Haphazardly Implausible || Book Review

Well before I wish you all a happy future, I believe it to be time to (DUN DUN DUN) cue the lights and cut the curtain for a book review.

*enter picture here*

Haphazardly Implausible, people. Good book, great author (wait-a go Jack!!). And before reading anymore, you must bounce over to her blog and tell her how fantastic she is. NOW. 

Really, you should know that I'm no knowledgeable whiz kid when it come to books or literature. Especially not books about airships and Europe. I seriously fail when it comes to history/geography, and I've never chomped down on anything steam punk before. Needless to say, this book was a new genre for little ol' me. 

* * *

The book begins with Scottish people in a Scottish place. This is rather lovely, as it gives me freedom to think of these characters with some sweet accents. From their it jumps between multiple peoples and places, all on their own conquests to find what they're looking for. 

Peter, Tony, Steed, Darcy, Kirk, Isidore, Jack, Singur, and the others. All lovely people with complex backgrounds and personalities to match. My favorite(s) had to be Darcy, with Peter close behind. Kirk and I became fast friends, I could almost empathize with Isidore and his struggles with Jack O'Malley, Steed and Tony were both gems, and Singur...well Singur left me wanting a bit more out of him, but I have faith that in the coming books he'll blossom into a very well-rounded fellow of fiction. 

After reading Haphazardly Implausible I'm very interested in reading Jack's collection of short stories: Kirk, Lisbeth's Choice, and Reveille, and so when I get a chance, I'll be getting my hands on those. 

I won't say much concerning the story, for fear that I will slip a few spoilers. 

---Ah! That's another shining moment of this book: the mystery. Seems like everyone has a secret---or if not secret, a past that's not to be spoken about. These little eye-catches feed you brain and keep you interested. When reading, I typically try to solve and resolve the plot twisters before the characters do. With HI, I was totally clueless (though I nearly caught Hogan's revelation before it had been...revelated), which is a pleasing thing. 

There are handfuls of pros, plot being the most prominent.

The cons are few, and I can only think of two:

1) A slight unbelievability. I know---I know, it's steam punk, it's fictional, etc. BUT when Singur decides to take a swim with a bag of explosives, it occurred to me that no matter how much of a genius he might be, this dude has no hope of not sinking to his drowning doom (especially as only a few minutes ago, he was about to pass out). 

2) There were scatters of little typos. I am no person to be in the position of accusing someone of typos (yes, we call all laugh hysterically and roll our eyes at this). And however many times you read a manuscript, you are never going to find each and every little error. Thus, (no worries Jack) we shan't shoot the author. 

Aside from these two points of the story, I really couldn't find anything else to turn my nose up at (yes, I know I'm picky ;). 

A lovely book with lots of potential. *cough*movie adaption*cough*

So read it, enjoy it, and be excited for the sequel(s)!

* * *

And now I can wish you a successful future by saying "Happy New Year!"

K-Minty

*sigh* Yes. More Poems.

Because blogger is a bit of a pain, I'm very close to running out of storage space for any pictures on my blog. There. That explains the lack of photographs over the past posts. 

However, I thought it would be nice to combine some of my photography with three of my newest poems (yes, written for dear bloggy-friend Lauricia ;). My solution was to create a YouTube video out of them. 

So here 'zey are. 

Song: No One tells Me Anything || Windsor Airlift

0:00 - "Broken Trust"

1:29 - "Eyes of Ages"

2:59 - "Words Align"

Alas, the first one is really quite sad. :(

The second is a bit foreboding, but I mean it to have a pleasant conclusion. :)

And the last...well the last is me sympathizing with all my fellow writers. ;)

Despite the sadness of it, I really must say that I favor most the first one. It's a sort of apology. But it doesn't end there where the lines stop. Instead, the reader (that's you) gets to imagine that the speaker is forgiven. In the end, wrongs do come to right, and the sun shines out all the brighter. 

That's the thing when it comes to story telling. The story doesn't end. It just sort of continues behind the scenes. And that is why we can believe that every tale---great or small---does have a happy ending...eventually.

