The Next Thing I Knew, A Review

John Corwin is an up and coming writer with many titles to his credit but his most recent, The Next Thing I Knew, sounded so mysterious it was impossible to pass. 


When Lucy Morgan drops dead along with everyone else on Earth she refuses to take death lying down even if, technically, her corpse is. She drags her ghostly social life back from the grave and enlists her friends to figure out the rules of the afterlife. More importantly, they want to discover who or what killed everyone and why the heck anyone would do such a mean thing. What they discover changes everything and if they can't figure out how to put their newfound ghostly powers to work, humanity will be extinct for good. 


So good, right? So last week I embarked on the adventure and was I ever so happy. Here I detail the whole roller coster it gave me and how much fun I had with it. I hope you get stung by the curiosity bug and read it too. You won't regret it.


I'll start by saying: I really hope this is the first book in a series, otherwise I'll be forced to pull an Annie Wilkes stunt and hijack me a writer. Boy, is this book engaging! The story is very original, they way it mixes all kinds of crazy stuff like ghosts, faith, love, meditation, and even aliens! The author does a great job of making it all cohesive and interesting. The characters are personable, fresh and funny; I found a few grammar problems and typos but nothing that can take away from the very pleasant experience the story gave me. From the moment it starts, it grabs you and keeps pulling you in relentlessly, which was a problem for me since I was reading at bedtime. Let's just say I haven't slept much this last week. 

As engrossed as I was with the story, I didn't realized it was coming to an end; it was also aided by the fact that the story doesn't tide neatly its loose ends and it just ends. Like that. I was flabbergasted. I actually, wouldn't recommend to finish a book leaving your audience hanging like that; then again, if you're writing a follow up, you mostly have your audience trapped already but you should let them know, with a note or afterword, that there will be more. If a second book comes out, I'll be the first one running to get my copy and if there isn't... well, I've told you my plan before. 

I totally recommend it, The Next Thing I knew is engaging, light, fun, exciting, and intriguing. The one serious note I have is, though the voices in the book are very young and feel very enticing, there are a few moments there where, either because of the vocabulary or because the scene being described, the book becomes not really oriented to young (I mean young) audiences. I consider this a bummer because the one group of people who could best identify with the protagonists can't join the party. Of course, this is mostly a matter for parents to decide but, as a mother of two youngsters, I would've loved for them to read it. They'll have to wait a couple more years, not much. 

All in all, a great experience you shouldn't miss. C'mon, what you're waiting for? Go get your copy!!


For more details on John Corwin and his works: Goodreads: John Corwin

Wuthering Heights, My Review

Two nights ago I finished reading Wuthering Heights for the first time. It was around 2 am and I was left bewildered and unable to go to sleep. I came about the book as many youngsters do this day and age, by reading Twilight. The way the book gets tangled in Edward and Bella's story made me completely curious about it; I did some research and found out a few reviews that classified it as a tragic romance. I thought Romeo and Juliet-like and decided I could do with a bit of tragedy. Oh, my, did I get it wrong. It is a tragedy, alright but in a very unexpected way and, from my point of view, it has very little to do with romance.

Lets start with its best qualities, the style. The narrative is enthralling and you know how some classics are so heavy on the descriptions that you just want to skip whole paragraphs? Well, I'm happy to say this is not the case. The descriptions are vivid and take you to the middle of the moors where you feel the breeze caressing your hair and can almost smell the abandonment in the old Wuthering house. The language is simple for the most part, though one of the characters, Joseph, speaks in a manner completely indecipherable to me but it's a small character and all the others give you a clear idea of life in the 1800's. The style of a story provides like half of the experience for the reader and this half is a master piece. Now the other half, the characters.

Imagine a painting with a beautiful country landscape so bemusing you can't stop looking at it even though in its centre there is a group of human beings doing the most atrocious things to one another. That's kind of the effect the story has on the reader. All the beauty contrasts so much with the behaviour of the characters that it hits you like a hammer.

Wuthering Heights relates the story of the Earnshaws, who deal badly with the adoption of an abandoned gypsy boy the father took back home from one of his trips. Very soon in the story, you perceive how the relations between the children break and, as soon as the father dies, the suffering begins. What eventually develops is a vicious cycle of abuse towards the youngest characters that broke my heart and almost made me cry more than once.

