In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Revisits Some Old Promises

Remember a long-ass time ago when I told you I would come back to the "other things" I liked about Elizabeth Hoyt's Legend of the Four Soldiers Series?

Well, gather 'round, children.  It's time.

The first book in the Four Soldiers series begins with a prologue that, well... begins the story of the Four Soldiers.  You with me?  Emeline, the heroine of To Taste Temptation, was read The Legend of the Four Soldiers by her nanny when she was younger.  The nanny was Prussian and the book that she read from was in Prussian (?), and Emeline wants the book translated.  Melisande, the heroine of the To Seduce a Sinner, can translate the thing.  Helen of To Beguile a Beast has lovely penmanship and transcribes the thing.  Oh, and it just so happens that Beatrice of To Desire a Devil knows how to bind books.  Just sayin'.

So each of our Four Soldiers' tales is accompanied by a "fictional" Four Soldiers tale.  Before each chapter is a little piece of the fairy-tale story, and each epilogue wraps everything together, finishing the sub-story and illuminating the grander theme within our novel.

Iron Heart, Laughing Jack, Truth Teller, and Longsword each fight their own mythic battles for the princesses they love (Solace, Surcrease, Sympathy, and Serenity, respectively).  Obviously the tales feature parallel obstacles to those faced by our Soldiers, and the princesses represent what our heroines give them.

While the whole "each heroine has a part to play" thing is a little much, I do like this common thread for the women throughout all of the stories.  The men have their war, and the women have these tales, and to be honest, they don't really have much interaction with one another from one book to the next.  It is their only real connection.  At the end of To Desire a Devil, the unveiling of the books that Beatrice has bound is quite interesting, because it really gives the reader a sense of how much these women have bonded, if unknowingly.

The other thing I want to mention is the time period in which these books take place.  In my mind (and quite generally speaking) there are three time periods of historical romance novels- Medieval, Regency and Victorian/American West.  The Legend of the Four Soldiers takes place about six years after the end of the French and Indian War, which places it squarely in the Colonial period.  I had to keep reminding myself to picture corsets and powdered wigs rather than empire waists and Hessian boots.  Very strange.  But very cool.  It was refreshing to read something different.  And for that reason alone this is a series worth checking out.

Kindle: To excite (interest, feelings etc), Ignite

Okay, so, I had my doubts. Well, not really. But for the sake of argument - let's pretend I did. I had read about them and I had a narrow vision of what they might have been like. But never in my wildest imaginings did I expect to fall in rapture! I am speaking, of course, of my Kindle!

Dan Darling gave me one for Christmas after I expressed an interest in stealing Sam-I-Am's from him. Maybe Dan Darling had ulterior motives. The Amazon boxes were piling up on the front porch... daily! Maybe he thought this would curtail my reading (ha!) maybe he just plain old accepts that I am a reading machine and loves me anyway! For whatever reason, I am the proud owner of a Kindle (with a lighted brown leather cover, no less!)

Did it take a while to get used to? Nope! I downloaded my first book the day after Christmas. A Nora Roberts. And I like to think I helped to push her over the top as the all time best selling author on Kindle (to date.) I read with the usual distraction of a Beagle on my lap. I held my Kindle with one hand and became adept at turning the page without even moving my arm! I downloaded my next book later that day and was reading as if I had a lot of time to make up for. Dan Darling asks, "Are you still reading the same book?" Um, not quite! 15 books later (this is just since Christmas mind you) he caught me reading a paperback book. "What's that?" It was my Book Club book. The one I had ordered from Amazon before I knew I was getting a Kindle. I started/finished that on a snowy/icy Wednesday with the same Beagle on my lap. I had to turn pages. I had to read both sides of the book (not just a single screen.) It was awkward. I survived. Hereafter, I will make sure I can download my Book Club books.

Will I ever prefer a book to my Kindle again? Absolutely! I must have my J.D. Robb books in bound, covered editions. I own them all so far. And downloading them all to my Kindle would be really silly! And since I am notorious for rereading things over and over, it makes sense for me to have the whole series... in print.

That being said, I am a huge Kindle fan! I have no intention of using it just when I travel! I will use it any and every opportunity I am given! UPS doesn't visit so much anymore, but the satisfaction of going online and ordering a book and having it loaded in my Kindle immediately is beyond description!

I did have one minor issue with my brand new Kindle! And it was not pretty. I had finished the last of my downloaded books and was ready to find another - when our internet went down. I drove around town (at 9:00 at night) looking for WiFi. Even the town library was inaccessible from the parking lot! I was like an addict! It was a long night! I will have to make sure I always have a few books on my queue! Lesson learned!

In Which Monday Menu Mayhem Makes Beef, Takes Pictures!

And a Merry Monday to us all!

I sincerely hope that wherever you are, you had a pleasant weekend, and that you're keeping warm.  Here in the Northeast we're gearing up for another snowstorm (Nope... it's not getting old yet!  Ask again in March), and I'm hoping for a(nother) snow day, because they seem to make me very productive.

