The Red Necklace by Sally Gardner Life has been straightforward for 14-year-old Yann Margoza. As a gypsy, he has the ability to read minds and throw his voice, and he uses these talents to put on magic shows with his mentor, Têtu. But when they encounter the sinister Count Kalliovski, Yann is caught up in events beyond his control and understanding. Têtu is shot and Sido, a nobleman's daughter, helps Yann escape. He and Sido meet for only a moment, but a connection is formed that will cross borders and span years. Yann manages to leave France just as the revolution begins to take its bloody toll, but he can't forget the beautiful girl he left behind. Years later, he is still thinking about her, and when he finds out that Count Kalliovski is using Sido for some nefarious purpose, Yann decides he must return to France to save her. As both the revolution and the past threaten to swallow him, Yann perseveres, knowing that he is Sido's only hope for freedom.

It was the cover of this book that caught my eye, but it was the premise that compelled me to take it home. I was intrigued and wanted to see how Gardner would weave magic into the horrors of the French Revolution and how her characters would navigate that bloody time in history.

The beginning was exciting with the introduction to Yann's character and the distant grumblings of revolution, and the end had a nice rising motion to it- I especially liked seeing Sido facing her own challenges. But what really kept me reading were several compelling mysteries that were introduced. I wanted to know more about Yann's origins, Sido's mother's death, and how Count Kalliovski fit into it all.

I thought this was a very interesting way to look at a certain period in history. The Red Necklace takes place at the beginning of the French Revolution and the facts are accurate, but this was definitely not a history book. The storming of the Bastille and the arrest of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette were present, but we saw them as Sido saw them: distant events that only affected her superficially. The Revolution was an important piece of the story and a particularly striking setting, but it was not constantly in the spotlight. It was only brought to the reader's mind in small pieces as it brushed the lives of the characters and at the very end, where it played a significant part in the climax.

Several problems with this book kept me from really enjoying it. I had a really hard time getting into it. I wanted to like it, but it's written in a distant third person point of view that I found hard to relate to. For a long time, I didn't feel like I had any connection to the characters. And even though the beginning and end were exciting, the middle sagged. Years sped by between two paragraphs. Yann passed several milestones as a character, but they all happened offstage with just a bit of exposition to explain them. This made the book drag while I lost interest in both the characters and the story. However, I was surprised to find a lot that I related to in Sido's character. More on that here.

Also, Yann's fascination with Sido is what drives most of his decisions, yet I had no idea what he saw in her. They barely spoke a few words to each other through the entire book, but the reader is supposed to believe in this strange compelling love between them that smacks of Romeo and Juliet. Perhaps the fact that their attraction is described as 'strange' should explain away all doubt, but it just wasn't enough for me.

Overall, it seemed like a good book, but I was left feeling vaguely dissatisfied. I felt like it never lived up to its full potential. The Red Necklace is followed by The Silver Blade, but I'm not sure I'll bother reading the sequel.

I encourage questions about my disability, not just from children, but from adults, too. Anyone who's curious can ask “What happened to you?” without fear of reprisal. I won't be insulted. I'd rather answer the question openly and honestly than have people stare and wonder. But in the five years since my injury I've noticed similar questions that spark a response in me that is not nearly so positive. Sometimes I get a really sympathetic look and they'll say “Did you hurt yourself?” or “When will you get better?” or “How long do you have to use crutches?”. There is a fine line between “What happened to you?” and “Did you hurt yourself?”. They sound like they're asking the same thing but there is a critical difference. The second set of questions assumes that my condition is temporary. This is like asking a stranger “When's your baby due?”. These are assumptions that should never ever be made. Implying that I should be getting better is painful. It hurts. It's a reminder of what I can't do. No matter how long it's been since my injury, no matter how well I've moved on, this strikes an emotional nerve. Zing. Like that spot in your elbow that manages to catch the edge of the table every single time. I think I'm justified in resenting the idea that I'm sick or that there's something wrong with me. I know that some parts of me don't work like they do for everyone else, but that doesn't mean that I'm less of a person.

