pulled her weapon. It was dark in the room except for the faint light over the juice bar. She could barely see half of her targets face.
“What are you going to do with that missy?” said the stranger. “Would it make you feel any better if you knew my name?”
“No,” she said taking a few cautious steps back switching the gun from her left to right hand. “Hey you, at the juice bar! How about a little help here?” She looked over timidly at the man sitting in the stool. He was wearing a black flight suit and no arm insignia, meaning that--to her--he was a local.
Franky looked over at the nervous looking young girl. She couldn’t be but twenty and all of the youthful, fiery rage was a loaded weapon--she sure enough didn’t need to be holding a laser pistol. “Do you see those blast marks on the door? This happens almost every night. I’m sick of talking to people like you. I’m just gonna mind my own,” and he turned back around.
“My name’s Elton and I have to open that door to let my friend in,” said the man who did have an arm insignia. The blood from the mild surface wound to his forehead was running down the center of his nose now and mixing with sweat, making the wound look worse than it really was. “I have a friend out there and he needs help.”
“You’re still a stranger to me, as far as I’m concerned. A name doesn’t make any difference,” said Sarah and she could taste the coppery sensation of blood in her mouth from biting her lip out of apprehension. She switched firing hands for a split second to wisp back her shoulder length blonde hair behind an ear.
Franky let out a disgruntled huff and turned around again on his stool. “Would it relieve either of you if I told you, Michael, or whoever he is--is already in here?”
“Mike, he just goes by Mike,” said Elton.
“Whatever,” said Franky. “Have you ever heard of the old saying, can’t we all just get a long? People used to say that when they weren’t clear why they were fighting.”
Elton looked at the man’s arm. “You don’t have an arm band. You think you’re too good to serve the galaxy or something? Why should I listen to you?”
“I leave the serving up to the servants and the fighting up to the fighters. That’s the way it should have been a long time ago. It’s not my fault you don’t trust anyone.”
Elton relaxed his posture and scratched the itch on his nose for a second. He looked at his fingers. “Oh great, I’m bleeding.” He distastefully wiped the sticky blood on his jeans. And lady? Would you mind relaxing that thing? You got an arm band...we’re supposed to be on the same side here.”
“I’m not relaxing a thing. There’s something out there and I’m not going to let it in.” Sarah rolled her disarming bright blue eyes and gave it a try. “C-C-Can’t we all just get along?” She lowered her weapon.
“Now we’re talk’in,” said Franky with a wide and charming smile. Sarah looked at him for a second, noticing for the first time his broad shoulders and sharp chiseled out facial features with a scrub of nighttime whiskers. He wasn’t too bad looking.
“Sure,” said Elton. “Just as soon as you power down that laser pistol.”
Sarah held her thumb over the gun’s fingerprint identification pad and the weapons ominous green glow ceased. “Happy now?” From her corner of the room, she squinted in to the darkness behind Frank, craning her neck. “There’s something back there. I think I just saw something move.”
“Mike?” said Elton. His boots clicked on the metal floor as he walked past the juice bar.
Sarah let a sigh of relief that the maniac wasn’t going to open up the depressurization chamber to see whatever was out there; there could be a really big animal in there. Animals that didn’t require air and could stand the planets intense pressure were always bigger than the oxygen breathing ones; she’d seen a bear as a small girl on Earth and didn’t want to see this planets toothy version of one. She walked over to a stool and sat down and picked up a random rubber band on the counter to put her hair up in a ponytail. “Servant? How about an orange juice?”
“All out of orange juice,” said the ghostly white servant. He had thin and visible blue veins pumping blood through his face by way of an artificial heart.
“Give me an apple juice then.” Her hand touched something wet on the counter. She dipped her finger in the odd looking ring of water and rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger looking at it closely. It wasn’t water, but then it didn’t seem to be oil either. It was to smooth to be oil. “Hey, is this from you?” she said addressing Franky.
“That it is.” He drew another bored circle on the counter with his finger.
