I finished 8 books in October:
The Radium Girls by Kate Moore (audiobook)
Testimony by Scott Turow
A Court of Wings and Ruin by Sarah J Maas
The Reader by Traci Chee
The Heir by Kiera Cass
Mr Dickens and His Carol by Samantha Silva
11/22/63 by Stephen King (audiobook)
Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo
I received an Advance Reading Copy of Mr. Dickens and His Carol by Samantha Silva from the publisher (Flatiron Books) in exchange for an honest review.
This is the type of book I am a sucker for. A re-imagining of a person or story from the past that we all think we know. I love seeing the familiar, the expected parts of a story shoved up against details that I would never have thought of. What I realized while reading this book is that I am not as familiar with A Christmas Carol as I thought.
Mr. Dickens is the imagined story of Charles Dickens in the months leading up to the publication of A Christmas Carol. Mr Dickens is in a bit of a bind. His stories are not selling as well as they should. His wife, children, and other family are demanding more time, more money, more everything. And his publishers are, too. Mr. Dickens is given an ultimatum. Write a Christmas tale in a few short weeks, or we will take away promised money.
Charles rebels, refusing to write the story he has no interest in writing. But he finds himself backed into a corner, in desperate need of the money the Christmas tale promises. So he caves, and begins to write. The only trouble is, Mr. Dickens has lost his Christmas spirit.
This novel is the story of Charles finding his Christmas spirit and writing the story we know and love.
Samantha does a great job of plunking us into London and Mr. Dickens’ mind as his personal story mirrors the tale he is beginning to weave. We get to know Charles and several of the people he interacts with, most notably Eleanor Lovejoy, who serves as his muse and guide on his journey. The story is peppered with references to both Dickens’ personal life and the details of A Christmas Carol.
This is actually the part that gave me trouble. I have not read A Christmas Carol in a very long time. While I remember the general story line, and many of the key characters, the details are far from fresh. Reading Mr. Dickens, I often felt like I was missing a smart reference, or an inside joke that I should have gotten. I began to wish that I had re-read the original tale before diving into this novel.
Overall, this is a lovely, refreshing holiday read that lovers of A Christmas Carol will enjoy. But I do recommend re-reading the original story before you start!
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
Wednesday, October 18, 2017
Your Heart in my Hands
I held your heart once. It was a wild, pulsing thing. Vibrant. Vital. Alive. That was before I broke it.
I imagine it now. Shivering, trembling in your chest. Fluttering like a frightened baby bird. I did that. I broke it. I broke you.
You were that guy. The one who slouched in the corner of the cafeteria, his eyes scanning the room. Always looking for something. Never eating. Too cool for mere food.
I was the girl in the center of the cafeteria. The center of everything. Everyone’s eyes on me. Watching what I did, what I laughed at, what I wore. What I ate. So I ate almost nothing. Just enough to give them a tease, a taste, of what they should do. I showed them how to be.
I didn’t let them see how much I watched you. How much I wanted to cross hat crowded room and settle next to you on the edge of everything. I couldn’t let them know that I wanted. I was supposed to be the girl who had it all.
So I watched you. I watched you sit alone, the dark brooding guy in the corner. The guy we all knew kept secrets. Like everyone else, I wondered what your secrets were. I wondered if they matched mine.
Eventually I moved closer. I snuck in when I was sure no one would notice. Not even you.
You didn’t realize how close I had gotten, how close we had gotten, until I was part of your world. I knew you wouldn’t let me in if you saw me coming. My attachment was so smooth that the world around us thought it was how we had always been. James and Lina.
Once I was were, you weren’t what I thought. You weren’t what I thought I wanted at all. You were more.
I expected shadows. You were made of sunlight. I expected cold distance. You were a warm hug.
I expected you to be the thing I would have to destroy so that you didn’t destroy me.
I expected you to be a vampire.
All of those expectations. And I feel in love with you anyway.
That wasn’t the complication. I wasn’t torn about what to do with you. Loving you didn’t change my goal. I wanted your heart, wanted to pierce it, mark it. Own it.
Then I realized you weren’t a vampire after all. Your dodge of food at lunchtime was a lack of lunch money. Your shadowed gaze was fatigue. Your stoic silence was pathological shyness.
You were mortal. Normal. On the edge of boring.
And I was still in love with you.
I still wanted your heart.
So I took it.
A kiss. A suggestion of sleep. A dagger-sharp nail drawn across your chest. A spill of blood.
Your heart in my hands.
I wanted to hold it forever. Hold you forever. I couldn’t do both. I had to choose.
I chose you.
A bite. A slick of my saliva across the surface of the still beating muscle. A bit of me tucked inside you when I returned your heart to your chest.
I watched it struggle on, stutter, stop and restart. Stop again.
The temptation to hold it again was strong, so I closed my eyes. Closed your chest.
Now I wait.
I hear the flutters getting stronger. The baby bird is struggling, preparing to fly. Your heart is almost ready to soar.
And it is mine.
I imagine it now. Shivering, trembling in your chest. Fluttering like a frightened baby bird. I did that. I broke it. I broke you.
You were that guy. The one who slouched in the corner of the cafeteria, his eyes scanning the room. Always looking for something. Never eating. Too cool for mere food.
I was the girl in the center of the cafeteria. The center of everything. Everyone’s eyes on me. Watching what I did, what I laughed at, what I wore. What I ate. So I ate almost nothing. Just enough to give them a tease, a taste, of what they should do. I showed them how to be.
I didn’t let them see how much I watched you. How much I wanted to cross hat crowded room and settle next to you on the edge of everything. I couldn’t let them know that I wanted. I was supposed to be the girl who had it all.
So I watched you. I watched you sit alone, the dark brooding guy in the corner. The guy we all knew kept secrets. Like everyone else, I wondered what your secrets were. I wondered if they matched mine.
Eventually I moved closer. I snuck in when I was sure no one would notice. Not even you.
You didn’t realize how close I had gotten, how close we had gotten, until I was part of your world. I knew you wouldn’t let me in if you saw me coming. My attachment was so smooth that the world around us thought it was how we had always been. James and Lina.
Once I was were, you weren’t what I thought. You weren’t what I thought I wanted at all. You were more.
I expected shadows. You were made of sunlight. I expected cold distance. You were a warm hug.
I expected you to be the thing I would have to destroy so that you didn’t destroy me.
I expected you to be a vampire.
All of those expectations. And I feel in love with you anyway.
That wasn’t the complication. I wasn’t torn about what to do with you. Loving you didn’t change my goal. I wanted your heart, wanted to pierce it, mark it. Own it.
Then I realized you weren’t a vampire after all. Your dodge of food at lunchtime was a lack of lunch money. Your shadowed gaze was fatigue. Your stoic silence was pathological shyness.
You were mortal. Normal. On the edge of boring.
And I was still in love with you.
I still wanted your heart.
So I took it.
A kiss. A suggestion of sleep. A dagger-sharp nail drawn across your chest. A spill of blood.
Your heart in my hands.
I wanted to hold it forever. Hold you forever. I couldn’t do both. I had to choose.
I chose you.
A bite. A slick of my saliva across the surface of the still beating muscle. A bit of me tucked inside you when I returned your heart to your chest.
I watched it struggle on, stutter, stop and restart. Stop again.
The temptation to hold it again was strong, so I closed my eyes. Closed your chest.
Now I wait.
I hear the flutters getting stronger. The baby bird is struggling, preparing to fly. Your heart is almost ready to soar.
And it is mine.
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