The Ring Series. Spiral Book Review

Some time ago I reviewed Koji Suzuki's novel The Ring, the first of a four book series immortalized by the movies. I won't go into much detail about the first book, so you may want to follow that link if you're interested in the whole series. I'll just say I loved the book and reading it was a much more fulfilling experience than watching the movies. And that the ending has a twist you will never see coming. I double dare you. If you manage to tell me Sadako's secret, say, by page 220--out of 286 because I'm generous like that--I'm buying you any book you want. And that's a deal.

Now, back to the review. The Ring Series are different from most series in that they don't have many of the same characters from book to book; it also moves between genres, slowly going from horror in book one, to Sci-fi in book three.

In SPIRAL, book two in the series, Sadako is an important piece of the story, of course, but that's pretty much it. The rest of the characters are new. Time-wise, SPIRAL starts right after RING finished. It follows Mitsuo Ando, a man who lost his kid in a drowning accident and whose life has become unhinged as a consequence. Unable to cope with his loss, he hides behind his work as a Coroner. That's when he's faced with the corpse of his previous nemesis Ryuji Takayama, the professor who helped solve the mystery of the tape in book one. The mysterious circumstances of the professor's death intrigue him, and guided by what seems to be Ryuji's ghostly presence, Ando will find himself facing a horrific reality that threatens the future of mankind.

Suzuki's talent for setting the mood, creep you out of your sleep, and crazy-imaginative storytelling are evident once more. The characters grab you from the first page and make you feel their pain, flaws, and their terror as it becomes clear to them that the monster has just begun exerting her vengeance. Once you finish the book and think about it, you realize just how far the author has gone from the original premise and how deep he is getting into craziness. You can also call it Sci-fi, if you want to legitimize it. Truth is, many will find the story in this second book too far fetched and might hate it, but if you are tired of vampires, zombies, werewolves, and witches; if you are looking for out of the ordinary stories, then you can't miss SPIRAL.

If you ask me, I did like it. I thought Suzuki did an amazing job changing everything he made classic with RING and spinning a new different tale from it. I can't stress enough how neither of the subsequent books to Ring have anything in common with the movies. Not even with the japanese ones. SPIRAL will shock you once more and leave you with a very uneasy feeling under your skin.

Soon to come to this blog, a review of LOOP, book three of The Ring Series.

On Wishing a Dream and Baring my Soul

I'm a very nostalgic person and tend to fall into daydreams of things that will never be. When I was younger, I wrote many poems and stories under these sad spells; now that I'm a bit--just a tiny bit--older and have kids, thinking about them growing so fast will make me cry, happy and sad at the same time. I'm also an irremediable insomniac, and it is during these sleepless hours that I give up to my nostalgic side and shed a tear or two, content that everybody is asleep and I don't have to explain my foolish state of mind. 

So, back a few weeks ago, my little one lost her fist tooth. She was ecstatic and I was so sad, realizing I no longer have babies in my house. That night I gave free reign to the feelings inside me and I came up with this little poem. I think many of you will understand what was going through my mind. Hope you like it. By the way, it still doesn't have a name, so any ideas are welcome.

This summer. Little One to the left, Big Sis to the right. But I bet that t-shirt gave her up.

I've got a pair of treasures I've taken care of for many moons now.    

These treasures I envelop between cotton layers every night.            

Tonight I remember the sleepless nights that will never be back,        

I toss and turn with memories of happiness and sadness long past,     

And I give thanks for the time spent--May it never end, I ask my stars.              

Time, the eternal equalizer, I can never stop it in its path                                    

if at least you could promise me my treasures will never wither and die.            

Take my soul, paint my hair all white, mark my skin with your steady hand,      

but never, oh, never take my treasures away from my hands.                              

Weeks turn into months and years inevitably pass by,                      

one day after another, relentless like the tide.                                      

When winter turns to spring in a never-ending cycle of life,               

Promise me one day I'll hear the echo of small new treasures' laughs.                

I have a pair of treasures I know one day will no longer be mine,                       

when the time comes for their happiness to lay in some one else's path,              

I hope they remember the worth inside their minds,                            

I hope they remember I can live forever in their hearts.                       

Just a couple of years ago, the offending tooth still in place.

My husband will kill me, but the three of them were snoring. 

Now you know why I can't sleep.

I Did it! Check Out my New Look

Just a few posts ago I shared with you my plans to change the look of this site to reflect the new place I am in this road to become a successful writer. Well, this is the look I came up with and let me tell you: I'm damn proud of it! I know it won't fool anyone to think it is a web, but I think it does look more professional and I did it all by myself.