“You’ve got leaks. Hmmm...” she said inattentively taking a sip of her syrupy sweet apple juice, “...I was wondering why you weren’t wearing an arm band. I would have never guessed you were a local. I think it’s a good idea locals don’t serve. You know, just in case everyone else gets wiped out, we’ll need someone to keep Earth’s legacy alive.”
Franky nodded in agreement. “I don’t think humans should be fighting the only intelligent life we’ve found in the universe.” He finished his raspberry juice and suddenly broke out in to laughter. “I hope they never decide locals like me are human enough to fight, just based on our good looks alone!”
“For now they think all locals are too incompetent to fight.” She leaned over and looked at him closer. “You are the most human looking one I’ve ever seen. Where is everyone else anyway?”
“Ever heard of a Wendigo?”
“No, not really.” Sarah turned her head looking briefly over in to the dark corner of the room where Elton went.
“I know what it is!” said Franky. “One second. Let me find the proper definition.” He squinted his dark brown eyes and looked in to a distance that wasn’t there.
“Come on,” said Sarah in a serious tone. “You’re telling me you have a built in search engine.”
“Shhh...” he said. “Okay. Got it.” He turned in his squeaky chair to address her. “From my detailed files on mythology, the wendigo, in Earth’s folklore...” Sarah stretched and smiled at the preposterous situation. A robot, a very attractive robot, was about to tell her all about Earth’s folklore. “...is a malevolent cannibalistic spirit into which humans could transform, or which could possess humans. So technically, a synthetic like me could not get possessed.”
Sarah smiled a pretty, girlish smile and then laughed. “Now that’s funny…” She patted him on the back a couple of times. “…a synthetic telling me a ghost story.
Suddenly she stiffened and squealed. Franky thought it was laughter, so he leaned his head back and let out a loud and full bout of roarous laughter. She felt an intense pressure on her neck and then felt a warm sensation on shoulder. She strained to look at the problem. Her white cotton shirt was taking on a deep red hue and it was spreading quickly.
Franky rested his elbow on the table and leaned back a little putting his foot up on his knee. “I didn’t say it was a ghost story.”
Elton released his hold of her and drew his head back from her neck. His lips were glistening red and his chin was shiny with blood.
Sarah felt like her head was filled with helium and the room began to move in slow motion. Random black spots formed before her dazed blue eyes and then eternal sleep beckoned her into its fuzzy warm darkness. She slipped from her chair to the floor unconscious with a dead thump. Elton put his foot in to the small of her back. He grabbed her small, soft feminine hand and yanked on it hard, twisting it around making a gristly sound.
Frank looked down at her. He took the last cold sip of little Sarah’s apple juice and then rolled his tongue through his velvety mouth. “I hate humans.”
Elton got on his knees to feed, as his buddy Mike, began feasting on Elton.
-
PROLOGUE
Three days after my eighteenth birthday, I began to realize just how worthless my schooling had been. None of it had prepared me for the course my life was to take, because what could I possibly have learned from geometry and world history about the size of the universe?
They came to my father's house at noon that day, stiffly formal and beautifully dressed. They explained that they were not from Earth, and told us briefly of the history of their world, Ceria. Somehow they'd taken notice of me, and told us why they were there.
My parents were at first unwilling, until I reminded them that I was no longer a child. If the Cerians wanted young people from Earth, and if I was one of a mere dozen, I didn't want to disappoint them.
My name - my birth name - was Tanager Wealthow Phillips. My mother was a literature teacher, and my father was an ornithologist, and they both loved their jobs more than anything. I grew up in a small town where I knew everyone, and they all knew me. It was a quiet little place, seemingly stuck in the time before interstate highways and shopping centers; every business was family-run, every car a Chevy or a Ford, every house ready to receive guests. So to me, the thought of going to Ceria was almost incomprehensible - but I knew I would probably never get another chance to leave my hometown.
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But if you've ever wondered what an agent does, what she does for me, how many times a week I call her up and giggle into her voice mail, etc., now's the time to post those questions! I'll collect them for a few days, then zap them off to her.
Billy Merrell
I look at pictures of an invasion, black and white
and blazing, despite how the blacks have gone gray.