On to the Mayhem!  As requested by the Her Ladyship, the lovely Lady Lalib (why is alliteration so much fun?!) here is a photo of the latest Nigella recipe, Carbonnade a la Flamande (Beer Braised Beef Casserole), produced yesterday with staggeringly positive results:

Note the use of Our (barf) new Dutch oven!  (She needs a name, by the way!  Suggestions in the comments section, please).

Once again, this selection began with the frying of bacon, which is really The Only Way to start cooking something.  The only note I would have for this recipe by way of criticism, though, would be that the fat definitely needs to be drained from the bacon before continuing with the next step.  Some fat is desired, but the end result has what I would consider to be too much.

At any rate, fry some bacon, add some onions, make a broth involving beer, mustard, and brown sugar (Guinness was most readily available), chuck in the oven for 3 hours and voila!

Most definitely serve with noodles (Ziti was the only thing we had...) and you have yourself a rockin' Sunday dinner, with leftovers to spare.

The best part of this meal for Boy Scout and his traumatized kitchen (the kitchen is always traumatized when I visit...) it all gets made in one dish!  Hooray!

In Which We Introduce Monday Menu Mayhem

Greetings, salutations, and the Happiest of New Years!

If you're anything like me, you've spent the last two weeks celebrating, recovering, sleeping, celebrating, and recovering again.  And also, admiring some pretty badass Christmas presents.

But you probably didn't spend two weeks trying to come up with an awesome new regular blog feature that would a) be awesome and b) add to the awesomeness of this blog.  Or I don't know, maybe you did.  Recommendations may be left in the Comments section.

Firstly and foremostly, we have a new look (hooray...?) and you'll notice handy dandy labels at the bottom of all of the posts.  Want to see all of our reviews?  Want to read posts from back in the day when we didn't know what we were doing?  Want to verify that we continue to not know our ass from our elbow?  Look no further.

NOW THEN.  When I'm not reading or writing or running around like a lunatic, I like to cook.  I like to cook a lot.  I got a new KitchenAid, a new All-Clad frying pan, and a new Star Wars apron for Christmas (AHHHHH!) in addition to the joint, couple-y purchase of a Dutch oven with a certain Boy Scout.

Needless to say, there is a lot of cooking in my future.

What I also got though, was the newest Nigella Lawson tome, Nigella Kitchen: Recipes From the Heart of the Home.  I love this book.  I love the obscene way she writes (I mean, really... she writes cooking like Kresley Cole writes sex), I love that she totally contradicts herself (recipe calls for boneless chops, recipe introduction says she herself uses bone-in all the time...), and I love that the recipes are fabulously do-able, without excessively weird ingredients or overly fussy health stipulations.

This is the way I like to cook.

So Boy Scout looks through the book (Since we're at a commitment level where it's what... one-fourth his anyway?  Still mostly mine, but living in his house so... yeah.  "Ours.") and decides that he loves it too.  And that "we" need to make all of the recipes, Julie & Julia style.

And for those wondering, by "we" he means: "mostly you."  Meaning me.

And I think this is not a bad idea.

SO.  Every Monday morning, we shall have a report on the Menu Mayhem that ensued over the weekend or the previous week.  I'll review the recipe, the ease, the deliciousness, and the mayhem.  Because yes.  When I cook, there is mayhem.

What better way to kick off the experiment than on a cold January Sunday, with a recipe that uses both the new frying pan and the new Dutch oven?  I can think of nothing more appropriate.  So into the oven went the Pork and Apple Hotpot, a glorious amalgamation of apples, onions, bacon (which to me always indicates a winning recipe), pork chops, and apple roux-thingy that came out three hours later as the perfect Sunday meal (with leftovers!)

This first time I tried hard to stick to the recipe (not a strong suit of mine unless baking), but next time we have definite additions in mind.  Like mustard in the roux.  And a little cognac "for flavor."  And definitely more sear-age on the pork chops.  Definitely.

OK then.  New feature... featured.  Boy Scout, perhaps you'd like to comment on the leftovers...?

In Which I Win at NaNoWriMo.

I'm coming back tomorrow with a review of Eloisa James' A Kiss at Midnight, but in the meantime I just had to share the news of how awesome I am.

Special thanks to all who listened to me whine, to Scout for asking me every single day (!!) if I had written yet, and to the long plane rides that taught me that I can indeed write 5,000 words at a clip.

In Which I Answer a Question You Didn't Even Ask.

This is the review I read earlier today on DearAuthor.com.

Lovely, well-written review.

It brings up an issue that I'm slightly embarrassed to admit has never ONCE occurred to me: the obvious pro-British, anti-French thread running through almost all American-written Regency/Revolution era romance novels. Once you hear (or read) that it exists, it's like, the biggest "DUH" ever. EVER. What can I say? I left all of my major thematic analytical skillz in Mrs. Eriksen's Senior English.

The lovely review vaguely tries to make sense of this, but ultimately offers little by way of answers. Because honestly, who can answer that question definitively? Maybe every single American author of Regencies hates all things French (highly doubtful). Maybe they all favor hereditary monarchies (possible, but only in hypothetical, ridiculously small countries where the nannies are particularly virginal and marriageable). Maybe they're all pacifists who abhor the violence writing about the French Revolution entails (probable, though the vast majority of heroes seem to be badass retired military).

