Snow Day - Cold Morning Play

I awoke the other morning to find a fresh blanket of snow on the ground. Not something we get to enjoy here often. I poured a cup of hot Brazilian coffee to fight off the morning cold and prepared myself to go outside. The wind chill factor was still well below freezing so I threw on my new fur and suede boots, my big winter coat, a hat, neck gaiter, gloves and liners and headed out to take puppy for her walk.

The kids in the neighborhood were playing in the snow. I could hear the echo of their high-pitched laughter as it bounced off the houses. I recognized the voice of my neighbor's five year old daughter as she screamed and then busted out into giggles. She was yelling indistinct instructions to dad, mom must have been inside with her new baby brother, a child they named Wolfgang. I do not know why. I'm thinking more likely Van Halen than Mozart.

As I trudged my way back up the hill towards the house I saw the damage that I had only heard in the early hours of the morning. Furrowed tiremarks buried deep in ice patches right in front of my driveway.

This is a regular sight for us when icy weather hits. We live in the middle of a double hill, where the first hill begins to flatten out, a place known to trap unsuspecting yard gnomes, past my driveway the second part of the hill ascends steeply. An area that accumulates runoff so that when people leave for work in the morning they hit what once was slush, but overnight has become a large peaked patch of ice. I hear them as I lay in bed in the quiet dark on wintery mornings, they hit the patch, tires spinning, then slide back down again. They rev their engines and hit the gas, hoping that momentum will eventually prevail and propel them past my patch of icy slush. It usually takes a few tries. As a neighborly gesture I keep salt in the garage and put some out, but this year the storm came so quickly that by the time I realized that I had run out, there wasn't any left in the stores, no sand either as the whole city braced itself for the worst.

The sun was trying to come out. The sky was changing from dark slate to cold steel grey. The wind, excruciating. I pulled my neck gaiter up higher on my face and my hat down further until all that was left of my face were my eyes. I pulled my parka hood down to block the wind from my eyes and hoped that puppy would guide us both home safely, but no. The snow and the kids playing proved too much for her. She rolled around, kicked up snow and barked, trying to get their attention. Normally they would have run right over to play with her, but not today. Today all either of us would get would be shouts of hello and waves from little gloved hands.

I stopped at the mailbox at the end of the drive. There was a package that I was expecting, it was overdue enough to cause me concern, but not concern enough to drag myself out in the freezing cold after work to look for it. I opened the box and bent down to look inside. There it was. Finally. That had to be it. A manila folder just the perfect size for a book. I reached my hand in and grabbed it, the feeling of excitement growing. This should be the review book I had been waiting for. Web of Deceit by Darlene Cox. I've been dying to read it.

I started to open the package and that's when I felt it. Or rather, heard it. I'm really not sure which. It was a small noise that seemed to have some percussion. A thud in the back of my head. It was familiar, awash in nostalgia, yet it took me a moment to realize what it was. I had been hit with a snowball. I couldn't help but giggle. I haven't been popped by a snowball in years.

I turned to see who had assaulted me and in the middle of the street stood one of my neighbors. Bundled in a big, puffy snow parka, a scarf and a balaclava all I could see was the smile on his face. He laughed out loud and waved a big gloved hand at me. I laughed and waved back. I still have no idea which neighbor it was. But it made my day.

I took puppy back inside and opened my package to see that inside was indeed the book I had been anticipating. And there was a note from the author inside. I really nice note. She had taken the time to write a small apology for the delay and a really sweet little letter. She included her email and phone number so we can keep in touch-- Like a note from an old friend. I was half tempted to pick up the phone and call her to tell her We Got Snow!!!

Instead I tucked the book and letter away in my book bag and snuggled up on the couch with puppy to watch one of my all time favorite movies, Enchanted April






I prefer winter and fall,
when you feel the bone structure of the landscape -
the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter.
Something waits beneath it,
the whole story doesn't show.
~~ Andrew Wyeth

My Three Must - Haves to survive the Winter Weather

Women's Suede And Fur Boot
Neck Gaiter
Traditional Balaclava (various colors)


Currently Reading: Web of Deceit by Darlene Cox
Look for the review on blogcritics http://blogcritics.org/writers/a-geek-girl/

 

Dead Air by Deborah Shlian and Linda Reid

There is something diabolical and sinister lurking in the halls and secret labs of Ellsford University. Secrets that must be kept at any cost.
~~ A Geek Girl Book Review ~~


Dead Air by Deborah Shlian and Linda Reid

Ellsford University holds many secrets within its austere walls. Macabre murder, suicidal students and one radio journalist who threatens to bring down the institution, if her own dark secrets don't destroy her first.