I rip out photographs from an old issue
of National Geographic—or rather pieces of each:
Love carved into a park bench, a woman's glove,
a swan, blurs of flags in the wind. The rivers
descending through the farm-green fields curve
like fractures of a jigsaw puzzle, bend back
toward themselves. The little poet I am
must be so angry. I don't know what I'm writing,
but I write and write in journals without lines,
so that I can spin the pages any way I want.
One poem goes up the spine while another dribbles down
in lines intended to be tears. I love the impressionists,
make galleries among poems for Renoir, mostly
because I love his name.
I look at the photographs' paused geography,
imagine how diligently the rivers must have worked
to curve back. We all want, in some way, to reach back,
to ourselves or where we descended, and whisper.
At one point, the caption explains, the Volturno River
nearly meets itself for a moment of reflection.
In my journal, I invent the rest: how hard earth is
for the waters to never mix, how at times
the tidewater rises, and the river swells as if to take over
that narrow margin. You can't help, I write,
but hear the concatenation of a river or a history.
Where did I find that word? I wonder
if I even knew what it meant. But who wouldn't love
the thought of standing in one place and drinking
from two generations of water? Reading it later,
I'll know why I was upset and will want to cry again
where I did, in the margin, for the boy I was
when I was fifteen and didn't know it was okay
to write or desire without metaphor. I dreamt I was nothing
but a kite's anchor, collages of men's faces,
makeshift buildings of paper. Years later
I'll wonder how I didn't know I was lonely
when everyone around me did.
- Music:Keep On Loving You - Steel Magnolia
Tim Burton (although not personally)
Abney Park (personally)
and Dickens Fair AND Clockwork (for your person)
On February 5th 2010, Abney Park will be headlining Swing Goth's "Wonderland: A Tim Burton Ball." The opening act and special performances are still being added, but really, what more do you need to know?
The first 100 pre-sale tickets to the concert will be available for $15 (and they'll be a keepsake all their own). You can buy them individually, or for Dec 1st only you can get them in a bundle with admission to Clockwork and The Dickens Fair for $35 (that's a $47 value!)
Here at Crazy Eddies Junk Emporium, we deal in volume, volume, volume! We know how to negotiate with other ventures, and pass the bargains on to you!
Best,
Brian
PS- There's so much more to come, but I'll hold off on the rest until next Tuesday. "
was still small enough
to fit under tables
and listen to conversations
as all my senses
begged to go to sleep
hearing and vision, most of all
i yawned and my eyelids got heavy
food blurred in its containers
brown ceiling fans
and amber drinking glasses
as i ate
leftover cake
with plastic forks
and a far away wish
to freeze time
freeze time
freeze space
make the car stall out
on the road to
"home"
'cause it wasn't 'home'
anywhere else was.
- Music:Owl City- Fireflies
According to Forbidden Planet International, the collected IGNITION CITY will be out in February 2010, and apparently it’ll look like this:
- African conflicts spurred by warming - environment - 23 November 2009 - New Scientist
"Africa is poised to experience a surge in civil wars, causing nearly 400,000 additional battle deaths by 2030 ? all as a direct result of rising temperatures."
(tags:war pol eco ) - Nicholas Szczepaniak ? A Defensive Architecture | Interactive Architecture dot Org
"Set in the Blackwater Estuary, Essex, his allegorical and provocative defensive architectures envisage the construction of a set of austere coastal defence towers that perform multiple functions within this dystopian future. The militarised towers are alive ? breathing, creaking, groaning, sweating and crying when stressed. Airbags on the face of the towers expand and contract, while hundreds of tensile trunks are sporadically activated, casting water onto the heated facades producing steam…"
(tags:architecture ) - Motion Comics
"one of comics' greatest strengths is the idea of closure, or how readers fill in the gaps between panels. Motion comics do this for the viewer with extra sound effects and time. An unfortunate side effect of this is that while traditional comics enable us to read at our own speed, motion comics lock us into fixed durations." Which is why motion comics aren't comics, if you were wondering.