'Tis all.

God bless,

(a book review may or may not be coming soon)

K-Minty

Lonely Stand

Due to *cough*popular demand*cough* I give you yet another poem devised by me, myself, and I. 

I decided to feature this ten-liner in a new story idea (that I doubt will ever see the light of day), so I may as well give it to you now. 

In foggy window dawn has reached 

Past oceantide the sun has breached 

Through stormy rain of silver showers 

Near twilight trees and golden flowers 

The cottage slept in nighttime sigh 

With drowsy snore and sleepy eye 

We watched as flames leapt in firey daze 

And caught yonder forest in fearful blaze 

'Till scream awoke the world at hand 

And fell to silent lonely stand

The end for now, my friends.

Reindeer Nightcap

A Christmas special from the gang at Humphreys Peak.

* * *

Rory and Amelia Fysh sat on the blue, navy, and white plaid-stripe love seat, surrounded by mounds of fluffy red and green tissue paper and scattered, sparkling Christmas tree tinsel. Perched nearest the fireplace, Robert Thorpp was bundled in fleece and flannel nosily sipped at a mug of hot coffee, while his best friend, Lue Malkovitch leaned back against the brick and mortar of the mantel, garbed in his signature black trench coat and with his eyelids half closed in luxurious ease and relaxation. In the armchair, stately but comfortable, was Dr. DiLona---rather, "Peter"---who watched all in the room through his little round glasses with bright eyes and warm, content smile. And finally, at the foot of the grand Christmas tree, flanked by the remains of the torn package wrapping (which had been composed mostly of newspaper and brown lunch sacks), was Brent Dobkin, sitting cross-legged and still taking inventory over his new drawing pencils. 
They were laughing, talking, arguing, explaining, and generally spreading the joyous Christmas cheer as follows the ideal picture of "peace on earth and good will to men". 
"Hey Peter!" Quipped Robert Thorpp above the general chorus of chatter. DiLona gave him a questioning smile, his eyebrows raised.
"What's that Hobbes?" Hobbes played a sly smile and the firelight twinkled in his eyes.
"So...eh...when am I gonna see you wear your new reindeer cap? I mean, seeing as it really brings out the color in your eyes and all." Peter chuckled and pulled out his newest item Christmas clothing attire, courtesy of Hobbes. It was a nightcap interpreting a sleepy reindeer with rolling ping-pong-ball eyes, a lolling tongue, and droopy antlers that dangled past Peter's shoulders when placed on his head. 
"You know, I was thinking it would go well with my lab coat." Dryly stated the proud owner of the reindeer cap. Hobbes and the rest started to crack up as the watched the doctor bobbed his head, causing the nightcap's eyeballs to bobble up and down.
"You know sir," Began Rory with a mock air of seriousness. "Not only does it bring out the color in your eyes, but it also complements your features and skin tone quite nicely."
"I say, Hobbes, where on earth did you find such an ugly thing in the first place?" Asked Amy, reaching to pull some of the tinsel out of her husband's hair. Hobbes took another draught of his coffee, and after setting it down, he replied. 
"As it so happens, I didn't find it, I made it. With a little help, of course." He caught Brent's eye and they exchanged smirks. Peter looked at his half brother with conviction. 
"Oh, so I have you to blame for this too?" He accused. Brent smiled a bit awkwardly, and retorted.
"Not blame. Thank. Besides, it was Malkovitch's idea to begin with." He pointed at Lue, who was grinning, despite the fact that he was studying the back of his eyelids. 
"A real team effort, eh?" Asked Peter. 
"Sure was." Confirmed Lue, confident and cool as ever. 
"All right, enough with the doctor's precious cap, we're all jealous of it, and that's that." Said Amy.
"Yeah, real jealous." Mumbled Brent.
"---And now," Continued Mrs. Fysh. "I have one last present to give to you, dearest." After hopping to her feet and kissing Rory on the top of his head (where tinsel still hung from), she retrieved one last gift from the antique bookshelf and plopped it into Mr. Fysh's lap. 
"Well c'mon then, let's see what is is!" Urged Hobbes. Brent stopped fingering his new artist supplies and even Lue cracked open his eyes to see what this final remaining parcel might be. All attention was turned to Rory, and the room grew quiet as his finger gentle tugged and tore at the wrapping. When at last opened and fully reveled, the receiver beamed. 
"A Bible!" Exclaimed he, in awe of the elegant leather work that bound the golden-edged pages together. It was indeed a Bible: a fine example of God's Word, complete and with the name "Fysh" embossed on the front of it. 
Rory smiled, swelling with pride. 
"Ah! It's beautiful! Absolutely beautiful!" 
"Mm, I figured you might need a new one after the dogs---eh---decided that book binding was a delicacy to be feasted on." Explained Amy, glowing with gladness over the fact that her gift had been so well received. 
"May I?" Asked Peter, gesturing to the Holy book. Rory placed it in his hands. 
"Why," Peter DiLona breathed, "It is indeed beautiful." He flipped through the delicate pages. "Such a masterpiece---a work of art in literature, and in Truth. There is, to be sure, no better book to be found in all the world." 
Hobbes watched as the Bible was reverently handed back to Rory. He had an idea.
"Say, Rory, read us something will you?" Rory nodded, and without further ado, opened to Luke Chapter 2 of the New Testament.

