Have A Helping Of My Novel - Excerpts

DAHLINGS -

I am taking the supreme risk: I am publishing two excerpts from my novel.  "The Abortionist's Daughter" has been selling nicely on Kindle.  So I am sharing it with you, my darling readers.  

Both are from the first section.  The first excerpt takes place after Melanie, age 22, has first met James, at the local ice cream parlor.  The second is a flashback to her childhood.

Study Of A Young Woman

James took a step closer to her, bent slightly, and kissed her on the lips. Melanie froze in confusion. She knew what she was supposed to do—­slap his face and call him names—but that wasn’t what she wanted to do. Not at all.

 ‘How was that?” he asked, dropping his voice. He looked into her eyes.

 “Are you making love to me?”

 "Yes.”

 “I liked it,” she replied, tilting her face up for more, thrilled with her own daring.

 I’m glad,” he murmured.  He kissed her again, his lips soft, his mouth tasting of a hint of split pea soup. He put his nose in the hair just behind her left ear and took a deep breath.  The feeling of the tip of his nose on her skin was electric.  It had been so long—years—since she had felt a man’s touch.  And that had been back at school, before the trial, chastely clumsy kisses in cloakrooms and in stuffy parlors. 

“’You smell so good,” he said, and kissed her again. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”  He lifted a finger and gently slid it from her chin to the top of her collar.  Melanie quivered.  She was afraid to make a move. She was awash with pleasure such as she had never known. She knew what she was supposed to do.  Melt against him (that was the alternative to slapping his face), but she couldn’t.  Her hands hung uselessly at her sides.

“James, you shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered.

 “I know.  I can’t help myself.”  He kissed her again, a long, slow, lingering kiss.

 “Please—please stop.”  Her words came out as a little gasp.  She didn’t want him to stop. 

 James took a step back, smiling, holding her arms.  “You are a peach of a girl, Miss Daniels.”

  

 “Thank you.”  Melanie averted her face.  “I don’t know what you must think of me.”  She wanted him to kiss her again!  And again and again.

His left hand ran up and down her upper arm.  She felt as if little shivers of desire were following along with it.  “I think very highly of you.  That’s why I kissed you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’d like to see you again, Miss Daniels.  Soon.”  The hand closed around her upper arm.

It was an outrageous request.  He had taken liberties with her.

“I’d like that.”

***************************************************************************************************************

When she was eight years old, one bright late Spring day, Harold Clarice, a classmate, had come up to her in  the schoolyard.  He had an ugly smile on his face. 

“My ma says your pa kills babies,” he announced

.

“Harold Clarice, you take that back!” Melanie demanded.

“Your pa’s a baby-killer,” Harold repeated.

“You clam yourself!”  She felt her face burning hotly.

“Baby killer!  Baby killer!”

“You just clam yourself!”

In a rage, Melanie lashed out at Harold, smacking him in the mouth.  Harold stared at her in shock for an instant, then leapt upon her, flailing with his fists, and they both fell to the ground, biting and punching.  Instantly the other children were around them, screaming delightedly, “Fight!  Fight! Fight!”

“What’s going on here!  Children!”  Miss Chipman, their teacher, stood over them.  Melanie quickly disengaged herself from Harold.  Her white dress was torn, its pink sash hanging in tatters.  Her blonde hair had been pulled from its ponytail and hung loosely at her shoulders.  Harold’s shirtfront was covered with dirt, and blood ran down his chin.  Their classmates hung back, fascinated. 

“She started it!”

“Did not!” 

“Did too!”

 Melanie knew Harold dared not repeat his taunt; he would be punished for using such language. 
Either the other children hadn’t heard him, or didn’t risk saying it themselves.  Miss Chipman made both Harold and Melanie sit in opposite corners facing the wall for the rest of the afternoon.  Melanie was grateful that her teacher didn’t inquire further into what had started the fight.  She had a feeling that Miss Chipman knew.

And there you have it, mon chers.



At the risk of bragging, here are some Amazon reviews.  If you don't believe me, go here.

"Don't start reading this wonderful tale if you have anything else to do for a while. It will grab you and keep you enthralled."


"If you liked An Awfully Big Adventure and/or Tipping the Velvet, definitely give this one a shot!" 

"The author's evocation of that time period, the abundant showbiz details, and the personal politics of abortion all made it very rich."

Do both of us a favor and pick up my book at Amazon.  Oops.  Seeing that it's on Kindle, do download my book.  You'll thank me later, and I will thank you now.

