Always nice to add a few more things to the bookshelf.
I just finished Peter Grant's Forge a New Blade - and it was a deftly enjoyable read, and a great blend of the two separate series of books. Also on my shelf to be read this week is a re-read of Looking for Lynne by John L. Moore (seriously, if you love Western themes and haven't read Mr. Moore, who Tom Savage called "breathtakingly good" you are missing out.) But when those are done, I was needing something new to read.
I love to read - all genres with the exception of lot of YA and Erotica with humans paired with werewoves, dinosaurs (don't even ask), large kitchen appliances (I'm sure those books exist somewhere on Amazon) or sado masochists who are OK because they're cute billionaires. Everyone has their own tastes but I'll pass.
I want a story I can relate to, or aspire to, and other than the one guy with a serious back hair issue unveiled during a scorching day in a bass boat, I've never been romantically approached by a werewolf.
Abby Normal the Lab, guarding the bookshelves from "her" couch.
Even though it's been 15 years since I flew any sort of jet or heavy transport, I can still recall those mornings on the ramp, my bird on the ramp awaiting release to her wandering life. I'd look out across the long shining stretch of the tarmac, the setting sun shining obliquely on the winged form that awaited me, noticing everything - the primordial smell of dinosaur in the tar-pit which is what JP-4 always brought to mind, to the tiniest drops of rain on a massive propeller, sparking there like a billion tossed diamonds. The ramp was quiet - the aircraft still drowsing in the impending night, looking less like plane and more like somber ruin upon an ancient landscape.
There was always a pause there as my ship and I summed each other up as fuel was introduced, and the engine rotated to life. My ship, with a form so massive and a weight that was so solid and myself, her skipper, only a small form, a shadow that would fill her flight deck with a unceasing stir. Our truce for the night complete, we launched into the storm tossed skies, darker than the night, and more restless than the thoughts of men.
So I look at this big bag of books not as $37 spent but as the writer's life, their greatest adventures real or conceived being offered to me. There are great risks and great loves, swashbuckling pirates and cowboys, heroes and starships. There is plundering and mutineers and those moments when men's lunacy has posed as the delicate mediator of fate. There are world's seen from the depths space, a night beyond our own night, viewed through a thin crevice in the glittering sphere of which our earth is a tossed diamond among billions that spark against the darkness.
Now I simply have to decide which one to open first.
What's on YOUR nightstand?