I suspect the comments section of the post will continue growing, both with ideas about the whys and wherefores, and also with commentary about the book in question, which I confess I have not added to my TBR list. Too many books, not enough interest in this particular one despite the largely positive review. I also know that I tried to form a response in the comments section with my theory about this phenomenon, but a) it was too long and b) I realized I hadn't blogged in a while. So without further ado...

REASONS I THINK THERE IS A PRO-BRITISH, ANTI-FRENCH BIAS IN REGENCY/REVOLUTIONARY ROMANCES WRITTEN BY AMERICANS.

Small Print/My Qualifications For Addressing This Issue: I write as an attempted writer of romance, a long-time reader of romance, a person who lived in Paris for a year, and a person who dated a Brit for three years.

Firstly and foremostly, it is important to note the "written by Americans" part of the thesis (is that a thesis? I didn't make an argument. Mrs. Eriksen is going to kill me). The "written by Americans" is key because anything anti-French written by a Brit makes some sense (old habits and all that), but it makes no sense for our bias to play out this way. During the Regency period, we were at war with Britain (though it might not have been officially declared... I don't remember), and they burned down the White House. There was no Special Relationship, only sailor impressment and shore raids. Fun! Also the French Revolution, while bloody and brutal, was modelled on and inspired largely by our own Revolution, and it could be argued that theirs would not have played out the same way (if at all) if ours had not been so successful.

So we should have a natural inclination toward the French side in these matters, right?

HA!

Here's THE THING: While writing books with a pro-French bias would make more sense for American writers historically speaking, there is the entirely other matter of culturally speaking.

Most obviously, there's the fact that the French speak French. Books can most certainly be written for Americans/English speakers in English with the understanding that the characters are actually speaking French. But as a reader, when I realize that the characters are speaking a different language than what I'm reading I find it distracting, and as a writer I would be terrified of getting something wrong. Changing the language can change the entire tenor of someone's character. It changes their tone of voice, it changes their mannerisms, it can even change the way they look. Writing for a (major, fully fleshed-out) character in a language that is not the language that they're actually speaking is really intimidating to me as a fledgling writer, and I can't imagine it being a wholly comfortable concept for others.

Also, while there are obvious differences between American and British temperament (obvious, obvious differences), there are still many, many similarities. Possibly stemming from the shared language. But in general it's easier to get into the head of the Brit and to write their motives and personalities and not feel like you're making stuff up.

Eddie Izzard said it best when he said "I like the French, but they can be... fucking French." What does that mean? It means that they think differently from us. Not in a bad way, not in a wrong way, but in an incredibly generalized way. They value different things in their romances, in their sex, and in their expectations for relationships. They aren't nameable, definable differences. It's just about perceptions of what's important. It's cultural. And again, as a writer, I would feel like an absolute fraud trying to write about something I didn't understand, or trying to fake it.

You don't have to fake it as much writing Brits. Which is why any French-Revolutionary characters we run in to are usually women (at least they have that in common with the author), and have been Anglicized. Like in the book that was reviewed; the heroine is French, but raised in London, working for the British government. Or in Spymaster's Lady. It turns out the French spy in Joanna Bourne's most excellent Regency-period novel is... Welsh.

It's not really pro-or-anti anything, to be honest. It's about what and who is comfortable to write about. What's familiar, and what's not. And that's all I have to say about that.

In Which Harry Faces the Beginning of the End

It's funny to read the beginning of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, which opens with a chapter entitled "The Other Minister." The "other" minister, depending on your point of view, is either the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, or the Minister of Magic. What's funniest to me is the reflections of the Muggle Prime Minster, who seems to know more than anyone how much of a screw-up Cornelius Fudge is.

When the Muggle Minister first comes to office, Fudge introduces himself with the promise that this should be the only time they meet, ever. Then he has to come and announce the escape of Sirius Black from Azkaban. Then he has to come explain the Death Eater incident at the Quidditch World Cup (and to clear the dragon import for the TriWizard Tournament). Then he has to come back and admit that Voldemort has returned. Then he has to come and announce that he has been forced to resign his post. Obviously.

The Half Blood Prince is one of the shorter of the "later" books, though it is certainly the heaviest, steeped as it is in teenage pheromones. This is the book in which the kids truly cross over from being children to young adults, with Ron and Hermione fighting their mutual attraction tooth and nail (unsuccessfully), and the "beast" in Harry's chest awakening to recognize his love for Ginny.

Because of a nasty virus, I was able to read The Half Blood Prince and The Deathly Hallows quickly and back-to-back, literally picking up one and then the other. This made a big difference in my perception of the sixth book, because clarity on the actions of so many of the characters came (relatively) quickly as well. Snape's screaming at Harry that he (Snape) is not a coward, for example, is far more laden with meaning when you know the truth of Snape's motives, and also when you can follow up so quickly with just how much of a coward he is not.