Ciao,

Elisa & Fletcher

Let Loose The Attache' Case of War: Mercury Falls by Rob Kroese

DAHLINGS -


You might think that reviews are not my bailiwick, but a survey of this blog-thing will show that I have reviewed books, films, and of course, television.


Mercury Falls is the first in a series by humor writer Rob Kroese, whose day job is as a pastor. In an interview, when asked his greatest influence, he starts off with the Bible, but corrects himself to say Douglas Adams.

Hence, my review of this tome must start with a disclaimer: I am an atheist. Not only am I an atheist by choice, I am an atheist by upbringing. I know not the Lord’s Prayer. I have only glanced through the Bible. (Not enough descriptions of the clothes, for one thing.) The longing for spiritual meaning is to me as foreign as wanting to be a contract lawyer. And I have never read Douglas Adams, either. So if you are a big fan of those books, you might want to stop right here.

Since Mercury Falls assumes knowledge of the Bible and Christianity, quite a bit of the story was perplexing. Was there supposed to be higher meaning to the organizations and conflicts therein? Some organizational principle that this reviewer simply didn’t know? Perhaps. It is an entertaining read, but pour moi, often confusing. However, Kroese has a quick wit and a way with dialogue that pulled me through.

Imagine, if you will, that the Apocalypse is nigh. And nigh. And nigh. That is the hamster wheel career of reporter Christine Temetri. The unlucky lass covers apocalyptic cults for The Banner, a religious publication. The hitch is that the Apocalypse never shows up. And Christine is getting End Times burn-out.

As she is about to quit, her editor gives her an assignment that leads her to Gabriel Mercury, an angel who has gone rogue. He has forsaken the task of arranging the end of humanity for beer, ping-pong and Rice Krispy treats. (I heartily agree with him.) While Christine remains a bit of a cipher throughout, Mercury is engaging (at one point he compares the Apocalypse without the Antichrist to "The King And I without Yul Brynner"). The most entertaining participant, for me, is the petulant Antichrist, Karl Grissom. Up until the start of his reign, Karl has been living with his mother and playing videogames. The latter is excellent preparation for being the Antichrist, as far as your devoted epistler is concerned. This is an up to dateArmageddon. The Four Attaché Cases of the Apocalypse have been loosed. A reference to the Attaché Case of Death made me laugh out loud.

Part of the opening set piece, a small-time cult leader invoking the Bridegroom with the help of some local girls as the Ten Virgins, is very funny. As is the assassination attempt on Karl’s life in front of a restaurant giving out free cheeseburgers. But the plot is absolutely Byzantine. The opening set piece was only part of a long chapter, most of which could be distilled down to a few sentences. Angels and devils all abound, and linoleum figures into the story as well.

The writing is witty, but Kroese needs to overcome a fondness for an overly-jokey, self-congratulatory style. And footnotes. The latter seem to be more for the author’s entertainment than the reader’s. The ending of Mercury Falls is abrupt, as if the novel had run out of ideas. Heaven knows this novel has ideas aplenty, pardon the pun And the last chapter is…well…annoyingly self-indulgent. Its main purpose is to deflect any criticism of the story being too dense, too long, and having footnotes.

But if you are a fan of Douglas Adams and writers of his ilk, this book may well be your cup of myrrh. Kroese is a writer who needs an editor to pare down his text and thereby polish his wit.

You can find it at http://www.amazon.com/Mercury-Falls-Robert-Kroese/


Ciao,

Elisa

Going Away For A Bit...

DAHLINGS -

I hate to deprive you of my presence, but I am going away on a writer's retreat, as I believe they are called. I was going to go to one of those places in the woods. But then I realized that I dislike nature in its untamed state (let other people go--ugh--camping). Is it too early for mosquitos?

So I am going to a writer's retreat at a lovely spa to work on my novel, and will be incommunicado for the nonce.

Happy Passover and Happy Easter to you all!

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

I've Written My First Book Forward,Dahlings!

DAHLINGS -

The redoubtable Stacy LoAlbo, vintage expert extraordinaire, asked your faithful correspondent to compose the forward for her soon to be invaluable book, "Vintage Accessories For the 21st Century Woman."

While at first I blushingly equivocated, she convinced me my very personal touch was desperately needed, and so the deed was done!

The book is scheduled to be published in November 2009 by Krause Publishers. I am already a well-published author, but this is my very first forward. The tome looks to be both educational and entertaining, with loads of wonderful pictures! Stay tuned to this blog-thing for further announcements.