Now, allow me to tell you I'm not computer savvy at all. I remember how it all started in 2010, I didn't even know what a URL was! This time around I did my banner on Photoshop, added custom media icons, a favicon (that you may not see yet, but trust me, it'll be there when Blogger gets its s**t together), and opened a contact page. Hey, it may seem like much ado about nothing for some, but I could design electronic circles around the old me, and that's reason enough to make me happy.

The new look is as far as I can go without extensively tweaking the HTLM code--which I'm considering taking classes, by the way. So please, let me know what you think about it. Do you love it or hate it? Do you wish I went back to the previous look? Any suggestion, tip, or commentary is welcome, as always.

I'm also considering writing a tutorial on how to design your own banner, designing your blog (with the aforementioned limitations), and adding custom media icons to your site. If it is something you might be interested on, please let me know and I'll be happy to put that up first.

Mina's Resurrection Blogfest. Crossroads

Well, today is Mina's Resurrection Blogfest where we celebrate her blog's anniversary, by reviving one old post we think was kinda lost because our, may I say null, readership. Partaking in the spirit, I went ahead and looked through my first year posts. Let me tell you, there wasn't much to be re-shared... I realize now how much more I know about blogging and why on earth no one was reading me back then. I have a much better appreciation for those who stuck with me and for the new followers that have found something half interesting to read here. Thanks to you all, really. You are the best!

Ok, so back to the celebration. Here I repost, as I wrote it in late 2010, my first post about my writing. A strange little piece that fits nowhere but in a blog. And it is so unlike my present writing... Whoo! Talk about changes!

Cograts Mina!

PS. For those looking for my IWSG post, I didn't forget. Please, scroll down. =)

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A few months ago I was writing what was supposed to be a short monologue from one of the older characters in my novel who was sharing some words of wisdom with the younger generation. Somehow that little monologue grew out of proportion and I had to cut it out, but I just couldn't part with it. I kept it, floating around without a place to be. It doesn't really reflect the story of the novel, since it is kind of a little essay in its own right. However, I share it with you today. I titled it 

CROSSROADS

Life is a crazy ride. Most of the time it's full of uneventful days, sometimes even boring. One day after another of the same occurrences and hard as you may try you end up sucked into the enormous momentum that is “routine”. Life goes on with its ups and downs and at some point we’re bound to find ourselves in a crossroad where we’ll have to make a choice that we know will affect the rest of our life. Usually we come across this kind of decisions maybe once a year every odd number of years, but certainly no more than 10 or 12 in a lifespan.

It's kind of astounding when you think about it: These are the moments that shape a life. When you are 70 and look back, everything you are and have is a direct consequence of merely a dozen crucial moments and most of the times you don’t feel as old as your body tells you.  

You don't think one decision a year every now and then would be hard to keep up with? Well, think again: College or no College? Get married or keep single? Take this job or that one? We don’t come across these questions that often but when they come, boy, they’re hard.

As you may have noticed before, life has a way of confounding us even more so when men in our usual arrogance think we have it all figured it out. “Lets send them a curve ball to spice it up!” And so it happens that one of those 'one-decision-year' turns out to be a 'several-decisions-year'; or even no decisions whatsoever but a series of events that are completely out of your hands and that end up not only defining the future but changing the whole ballgame. Then, at the end of those 12 months you find yourself looking in the mirror with a few more crowfeet and a bunch of new white in your hair but felling like a thousand years older. Those eyes looking back at you in the mirror look somehow wiser and you’re not yourself anymore but, if God was good to you, a new improved you. And you wonder, how is it possible that you suddenly caught up with your age when only 12 months ago you felt so much younger?

So here’s what I think. Had it not been for those “curve balls” we'd wound up at 70 feeling like a 5 year-old (which most 70 year-old men are, anyway). We need the uneventful years to help us process those life-changing years where we find ourselves growing wiser and older; then we use some of the boring times to carve a comfortable place in the new life that was thrust upon us to rediscover ourselves in a wiser state, so we are able to keep moving forward when life knocks on our door again.

After all the things you’ve gone through, when you turn 70 and look back to your life thinking: How the hell did it all go so fast? When the reflection in the mirror is that of an old man that somehow doesn’t seem to reflect who you really feel you are, look real close to those eyes looking back at you and you’ll recognize the wisdom in his eyes even though you don’t feel the years in your skin.

