Safe Haven

       “She was in a terrible marriage and she couldn’t talk to anyone. He used to hit her, and in the beginning she told him that if it ever happened again, she would leave him. He swore that it wouldn’t and she believed him. But it only got worse after that, like when his dinner was cold, or when she mentioned that she’d visited with one of the neighbors who was walking by with his dog. She just chatted with him, but that night, her husband threw her into a mirror.”

If it makes you feel any better … with a little training and a dash of imagination, you must know, you can write too. However don’t start your training by reading these materials.

Sorry. His writing just doesn’t float my boat.



To Read – Later

A short trip to Greenbelt resulted to Gruber, Rice and Gaiman. I was supposed to get a pair of running shoes but got distracted. Stroud, Gruen, Pratchett and Follett are backlogs.

I’ve read American Gods last year – loaned by a friend – but I wanted my own copy and a reread. So when I saw a good edition, I made a decision to ignore the shoes.

I Have Five Minutes

Let me see if I can still do this.

My last post was approximately two months ago; ages, considering I never pass three days without writing a paragraph. But as my tasks dragged along, I found little to almost zero time to sit and scribble.

I haven’t been at leisure to anything for the past six months. Finding time was a game of hide and seek. It was something for entertainment and an intention delivered only to myself. Sadly, life made a work out of it. Tsk. Eventually, I gave in and drew my white flag. Right now, I am mulling over how to arrange things so I don’t have to settle in leaving this page for months. I’m still in my drawing board, but I wish to accomplish a simple schedule for me to squeeze some scribble time.

So far I’ve missed reviewing my best movie of all time (Inception) something I am not too riled about because, heck, I’m not going to pretend I can ride its intellectual-wave. One thing’s for sure, I kiss the ground Inception’s writer walks on. I’ll wipe their ass if asked. Tour de force does not illustrate it, it breathes it. I love Inception, I admire Inception and I am willing to see it a hundred times over. Can you tell? I’m nuts about it.

After spending a few more thoughts over the list of movies I’ve seen, my most anticipated also escaped the review list. If there was anything worth spending my money and time with, it would be for the first installment of HP7. You can’t improve on the director but he tried improving the narrative, something I appreciated. Until the last moment of its almost three hour run, I was agape. Going to the movies was another good deed rendered. I had a smile up to my ears.

Thinking further through my movie list, I remembered someone asking me to review The Social Network. I had no intentions by the way but the request was hard to decline. If it wasn’t for that perhaps I’d be running around doing something else.

Books? What about it? Oh shoot, yes I nearly forgot. I use to read them. Mind you I still love them. I use to devour them one after another, however after I entered the real world and had to keep a job, I decided it can only be done once a month. And once a month a new book is finished. I think I have a total of 13 this 2010. But the bad news is, I could not for the life of me, finish the one I started last November. It can and will still be finished but that leaves me with an empty December. What an awful truth.

I still have a handful standing in my shelf. I wonder when I’ll start with them.

That’s that – the mind boggles but heck, life changes. So what about my personal life? Hmm, let me see.

By the time I started lagging with my writing – my usual reaction would be to throw myself out (figuratively) and give myself some heavy flogging so the lesson sticks – but this time, something amidst the hubbub calmed me. That needs a whole lot of talking and I think I reached my limit for the day.

Tomorrow I’ll try to write again. If it happens, I’ll tell you about the guy I’m with.

Night Reads

It is in my realization that made it all feel so happy and sad. Sad, because it’s been a long while since I stayed up late for a book. And happy, because I’m completely enthralled by my new find.

Although I’m never a fan of feverish speed when covering a novel, I definitely find satisfaction in getting one and not letting go until its last page. However, things have piled up lately and time for the many things I love had to take a back seat. However last Friday, I bought several books for a welcome gift to friends visiting from New South Wales. At the same time I also picked me a new book by Isabel Allende. This is going to be my first Allende exploit and I must say that it brought me back to my great love for reading. Although I’ve never stopped loving it (and doing it), it suddenly felt like some sort of renewed arousal.

The characters are complex, the story thick and the setting and time dizzying. Now I know why the author has multitude of followers. She has made a believer in me.

I’m still halfway but my appreciation of the novel is heightening. Somehow a graveyard shift for a good read has animated me in my stupor and I must say I wish to be met more of these affairs.

Listening to the Morning Rush By CnD

In The Woods

These three children own the summer. They know the wood as surely as they know the microlandscapes of their own grazed knees; put them down blindfolded in any dell or clearing and they could find their way out without putting a foot wrong. This is their territory, and they rule it wild and lordly as young animals; they scramble through its trees and hide-and-seek in its hollows all the endless day long, and all night in their dreams …

These children will not be coming of age, this or any other summer. This August will not ask them to find hidden reserves of strength and courage as they confront the complexity of the adult world and come away sadder and wiser and bonded for life. This summer has other requirements for them.

Three best friends enter the woods but only one will come out. He will be found, back pressed against an oak tree, shoes filled with blood and a memory erased from shock.

Fast forward to twenty years, Rob Ryan is now working as a detective for the Dublin Murder Squad. Although living his lifelong dream, there is no escaping the woods that made his life so askew.  One fateful day he is asked together with his partner Cassie, to go back to Knocknaree; the place where it all started and a place he wished even with all the happy memories of his friends, did not appear with another dead child.

In The Woods is a riveting novel that matches psychological drama in one sweep. First and foremost a mystery thriller, it dives deep into the mind of a psychopath and the very many schemes it can create to deliver its horrendous plans. The ordinary lives of every character paces through extraordinary creepy plots that both tightens and shatters relationships. What is most notable about Tana French is that she was able to capture the tout narrative and fine tooth-comb pursuit this genre commands.

The ending may not have been what we hoped and it may have come too lengthy but still the complexity is richly analyzed. Most would beg for a happy ending, something morose lives deserve, but French was able to capture its depth and true to its element it delivered raw and unrelenting.

In The Woods is so captivating, its sense of lose becomes the readers great find.


This is Tana French’s first novel

Winner of the 2008 Edgar Award for Best First Novel by an America Author

ISBN 978-0670038602

Published by Viking Adult