"In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to their own town to register. 

 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them. 

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah,the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” 

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 

"Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests."

Christmastime

It came upon a shooting star
So far away in height of dark
Through moonshine night and shady eve
In blackest sky above the earth

A hope anew: a brilliant light
To cleanse the world of sinful strife
And leave it's mark for us to bear
A silver love for all to share

We sang the carols of glistening yule
And danced 'neath gleaming boughs of green
Brought to the hearth with hearts of gold
Where story of joy was fourth foretold

The Savior, great and beautiful he
Born to us in humble state
In manger lay in peaceful sleep
While blessed night of Christ grows late

I saw it all through eyes of past
I saw the smile, the glimmer-eye
The wintry glow of snow to last
Through the heavenly window of the skies 

And when I woke I woke from word
I knew a voice I thought I heard
His gentle whisper, in my ear:
"Awake, for Christmastime is here."

With love,

Kismint Plinkadink

[Christmas] Music Monday: #4

A double whammy for all you folks, since today is Christmas Eve.
Also because I feel like it.
Thirdly, because these are the same song, but with different lyric.
And last, because these are my favorites, therefore they deserve to be played the day before Jesus' B-day.

Merry Christmas!

AND SO IT BEGINS:

The End of the World.

In Which I Write Only Boringness

I feel like writing something. Watching words march left to right in their straight, neat, and uptight columns has a soothing effect. Non of my aspired book-plots are a whole, and thus, they are nothing but strands of ideas, hopeless to being woven into an actual story. I could edit and revise "Upper Class", but I'd rather let that tale in particular sit in the dusty dark and ferment in the data banks of this laptop for the time being. A few days ago, I though I was on to something good as far as "plot" goes. But not anymore. 

Nothing. Is. Coming. 

I've been drawing a lot. And playing lots of music. I like winter break. I like doing nothing as much as possible. You've no idea how blessedly wonderful it is to wake up in late morning and sigh, realizing you have no obligations. At all. Just a few hours to finally do all the creating and inspiration-seeking you've ever had urge to do. 

I feel like this past week has been my drain. I'm settling into my easy-going mood, and enjoying every single breath of it that I'm breathing in. 

More and more, it becomes an obvious fact that I continually bounce my "favorites" to and fro between four things. 

I like to write. I like to draw. I like music---a lot. And I like to take pictures. 

It's always one of these things, and continually a struggle to decide if I like one more than the other. 

I don't know why I'm boring you with this. It's all just a few musings from I, as I try to type myself to sleep. 

Goodnight.

Coeur Volant Lyrics

French:

Animer, à la vie, les songes, les couleurs,

voir la lune, les étoiles, tout se retrouve à nouveau.

