Partials--A Book Review Of Sorts...

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 I don’t write a lot of book reviews. Thanks to our local library making audiobooks available, I’ve read a lot of books lately and so before I can think too much about the book I’ve just finished, I’m on to the next. Since they’re from the library, I'm reading mostly classics (I’m reading The Scarlet Letter for the first time now…). However, I came across a book last week by a local author, Dan Wells (his website can be found: HERE). It’s his latest work, Partials

I’ve heard Dan speak several times. He came to fame with his John Cleaver books and I have yet to read those. I also listen to a podcast on which Dan is a participant, Writing Excuses (the website for the podcast can be found: HERE). They’ve (or he’s…) discussed Partials several times on the podcast. I was between books so I thought I’d read my first Dan Wells Novel.

If you’ve heard about Partials and wondered what the book is about, the elevator pitch for the books is: Partials is a marriage between the Hunger Games literary series and the Battlestar Galactica television series. Wells’s dystopian world envelops a community of people trying to survive both a cyborg war and an unseen virus that has decimated the human race. A young brave maternity ward nurse and her friends embark on a dangerous, yet vital trip to New York City, a quarantined island totally inhabited by cyborg soldiers called partials.

Wells creates a believable world where the decisions of the humans and partials alike are reasonable based on their circumstances. There’s action, drama, romance, political intrigue, and plot turns as the story unfolds. Like Dan’s brother Robison Wells’s work Variant, the narrative not only requires additional novels to complete the complicated story, but we, the readers, would like these additional novels as soon as they are written.

Dan Wells’s Partials. A pretty good read…

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* Photo used without permission from: http://www.thedanwells.com/titles/partials.html

§ Photo used without permission from: http://www.thedanwells.com/bio.html

9 a.m. Time For A Change...

The turning from one year to another means several things to several people (New Years resolutions, new gym memberships, etc...) but there is something that affects pretty much all of my neighbors simultaneously. The new year means a change in the beginning time for our congregation at church. We now start at 9 a.m. This morning the parishioners came to the chapel a little tired, but ready for the services.

On the surface, the change of or start time from 1 p.m. to 9 a.m. shouldn't seem like such a big deal. We don't shop on Sundays (or, if we do, it's because the "ox is in the mire"). Any work needed doing around the house should have been done before Sunday arrives. When I was in school I never did any homework, nor do I do any writing that's intended for profit on Sundays. So Sundays should be completely open, unscheduled, free.

 

Things don't always work out that way. On Sundays additional meetings are scheduled, choir practices set, other assignments given. Yes, getting four kids ages 8 to 17 up and ready (not to mention ourselves...) and to church by 9 a.m. is tough sometimes, but oh, how nice the long Sundays afternoons are, complete with the home smelling of the forthcoming dinner, the opportunity to watch a movie or two, or to take the occasional nap. Those, I especially like...

Facebook Unfriending...

Have you ever experienced that strange sensation of having been a Facebook friend with someone only to find out that you no longer are a Facebook friend with that person, and it wasn't you who de-friended them?

A few weeks ago I saw on the little running posts Facebook has on their site that a friend was tagged in a photo. I thought it was interesting because I was friends with both the person being tagged and the person who posted the picture, but I didn't see a posted picture on the News Feed. So I clicked on the notice of my friend being tagged and the photo came up. I then clicked on the friend who took the picture and I got the following prompt: +1 Add Friend.

Now, I understand there are a lot of reasons people de-friend others on Facebook (just as there are a lot of reasons why people friend each other on Facebook. In my history with the social medium, I've only de-friended one person and he was a guy from Pakistan who was contacting my friends and telling them he wanted to get married. I do have hundreds of Facebook friends and I know that many of them I rarely contact. Some I barely know.  But when I find out that I am no longer someone's Facebook friend, my mind begins to ask questions. Did I offend them? Possibly... Did they really not want to friend me in the first place? Perhaps... Am I just too boring for their exciting, fast-paced, rock-n-roll, hipster world that me being listed as one of their electronic friends is somehow cramping their style? I'm sure that's it...