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There you go. Share your thoughts, any criticism is welcome and I can't wait to hear what you think of my little piece. I hope you liked it!

Growing up, Moving on, And Believing in Myself

A new IWSG is here and it catches me as I've decided to get to the next phase of my life as a writer. When I started this blog, almost two years ago, I was unsure about my talent as a writer or blogger. It was after many years of my husband's and father's insistence to give it a try, that I finally decided to toss the coin for my future.

A lot has changed since. Today, I believe I'm a writer. Heck, I even introduce myself as such! I know there is a lot of space for improvement and I can't hardly say I'm as good as I will ever be--certainly, I hope not, 'cause that would suck--but I'm sure I'm on the right track. Writing makes me happy. I've even found out I'm a decent reviewer, who would've thunk it?! I now have published a couple of my works and have many more looking for a house. You could say I'm growing up; maturing.

Now I feel it's time to take those experiences, that self-assurance I didn't have before, and project it on to all of my endeavors, like this blog. As a celebration of my new-found certitude, I've decided to change the appearance, and even the title, of this blog. The IP address will remain the same, since I do not wish to loose all of you, as the posts and vein in which I write. Think about it more like a facelift in an attempt to look more professional and attract more readers to my books. Isn't, after all, that what we all want?

I'm no designer or programmer, though, and my knowledge of computers and programs is very limited, so it might take a few weeks. But rest assured, next month you will find same old me under a newer, hopefully improved, facade. Do not miss the grand unveiling!

Belated Happy Halloween to all, and I hope you are having an excellent NaNoWriMo for those of you with a taste for torture. ;)

Goodbye Halloween and Coffin Hop Winners

I had originally planned for four posts in this Coffin Hop but as my mother used to say: "Do you want to make God laugh? Tell him your plans." Hurricane Sandy made a quick visit to the East Coast and my plans were thwarted. I missed half of my posts but I won't just let it go. With the announcement of the winners, I will share with you the last piece of Halloween Monsters and Urban Legends. I hope you  enjoy it enough to keep stopping by my humble electronic abode.

DOPPELGÄNGERS

Doppelgängers are an uncommon image of literature, yet a very grim one. It is the double image of one self, usually not witnessed by others, and believed to be the harbinger of death. The word is German for "double walker" and the portent can be found in Norse, German, Finnish, and even Egyptian folklore. Though it can be defined as a darker form of bilocation, based on reliable accounts of both events, there are clear and marked differences. In bilocation both images of the same person are exactly alike and seem to be located in the same space-time continuum, there are several witnesses to both images, and usually one of them seem to be drained of energy or catatonic. There are no deaths related to bilocation and it tends to be seen with religious undertones. Doppelgängers are commonly reported by the only witness: The original self, they can be a future image of the person, and most frequently will silently point to the form of death the person will experience in a somewhat close future.

Famous reports:

• Guy de Maupassant, french novelist and short story writer, reported to have seen his double image several times towards the end of his life. On one occasion, while writing, this 'second self' took a seat opposite him and began to dictate what de Maupassant was writing. The experience served as inspiration for his short story "Lui."
• Percy B. Shelley, the famous poet, saw a ghostly image of himself in Italy. The doppelgänger pointed quietly to the Mediterranean Sea. Shortly before his 30th birthday, the poet suffered a deathly sailing accident, drowning in the Mediterranean Sea.
• Queen Elizabeth I of England encountered her Doppelgänger laying out on her bed. She passed away a short time after the event.
• Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe, the German poet, was confronted by his Doppelgänger while riding out of Drusenheim. His double was riding toward him and wearing a gray suit trimmed with gold. Eight years later, Goethe found himself traveling the same road but in the opposite direction. He realized then he was wearing the very gray suit he'd seen on his double eight years before.

BURIED ALIVE

I had a friend whose great-grandparents were so in-love; after a little over fifty years together they still looked at each other with sweet, loving eyes, and sometimes they could finish each other sentences. One day, as they were driving to visit their son in another state, they got in an accident with a drunk driver. As fate would have it, the lady suffered massive damage and ended up in a coma, while the old man came out with just a few scratches. Weeks later, her state deteriorated and one sad afternoon the doctor declared her dead. As soon as the husband was informed, he became very agitated and claimed it was impossible. He yelled at the doctor saying he was wrong and refused to calm down, so he had to be sedated. On the very day of the funeral, such scene was repeated and, once more, the poor, grieving man was sedated again.