A good mystery is a work of art. By its very nature it must be. Plots, subplots, characters. All must be interwoven just so to draw the reader in. Any failure on one front will cause the entire work to unravel, leaving the reader feeling disappointed, cheated. If the writer is too elaborate the work will not flow naturally, leaving the reader feeling overwhelmed and confused.

Dead Air by Deborah Shlian and Linda Reid finds that perfect balance, engaging the reader, yet taking the time to build upon itself. It draws you in, but leaves just enough distance to allow for objectivity. An omniscient viewpoint that gives the book a web like feeling as the reader becomes aware of events happening on campus and the characters are left to play catch up. The layers create an intricate groundwork that adds to the anticipation and makes the novel a fast read.

From the opening pages Dead Air begins to weave its magic with an elegant prose that wraps its fingers around your mind, refusing to let go. You find yourself compelled by the writer's language, no matter how macabre the subject matter.

The first campus death is a suicide, a young man who decides to take a high dive off a low clock tower, but it's the writing that strikes you. Not a grisly death scene, a tantalizing tease that leaves you hungry for more.

"He'd been sitting there, feet dangling over the precipice of the university clock tower for nearly twenty minutes, not clear how he got there or why. But then he hadn't been certain of much since—since when? He wasn't sure. He couldn't seem to remember anything except the recurrent nightmares. Tormenting him. Invading his thoughts. He'd hardly slept at all in two weeks."

I had a feeling of anticipation as I began reading Dead Air. The information I had received beforehand was fascinating. A dead Professor, disappearing students, a student radio journalist whose own dark past threatens to destroy her as she delves deeper into her investigation.

That information was actually a bit deceiving. There's so much more to this book than the expurgated synopsis let on. The authors both have backgrounds as university medical directors and researchers, that should have been my first clue that this was not going to be your run-of-the-mill murder mystery. I haven't been this rocked by a book since reading Coma by Robin Cook.

Sammy Greene is a red-headed spitfire, a Junior at Ellsford University, and a native New Yorker who's turning the University and the little town of St. Charlesbury on its ear with her popular, controversial radio talk show called The Hot Line. This seems to make her a threat to the establishment and a magnet for the religious nutjobs who have made the University and its medical experiments the focal point of their protests. When Sammy sets out to do an expose called 'The Death of Education', examining the supposed suicide of a prominent Professor, she finds more questions than answers. It seems that Ellsford has a problem with suicide. Suicide amongst the staff and the student body. And it's a problem that's growing. As the bodies start to pile up the University wheels begin to turn in the direction of self preservation.

And Sammy has secrets of her own. On the outside she's a tough kid with a thick skin who doesn't back down from a challenge, but there is an underlying fragility that threatens to break her. She can't escape her past or the voices in her own head that have been re-awakened by her research.

At times it's difficult to distinguish between the roles of protagonist and antagonist. For instance, the powerful, evangelical figurehead who holds sway over the town and many of the University students. His unfocused vitriol leaves one wondering exactly whom the target really is. However, even this seems to work in the authors' favor. Another loose cannon whose next move is unpredictable. Can he become a trusted ally or is he simply another dark cog in Ellsford's murderous machinery?

There are several foreshadowing events that occur early on, but you shouldn't get too comfortable thinking that you have it all figured out. You'll find that this story weaves in and out and it will shake up anyone going in with preconceived notions. The tension builds as Sammy realizes the magnitude of skeletons in Ellsford's closets. Students begin to disappear and Sammy soon finds herself in a race for her life. As her situation becomes more desperate she struggles to discern friend from foe in a world full of deception and danger.

The authors call this 'A Sammy Greene Thriller' leaving the impression that there are more to come in a series. I hope so. They've done for academia what Patricia Cornwell did for forensic science.

This is a great book for anyone who enjoys reading thrillers and mysteries. The release date is set for December 7th but I'd definitely recommend pre-ordering a copy for anyone who has an avid reader on their holiday shopping list. This book is sure to be in high demand this season.



Book Review: Dead Air by Deborah Shlian and Linda Reid was originally published on Blogcritics on Nov. 23, 2009.

Some Good News

The book is well under way.
The publishers couldn't be happier.

The bad news...
The deadline is March 15th! And I'm still writing, re-writing and editing.

Some days I swear that I can't pull one more coherent thought out of my head, the next day the words come so fast and furious that I can't write them quickly enough. What I have now is such a jumble that I'm not even sure I can re-organize it. What I need is an assistant. And a new mini recorder, mine chose the worst possible time to conk out.

Among the unbound fragments
found after Emily Dickinson's death
is a small slip of paper that reads only,
"But ought not the amanuensis to receive a commission also --"

I'm no Emily Dickinson, but I completely understand.
I've come to believe that dictation is the ultimate act of love.
To have someone who cares for your words enough to make that sacrifice is a precious gift that cannot bear the weight of a price tag, nor can it be given enough gratitude.



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I highly recommend The Book of the Damned.



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