The most important part of The Half Blood Prince, especially looking forward to The Deathly Hallows, is Harry's evolving relationship with Albus Dumbledore. At the end of book five, following the disastrous events at the Ministry and the failed Occlumency lessons with Snape, Dumbledore apologizes to Harry and confesses two things, one of which Harry had suspected, and one of which Harry had not: yes, Dumbledore had been avoiding him out of fear that The Dark Lord would use his psychic connection to Harry against him. But more importantly, Dumbledore was afraid that the psychic connection would give Voldemort insight into exactly how much Dumbledore cares for Harry.

And so The Half Blood Prince features a much more intensive set of interactions between Harry and Dumbledore, beginning with Albus' appearance on Privet Drive to deliver Harry to the Burrow and continuing down into the Pensieve to discover the origins and secrets of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Of course, the end of the story is the most important, and the most resonant. We learn the secret of the Horcruxes, as well as the existence of the locket, a locket not the Horcrux, with a note inside signed "R.A.B." And, most importantly, Severus Snape kills Albus Dumbledore.

I remember the first time I read this, I felt betrayed, bewildered, and not a little confused. Snape, after all, was someone Dumbledore trusted implicitly, and who Dumbledore defended, literally to the death. His final words, begging for mercy, were some of the hardest I have ever read. That is, until my mother pointed out that to her, it didn't sound like Dumbledore was pleading for his life. She thought it sounded like he was asking for Severus to complete a mission.

The Phoenix laments, the tomb is sealed, and the final journey begins. Harry breaks from Ginny, which is hard but ultimately right, and Ron and Hermione state unequivocally that they are "in." On to The Deathly Hallows.

In Which I Finally Finish Harry Potter #5

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is not one of my favorites. It’s certainly not my least favorite, but there is a certain whiny-ness to Harry that is simply not attractive.

In fact, a lot of people spend a lot of time whining in the fifth edition. Sirius is trapped inside his ancestral home with no one but an insane house elf to keep him company. And he whines about it. Ron is recruited as Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team despite the fact that he’s not the best player anyone has ever seen. And he whines about it. Harry is being treated by the rest of the world like a delusional psychopath for announcing that Voldemort has risen again. And you better believe he whines about it.

It has taken me two weeks to finish The Order of the Phoenix for various reasons, but mostly because this volume is incredibly frustrating when it comes to making actual plotline progress in the saga.

Dolores Umbridge is the sort of person who you wish fervent death upon from the moment she appears at Harry’s Misuse of Magic trial in the beginning of the book. The fact that she is soon designated as Hogwarts High Inquisitor and later Headmaster is ludicrous-- and frighteningly close to what would happen in a similar real-life political situation.

The sheer idiocy of those running the Ministry of Magic is confounding-- not unlike the idiocy of those running general government organizations. They believe what is convenient (Voldemort is not back and everything is fine... including leaving the Dementors in charge of Azkaban), they spread lies that best suit their political motives (Albus Dumbledore is trying to discredit Cornelius Fudge in order to place himself in line to be Minister of Magic), and they blame the wrong people for the wrong things (Harry Potter is an attention starved douchecanoe who is so used to being the center of attention that he cannot stand having the spotlight turned elsewhere).

Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes is a highpoint in the book, with Fred and George themselves presiding over one of the finest moments in Hogwarts’ history. Their triumphant exit from the main hall in the wake of their great portable swamp charade, when they promptly announce that they’ve had enough of higher education, summon their brooms from lockup, and ask Peeves to be sure and give Umbridge hell on their behalf is the stuff of legend. In what is certainly the only time he has taken orders from anyone, Peeves complies wholeheartedly.

But of course, we must come to the darker things afoot and the progress that is made in the saga of Harry and those fighting the Dark Lord.

We begin with Severus Snape, who we see for the first time as a sympathetic young man who, while being admittedly douche-y to people in general, is no more asking for the trouble given him by James and Sirius than Harry asks Malfoy for his constant and unending antagonism. We also have our first glimpse at his relationship with Lily, as Snape’s worst memory reveals her attempts to defend him against the bullies. This is not the last time we will see this scene, but it is the defining moment in the James-Lily-Severus triangle: Snape calls Lily a Mudblood, and loses her forever.

As I’ve said before, the Harry books grow with their audience, and Harry for the first time has the painful realization that his idolized parents, while wonderful people, were not perfect and did not always do wonderful things. The scene where James Potter bullies Snape is indeed disturbing, and Harry’s reaction of questioning whether he even wants to be compared to his father anymore is wise and filled with mature perspective. However, the guidance and opinion he gets when he is finally able to talk to Sirius and Lupin is also filled with wisdom: Yes, we were idiots, and who isn’t? But no. Your dad was not a hideous human being. At least, not any more than any other fifteen year old.

(I think it’s important too, to say that Harry does not have the luxury of becoming a bully- he’s got far more important things to worry about than what his school rivals are thinking or saying or doing at any given time... he might not ever be able to relate to this aspect of his father, or indeed anyone)

And we finally have acknowledgement by Rowling, through the voice of Albus Dumbledore, that the reading audience is ready to hear what has been kept from them for five books (five Harry Potter years), and close to seven real-life years (by way of book release dates). Voldemort came to Godric’s Hollow on that fateful night fifteen years ago to dispose of a baby who had been prophesied as a threat to his power.

