Book Spam

(Note: Whenever spam from strangers appears in my email, I sometimes respond, though not in the way the sender intended. Another note: In this post, some lines change to a different size other than "normal." I don't know why.)

This picture of Jim-Bob has nothing to do with this post.
It's a token cute kitty pic.

Back in mid-June, someone I didn't know tried to comment on my "Frugal Living" blog which I rarely update. This was the comment, with certain info redacted:

Hi I'm looking for your contact info for a book review/post?
Can you email me at [company name redacted] at gmail dot com

I was not impressed by the misuse of punctuation, especially since this email was from a "literary business" site. I was puzzled why anyone would comment on a blog that has nothing to do with book reviews. I responded thusly:

Hello [name],

I found your comment on my "Frugal Living" blog where I write about bargains I have purchased or furniture I have repurposed on that blog. I don't review books on that blog.

I do occasional book reviews on my "Peevish Pen" blog. However, the only books I usually consider for review are books by Appalachian authors, books set in the Appalachian region or the south, middle grade or YA novels, memoir, books about writing, and some regional history. I sometimes review self-pubbed books, but only if I have met the author and really like the book.

I didn't get a reply—until last week when this email (certain info has been blurred by me) hit my inbox: 

Now, the author of that book just happens to be the same person who commented on my blog and who  is also the head of the "literary business" that the Book Manager and Blog Tour Assistant work for. I poked around in the company website, which doesn't display well on my iMac's Safari browser but does on my iPad. (And one of the services this site offers—among a multitude of services that authors can purchase—is web design. Hmmm. You'd think they'd check the effectiveness of their designs on a variety of browsers. . . .)

I was, however, intrigued that the author had been a teller of fairy tales for years. According to her website, she "has spent the last decade captivating audiences of all ages with her novels and fairy tales." I'm a big fairy tale fan, so I wanted to take a look at hers. Alas, Amazon turned up no fairy tales she'd written, but her new book was already available on Amazon. But the "look inside the book" feature wasn't activated, and I couldn't find an excerpt until a Google search turned up a page on the self-publishing site Smashwords. According to what the author wrote (Note: I am providing links to attribute her stuff to the author because, in her book's intro, she says it's OK to use brief passages in reviews as long as she gets credit for them):

I started writing this book when I was fifteen, but didn’t get it published until in my thirties. It’s been a long epic journey that has built my character as I have built the characters. Many of the people and events in The [Title Redacted] Series are based on real people and events that have come into my life. I’ve obviously changed the names to protect identity and used many symbolisms. . .  .

I read the first chapter here. It wasn't a genre I usually read, but I went ahead and read the next two chapters that the Smashwords sample allowed (there are 28 total). Here's my synopsis of these first three chapters (with comments that my inner English teacher could not suppress):

The setting is an unidentified village "less than a league from London" in 1270 AD—but the residents spoke modern English, though, and used terms that you wouldn't think villagers would use back then. (Well, they're based on real people, so I guess this is how the real people talked.) The story begins with a cottage fire that traps three children inside and takes three pages to burn down. (The word cottage entered the English language in the late 13th century so this was a brand new concept when the book took place! However, back then cottage meant all the property attached to a cote and not the small residence that seems to take a long time to burn.) People try to put out the fire with buckets (another new concept back then!) of water from the brook. Anyhow, flames spewed, screams pierced, a man swallowed hard and his Adam's apple (a term first used in 1731, so we've got an anachronism there) bobbed, the protagonist suppressed a groan, fear surged, heavy footfalls pounded, wind danced through hair, the sound of silence is broken, and numerous other cliches ensue. 

 Anyhow, the protagonist (a red-haired girl whose name is so hard to pronounce that the author has to tell you how to say it in the book blurb—and in the email I received) doesn't get burned and, while lying on the wet grass and looking at the stars, realizes she's never ever been burned before. Finally, one of the onlookers wonders if she's alive, and—of course!—she is and her "skin still glowed like pure ivory," though one wonders how these villagers ever saw ivory. A nobleman, who's really some magical kind of dude, appears and accuses her of being a witch, but she kicks up some hot embers at him and runs away toward the haunting Forbidden Forest, which is populated (or maybe haunted?) by all kinds of scary things. But it's so dark she doesn't see them and goes deeper into the forest. How she finds her way in the dark is anybody's guess, but this is fantasy so I guess it's OK for those things to happen.