(tags:comicstheory ) - New global map of Mars suggests Red Planet once had ocean
"?All the evidence gathered by analyzing the valley network on the new map points to a particular climate scenario on early Mars,? said NIU Geography Professor Wei Luo. ?It would have included rainfall and the existence of an ocean covering most of the northern hemisphere, or about one-third of the planet?s surface""
(tags:space ) - I traced my dad… and discovered he is Charles Manson | The Sun |Features
"He says: "I didn't want to believe it. I was frightened and angry. It's like finding out that Adolf Hitler is your father. I'm a peaceful person - trapped in the face of a monster.""
(tags:crime )
a new world
when you fed me with your
dreams.
I took a peek from
underneath my own freedom
and emerged from Plato’s cave
to see you there.
really, I,
always knew you would come,
one day
to sweep me off my feet
and inject passionate love
into me.
really, I,
always knew the day would come
when our worlds of freedom would collide
and we’d no longer only live inside
our shells.
Continuing my list (and yes, there will be more of these posts to follow, so don’t tell me what I’ve left off this list):
MONOLITHS AND DIMENSIONS, Sunn O))): the more I listen to this immense album, the more I think of it as four movements transitioning from the pagan to the organised church through an apocalyptic collapse into some awful, barren post-civilisational doomspace that fades to become a weirdly sylvan, almost innocent place. Of course, that could just be me. Never discount the possibility that I am a mad old man and completely full of shit. Anyway, yes, it all sounds a bit prog, but they pull it off as far as I’m concerned.
BROMST, Dan Deacon: perhaps not as gleefully mental as SPIDERMAN OF THE RINGS, but still a greatly entertaining record and a working-playlist staple for me over the summer. Very beautiful in places, and, I think, curiously revelatory of his conservatory background. It’s a record you can just spazz around to that also rewards a close listening, just to hear how he really builds that stuff.
"Skeletons," Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Off the album IT’S BLITZ. Honestly, much of the album left me cold. "Skeletons," though, approaches the heights of "Maps" (and if you don’t like "Maps," then you’re dead inside). Love as a long winter march.
"Dog Days Are Over," Florence And The Machine: similarly, I thought LUNGS was a weak album, and I suspect "Dog Days" will prove to be their One Great Song. (I have a half-arsed theory that 95% of bands have One Great Song in them, and I can prove this using an abacus, Manhattan Love Suicides’ "Veronica," and my right fist.) This one is the one: brilliant structure, some beautifully written lines, she sings like she knows what she’s talking about (which I didn’t get from "Kiss With A Fist, oddly), and she opens up her pipes and blows the door off.
SYMBIOSIS, Demdike Stare: this was a marvellous thing. World Hauntology, if you like: Middle Eastern musics, lo-fi drone and the hideous Arctic menace of Scando exorcists like Elegi, all whacked together with stark rhythmic instinct and crazed machine intelligence. I get the impression this record went way under the radar this year, and it really shouldn’t have.
More in a while.
The first bar, created by the Sumerians after they were given the gift of beer by the gods, was known as the Ur-Bar. Although it has since been destroyed, its spirit lives on--in each age there is one bar that captures the essence of the original Ur-Bar, where drinks are mixed with magic and served with a side of destiny and intrigue. Heroes, villains, poets and thieves may be found within its walls; when the gods visit Earth they stop by the Ur-Bar for a drink.
The entire idea occurred during drinks at a convention among a group of great authors, and for once we wrote the idea down and sold it. The due date is summer 2010, so the best guess for a release date is sometime in 2011. We'll keep you posted when that becomes final, and also when the table of contents has been finalized.
I'm really excited about this. I get to be an editor! It adds something new to my publishing credentials, and I get to work with a bunch of great authors. And guess where all of the anthology meetings are going to be held? *grin*
Shawn and I have finally caught up on the DVDs of last season's “Dexter.” I have to say that I was surprised how much I enjoyed the season finale (the wedding.)
However, “Dexter” is one of those shows that invades my subconscious. I have a lot of dreams where I am Dexter, and, before we watched this final episode, I had one rather memorable one in which I was trying to solve the conundrum of Miguel's murder, which did lead me to one very serious question: how dumb are the CSI guys in Miami, anyway?