Beyond the fact that he did not know the entire prophecy (and what kind of idiot acts without hearing the whole thing firsthand? I ask you), clearly Voldemort has never read Oedipus Rex. There were two babies born at the end of the seventh month that year to parents who had thrice defied him- one was Harry Potter, the other was Neville Longbottom.

The very act of choosing Harry as the baby to destroy is the one that sealed their fates forever. As Dumbledore confirmed, Harry was probably selected because his most closely resembled Voldemort’s own origins, as they were both half-bloods. Had Voldemort not acted, nothing would have occurred, and the prophecy would not have come true. But that’s not how these things work, is it? Of course Voldemort was going to act. And of course the story was never going to end up anywhere other than where it is now.

So now the second war is upon us. Voldemort revealed himself within the Ministry, Fudge was forced to admit that he had returned, and we’re ready for the warnings to The Other Minister that open Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

Final notes: the locket in Grimauld Place that wouldn’t open (ahhhhh!), and the barman at the Hog’s Head who looks vaguely familiar (HOLY CRAP MARIE). Dear Stephenie Meyer: This is how you build a series.

In Which Harry Potter Wins the Tri-Wizard Tournament

Cedric Diggory is dead.

As far as momentous deaths go, this one is stunning in its lack of ceremony or preamble. A simply hissed "Kill the spare" and a muttered death curse, and the handsome, intelligent, nice, bland Hufflepuff hero drops to the ground like a stone. Within the hour Voldemort rises and the second war begins.

The death of Diggory, I think, was meant to shock on a number of levels. As previously rambled in this blog, his death is the opening salvo of the "yes, this is a real and dangerous war, and people you know and love will die." Granted, we hadn't known Cedric that long, but we knew enough about him to know he was a genuinely good person, even if he was a touch boring and his dad was really, really obnoxious.

To kill someone so suddenly, with no compunction and no remorse, is standard Lord Voldemort. We have been told throughout the first four books that at the height of his power, He Who Must Not Be Named committed atrocities against innocents, and genuinely reigned terror on the wizarding populace. The death of Cedric Diggory is the first time this has directly affected one of our heroes, and is the first death in the "next generation" of those fighting the Dark Lord. In the words of Albus Dumbledore, "remember Cedric Diggory."

The Goblet of Fire is a book I often discount, but for reasons I can never remember when I'm actually reading it. As stated ad nauseum, this is the first "grown up" book, filled with Dark Marks and Death Eaters, government conspiracies and cover-ups, and an emotional family reunion that makes me cry every damn time. No matter how much it is mocked by Boy Scout.

While the Tri-Wizard Tournament was diverting and exciting (as is the Quidditch World Cup) none of that could match building tension, layer upon layer, beginning with the disappearance of Bertha Jorkins (who I think I referred to as Jenkins previously... I apologize) and the death of Frank the gardener (another wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time incident) and ending when Wormtail carries the world's most disturbing "baby" to the foot of Tom Riddle's grave. Nasty, creepy, and oh so wonderful.

I also have to mention again (again) the brilliance of J.K. Rowling and her writing. And her planning. And everything about her. Albus Dumbledore is speaking to someone in Goblet of Fire, and he tells them about a room that he stumbled on when he took a wrong turn to the restroom, a room in the castle he had never seen before, a room full of chamber pots. At the time, Dumbledore muses about whether he will find the room again, whether it only appears on the quarter moon, on Wednesdays, to people who really have to go, etc. Diehards, however, will note that Dumbledore is making the first mention of the Room of Requirement in the series. More of this ohholycrap awesomeness to come in The Order of the Phoenix.

On a scale of one to extremely excited, I am extremely excited to have reached the fever pitch of this series. No more messing around with spirits and apparitions, and people who-may-or-may-not be trying to kill Harry after they've escaped from Azkaban. From now on, we're all in.

A Statement About the Third Book in My Marathon

I don't know about you, but I forgot how fast the Harry Potter books are to read. Of course, the first three are the shortest, but that is neither here nor there.

Ah, The Prisoner of Azkaban. Let's all agree right now that this book is where the saga begins. The Sorcerer's Stone is the beginning; The Chamber of Secrets is a time-burner and back-story filler; The Prisoner of Azkaban begins the rise of Voldemort.

A lot of retrospective pieces of interest, not the least of which is Professor Trelawney's second real prediction. In an under-mentioned creepy, creepy moment in the series, the fortune-telling ding-bat has a genuine moment of sight in the middle of Harry's Divination final exam. She predicts the rise of the Dark Lord following the return of his most loyal that very night. When Harry relates this incident to Dumbledore at the end of the story, Dumbledore lets drop that this is the second time Professor Trelawney made a legitimate prediction.

It's not until later that we learn her other prediction was the reason Voldemort came to Godric's Hollow to murder Harry Potter in the first place.

Meeting key players in the coming events is at once exhilarating and sad, knowing what is to come for them. When Remus Lupin stood up to ward off the Dementor on the Hogwart's Express, all I could do was hear small voices saying "Teddy Lupin is kissing our cousin!!" When Cedric Diggory comes over to admire Harry's Firebolt, all I could think of was "the wrong place at the wrong time". And when Cornelius Fudge met Harry outside of the Leaky Cauldron, all I could think was "you raging Douchecanoe."

