On a chilly morning in February with a misty tain shuttering the windows, Devin and Rosie Cauldwell made slow, sleepy love.
Fiona Bristow lives on Orcas Island, a close-knit community, where she runs a dog training centre. She also has 3 dogs of her own, labradors trained in search and rescue, and often called upon to find the missing. But her idyllic seeming life hides a secret When she was younger she survived an attack from a serial killer. Her description, and the fact that the killer then went after her fiancé, a cop and his dog, and killed them, are the reason he was arrested. Now some one else is out there using the same m.o. And not only does Fiona have to put up with the fact that maybe this new copy-cat is coming after her, but there is also a new man on the island. Brooding and artistic, Simon Doyle might just be worth having around.
I’ve never read any Nora Roberts before, but I started this while doing cover at one of our smaller branches, and although I didn’t finish it then, when another copy came in at work I figured I may as well finish what I’d started. Plus it had puppies!
I really liked the opening chapter of this book. De Lint creates a wonderful picture of Jacky Rowan. Recently dumped for being too uninteresting she has spent the night drinking her sorrows away. But on her way home she comes across a strange scene; a gang of bikers hunting down a little man. But when she investigates further there is no trace of it ever having happened, apart from the man’s red cap that she discovered on the ground.
William Marshall was a real person; born in relative obscurity he rose through the ranks to become “the greatest knight that ever lived” as well as Earl of Pembroke. He served under four kings of England, although this book only covers his exploits under two, Henry II and Richard I. He married Isabel de Clare, who was the daughter of Strongbow. And through her gained the rights to Leinster.
Author: Siobhan Down ISBN: 9780099488163 DDC: 823.92 LibraryThing | Wikipedia | Siobhan Dowd Trust The place brought to mind a sinking ship. Wood creaked on the floor, across the pews, up in the gallery. Around the walls, a fierce March wind chased itself. Michelle Talent is the eldest of three children. Her father spends his […]
This is not my usual sort of book. But I guess one of the perks of working in a public library means that you can grab something on impulse just because it crossed your desk. Whatever the reason was I started reading this book, which meant that unless it was atrocious I was most likely going to finish. And finish I did, so you can work it out for yourself.
The problem I have with films that centre on the British monarchy is that I’m Irish And so predisposed to dislike them. All that pomp and ceremony that exalts the royal person. Bleurgh I hates it. I’m pretty far from a royalist. So there were a few moments during The Young Victoria when my hackles […]
From the new glass bridge which spanned the inscrutable waters of the Grand Canal, the tram purred downhill and glided gently into the heart of the city.
It was the opening of this book that persuaded me to buy it. The way Ní Duibhne pokes fun at that certain class of Dublin people. It made me smile, but because I knew that there really are people who think that way. Or at least there used to be, now with the demise of the Celtic Tiger maybe there are less of them than there once were.
Travelling by tram, at least on the Green Line, had a bit of cachet. Being seen on it was not necessarily a bad thing, whereas being seen on a Dublin bus, even a most respectable bus like the 7 or the 11, was an abject admission of social and economic failure. Only the young, the old and the poor used the bus. But any successful citizen in the prime of life could travel on the Luas, confident that neither their reputation nor self-esteem would be tarnished: doctors and architects, solicitors and designers, all used it, at least at weekends.
“That’s pathetic, Yelena,” Dax compained. “An all-powerful Soulfinder who isn’t all-powerful. Where’s the fun in that?”
This is the third book to star Yelana Zaltana as its heroine. And, as I am still reading them, I’m still enjoying learning her story. Way back in book one she was a lowly food-taster, condemned to death for murder, but over the course of the other two books she has come a long way, so if you haven’t read them this review will spoil some of the developments for you. But then again, by knowing that there is a 3rd book you already know she didn’t die at the end of the first book. Or do you… maybe her ghost is telling the story.
I am not the sort of man who goes to prostitutes.
Well, I suppose that every man would say that. People would disbelieve it just because you felt you have to say it.
I’m quite a fan of de Bernieres’ works. I haven’t read them all but I have enjoyed the ones I’ve read. The two narrators of this book take turns in telling their shared story. One chapter will be Chris, the next is Roza’s. Chris is in his forties, a respectable, married man, a travelling salesman who seems quite distant from life in general. Roza is younger, in her twenties, an illegal immigrant from Yugoslavia.
When is a martial arts film not a film about martial arts? When it is a David Mamet film of course.
Redbelt tells the story of Mike Terry who is a struggling Jiu-jitsu instructor. His wife, Sondra is forced to direct money from her business into his in order to pay his bills. And she isn’t that happy about it. Especially because Mike will not fight in competitions; he sees them as weakening. A fight is a fight, a competition has rules and regulations, it isn’t a real fight. He also spouts “philosophical” statements about Jiu-jitsu and life in general. The main one being that there is always a way out.
This film really is utterly preposterous. Unbelievable in the extreme; plot holes every where. It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. It still kicks ass though. Hugely enjoyable.
It is set in the future, after a virus struck Glasgow the British govt decided the only way to deal with it was to wall off Scotland. Leave the dying to the dead and make sure no one gets through. And so Scotland is abandoned. But years later the virus makes an appearance in England. So a team is sent north, through the wall to the survivors to see if they can find a cure.
Whether we listen with aloof amusement to the dreamlike mumbo jumbo of some red-eyed with doctor of the Congo, or read with cultivated rapture thin translations from the sonnets of the mystic Lao-tse; now and again crack the hard nutshell of an argument of Aquinas, or catch suddenly the shining meaning of a bizarre Eskimo fairy tale: it will be always the one, shape-shifting yet marvellously constant story that we find. together with a challengingly persistent suggestion of more remaining to be experiences than will ever be known or told.
I think maybe I’m just not in the mood for studious type books. At least, that’s the excuse I’m making for not really enjoying this book. Then again it may simply be that we’re all aware of these great themes that so many myths and fictions retell over and over again. Back in 1949 it was all original and new and so of course deserved all that attention. Now? Well the writing style is a little on the ponderous side and I think I’ve read most of these arguments before.