Now, I want to be perfectly clear. I realize that it's not their intention to hurt me. I know that their questions come from a place of deep sympathy and human caring. Also, the concept of permanent disability is not a comfortable subject. No one wants to believe that it can happen to someone they know, or even themselves. And I'm young. I think this more than anything shocks people: the fact that I wasn't born this way and yet I will live most of my life having to use assistive devices to get around. I'm aware of all this, but I want to make sure people understand where I'm coming from. Word choice and phrasing can be subtly offensive and everyone should be aware of the nuances of their speech.

I don't want anyone to be scared or uncomfortable talking to people with disabilities. We're not unapproachable. That's why I'm doing this. Like most people, I just want to be understood.

The Way of Shadows by Brent Weeks The street rat Azoth wants nothing more than to live free from fear. He will never get that as a thief with an oppressive gang leader. So he seeks an apprenticeship with the most fearless man he knows of, the legendary assassin, Durzo Blint. But Blint isn't just a common assassin. He is a wetboy, a killer so deadly that even the underground leaders of the city aren't certain they can control him. He can teach Azoth to be just as fearless, just as deadly, but is the knowledge worth the price? Azoth thinks it is.

And so Azoth becomes Kylar Stern. He must master magic and murder, leaving behind everything he ever cared for, forsaking those who loved him. If he fails, he knows there is only one punishment. To stay alive he must kill. But no matter how good Kylar is at dealing out death, he can never be as heartless as a wetboy is supposed to be. When political intrigue endangers those Kylar secretly loves, he is forced to choose. He must choose between being the perfect wetboy and losing the respect of a loyal friend. Choose between killing his own master and saving the woman he has loved his entire life.

This book kept me up at night. Not only did I not want to put it down, but once I did I couldn't get the characters out of my head. The cast was incredibly compelling, with depths and twists that revealed startlingly realistic motivations.

The hero of the story is an aspiring assassin, and let's make this very clear: he kills people for a living. Yet there is never any doubt that Kylar is the “good” guy. We know him, we've grown up with him, and when his heart aches, ours ache with him. He faces choices that are both heart-wrenching and believable. And while Brent Weeks throws us for a loop every few pages, he is always true to his characters. I may not see a twist coming, but once it's there, I can't imagine it happening any other way. And I have a pretty good imagination.

Brent Weeks bravely slogs through poverty and prostitution, betrayal and assassination. Some may even say he goes too far, but for every gritty theme he weaves into his work, there is an answering call to light and honor. This story is about the darkness and violence that runs deep in humanity. It delves into the inherent evil of rape and murder. But above all it is a story of hope, of redemption, and finally of love. Weeks' surprising, yet appropriate, humor lights the way through some of the darker twists of the criminal mind.

Though the story is cohesive, I did have to reread bits in order to make sense of some of the convoluted politics. I thoroughly enjoy it when an author drops the reader into the middle of their world and expects them to be intelligent enough to pick up the clues that have been left, but I felt as though I was missing something for the first half of this book. Some of the early clues provided were a little too mysterious and the context to explain them came a little too late.

Overall this book was an incredible read, with a good amount of action as well as compelling relationships that developed over time. Brent Weeks used the darker themes of despair and murder to balance and highlight his message of hope. I flew through the last three hundred pages, breathlessly waiting for the hero's redemption, and I wasn't disappointed. I, personally, can't wait to get my hands on the next installment of the Night Angel Trilogy, Shadow's Edge.

Every month I go to a writer's group at my local library where we talk about books, publishing, and all the things that writers specifically like to grumble about. Recently we've had some fun with prompts. I got a kick out of the one I did last month so I thought I'd share the results. The prompt was: “You've been asked to buy ingredients and prepare a meal for another family. Write about the experience”. “Sue-Ellen resettled the casserole dish in the crook of her elbow, the rich smell of barbecue floating up to remind her of home. Her barbecue was world famous...well, only if you counted the small town of Cut-n-Shoot, Texas as the world and only if famous meant winning the cook-off at the county fair. Still, she was proud of that barbecue and rightly so. It could lay Jim flat for an entire afternoon- knock him out on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, proudly displaying the hole in his sock, his mouth open in an odorous, sonorous snore which drowned out the football game playing on the TV. Lord, she loved that man and how he ate her barbecue.”