We also see the beginning of Harry In Isolation, as he starts to get cut-off from people based purely on his own experiences. No one can know what he experiences when he's near the Dementors. No one knows the relief he feels to learn that there is a whole network of people out there, friends of his parents, who care deeply about his well-being. While occasionally whiney, Harry is also a very singular boy to whom not a lot of living people can relate. The Prisoner of Azkaban is the first time we start to see this build thematically.

So what happens in the end? Of course the servant escapes to rejoin his master, though the servant turns out not to be the man we suspected all along. And where does The Goblet of Fire begin? With the servant and his master in the Riddle mansion in central England, talking about the murder of poor Bertha Jenkins.

And with that... on to the Quidditch World Cup! (Appropriate, no? From one Cup to the other...)

In Which Harry Stabs a Big-Ass Basilisk with an Awesome Sword

What did I tell you?

If I'm being honest, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets is the weakest link in the series for me (This is not to say in any way that it is bad. It is just not the best book. By far). We're over the introductions, but the sinister-ness hasn't started to build yet (see: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), and we're still trying to establish a solid villain. Literally.

However, in retrospect, there are a number of things that make Chamber of Secrets an essential volume. While Prisoner of Azkaban brings things away from the new rise of Voldemort and focuses on the events leading to the night of his demise, Chamber of Secrets goes back to the beginning, and shows the origins of the boy who became unnameable.

Tom Riddle, inhabitant of the diary that possesses Ginny Weasley, is of course the teenage incarnation of the Dark Lord. In his interaction with Harry in the Chamber, Tom reveals his roots: he was born of the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin and a Muggle who didn't know what he was getting into until after he had married and impregnated the witch living on his estate (full disclosure: we don't know the nature of their relationship until later books.)

Once again we see the pieces of detail being planted for later, and we see the extent to which certain people have been involved in past events: Dumbledore's role at Hogwarts before becoming Headmaster, confirmation of the Malfoys' full allegiance to Voldemort, etc.

We also get to know Fawkes and the hidden power of the Sorting Hat, as well as becoming familiar with the Basilisk and all of its terrible powers.

I just started reading Prisoner of Azkaban and it is twelve kinds of awesome. While being an excellent book to begin with (so much mis-direction! so many layers!) it is also as though you can feel the momentum gathering for the coming storm. And what a storm it is.

In Which We Talk About Harry Potter

Let me start by saying that if you've been living under a rock and are wary of Harry Potter spoilers, you might want to read on with caution. Let me also say that this is going to be an ongoing discussion due to my current "Harry Potter Marathon."

Disclosure disclosed? Awesome.

While I am sure that there are better fantasy series than Harry Potter (I'm not well read enough in that arena to have a properly formed opinion), I have a hard time believing that Harry doesn't at least rank in the top 10. Also, though I read Twilight and was enamored of it for a bit (before I really, really thought about what I had read), and I cannot argue its place in pop culture, I want to be very clear that there is no competition between Harry and Twilight. None. Not in quality of writing, not in quality of ideas, not in staying power over time. Saying that Twilight is in the same league as Harry Potter is like saying the Backstreet Boys belong in a conversation about the Beatles. It's just not going to happen.

Now that that's out of the way (you really don't want to get me started on a Twilight rant), I can say that over the weekend and to the consternation of Boy Scout, I finished Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

Firstly, I was struck by the fact that, at the time I first read it (I was... 15? Maybe?), I thought Sorcerer's Stone was AMAZING. And it is. But it's almost laughable to read it now, knowing all of the amazingness that is to come. It's a light, almost breezy read filled with clues (Sirius Black leant Hagrid his motorcycle! Harry doesn't like hanging out with his scary cat lady neighbor! AHHHHHH), and it is most definitely "the introductory book." (Note to Stephenie Meyer: the books are supposed to get better as you go along. Not worse. See?)

It also struck me while reading The Sorcerer's Stone, and not for the first time, that the books mature with Harry. Now I'm not saying that J.K Rowling in any way dumbs down her language or her imagery or her writing for younger readers. What I'm saying is that the things that happen to 12-year-old Harry are scary and dangerous, but not too scary and dangerous for a 12-year-old. Rowling did an excellent job of growing the conflicts along with Harry. There are some emotional and traumatic events that occur in the first three books, but it's not until (SPOILER ALERT?) the death of Cedric Diggory that Rowling makes it known that all bets are off. Yes, these are ostensibly children's books. And no, thank you. There will be no punches pulled.

Part of the beautiful world that J.K. Rowling created in Potterverse is the fact there are consequences (I'm looking at you again, Ms. Meyer!). However, Rowling is kind enough not to force adult situations on a child who is just learning about who he is. Literally.