Naturally (or perhaps unnaturally), she makes it out of the haunting Forbidden Forest (After all, there are a lot more books to come in this series, so she can't die a few pages into the first one, can she?) into a stream that flows by a meadow where a shepherd (complete with sheepdog) is tending his flock. She sits on gnarled roots and cups a handful of water to wash her feet. Then black smoke issues from the woods and big black wolves with black flames billowing off the "alpha wolf" (who also had "lethal teeth" and eyes that "flashed like crimson brimstone"—see p.15) emerge from the Forbidden Forest and attack the sheep (and sheepdog). Gruesomeness ensues.

Chapter 2 finds the girl bloody and shackled and lying on the bloody body of the wolf in some old hag's abode. The "shriveled old woman" (who also has an "erratic stride") hacks up the wolf's body (more blood) although she apparently didn't let the corpse hang to bleed out as one would do for an animal killed for meat and quickly makes it into stew, which they eat.

This woman, unlike the other human characters so far, speaks in dialect (this is another brief quote used for the purposes of a review, so it should be OK to quote):

“If ye wish ta die, feel free ta leave the cottage. There be plagues in the villages so terrible men fall on their swords ta be free of their sufferin’. There be wars between them villagers. Men kill each other in mass slaughters ‘cause they be hungry, and there be not enough food ta go around.”

 The old woman has issues and a mission which I won't get into here, and the girl really wants to escape, but that doesn't happen until several months later. The Smashwords sample ended on p. 24, so I'm not sure what actually ensues. 

My critical opinion of the first three chapters:

I'm not sure who the intended reader is. I can't tell if this is YA (it has a young protagonist) or if it's for adult readers. Unless I'm missing something, it's likely not for fans of English history, nor is it for English majors.

I was interested in why the book was set in a specific year—1270 AD—but that wasn't revealed in the first three chapters. Possibly Parliament levying a property tax to support the 8th Crusade that year? Or Prince Edward's leaving England to participate in the 8th Crusade in 1270? I'm guessing, from the title of a later chapter given in the table of contents, that it was maybe King Henry III dying while his successor was on a crusade.

In the short selection I read, I found anacronisms, dialogue that didn't ring true, some strange similes and metaphors, an over-abudance of cliches, etc. Among the multitude of anacronisms: toddler (1793), debris (1708), exact (mid-15th century) pathetic (1590s)), repressed (late 14th century), alpha wolf (alpha male was in use in 1920s but used to describe animals in 1960!), meagerly (1580s), enveloping (late 14th c), erratic (late 14th c) and many more. My favorite is Adrenaline, which was coined as a trademark name in 1901, so how could the character say, "Adrenaline and heat rushed through my veins" on p. 15? She only missed the use of veins by a few decades, though.

The diction and syntax of some sentences made me wince. Here's one: "I flinched as he pinched one of my red locks between his fingers and let it fall back over my shoulder."

Creative dialogue tags (which serious writers ought to avoid) abounded:

“I know who you are,” he hissed. . .  (You can only hiss s sounds.)

“I’m not a witch,” I defended. . . . (Oh, dear. Defended?)

“There didn’t use ta be this much snow in England,” Hazella complained. (The reader can tell she's complaining without having to be told.)

I was confused by some of the imagery. How would a poor girl in a small inland village know what "golden sand on a sunny beach"(p. 9) feels like? Was she well-travelled? Or "sheets of emerald silk" (p. 32)? The silk-weaving industry in England wasn't established until the mid-fifteenth century, so how could she know? Magic powers, perhaps? 

Much description was overdone (think purple prose) and sometimes used similes that didn't quite fit. I won't quote the passages here. You can read them on Smashwords.

Perhaps the writing improves in subsequent chapters; I don't know. But if you're a fan of The Eye of Argon, you will likely love this book. 

Oh, I should mention—there's a coloring book based on the series! And it's available in several ebook formats. (If you buy it for your kids, I recommend you make them use washable crayons, because magic markers could really mess up your iPad's screen.)