About the romance part we all have heard so much about... well, more than a love story I would say that the main characters, Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff, share the same sense of entailment and selfishness that dooms their 'love' from the very beginning. Their actual 'love story' lasts but a moment in the whole of the book but it has such an effect on them and the ones around that, like in the aftermath of a hurricane, the horrible weather left behind is what destroys whatever life the other characters had.

I think the one very contemporary message everybody fails to see is how damaging verbal abuse is and how it tends to repeat over and over through generations. In our time, this subject tends to get the same kind of incredulity the story in the book got back in its time. And I quote the Graham's Lady Magazine: "How a human being could have attempted such a book as the present without committing suicide before he had finished a dozen chapters, is a mystery. It is a compound of vulgar depravity and unnatural horrors."

I'd have to say to that woman that many families live in real life the horrors described in the novel and still there's hope for love to survive and one to better his/herself, just like in the book.

So, in a nutshell, I one hundred percent recommend Wuthering Heights, not only as a great exemplar of classic literature, but as a cautionary tale of a very contemporary problem. Let yourself be taken to life in the 1800's, its beauties and its pains; just be warned: don't forget your hankies.

I Am Legend by Richard Matheson

I Am Legend by Richard Matheson

My rating: 5 of 5 stars






View all my reviews


Last night I finished reading I Am Legend and have to say: WHAT AN ENDING!! It is an incredibly original story because of the point of view from which Matheson chooses to narrate, to then turn the tables in the ending, leaving you every bit as astounded with the revelation as the main character is.

When the movie came out a few years ago, I liked it; it was scary and I thought Will Smith had done an amazing job at supporting the movie by himself. Now, after reading the book, I will never look at it the same way. It totally misses what makes the book so incredibly original and it makes so many changes to the story that renders it almost unrecognizable. In sum, the film story doesn't hold a candle to the one of the pages.

I have to say, though, the section where the main character is going through medical knowledge to explain himself the basis of the 'infection' gave me a stomachache. If you follow me and my work, you know I'm an MD. I don't know if the medical knowledge was that much far back in 1954, or if Matheson just picked and chose whatever he needed and made it fit the story, but I tell you: It was physically painful. Chances are, you aren't as versed in Physiology and won't notice a thing, so by all means, don't let this detail keep you from reading such a wonderful story.

I enjoyed the whole experience very much and was unable to put the book down from the moment I turned the first page. In my opinion, the story is a lot better thought out than Matheson's Hell House though the aforementioned has a richer vocabulary. I recommend it thoroughly and is now, among my favourite books ever.

Movie Wonderings

A few days ago, enjoying my newfound freedom, I watched 'Devil'. Against some nay sayers, I have to say I liked it. It's a different story, well told and short enough so you don't get bored with a lot of useless backstories. For the seasoned horror fan, it can be a little predictable but, be honest, which movie isn't? It's hard to find situations that haven't been played in the particular setting of the story but I think that what's behind the story is a lot more compelling, and well worth your 1.5 hours. About all those shenanigans referring to M. Night Shyamalan's dry spell; well, this movie was only written by him and if anything, it goes to show he has great stories to tell. Weather or not he should limit his roll to that... that's still up in the air.

Now, if you haven't seen the movie, I strongly recommend you stop reading this, go watch it and then return to see if we share the same view of the end-story. If you're simply not interested in the movie and don't care about being told the ending, I'd love to have you with me through my following ramblings, as they go beyond the movie and more into wondering what possible life there would be after surviving something like that.

This is your last warning: spoilers ahead. Readers beware.

For all those who haven't seen it, the whole concept comes from this little story that a narrator tells in the very first minutes of the film.

"When I was a child, my mother would tell me a story about how the Devil roams the Earth. Sometimes, she said, he would take human form so he could punish the damned on Earth before claiming their souls. The ones he chose would be gathered together and tortured as he hid amongst them, pretending to be one of them."