Nothing earth-shattering, but I have to admit I fell in love with Jim a little bit. I know, I know. I got kind of derailed and somewhere out there that poor family is still waiting for their dinner.

We've had some discussion in our group about the helpfulness of prompts. Some people felt that prompts were only for those beginners who needed help with their writing. Prompts were below Advanced writers.

I think that's a bunch of hooey. Now, to be fair, I never used to like prompts. I hate being told when and what to write. I also really suck at short fiction (flash fiction isn't even on my radar). Ideas that start off as short stories somehow gain the momentum of a runaway truck and end up 60 or 70,000 words long.

But I've started to see the beauty of prompts. They make me stretch and grow as a writer. Just like rehab, the process can be painful. Sometimes tears are involved. I definitely get that look my therapists recognized as extreme concentration: eyebrows lowered, tongue sticking out, and sweat pooling in places where girls like to pretend they don't sweat. Having to write something so specific and not in my genre is scary, but it's not pointless. The only way to get better at what I do is to practice. I write young adult fantasy. As you can see, the prompt above does not scream fantasy, but I learned something from writing it. And no matter where you are in your writing career, you can always learn something new.

So, stretch yourself a bit. If what you write is totally stupid and you just want to crumple it up in a melodramatic gesture common to writers throughout the ages- but you can't because it's on a computer screen- then you never have to look at it again. But who knows? It might spark a greater work. Or breathe life into something you've been slaving over for a while. Writing's hard. Admit it, suck it up, and put in the time.

Nightlife by Rob Thurman The world is full of monsters. Cal Leandros knows that intimately, seeing as he is half Grendel himself, and his less-than-human father has been chasing him for years. Cal has no idea what his dear old dad wants from him, but he sure as hell isn't sticking around to find out. He and his half-brother Niko are determined to stay free and one step ahead of all the nasties that are hunting them, even if it means running for the rest of their lives.

Now it seems like they haven't been running fast enough because the enemy is on their doorstep, ready to make Cal into an unwilling tool in their bloody world-domination. With Cal's own dual-nature making things difficult and all his monstrous relatives arrayed against them, the fate of the world seems bleak. Niko may be one bad-ass big brother, but these odds might make even him pause, and hesitation at this point would be deadly for everyone.

This book was so much fun to read with its snarky main character and his monster-butt-kicking older brother. Breathtaking fight scenes are liberally interspersed with snappy dialogue and even snappier internal monologue.

Kudos to Rob Thurman, who is a woman by the way, for coming out with such an authentically male voice in a genre filled with female protagonists. Nightlife is not a paranormal romance, not anywhere close. It is a dark, action-packed, urban fantasy. But the jewel that shines through this darkness is the narrator. Compelling just isn't a big enough word for Cal's gritty voice and the attitude that drips from every one of his lines. He's the kind of character that doesn't just leap off the page, he rummages through your fridge and settles himself on your couch with his feet on the coffee table.

Cal by himself is great, but Cal's interaction with Niko, and eventually with Robin Goodfellow, just brings the characterization in this book to a whole new level. Robin, who is the original, lusty Puck from Shakespearean legend, provides a comical foil to the two brothers, and the dynamic between them had me laughing frequently. In contrast, the very real, very intense relationship between Cal and Niko made their love and their pain bittersweet and tangible.

While the characters were the ones to really carry this book- heck, they hefted it over their shoulders and ran with it- the plot was nothing to scoff at either. Hilarious and heart-wrenching in turns, it kept me reading long past my bedtime. And it shines consistently through multiple readings. The second time around, I knew what was going to happen, I knew where the twists were, and I still found myself holding my breath.

One of those twists was even more poignant for the extra scrutiny. It isn't unusual in fantasy to see possessions or brainwashings, but generally the reader gets to sit outside with the loved ones of the affected, watching the results with omnipotent anguish. Without giving anything away, I think I can safely say that it was a unique and chilling experience being inside Cal's head for the last half of this book.

Some confusing sentence structure and tricky paragraphing did have me re-reading sections for clarity. My only other complaint about this book was that it wasn't long enough, and I was left wanting more. And lucky for me there is more. Nightlife is followed by Moonshine and it doesn't look like the Leandros brothers are calling it quits anytime soon.