Serpentant les ruelles,

dans l’oubli, dans la peur,

petit génie aux doigts de fée,

fixant les heures,

ouvrant ses ailes,

un cœur qui pleurait, qui s'envole

l'amour a soigné ce qu'il manquait.

Elle était inconnue, curieuse et puis amie

un clin d'œil en offrande

petite sirène aux yeux de nuit

sa clé a porté le rêve vivant

un secret qu’ils partagent à présent.

Il était magicien d'images de poèmes

dompteur de rêves,

caché dans l'ombre,

seul avec son jeu brisé,

son cœur cassé

les choses en morceaux se réparent a nouveau.

Rêve …

N’oublie pas les rêves!

Rêve …

English (a bit, rough, yes?):

Open to life’s dream and colors,

Watch the moon and the stars.

All that is lost can be found again.

Winding in shadows,

Fearful and forgotten,

A little genie with nimble fingers

Fixing the hours.

Wings opening,

His broken heart takes flight.

Love heals everything.

She was a stranger, a helper, now friend.

A little mermaid with eyes of the night,

Her key brought the dream to life.

His secret now shared.

He was a magician of pictures and poems.

A dreamer of dreams,

Hiding in shadows,

Alone with his broken playful things.

Then his broken heart flies.

Things in pieces can mend.

Dream…

Remember to dream…

Dream…

copyright:

“Coeur Volant” (Performed by Zaz)

Music and lyrics by Elizabeth Cotnoir, Isabelle Geffroy, Howard Shore

[Christmas] Music Monday: #3

Why not?

Recap

While watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire:

*Hopes this one is as good as The Prisoner of Azakban* 

*Is strangely reminded of a Calvin and Hobbes comic while witnessing Harry's dream* 

*Happens to be somewhat horrified of Ron's haircut* 

*Notices that guy actually looks a lot like David Tennant* 

*Ooh, blue fire* 

*Wait, remind me again: why is everyone so surprised that Harry is one of the champions?* 

*Has just come to the realization that fake eyes are actually very distracting* 

*Creepy how Tennant has such a look-alike* 

*Concludes journalist lady is creepy. But her floating pen and parchment are pretty cool.* 

*Wonders how Harry's glasses stay on while he's flying* 

*Seriously, that guy really does look like the tenth doctor* 

*Watches movie...watches movie...watches movie...* 

*Movie includes maze. Maze reminds me of BBC's Merlin* 

*Movie unfolds: Voldemort is disturbing* 

*Thinks either Harry of Voldemort should simply end the series now, rather than wait for four more consecutive movies to come out* 

*Could it possibly be Tennant?...Naw...* 

*Decides to wait until credits to find out*

*AHHHGHGG! The movie ended without credits! What on earth are you doing Megashare?!*  

*Movie ends* 

*Goes directly to Wikipedia* 

*Is it?...is it?...IS IT?????*

*DAVID TENNANT PLAYS BARTY CROUCH JR. TEN POINTS FOR K-MINTY FOR RECOGNIZING HIM!*

This is how it goes every time I watch a movie and think I recognize an actor from another movie/show/place in time. I'm very proud of myself.

Any movies that you've been watching lately? Any in particular that are Christmas traditions? I hope you all are enjoying this lovely month of Decemberness!

God bless,
K-Minty

Col. 2:6-10

⁶ So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, ⁷ rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.

⁸ See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces^[a] of this world rather than on Christ.

⁹ For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, ¹⁰ and in Christ you have been brought to fullness. He is the head over every power and authority.

A List of Ten

1. The Hobbit came out today. No, I didn't go to the midnight showing. Yes, I will be seeing it soon(ish).

2. Haphazardly Implausible, by Jack Lewis Baillot came out today. You should buy it. And read it. I'm getting a (signed!) copy of it. And I am excited about that.

3. Christmas is in 11 days, just in case you haven't noticed. Which is kind of a crazy thing, seeing as I have not decorated our house, bought presents, or worn my weird little fuzzy-sock things.