In the grand scheme of things, it's really not a big deal. I mean, I still consider myself friends with them even if it's not officially acknowledged by Facebook. It is, however, still a little strange when I run into a person that I know I was once their Facebook friend and no longer am. It's just a tad, well...weird.

Liberal Arts, The Movie...Ever Heard Of It?

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I'm trying something new...live blogging. Tonight we rented a movie neither my wife nor I had ever heard of. It's called "Liberal Arts" and we're giving it a go. And these are some of my thoughts as I watch the before-mentioned film for the first time.

We can tell it's an art house, independent festival-type of film by the previews on the Blu-Ray. I liked the beginning, man feeling out of place in New York, which, I thought was impossible since--according to some, New York City is the be-all, end-all of places to live. I mean, they make it sound like the rest of the 7 billion people on the planet wish they could live in New York. I do like the way the man reads a lot of books and is somewhat oblivious to the rest of the world around him.

But the man is called back to his university alma mater to attend his favorite professor's retirement festivities. The scenery's beautiful...makes me want to see Ohio. And we've hit the "meet cute." If you're unfamiliar with the term, watch "The Holiday" with Jack Black and Kate Winslet.

The professor...will he be okay? I'm hoping so, but with the small independent film you never know if anyone's going to die. 

So far, no deaths, but the relationship we want to see happen between the guy and the girl (see movie poster picture above...) is progressing nicely. And there's the title of the film woven craftily into the script.

Uh oh...the dude's headed back to NYC and the film's only a third finished...something's up...drama is afoot! Interaction, interaction, interaction. The main character learns about the kids....

Man! I think I dropped a piece of popcorn. Ah...I'll find it later if I did.

"Beethoven...whoa!"  We have music and voice-overs and personal reflections--good stuff. I know there are very specific rules for screenwriting. I've studied some of them, but I'm not good enough to know exactly where we are right now in the movie formula. Then again, it's an indie-film so it could go anywhere.

Popcorn kernel--found it.

The arithmetic scene was classic, and Richard Jenkins is pretty amazing. Overall thoughts so far--it's good. The humor isn't forced down your throat. Didn't see a famous vampire trilogy coming. Boy...They Are Brutal...

We're progressing into the last act now. Dilemmas, conflicts, not knowing what they want, Twilight...how will they overcome all that?

So, how does it end? No spoilers here. We are winding down, kind of like life, the life they're trying to portray in the film. 

Ohio...if that's where the film was actually filmed, is flat. The show, is over. We really liked it. Once you watch it, IMDb the actress who played Ana and see what films she's been in...believe me, it's funny!

*Film poster used without permission from the following website: http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/liberal-arts/

Walking Home...A Short Story

The Weekly Blog Post Returns!

This week's picture brought back some memories of when I lived in Europe. I know there's been a lot of changes, but somethings don't change. Thanks again to Nicole, Tena, Carrie, and Leanne for posting the stories You can post your stories to any of these blogs. And Thanks for choosing me again!

Here again are the rules:

1) There will be one photo, and five words - both of those elements must be a feature in the brief story you create.
2) There is also a 500 word maximum.
3) You have until the next Wednesday to create your post.
4) When you have finished your post, come back HERE and link up below and let whoever your blog host is know in the comments that you have done so!
5) We were going to tell you to not take this too seriously, but reconsidered it because we know full well that asking writers to write something means that they will take it seriously. So, take it seriously, but don't fret/panic/pass out/hyperventilate/lose sleep/run in fear over it.

The week's five words are: 

Aerial

Fare

Rain

Sale

Profit

Here's my submission. Enjoy!