We then see five people get trapped in an elevator in a building that happened to be the scene of a suicide, reason why there are cops around to 'help' when things turn ugly. Among those cops there's Detective Bowden, who lost his wife and young kid on a vehicular accident where the driver got away after leaving a note with just two words: "I'm sorry"... how horrible, right? Through out the film, we are informed that all the trapped ones are supposed to die and every witness is chosen for a particular reason. It's also established that whoever gets on the Devil's way to get himself some PR, will die; innocent or not.

The action starts as everyone on the inside suspect the other and when the lights in the elevator go out, one of them dies. We as spectators, spend most of the time wondering who the Devil is and who'll be the last to die. The final twist comes when there's only two people left, one of them gravely hurt, and the Devil unmasks himself; that's when we know the one not hurt is a mechanic that has been having a hard time forgiving himself for leaving the place of a vehicular accident he had caused as he was drinking and driving. Can you guess who were his victims? Ok, so he says he's not worthy of being alive, uses a walkie talkie to confess his crime to the policeman hearing on the other end (Bowman), and begs the Devil to take him instead of the woman who's bleeding in his hands. This, obviously grants him forgiveness, and the Devil leaves taking all the others with him.

There's a little epilogue at the end that shows Bowman, who at the beginning of the story had established his unwillingness to forgive and lack of faith in God, actually forgiving the man responsible for the death of his family. The credits roll and, if your anything like me, you're left to wonder what would you do in such a case.

My first question to myself was: Could I really forgive the bringer of such annihilation to my life? This is a hard thing but on the other hand, how could I not, being that the Devil himself not only had spared him, but chose me as a witness to his show? I don't know about you, but I'd be literally scared to death of so much as give a step on the wrong direction. You know what they say, the way of the pious is paved with fear...

About the poor mechanic... What would you do with your life if you were in his situation? Apparently, you have just saved your soul and have every reason to think you're starting with a clean slate; then again, you have every reason to fear that the Devil will try to find a way to collect. I thought, oh, man; you may have come out of this alive but I don't see how you can go on and have a normal life... and then I realized: it's their soul they just saved, both of them, and they're about to pay for every sin through a life of fear.

How many people survive things that let them more scarred than they previously were? Then they go on to live a different life full of shadows and distress. Stephen King is so right. Sometimes God is cruel; he lets you live.

Monday story

It was a dark, dark night, only not silent; amongst hundreds of youngsters who had come here to express themselves it was impossible to keep it quiet. Even when the speeches had commenced and the guy had grabbed a microphone, it was hard to concentrate on the voice above the many indistinct conversations.

That's how it had started and all that previous joyful noise made the dead silence ringing in her ears right now, so threatening. A pungent odour assaulted her nose, it was the powder and something else so horrible she didn't want to think about it but it was taking all her might to keep it out of her mind. A new series of sharp distant explosions echoed through the night; she held her breath and squirmed her eyes concentrating on bringing back the memories of that evening. Thinking about it, hell had begun quite beautifully. Who would've known that the end of her world could be announced in such a way.

Through out the speeches, two guys were flanking at all times, the person who held the microphone; just there, standing and watching over all the congregation from the first floor of the building facing the square where all the students gathered. Monica was one of the students of course, and was captivated by the sense of freedom that was brought to her by the loud words reverberating through the sound system. Then something had gone wrong.

She didn't know what happened first but close to the end of the meeting, in the sky shone a mesmerizing red light, like fireworks, and she thought -Gee, this guys really know how to put a show!- 

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone taking the microphone forcibly from the speaker's hands and shove him to the floor. What was said she din't understand, but the sound of more pyrotechnics filled the air and people screaming started running in every possible direction. Monica was left confused and standing in the middle of it all, as all hell broke lose. It was then that she realized they were doomed. Surrounded by buildings, the only scape was to her back and she could see armed men on top of every building.

She turned in a hurry, just in time to see a pregnant girl fall to the ground face first when a bullet got her dead centre. Completely horrified, Monica run with all her might towards what she knew was the only exit even though she could see it was blocked. Suddenly her legs got caught in something and she fell flat; something worm and squishy cushioned her fall. The smell coming from it and what she could feel on her skin got the best of her and she shrieked. To her luck, it was deafened by shotguns intent on shutting down all similar screams.