Days passed and the husband's conviction never faltered. He pestered the family to force the doctor to ok an exhumation and make sure the woman was death. He claimed nightmares plagued him of his wife clawing at the insides of the coffin, fighting to be freed. The family feared for the man's state of mind and decided to go forth with the exhumation in the hopes that it would bring him resignation. Finally, the doctor agreed and the coffin was opened one gray morning. To everyone's surprise, the woman had her nails turned backwards and the linen inside the coffin was shredded to pieces, covered in blood just as the man had claimed.

COFFIN HOP

So, the time has come for me to announce the winners. Thanks to all who visited and commented, it was a blast to read all your ideas and now I have a few more monsters to write stories! Without further ado...

• Third prize and winner of a copy of Perpetual Night and a set of Tim Burton playing cards: Heather Powers, who presented me with the idea of the Ozark Howler. Quite a scary one!
• Second prize and winner of a copy of Perpetual Night and The Halloween Tree paperback: Milo James Fowler, who brought to my attention the African version of the Chupacabra, the Popobawa. 
• And the first prize goes to: Kim. For sharing with me the South African Mamlambo. This one is so utterly cool and bewildering... yay!

I hope I will keep seeing you and hasta la proxima! Hail to Samhain!

Halloween Monsters and Urban Legends II

This second installment of Halloween Monsters and Urban Legends is brought to you by the letter W, and the number 100. As in 100 blogs for you to hop, here. But first, check out what I have for you and don't forget to comment with your own Monster or Urban Legend. It can be a little known one, or one of your own manufacture. There are prizes for the best three, as selected by the judges. The winners will be announced on November 2nd.

WEREWOLVES

Much of what we know about werewolf mythology was actually added to the traditional tales after the 19th century, like its vulnerability to silver, its supernatural strength, size and speed, and even its famous nemesis: The Vampire. Lycanthropic tales are common to most European countries, from Greece to Slovakia. Since, across the world, the only cultures that seem to lack a lycanthrope are those where wolves didn't roam the lands, modern studious of the phenomenon rationalize the stories as the inevitable result of a world where deathly wolf attacks where a common occurrence. There are also those who argue the myth surged as a way to justify the horrific acts of serial killers like Peter Stumpp, a German farmer and alleged killer and cannibal, also known as the Werewolf of Berger, that was executed in 1589.

In any case, early tales of lycanthropy describe the affected as impossible to differentiate from regular wolves, when in that form, but for the fact that they had no tail and retained their human voice. As humans, there were a few signs that could out the creature like a unibrow, but were otherwise utterly regular folks. The curse was brought about as a consequence of committing despicable acts, like killing children or cannibalism, and could be lifted if no other act of violence against humans was committed for ten years. It was also said that if the corpse of a werewolf wasn't burn upon death, it would come back to live and feed on human blood, effectively turning into a vampire!

THE CLOWN STATUE

The friend of a friend who used to babysit as a teenager once told me a pretty freaky story that happened to her. Her clients were a wealthy couple that lived in a huge house in the outskirts of town, a very peaceful place but quite out of the way. Anyway, on this night the parents had some posh dinner in the town and they called the girl to take care of their two kids while they were out. Since the house was pretty large and adorned with many expensive heirlooms, the couple had strict rules about her wandering in the house.  She was supposed to stay in the family room, which was right next to the kitchen, had an awesome flatscreen TV, and everything she needed to pass off the hours quite comfortably.

The kids were very nice and, after a full day of activities and school, soon they were tired enough to go to bed. She then took residence on the room designated by the parents and proceeded to watch TV. After an hour or so, she started feeling really uncomfortable and there, in the corner, she discovered an ugly, bulky clown statue. It looked like a grotesque antique piece from the 20's, all grimy and covered in what looked like oil.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she couldn't shake the feeling that the thing was looking at her. She tried to ignore it, just concentrating on her TV show, but to no avail. Finally she gave in. She hid in the kid's bathroom, telling herself she was insane for thinking the statue could hear her, but she did it nonetheless. When the call went through, the father answered on the other side of the line.

"Hey, it's Sarah. Look, I'm sorry to call you up like this but that clown statue you have in the family room is giving me the creeps. Would it be okay if I move it to another room or just stick a blanket over it?"

After a long pause, he replies, "Okay, Sarah. I need you to get the children, put them into your car, and take them to the nearest house. When you're there, call the police. We're on our way."

"Wait--why?" She asked all worried.

"We don't have a clown statue."