Advice for any writer (or publicist/book manager/blog tour assistant/whatever) soliciting a review: Know to whom you're sending your request. Don't email requests to strangers who aren't interested in your genre. If your book seems in need of extensive editing, a former English teacher will certainly notice. Be careful if you ask me to promote you or your goods or services on this blog. I just might do it—but not the way you expect. 

Unless you include pictures of cute kitties. 

Really cute kitties.

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Eaglebait

Susan Coryell's novel, Eaglebait, was originally published by Harcourt in 1989. It won a couple of awards—the NY Public Library "Books for the Teenage" and the International Reading Association "YA Choice." Now, thanks to the Authors Guild "Back in Print" program, it's available again through iUniverse.

Originally classified as YA, Eaglebait now fits the criteria for a middle grade novel. Since today's youth "read up," the protagonist—Wardy Spinks, a fourteen-year-old high school freshman—would be a bit young for today's YA readers. However, middle school students could well identify with underachieving Wardy's desire to avoid being the butt of the bullies' jokes, to adapt to his parents' divorce, and to find his niche.


Wardy, recently kicked out of military school and still bruised from the beating his fellow cadets had given him, returns home to learn his parents are separating and he'll be attending public school. Despite his abysmal grades, his test scores show he's very bright so he's placed in some advanced classes—including Latin and biology where he notices the pretty but shy Meg. Bullies from his past confront him again and make his life miserable. 


At home his ten-year-old sister adds to his misery, and his stressed-out mother is fed up with the problems he's caused. Dad's too busy with his new girlfriend to get involved. Wardy, who loves chemistry and physics, finds solace in his father's former workshop which he converts into a laboratory. The only family member who understands him is his artist grandmother, but she's often out of town. The only friend he used to have now lives in North Carolina. 


When he and Meg are assigned as biology lab partners, he finally has someone to talk to. He even shows her the laser he's working on. Meanwhile, pretending to be a scientist, Wardy corresponds with a physicist  about his laser experiments, and at school a brilliant but demanding science teacher, Mr. Guterman, discovers Wardy's potential. Guterman soon makes Wardy his assistant, and Wardy has little time for Meg or for anything else. Guterman has big plans for Wardy, who eventually realizes he's being manipulated.


Eaglebait explores themes important to kids on the brink of growing up and struggling to find themselves: finding your dreams, making the right decisions, becoming your own person, dealing with difficult people, determining what's important in life.


Things have changed considerably in the twenty-two years since Eaglebait was first published. The Internet—which could have helped Wardy immeasurably with his research—isn't there. He doesn't have to cope with cyber-bullying or what others are texting about him or uploading to YouTube. Instead bullies taunt him in person and trap him in a phone booth (You might have to explain to younger readers what that was) where Wardy drops in a quarter and dials to get help. The school corridors don't have security cameras. He still rides his bike to school or walks. His correspondence is via snail mail. When his former best friend—now a pothead—offers to lend Wardy some bread, some contemporary kids might not know Wardy isn't being offered baked goods.  

1989 cover

However, the datedness of Eaglebait could open the door for discussions between parent (or grandparent) and child. Despite changing terminology and technology, some concerns remain the same through different generations. Eaglebait is a good book for a family to read and talk about together—and a good resource to help boys deal with their concerns. Indeed, Eaglebait appears on several anti-bullying resource reading lists, such as this one, this one, and this one. On her website, the author has posted a study guide for Eaglebait here. 


 Susan Coryell reads from her book here and blogs here. 

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Note for those who live around Smith Mountain Lake: Coryell will read from—and discuss—Eaglebait at the Westlake Library on June 9 at 6:30 p.m.

Horse Sense

I really wanted to like this book which I bought at the Westlake Library sale a few weeks ago:

In fact, I did like this book.  I really liked this book. Until I got to page 274 and read about Traveller, Robert E. Lee's horse.

Why would a Pultizer Prize-winning author refer to the most famous Southern horse as a she? Everyone knows that Traveller, originally named Jeff Davis and then Greenbrier, was a he—a gelding. (I once heard a noted Civil War historian refer to Traveller as a stallion, but I held my tongue). I think the author might have gotten Traveller confused with Lucy Long, a mare that Lee owned. 