4. I need to take a math test today. But it's okay because algebra 2 is making sense.

5. A dilemma has presented itself to me: Do you like my new favorite French song that's on auto play on this page, or would you rather me change it to something more traditional? This is obviously a very important matter and requires much consideration.

6. Oh! Almost forgot: I watched Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's (err---Philosopher's) Stone last night. Which seems really really wrong ('cause of The Hobbit), but it was still a sweet movie. For your information, I watch my movies before reading the books (yes, I see that knife in your hand, but I'll explain some other time).

7. The night before last I dreamed that there were alien-zombies-who-could-shape-shift-into-humans invading Phoenix as the beginning of the end of the word and I had to fend them off with whatever weapons I could find (including sharpened pencils). After a while, I finally found my sword (a movie replica of "Sting", which---in waking life---I happen to keep stored in my bed) and was able to throw a bit of swordplay in. It seriously rocked.

8. Listening to Owl City's "How Deep the Father's Love for Us" cover. I feel like I haven't listened to Owl City in a while. Probably because I haven't. However, it's all I listened to during NaNoWriMo.

9. (speaking of) Last night I wanted to write another book. Anyone have a plot idea?

10. I'm about to take a big breath an happily dwell on the fact that I have a co-op free four weeks. Joy to the world.

Pretension

Once upon a time, I stood on a cliff. I didn't look down. I looked up. And there were clouds. I wanted so badly to touch them, up there, were they flew without fears or cares.

And then I woke up. I was in my hobbit hole, snuggled in the thick fluffy bed sheets that shrouded me from the rest of the world. Sometimes waking up to a rainy day feels like a story book. And story books always end with "and they lived happily ever after". 

[Christmas] Music Monday Wednesday: #2

Enter either drum rolls or trumpet calls

I have returned from a longish weekend of adventure, debating, and people wearing bathrobes that feel like dishtowels, smell funny, and have zebra print. And now it is time to post.
Today is especially drum-rollable (or trumpet-worthy), as I am writing my first, and hopefully not final, entry for Jack Lewis Balliot's give away. Learn the rules and how to get an entry in order to win a free, signed copy of her new book, Haphazardly Implausible (coming out December 14, 2012) HERE.

...*taps fingers and looks at clock nervously while figeting*

I guess I should write about a book that I've recently. Only problem is that I haven't exactly finished any fresh reading material lately. School work tends to suck the time of your life right outta you.

*begins to reconsider something*

And yet...school work does bring it's nice surprises (as far as literature goes), every once in the wild blue while.
And yes, I purposely mixed my puns.

Therefore, seeing as I have pray little newly-published novel, novella, or series to harp upon, I will begin with something of a classic. GK Chesterton's short story concerning Father Brown: The Hammer of God. 

(As a quick side note, you can read the full story, The Hammer of God, for free on this web page)

* * *

To be honest, I stink at reviews. It's not that I don't have an opinion (Nooooo, not that at all). Instead, it's that I rant or rave. There's no in-between space. That is my struggle. 

The Hammer of God.What a curious name. One might wonder what on earth this book is delving into. Chesterton was known for his Father Brown mysteries, but when a mystery starts with a title that includes something bigger and better and beyond our own little minds and ideas (such as God), we start to wonder: how on earth is this supposed to make sense?  One of the crucial aspects that you must include if attempting to write a successful mystery is that each event that happens needs to be believable (to an extent), and not simply depend on chance or a miracle. 

And although one could argue that miracles happen every day, all around up, 24/7, that's a whole new can of worms that will be left to open another day.

As far as background information goes, Father Brown is a Catholic priest. Depicted as short and non-noticeable, this generally overlooked priest is not only a devout believer and leader of the church, but a Sherlock in disguise. 

The Hammer of God begins with the typical introduction to the characters of whom the story concerns itself with. Chesterton's collection of Father Brown short stories are...well, short stories, thus, most characters are not expected to make appearances in multiple adventures. Unlike Sherlock Holmes, Father Brown has no Watson, and his tale is told in third person rather than first person narrative. This allows for Father Brown's first appearance to maintain a more "incognito" feeling. His presence is not announced, instead Chesterton only makes a quick note about a "...little priest [who] was not an interesting man to look at, having stubbly brown hair and a round and stolid face."