Walking Home

            The heavy snow fell as if the sky itself were inflicting vengeance on all life below. “At least it’s not rain,” Eva Holmstrom thought to herself as the aerial assault of frozen water hampered her evening commute from the car rental office in downtown Copenhagen where she worked to her apartment in the suburbs of Glostrup. The 6:35 p.m.train took her only so far and one look at her bicycle buried under a blanket of new-fallen snow told the pretty 35-year old Dane that walking the three kilometers to her home would be her best option. The bike, one of hundreds at the train station, would still be there in the morning. Good thing she wore her winter boots.

             The solitary sound of virgin snow being crunched under Eva’s warm winter boots accompanied the lonely woman as she made her way home. The smell of automobiles and diesel engines mixed with each snowflake falling silently under the umbrella of night added to Eva’s sense of melancholy. This was the first winter Eva spent without her mother, who died of breast cancer the previous August and with her death, Eva lost her last remaining parent. She was an orphan, and because she was an only child, she alone remained the only member of her immediate family.

With the sun having set hours earlier, lights from Scandinavian’s second largest city in the east illuminated the clouds hovering over the mostly flat countryside casting an eerie pale in the sky above. Eva continued on, passing an occasional home in between rows and rows of apartment buildings, in which contained various shops and businesses on the first floor. The bright lights from the storefronts invited Eva to come inside, tempting her with a sale on cigarettes or a reduced fare on winter vacation packages from a local travel agency. If she wanted, she could even get her company’s latest profit figures from the Berlinske Tidende telling her whether or not she could expect a raise next year.

            But it was the bakery that caused Eva to finally stop and allow the soft flakes of frozen water to dissolve into her already wet wool hat and heavy coat. She peered through the bakery window frosted from the warm pastries inside at the numerous treats and delicious desserts for which her country was famous. When she spotted the studentebrød, her heart skipped a beat. The food made from pastry unsold the day before was something her mother used to make for her when Eva was a child and money was tight. Though every bakery made their studentebrød a little different, this particular baker’s invention mirrored her mother’s in so many ways. 
           Eva loitered for just a moment and then moved along, each step brought her closer to her empty house. As she walked, water gently rolled down the fair skin of her cheek. It could have been from the snow, but Eva, and the clouds above, knew otherwise.

Word Count: 492

Fur-B-Gone, Revisited...

It was cold this morning and I knew when I made the appointment to get our dog's hair groomed that I should have asked for a later appointment, but I didn't, and so I got up early on a day I took off from work to bring the little dog in.

Because I didn't have to go in to work, Janna and I had a chance to chat. She and I used to be part of a bell choir--Christmas was our busy time of year, but we rehearsed every week to get ready. Janna was the one who recruited me to the group. We carpooled together and she and I sat next to each Sunday night in the bonus room above my friend's garage and we sang and rang bells for an hour and a half. Now, I only see Janna every three or four months. Once the hair on our Shih Tzu grows to the point where our poor little dog can't see, that's when it's time to give Janna a call...

As we chatted I snapped a few pictures, and I thought, "I should right a post about Janna and her business." But as I began writing this post, I thought, "I might have written about her before." A quick Cntl F search told me I had.

But, Fur-B-Gone is worth at least another blog post. Janna does a fantastic job. If you're in the area and need the services of a pet groomer, please consider her for all your pet grooming needs. I know we do!

Tennyson & Christmas Trees...

Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote:

Ring Out, Wild Bells

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow;
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Alfred Lord Tennyson as printed in The Book of Christmas by Hamilton Wright Mabie, 1909

I heard no bells ringing out (or in...) this morning or at anytime today as we cleaned up after the holidays. We packed up the ornaments and put away the trimmings. We unwound the inside lights and took the tree outside. It proudly stands, propped up by hardened snow that fell throughout the week, as a sentinel of the season to the multitude of sledders on their way to the Brown's Sledding Hill, or to anyone driving by.

Tennyson speaks of bells which, in his day, literally rang in the New Year. For us, it was emptying our front room of last year's Christmas. We had a wonderful holiday season, but it's time to look ahead, time to ring in the true and hopefully begin the thousand years of peace. Happy New Year everyone!