You'd think, though, that the publishers (Pantheon for the hardcover, Vintage for the paperback) would have had the horse sense to use a fact-checker.

After page 274, I was skeptical about everything else I read. What else did the author get wrong? I wondered.

This picture, scanned from the photo that hangs on my wall, shows Traveller displaying a particular anatomical part that a mare would not have.

I have been a Traveller fan for a long time. When I was in fifth grade, my class took a field trip to Lexington and I actually saw Traveller's skeleton that Horwitz refers to on page 274. That, of course, was over 50 years ago. When I went to college in Richmond (also a long time ago), I often admired the statue of Traveller on Monument Avenue.

A book about Traveller that I really liked—all the way through—was Richard Adams' novel, Traveller. In it, Traveller tells about the war from his own viewpoint. And Traveller never once refers to himself as a mare.

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Review: Midwife of the Blue Ridge

America’s colonial period interests me, especially colonial events that happened in my area. Maybe it’s because my ancestors came to the area in the 1700s; at least one (Michael Holland from Middlewich, England) was an indentured servant. Most folks in this part of Virginia know the story of Mary Draper Ingles, kidnapped in 1755 from what is now Blacksburg by Shawnee in 1755 and carried to what is now Cincinnati. Mary's story was the subject of James Alexander Thom’s 1986 novel, Follow the River, a book I enjoyed. Like most Franklin County folks, I've heard the story of early settler (1750s) Robert Hill, who built one of the area's blockhouses and had two sons killed by the Shawnee—one tomahawked and scalped near Bald Knob (a Rocky Mount landmark).

I live surrounded by the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance. From my study window, I can see Peaks of Otter. Consequently, when I heard about Christine Blevin’s historical novel, Midwife of the Blue Ridge, I figured I’d enjoy it. I was right—I did indeed enjoy it.

“What canna be cured must be endured.” Maggie Duncan recalled this advice from her adoptive mother. In Midwife of the Blue Ridge, there is much that Maggie must endure.

Unable to make a living in 1760s Glasgow, Maggie decides to becomes an indentured servant in the colonies and sails to America aboard the Good Intent, where she endures the uncomfortable accommodations of the ship’s tween deck and attracts the lustful attentions of Julian Cavendish. Fortunately, Cavendish is tricked from buying Maggie’s indenture and her services are sold instead to frontiersman Seth Martin, who needs household help and a midwife for his ill and pregnant wife, Naomi.

Maggie adjusts well to frontier life and the Martins—even catching the eye of a long-hunter, Tom Roberts—but trouble with the Shawnees ensues. The Martins join other settlers in the nearest fort until danger passes, and Maggie makes herself useful with her knowledge of plants and cures. She delivers Naomi’s son, but Naomi succumbs to childbed fever. She also cares for survivors of a brutal attack by the Shawnee.

When the remaining Martins return home, Cavendish and his brutes are foreclosing on farms that weren’t properly registered—and the Martins’ home is one. Maggie tells Seth to let Cavendish have her contract, so the Martins can stay long enough to harvest their crop. she plans to run away and rejoin the Martins later.

Cavendish, however, is a brutal master and treats Maggie no better than his slaves. After he rapes her and dislocates her arm, she is tended by a slave who is herself a healer. Meanwhile, Tom decides to return to her, but will he be able to find her?

I won’t tell you the rest, but the story ends on a positive note. Although there’s a love story here, the harshness of Virginia frontier life makes sure that it’s not a sugar-coated romance. Indeed some of the scenes are graphic—including one in which the Shawnee kill and torture a captive. These scenes, however, add to the realism of the story. Life on the frontier was indeed harsh.

Maggie is an admirable character, who makes the most of her lot in life. Strong, strong-willed and skilled in the healing arts, she is not afraid of hard work and is determined to survive. I especially like that she speaks in dialect—I could clearly hear her voice.