I actually buy the way things worked out in the finale, but my subconscious thought of an important issue that ought to come up at some point, which is, when Dexter fakes “the skinner's” M.O., Miguel was already dead. You'd think that there would be some sort of physical evidence that would suggest the difference.
Then again, one of the things I find sort of refreshing about “Dexter” over the various CSI franchises is that people miss stuff all the time, which seems much more realistic than all the crimes supposedly solved by the presence of cat hair and mouse dandruff found under the victim's left fingernail. And, in the very first episode, Dexter tells us in a voice over that the unsolved murder rate in Miami is a really high percentile. So, it's not like they don't set it up.
Still, it was weird to have my dreaming mind think about this.
Now, if you CAN make the signing, great! A reminder: FREE GIFT WRAPPING!! By authors who may (or may not) know anything about gift wrapping!! That, in and of itself, will be a blast. *grin* I'm sure we'll also have some candy and other freebies to give away.
Here are the details of the signing if you think you can make it. Keep in mind that Christmas is inching ever closer. Ask yourself who on your gift list might enjoy some great fantasy novels! Signed even!
The "Last Hurrah!" Signing
Waldenbooks @ The Oakdale Mall
Reynolds Rd., Binghamton, NY
December 5th, 2009
Noon-4pm
Gift-wrapping available!
Featuring:
Patricia Bray; S.C. Butler
Barbara Campbell; Laura Anne Gilman
Jackie Kessler; Joshua Palmatier
Anton Strout
And if you aren't certain what books are up for grabs, here's a list of all of our books in print and available through the store:
Patricia Bray: The Sword of Change series: Devlin's Luck, Devlin's Honor, Devlin's Justice; The Chronicles of Josan series: The First Betrayal, The Sea Change, The Final Sacrifice
S.C. Butler: The Stoneways Trilogy: Reiffen's Choice, Queen Ferris, The Magicians' Daughter
Barbara Campbell: The Trickster's Game series: Heartwood, Bloodstone, Foxfire
Laura Anne Gilman: The Retrievers series: Staying Dead, Curse the Dark, Bring It On, Burning Bridges, Free Fall, Blood From Stone; The Vineart War series: Flesh and Fire
Jackie Kessler: Hell on Earth series: Hell's Belles, The Road to Hell, Hotter Than Hell; Black and White (with Caitlin Kittredge)
Joshua Palmatier: The Throne of Amenkor Trilogy: The Skewed Throne, The Cracked Throne, The Vacant Throne
Anton Strout: The Simon Canderous series: Dead To Me, Deader Still
And there you go! A long list of great books to browse from. I hope to see you at the signing, but if you can't make it, definitely send April a message with what books you'd be interested in. Help support good booksellers! Us authors can't survive without them!
Alone in a queen sized bed.
When will you meet me?
--Brooke S.
Time again for Billie Bloebaum, Powell’s Airport book buyer, matching readers to books - a dying art that I can’t get over.
Amy writes: The last book I read that I really, really loved was “Sugar Queen” by Sarah Addison Allen.
Billie: My first impulse is to go with Alice Hoffman or maybe ‘Like Water for Chocolate’ or ‘Love in the Time of Cholera’ or ‘Chocolat’, but to find a good romance novel with a touch of magical realism that doesn’t veer into schmaltz is more of a challenge.
‘The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes’ by Crusie, Dreyer, and Stuart has that touch of magic in a contemporary setting. Gwyn Cready has written a couple of charming novels about women being transported into books through various magical means.
(SB Sarah: I also suggest Charms for the Easy Life, by Kaye Gibbons, or Family Linen by Lee Smith.)
Leigh writes: My primary reads are UF, SF, YA, and romance, but in any genre, I like love stories and attraction. I’m working on a paper about the role of romance in the tv show Battlestar Galactica for a romance panel at PCA 2010, so I like the blending of genres.
What I like in Contemporary: I liked all your past recommendations—Victoria Dahl’s “Talk Me Down”, Erin McCarthy’s “Flat-Out Sexy” (and “Hard and Fast”), and Jennifer Crusie’s “Bet Me”. I own about 6
Susan Elizabeth Phillips books, the Chicago Stars series, among others, and I can’t seem to get enough. Wit, humor, and extreme sexiness are all huge draws.