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

How Did Jane Austen DO It??

DAHLINGS -

Get your minds out of the gutter at once!

What I mean, of course, is how did she manage to write so many books? How did her BRAIN keep up the sheer stream of creativity??

As you all know, I am currently penning a deathless tome of my own, and let me tell you, it is more than hard work. It is sheer AGONY! If I'd had any sense, I would have hired one of those ghostwriters who penned Madonna's children's books or Ethan Hawke's poetry...

The details, the dialogue, the blank computer screen pulsing like the spectre of DOOM...maybe I should combine a Jane Austen novel with mine, the way that fellow did with the newly published "Pride And Prejudice And Zombies."

Mine could be "A Diary of Sense and Sensibility and Exquisitely Good Taste." Hm, without Zombies, it lacks a certain--panache, shall we say. But if I call it "Diary of A Mad Zombie," that would change the plot SO much.

And to be honest, I have never liked eating brains. Even poached in wine.

Back to lashing the Muse...pray for me!

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

MEG CABOT And Moi, The "Blog Tour"

DAHLINGS –

At last, Meg Cabot found the time to meet with yours truly for her "blog tour", just before I was whisked off to California by my gentleman friend.

It was not exactly what I had expected…yours truly had composed a number of questions, working unusually hard, at least for moi. But then the publicist informed me that Ms. Cabot would only answer FIVE. (This was, of course, the same day that we were to meet.)



Your faithful correspondent was not exactly thrilled, but one must roll with the punches. So that meant we would not discuss readers’ questions about “The Princess Diaries.” My apologies for asking you to send them in. However, you can find a great deal of information on her website, http://www.megcabot.com/.

One online biography claims that she is able to write an entire novel per month, so presumably I could have interviewed her for at least six weeks without staying on a single topic. But Ms. Cabot did answer more than five questions, as you shall see.

As is obvious from her stature in the industry (fame, not height), Ms. Cabot is an extremely canny woman, adept at giving her readers what they want. And that includes her image, which is quite a bit more, er, folksy than I expected. Be that as it may, I put on my Leslie Stahl hat (a wide-brimmed red straw) and we began.

Elisa: I read Queen of Babble and quite enjoyed it, particularly the sections about vintage clothing, and your depiction of the French countryside. (And a sex scene in a wine cellar is certain to win points with moi.)

Meg: Thanks! You'll find a lot more vintage clothing references, as well as an entire plot built around Lizzie's attempt to start her own vintage wedding gown restoration business, in the sequel to Queen of Babble, Queen of Babble in the Big City, which comes out June 26 (Editorial aside: subtly done plug, don't you think?).

Elisa: As I have often stated here, Vintage clothing is Fashion In The True Sense. I particularly appreciated that you put your heroine, Lizzie, in an Alex Colman dress, as that is a designer very rarely mentioned anywhere.

(I myself am in possession of quite a few Chanels, Vionnets, and a rare Balenciaga gown under glass that if anyone tries to touch, Bucky the Wonderdog is trained to attack on sight. The trespasser, not the Balenciaga. But I digress. )

My first questions concern your absolutely terrifying productivity. (Editorial note: I refrained from asking if she uses performance enhancing drugs, as they refer to them in the sports world.)

Your faithful correspondent can hardly keep up with this blog. I mean, forty books, Ms. Cabot?? For kids, teens and adults? How to explain to the endless fountain of prose running from your computer?

Meg: Well, I can't really. I've just always loved to write, and have been doing it as a hobby since I was seven. Now I get paid to do it. Which is really just icing on the cake! (Editorial aside: quite expensive icing, one imagines.)

Elisa: Is it some sort of supernatural automatic writing, channeling a writer from beyond? (I am quite a fan of séances; in fact I met one of my best friends, dear dead Lana Turner, at one.)

Meg: Ha. Not that I'm aware of. A lot of effort goes into writing each book and I will admit around page 150 I don't ALWAYS feel like doing it anymore and want to quit and start working on something new, so it would be really nice if a ghost or something finished it up. But so far that's never happened.

Elisa: I’d recommend Lana, but all of her plot knowledge is pre-1945 and you would certainly never have a sex scene in a wine cellar. Is there a disadvantage to being so productive?

Meg: I've heard occasional complaints about glutting the market. These don't tend to come from readers, however, but rather from other people in the industry. But that's their problem, not mine.