Even more frightened now, she held her eyes shot tight as the slew of shots and screams went on.

Little by little all went back to quiet and the realization came to her that there weren't many alive people left. She opened her eyes back to reality and risked a glance up, still avoiding to look into what had stopped her short of the floor. She could see trucks. People with a white handkerchief tied to their left arm were piling the bodies into them. When Monica was about to look down, she saw a young boy, no more that 18, getting up and darting to the entrance of a building, but one of the others got him with a bayonet and punished him in a crazy rage until the bleeding body slew lifeless out of her sight.

Monica closed her eyes again and knew what she had to do. She'll play dead...

Ideas, Ideas...

Today I'm enjoying a well deserved long weekend with my husband's cousin in Jersey. The weather has been nice; humid and mild compared to cold, cold Montreal and though rain threatened to ruin our day, it was kept at bay by the good gods that protect tired student-mothers on vacations.

Right about now, my mental batteries are 'bout half way up in recharge and, by tuesday, I'll be fired up and ready to go. My trusty quality supervisor (the husband) hasn't yet been able to proof-read my previous story, Feast Day. I'm hoping he'll get to it through the week and I'll be checking mags taking in submissions as soon as I finish this update.

Next week I'll send a few mails everywhere and start to make the rounds trying to get it published. The other thing that'll keep me thoroughly busy is to start working in two different stories where I already have the generals written and it's time to get to the narrative. There are actually quite a few in the works: there's the one that involves 'end of the world' kinda stuff with a touch of biblical spices; this one is planned to be a series of short stories all intertwined by a few threads only, so, in all reality, these are a pack of five short stories. Then there's the one that deals with japanese ghost lore; and finally the one that I'm planning to write in spanish...

So, lots of ideas to chose from... not enough time. What is one to do? I don't know if I should go for the shortest ones and work up to the lengthiest or the other way around. It's a hard decision but, since I'm supposed to be back at french school by the first week of may, I'll go with the shortest and work hard to get that first draft soon; then keep going for the other first drafts. When I have them, start all over again with the seconds and so forth until I get to a satisfactory bunch of final manuscripts... in say, six to eight months?

I always blow up my schedules; I'm lousily bad organized like that. But there's no hurry, all that matters is good stories, right? And maybe a few good mags and editors interested in them.

As labours are reassumed and work advanced, I'll keep updating you and maybe even giving you a few glimpses into the stories.

Don't go too far.

Impossibilities

A few years ago, I went with my sister in law to the movies to watch "The Haunting in Connecticut". We had fun, screamed a bit  and laughed a lot since the guy next to us spent the whole movie rocking himself front to back and saying "I'm scared" while covering his eyes... now, that's what I call entertaining.

During the movie, one of the characters recites fragments of a Hughes Mearns' poem and fragments of another poem that caught my attention. After some research I came to know the second one is considered a "Lying song" that's aimed at being a moral exercise and there are other kind of 'poems' called "Nonsense Verses". The latter have become a bit of a passion of mine but it's not easy to find information about them.

Anyway, that's when I decided to try my hand at this kind of writing. I wrote poetry very early in my life, most always in spanish and not very successfully; but I was a child. As years went by, I kept writing poetry and, I have to say, there are a few that still today give me goosebumps. As you all know, I eventually transitioned to short stories and novel but my curiosity about poetry has always rested within me. Here I share with you my first attempt at a "Nonsense verse" and, though I know it's no master piece, I think you might enjoy it.

IMPOSSIBILITIES

Timmy visits me everyday,
the dark of night lights his way.
I see him walking without legs.
Please, please go away.
The dead boy lively chats
in an empty house full of life.
I ask him to leave me alone,
but he comes back even more.
He'll haunt my dead soul as I live,
how I wish him to be free.
On the day and night that become one,
the sun shines dark and
the moon rises high;
on such day he'll go home
dancing sadly without song.
Rejoicing many that he's here,
going closer without feet.
He visits me every night,
even when nobody's around
please... please, go away!
but he misses me, he says.

By Georgina Morales.