I would also like to say a word about Snape in this book (SPOILER ALERT for Boy Scout, apparently. However, I shall try to speak obliquely). His role is actually very minimal in this book, when you look at it. From the beginning he is trying to save Harry's life (remember Quirrel and the Quidditch match?) and from the very beginning, there is not a single person who thinks Snape is a danger to Harry. Of course it can't be said that he doesn't hold malice toward the boy, but it's sort of heart-breaking to know how the Snape felt about Lily Potter, and to see him do everything in his power to keep her son safe... whether he wants to or not. And it's Dumbledore himself who confirms for the first time that Snape was in school with James Potter (he makes no mention of Lily) and that "they hated each other." To me this deepens Snape's heroism-- nothing he did was for James or for Harry themselves. It was all for Lily.

So maybe that wasn't so oblique after all. Sorry, Scout.

Going back to a previous point, this speaks further to Rowling's abilities as a writer. She knew, even in the first book, that there was more to the greasey potions master than met the eye. But she knew that neither Harry nor his contemporary readers wanted or needed to see the man behind the curtain. That was for later, when everyone was ready.

(This is where I could talk about how knowing the end of your story at the beginning and planting seeds of growth along the way is a sign of a superior story-teller, but I won't go there. No. I won't. I won't say that adding details in the last 50 pages to lend relevence to your ending is lame. Nope. Won't do it... Shit.)

I guess I'm done for now. Be sure and come back next time for "In Which Harry Stabs a Big-Ass Basilisk with an Awesome Sword." No innuendo intended.

By Popular Demand

Dear Boy Scout:

This one's for you. Now go harass someone else while you're bored on vacation.

Love Always,
Kate

Oh... Shiloh Walker.

You loyal readers (all two of you) will know that I have been trying my darndest to get into Shiloh Walker as an author. I'm not sure why I have this goal (I don't think she's been recommended to be specifically), but there is something about her writing which leads me to think that I should be reading all of her stuff. Only when I do read her stuff I find myself really frustrated. Like, really frustrated. Especially in the second half of the story.

Now this is not a scientific analysis-- I've only read three of her books. But nonetheless, I was pretty much "done" with all of them by the time the 3/4 mark came into view.

My most recent experience was with Fragile, the prequel to the sequel that I had read last week (really? was that just last week? ok, then...). This one covered Luke, the other twin (you can never just have a one-off story about one twin, can you? Nope, gotta cover both), also ex-military, but significantly less effed-up than his brother, Broken's Quinn.

Luke, now retired from Special Forces, is a doctor in Kentucky who falls for Devon, a social worker who is in and out of the hospital for various reasons as a result of her job (bringing in abused kids, their junkie parents, etc. etc. etc.) Devon is of The Dark Past, having been molested, raped, and turned to drugs all by the time she was thirteen. She's all recovered (as much as one can recover from that, I imagine), but standoffish about men. That is, until she meets Luke and his sexxorating finishes the healing process.

This is all fine by me. I liked the evolution of their relationship, I like the way they worked together, I liked the two of them as individuals.

My problem came when there was, you know... a conflict in the story.

Standard Heroine Is In Danger, Hero Must Protect Her plotline, with Devon being stalked throughout the book. Given her job, this is not an unrealistic conflict. A pissed off parent wanting revenge because his kid was taken away? Sure! Absolutely. However, in addition to that, another Mysterious Person From The Past watching her? Really? How many stalkers can this girl have? And is one not enough to create conflict that helps solidify her relationship with Luke?

I just didn't buy it. Nor did I buy the sudden and downright bizarre identity of the Man From The Past, who, by the way, is the one who killed the first stalker. Because he was interfering with the second stalker's agenda. Oops, spoiler alert. And no, I'm not kidding.

The longer the story went on, the less I liked the characters, and the less I understood why they were together. I suppose their relationship is depicted realistically for the circumstances, but honestly. His Alpha-Male chest thumping and her Independent Woman stupidity reached such a pitch that when they finally "took some time," I genuinely didn't see a reason for them to get back together. Which they do. After he saves her.

And without actually giving away the ending, I just have to say that I don't understand how that could possibly strengthen their bond as a couple. If I were her, I would run long and far. Not necessarily because of him, but because if what happened to her had happened to me, I would need some serious time. Possibly in a mental ward.

Maybe this all goes back to my major life-premise. The character's the thing. Shiloh Walker's characters are interesting, and they could be compelling if they were a little more developed. And things would be even better if they could be put in a reasonable situation. I'm going to keep trying her, but they're not going on my Keeper Shelf. Yet.

Favorite. Scenes. Ever.

Over at Smart Bitches they're having a contest to give away an illustration of Hubert the Bull, and in order to win you have to comment with a scene that you'd like to see illustrated from your favorite book(s). Thought I don't suppose it has to be your favorite book, it could just be a scene that logistically you're very confused about...

I picked the scene from one of my faves, Julie Garwood's Guardian Angel. To explain the context of the scene is to issue a monumental spoiler alert (seriously... I still consider this twist to be one of the best), but suffice it to say that part of the scene involves a burly pirate hauling the hero's mother out of the house, and insisting that the hero would be fine with this arrangement. I believe the phrase "Caine would want me to have her" is used more than once. Between that and the rest of the chaos going on around them, this is one of my favorite sequences in bookdom.

This leads me to a thought on a discussion I don't think we have yet had: favorite scenes.