Dislikes in Contemporary: Silliness. A lot of Crusie’s other work just seemed to get very implausible in a zany romcom way, and I’m not big on zany. Some SEP’s do this, too. I’m also not a fan of vanilla ness—Nora Roberts is good, but after awhile the sweet love stories start to blend together. We need spice with the sugar!
Likes in Historical: Adored “Lord of Scoundrels” by Loretta Chase, most of the Bridgertons and some others by Julia Quinn, and just about everything Lisa Kleypas has ever written. I like authors who manage not to make sedate historical settings boring, and who know how to make the most of the incredibly complex social rules of the time. Good dialogue a must, too.
Dislikes in Historical: The extremes: over-the-top wildness (too many kidnappings, faintings, convenient grievous illnesses, etc. I also will not read amnesia or secret babies) and tepid, ho-hum storylines populated by characters who I can’t remember the day after I’ve read them.
Likes in Paranormal: *cringes* Here’s where all my carefully articulated taste goes out the window. I’ll allow near-endless amounts of cheese, corn, and assorted WTF to appear in my paranormals. I own all 7 of J.R. Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood books, God help me, and I will buy more, like the crackhead I am. I like vampires, but /lovelovelove/ werewolves and other animal shifters. “Bitten” by Kelley Armstrong is great, Jeaniene Frost’s Night Huntress books are to die for, P.C. Cast’s Goddess books are sent from above, and Rachel Vincent’s werecat books are also delish. Pack dynamics, soul mates, wars and violence, immortals—I eat it all up like candy.
Dislikes: Rape-y heroes, overly harsh, kick-butt heroines and overly submissive ones. I used to like Christine Feehan’s Carpathians, but they got too cartoony, even for me. The Kresley Cole I tried (Sebastian and Katarin?) had a heroine who was cold and unsympathetic, in my view. Sherrilyn Kenyon’s work is reliably fun, but gets repetitive. Repetitive. Repetitive.
Likes in UF: Great, unique worldbuilding with lots of sexual tension! Love Patricia Briggs, Ilona Andrews, Charlaine Harris, Vicki Petersson, Richelle Mead, Ann Aguirre, Nalini Singh.
Thank you so very much! I know this is a way-detailed list, and at times contradictory. :-) I would love to get some good recs from a reliable source, and this seemed like a great opportunity.
Billie says: Have you read all three Richelle Mead series? If you like the Succubus books, then I’d recommend Jackie Kessler’s succubus series. If you like the ‘Vampire Academy’ books, then P.C. and Kristin Cast’s ‘Marked’ series. If you like the Urban Shaman books, then Caitlin Kittredge’s ‘Nocturne City’ novels would probably appeal. (SB Sarah: Also, Jill Myles’ Gentlemen Prefer Succubi new book might appeal, too.)
If you’re into were-sex, then I’d suggest Keri Arthur. The books aren’t consistently well-written, but I like the world and characters enough to forgive any shortcomings in the prose. And, there’s a horse-shifter, so, y’know…
I’d also recommend you try Kim Harrison. The first couple of books were decent UF, but the characters and storylines have gotten darker in later books and there are real consequences to be faced for the characters and nobody is safe.
On the contemporary side—Jill Shalvis! Seriously, I have now un-officially appointed my self Jill Shalvis’s pimp. I don’t read a lot of contemporaries, but I feel I can comfortably recommend her books to pretty much anyone.
If you’d like to be book matched, send me an email at sarahATsmartbitchestrashybooksDOTcom with “Book Matcher” in the subject line. I can’t promise that every inquiry will be matched but so long as Billie’s willing to check out my inbox, we’ll keep matching the books. Thanks, Billie!
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robert_from_ap : I got a present for ya! [+8] - robert_from_ap : Æther Shanties Listening Parties? [+7]
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- robert_from_ap : San Francisco Show, Febuary 5th --> Abney Park headlines "Wonderland: A Tim Burton Ball" [+9]
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