The story takes place completely on church grounds. I loved the way this made it simple and aided in unfolding the tale, piece by piece, until all was clear and in place. It seems to me that not only does a limited location keep a short story simple and easy to keep up with, but keeps everything uncluttered and allows Chesterton to add a flourish on his character development, without confusing or losing the reader. 

In a way, this short reminded me of that board game "Clue". Quite entertaining to the very conclusion.

Though the storyline was good and captivating, I must confess to you that the most shining element of plot was the to-be-greatly-admired Father Brown himself. Though I'm quite new and unlearned so far as Chesterton stories are concerned, I've already grown extremely fond of the detective-priest, and I'm quite sure you would too. His easy-going nature, calm composure, and witty quotations are outstanding. I really cannot recall the last time that I read a story with so many thought-provoking remarks. I shan't share them with you in this post, as it would take me far too long to find and decide on the best, and also because I believe that quotes are more of an impact when reading them straight from their origination, yet I do urge you read them for yourself in the link above.

The beginning was enticing, the middle was compelling, and the falling out, satisfying. As far as I can tell, this is most definitely a short story worth reading. In addition to all of the obvious elements that cause this tale to run smooth and flawlessly, their are a handful of discrete foreshadowing techniques (the stained glass painting of the angel with the lilies) that make it an excellent read. 

As far as cons go, I can't find many. I do regret to say that Chesterton has such a flourish with words, that it can become overwhelming at some times, and a struggle to follow the train of the story at others. Taking this into account, it is probably not best to read Chesterton's collection at 11:00pm on a night before an early morning. However that may be, I'd still say that these works of literature (particularly The Hammer of God) are certainly works of art, and quite commendable ones at that. 

* * *

That is my entry Jack, I hope you enjoyed it! =)

On another note, I just realized that I've forgotten to do a Christmas Music Monday. Drat. 

*bounds off to find a good Christmas song to post*

K-Minty

"You Melted My Heart", a Salad Bug

I'm a wreckless wave in the bottom of the sea, surging upward at a breakneck pace. I glide with silence and deliver with a pretty deadly slap shot. But accuracy's not my game, and I'm not one to understand the way things work. I hear a lot, see little, and comprehend only what you dismiss.

I'm the lighting before it strikes. My aim is there, but my talent is gone. My debut over, my credits erased. I'm just a flash on the stage---nothing more and none the less. The applause after my act is only thunder: an empty wave of energy pushing past you to get to an undefined destination.

I'm the accident you never thought would happen. The fear you were never afraid of. The drop of rain you couldn't feel. The whisper you strained to hear, but failed to receive. The love you never knew existed. I run a marathon as long as you breath.

You're the tide that washed up over me, while I was lost on the beach. The water was silver, with gold and blue, and rippled when I touched it. The longer I gazed the more like glass it appeared. I could see so much in the mirror. Things that I'd only dreamt came to life there. I remember that very same tint of green that the grass took on in the high summer. I recall the way you smiled like the sun after a snow day. You melted my heart.

You're the one who waves shyly but fails at words. The poets may call you "the winds in my sails" but I call you the wind in my face. I'll dance with that hurricane until I'm too dizzy to see the world upright, and I'll enjoy the way my hair will get tangled to the extreme.

You're the pilgrim, I'm the companion. Telling you stories on the way, and fending off the dragons while you sleep. You and I are on a road together now, and there is no way of telling when the path will fork. For now it's a little rocky, but I know we'll have some mountains to climb before we find the forest glade that both of our hearts are set on.

But someday: We'll both find what we're looking for. Even if we don't know what it is yet.

 I...I pro---promise.

Sudden Comprehension

That awkward awesome moment when you realize that BBC's The Adventures of Merlin is actually a spin-off of the Bible story of David and Jonathan from 1 Samuel.

Life is cool.

[Christmas] Music Monday: #1