I am impressed with Blevins’ well-rounded characters, descriptions of frontier living, and compelling plot. Her adroit skill at story-telling made the events believable—even though she had one anachronism that I noticed. (Some of my writer buddies told me I was probably the only one who would notice that a mule appeared in the story. Mules did not appear in America until just after the Revolutionary War.) The inclusion of a mule, however, didn’t hamper my enjoyment of the story—but if this book is ever made into a movie, perhaps the mule can be changed to a horse.

I recommend Midwife of the Blue Ridge to anyone who likes historical fiction, strong female protagonists, and good writing.

I just started an advanced reader copy of Blevins’ The Tory Widow, which will be in bookstores next month. While I’m only a couple of chapters into it, I like what I’ve read so far.

Midwife of the Blue Ridge (432 pages; ISBN: 978-0425221686) was published last August as a Berkley trade paperback. I've mentioned both of Blevins' books in two earlier posts—here and here.

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Reviews of Certain Books

Lately, I’ve reviewed and/or given my opinions about some books I’ve read.

If your book has been published within the last two years and you’d like my review (or maybe just my opinion) posted on this humble blog, let me know. I am amenable to reviewing certain books. Under certain conditions. Namely, these:

I prefer a physical copy— either an ARC, bound galley, or the published book itself. I don’t do pdf-versions or documents or anything else that requires reading from a computer screen.

I’m picky. I prefer fiction—specifically Appalachian writing or Southern writing. If the book is about horses or dogs, that’s a plus. I want a definite plot and interesting characters. I don’t generally read fantasy/science fiction (unless you write like Ray Bradbury or Mike Allen), horror, romance, erotica, thrillers, poetry, or anything over 350 pages (unless you’re Jodi Picoult, John Irving, or Audrey Niffenegger). I don’t want books that are mired in misery or where everyone comes to bad ends (OK—maybe one character who really deserves it). I don’t want to read about animal abuse, child abuse, or spouse abuse. I also don’t want to read anything guaranteed to touch my heart. (Only cardiologists may touch my heart, and they’d better have a sound medical reason for doing so.) I’m especially interested in commercially-published middle-grade and YA novels.

I’m open to non-fiction that is local/regional history or memoir. However, I don’t want to read a memoir that’s a litany of how miserable your life was—even if it was. Memoirs that capture a specific time/place are fine. I’ll also review grammar books or books about how to improve your writing. Or books about horses.

Since I’m self-pubbed and POD-pubbed, I’m open to self-published or POD books, but I won’t read anything published by Writer Beware’s “Twenty Thumbs-Down Publishers.” Yeah, I may be missing out on some great reads, but I’ll take that risk. I will, however, stop reading a self-pubbed/POD book when I hit the 5th grammatical error, 10th misspelled word, or 20th typo—whichever comes first.

If you have paid someone to review your self-pubbed/POD book, I don’t want to read it. I will assume, rightly or wrongly, that—if you were desperate (or naive) enough to pay for a review—your book is not something I’d enjoy. If you’ve fallen for the paid book review scam, you have my sympathy—but not my review.

If your book has been out for more than two years, it’s old news now. Yeah, I occasionally comment on older books that I’ve just discovered, but those are usually books that everyone else has already discovered or someone I know has recommended the book to me as a “must read.”

If I can’t find anything good to say about your book, I won’t post a review but might e-mail you privately. (Odds are good I didn’t finish your book.)

And I don’t do “stars”—as in the “five-star reviews” that clog up Amazon.com. And I don’t do reviews on Amazon.com. I did one or two several years ago, but no more. I do not aspire to be Harriet Klausner.

Keep in mind that I’m not highly qualified to review. I don’t have a background in publishing. My master’s in English isn’t an MFA in creative writing; it’s an MAT in English education. I have published some reviews in local/regional publications—including two newspapers, but they’re a far cry from Publisher’s Weekly or NYT book reviews. Reviews I’ve done of self-pubbed books are here, here, here, here, and here.

However, I can generate a bit of blog-buzz, if that’s what you’re after.

If you’d like to send me a copy of your book (or ARC, etc.), query me via e-mail me (including a one-paragraph summary of your book) and I’ll get back to you. My contact info is on my website.

Marian Perera recently posted some good suggestions for book reviews on her Flights of Fantasy blog.

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