I love the scene in Guardian Angel because it comes on the heels of the aforementioned glorious twist, which causes complete and utter chaos in the proceedings. Garwood does such and amazing job of juggling everything that is happening-- from Jade ordering Sterns to hide the silver under the bed, to Caine's realization that Jade has left the premises, the reader never gets lost, but is instead swept away to the point that you can imagine standing in the foyer at Cainewood looking back and forth until your head spins. And then Caine and Nathan start beating the crap out of each other. And it makes me smile.

And now I need to ditch the Amazon pile and go home and read Guardian Angel.

But the point is that there are some scenes that are so affecting that you flip back to them again and again to relive that emotion, in addition to re-reading the book in it's entirety to capture every nuance of amazingness.

Another scene that jumps to mind is the scene in Stephanie Laurens' Captain Jack's Woman, when Kit is shot and needs to put up a front to the head of the local militia in order to keep her identity a secret (those who have read both books will note that yes, apparently I like my heroines red-headed and steeped in secret identity), and so comes down to breakfast with complete and utter calm, despite the fact that she had a bullet removed from her side not five hours earlier (this is also where she finds out her lover has not been altogether truthful, either). Considering that this is one of only two Stephanie Laurens books that I have ever finished, I think it says a lot about the scene that I consider it to be quite memorable. And not in a bad way. Because there are those too.

But I don't have the brain function to think of them right now. Maybe next time.

Wow. Talk About a Throw-Down.

For those who missed it, here is La Laliberte's scathing challenge, issued in response to my Heartless post:

You may chide my trash ignorance, but I assumed that was something of an epidemic, not only within one author's "oeuvre", shall we say, but even spilling over into others. For example, how many romances have I read? Two. You probably even know which ones, I'll give you a second to think. Yes, you're right. All the Queen's Men by Linda Howard and Julie Garwood's The Prize. Now, imagine my surprise when I go to pick up Judith McNaught's Kingdom of Dreams that you left with Aley and all of a sudden the noble Royce has reappeared in all his hunky-hairy-dark-age-hero glory! And he what? Somehow convinces the daughter of his enemy to love him and have steamy sex with him, etc?? Or at least, I would assume that's what happened... I stopped reading after I learned that Nicolaa (pronounced Nee-co-LAAAHHH) had somehow turned into her '80s counterpart... Jennifer. (Jennifer? Really?) So please, give me a good one or I'll give up on the whole genre. In fact, can I offer a discussion topic? THE BOOK you would recommend to convert a neophyte into a romance lover--and don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed The Prize and even All the Queen's Men, but now I need guidance. Help.

Oh, my dearest, darling Lady Liberty. How thrilled we are that you emerged from the Food Service cave to taunt us.

To begin I have to plead no contest to the charge that the first two historical romances you read had heroes named Royce. Not going to explain it, not going to excuse it, just going to say that it is an unfortunate coincidence.

And now on to the indictment of sameness.

I think the main problem is that you are reading the evolution of the genre backwards. (Say WHAT?!) OK, so here's the thing: Judith McNaught, at the time A Kingdom of Dreams was published (circa 1989) was working off of existing themes and, believe it or not, moving them forward. By a couple of inches.

So Judith McNaught is, for lack of a better term, the dinosaur. She's the one you're supposed to read the first time, when you have no idea what the genre is about. And right about the time you realize that all of the stories have the same structure, you find Julie Garwood, and you are so frakking relieved that the relationship is no longer the central conflict that you do a little happy dance. And by the time you think it's time to read about "real" characters in a more modern setting, you move on to Linda Howard.

In other words yes, you did the whole thing backwards.

Now I'm not saying that that makes McNaught obsolete (or that it excuses Garwood's inexplicable move into bland modern suspense). Those of us who popped our romance cherries on them can still look back with some fondness, the way you look back with fondness on high school-- skipping over the bad parts mostly, and really really remembering the good times with nostalgia (McNaught's Double Standards, which I would never recommend to anyone, will remain on my keeper shelf forever).

There is an element of sameness in the genre, but it is not something that should be confused with lack of imagination by certain writers. Sorry, but the new definition of romance involves two people who are perfect for each other, and the fact that come hell or high-water, there will be a happy ending.

That in no way precludes interesting characters, plot scenarios, or outside the box thinking as to how exactly they are going to get there, which can be messy as hell.

And to be honest, even the whole virgin thing is out out out in modern romances, unless you can come up with a not-unreasonable explanation for a 28-year-old who has never had sex. Like, a real, rational reason.

On to recommendations for beginners.

I am going to maintain that ANY Julie Garwood is the perfect introduction for beginners in historical. There are only maybe three of hers that I am not completely enamored of, and they are wonderful without being overly dense. Moderns? Erin McCarthy seems to be kicking ass and taking names, especially in the real-world-not-all-the-same-scenario realm (and Lisa Kleypas, the mastress of sweet historicals has progressed herself into some seriously yummy contemps).

For me and paranormals, if you're not reading Kresley Cole, you're not living. Like, for reals.

OK, Mme Laliberte, the challenge is now to you. Name the genre you'd like, and I'll get you a title.

(And you can read it in the car with me on the way to Utah. WAHOO!)