Elisa: Back to your novel, Queen of Babble. You write about vintage women's clothing with the feeling of the True Believer. Did you have to do a great deal of research, or has vintage clothing long been an interest of yours?

Meg: I have been collecting vintage since the mid-eighties. I will admit Cyndi Lauper and Madonna were huge influences, as was Desperately Seeking Susan! (Editorial aside: no comment.)

Elisa: Ms. Cabot, as you know, I am a fabulously plus-sized woman with a creamy decolletage', long legs, and naturally golden hair. In my blog I feel it is my duty-no, my calling-to combat the fashion industry's obsession with gauntness. And I make it a point to sell larger-size vintage for the more fully endowed female.

At the beginning of Queen of Babble, Lizzie Nichols has lost 30 pounds, and much is made of her changed looks. She is mistaken for some person named Jennifer Garner, and is mortified that one of her boyfriends remembers her as fat. I well understand that being on the heavy side would make it impossible to fit into a Lilly Pulitzer bikini. But, I was puzzled by why this was so important to the plot. What are your feelings about young women's' body images and the message a book like this sends them?

Meg: Well, as I'm sure you know if you're at all familiar with my body-not to mention my body of work (my Heather Wells mystery series featuring a plus-size sleuth, Size 12 Is Not Fat, Size 14 Is Not Either, and the upcoming sequel, Big Boned), I too am a larger gal at five feet eight who has at times has topped two hundred pounds on the scale (and no, I've never been pregnant), so I know whereof I speak. It's really crappy how hard it is to find pretty designer clothes in large sizes.That's why I learned to sew-I had to alter all the shrinky-dink vintage size 4s I was finding (ah, the things you can do with a well placed panel).

Having been both large and not so large, I can attest that people DO treat you differently when you're large vs. not large. And it's not right, nor is the constant bombardment we receive of Thin is Best. Because it simply isn't true. (Editorial aside: note how gracefully Ms. Cabot has not directly answered my question and managed to plug three more books! Mon dieu, I am in awe.)

Elisa: Do you genuinely feel that a young woman has to be slender to be eligible for her Prince Charming?

Meg: You're really asking a happily married former size 18 that? A true Prince Charming is one who loves you no matter what your size.

Elisa: Given her adoration of food, will Lizzie be able to stay slender in future installments? Somehow the French chocolate sandwich stays in the mind.

Meg: No. Thank God. In the sequel, Queen of Babble in the Big City, Lizzie gains back the weight, and consequently finds herself in quite a different predicament than she is in Queen of Babble. Although--spoiler for Book 3, Queen of Babble Gets Hitched, due out next summer--she may not realize who her true Prince Charming is until it's almost too late.

Elisa: Thank you for your time, Ms. Cabot. I recommend Queen of Babble to my faithful readers. It is an amusing light read, as they say nowadays. And vintage lovers will simply drool over the descriptions of the clothes!

Meg: Well, thank you! And if they liked Queen of Babble, they'll love Queen of Babble in the Big City, due out in just two weeks!

I bade Ms. Cabot a gracious farewell. And then, dizzy from the sheer amount of marketing whizzing around for the last half hour, I collapsed on the divan.

Forty books...as my maid would say, dios mio.

Ciao,
Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog

MEG CABOT visits the Fashionista next week!

DAHLINGS -

As promised, next week I shall be having a tete-a-tete with best-selling author Meg Cabot, who penned the best-selling "Princess Diaries," and forty other books. The amount of work that entails beggars the mind. She is on a "blog tour."

Now I know that there are thousands of you out there who read this blog thing religiously (as well you should), and I am sure that you are dying to ask Ms. Cabot questions. Please send your questions through the "Comments" section of this blog, and you can be as blunt as you want.

Of course the first question that springs to my mind is: did you write all forty books yourself? Do you take dexadrine?

The main topic will be her latest novel, "Queen of Babble," the story of a young girl who simply cannot keep her mouth shut, no matter what the consequences. The most interesting thing about our heroine is that she works in a vintage store. So she is always garbed in fabulous vintage clothes (which play an important part in the plot). You have to admire an author who knows to put her main character in an Alex Colman dress. (Not only that, an ill-advised blowjob figures in the plot as well. I suppose that is what makes it an adult novel.)

However, digressions and intensely personal questions are most welcome. If you've read any of my forever timeless writing, you know that I always speak my mind and go where few dare to tread. And always in high heels.

Ciao,
Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog