Two for I Do

Not exactly a swansong because that would denote the end of something and isn’t it funny how when you’re feeling low something comes along to buoy you up?

I pleased to announce very good reviews for the “I Do” anthology the proceeds of which go to Lambda Legal Fund to support marriage equality.

Firstly, the Alternative Read group was kind enough to pop by my website to let me know they had put up a review.

Not only that Dark Diva Reviews have also given each story an excellent individual mention.

Forgive me if I mention only my own…but hey, this is my blog. LOL.

After the death of his wife, Gloria, Richard is having to deal with severing past connections. Luckily for him, love finds no bounds in the guise of a patient and understanding, Neil. A sad, yet heart-warming story of one man’s insecurities and his struggle to learn to love again. And this time it feels so right in Swansong by Sharon Maria Bidwell.
–Alternative Read

Swansong by Sharon Maria Bidwell

Summary: After his wife’s death. Richard has to learn to live again. Maybe, with Neil, he’ll be able to live the life he’s denied himself for years.

Review: Death, love, loss and hope. The ingredients for angst and redemption are all there. So much emotion is packed into this little story it’s hard to believe it doesn’t read over the top, but it’s just right. It might be a slightly painful reflection of what life is for some men, but it’s also a realistic one, and promising,
–DDR

Struggling for time

I’ve been struggling to find the time to read so took advantage of a weekend away at relatives to bury my nose in a few books:

I’ve almost finished “The Once and Future King” by T.H.White. I’ve found this a frustrating read. I love it and loathe it in equal measure. If you’ve watched almost any King Arthur stories then you’ll spot many of them in this book, which is actually five books in one. The opening story is The Sword in the Stone and quite wonderful although the author did go off on tangents mainly into the technicalities of hunting or court life, which proves to be quite distracting. The author intended the five books to be read in one but alas, I’ve had to take a break between sections. One left to go. Is it worth reading? If you love all things Arthurian, most definitely, but don’t expect an easy read by any means, mainly due to the wandering style. Saying that, it is a wonderful book. It’s just not going to be one for many modern readers and many won’t see it for the wonderful book it is. If you don’t like classics in any way shape or form, you probably won’t enjoy this.

I’ve also finally got around to reading Monkey, by Wu Ch’Eng-En. I’m sure many of you have never heard of it but I’m not the only one to run home from school to watch the series, which was mostly close shots to cut the need for ’sets’, less than fantastic martial arts, and quirky humour. The story is of a young priest, Tripitaka, sent by Budda to retrieve sacred scriptures. This young pious priest is helped by King Monkey, Great Sage Equal of Heaven, Pigsy, and Sandy (a pig and river monster who were once men cast out from heaven). Oh…and a horse, who was once a dragon. Sounds crazy? It is and yet it’s sort of wonderful and undoubtedly satirical.

Amazingly, I’ve also found time to finish “Dear Fatty” by Dawn French, which I thoroughly recommend (if you appreciate her humour), a memoir written as a series of letters. Her letters to Madonna were worth the price of the book cover and so was the proof that all mothers can embarrass you even when you’re feeling at your worst.

If you’re looking for an above average m/m romance then I suggest “Regularly Scheduled Life” by K.A.Mitchell (available in print at Amazon). When a gay man does something heroic and is dragged into the spotlight will his love life survive the trauma? Put like that the plot sounds simple but the story is actually well-worked. I bought this on a reader recommendation — meaning at the advice of someone who likes my work as well — and I wasn’t disappointed. As a writer, yes, there were moments when I wanted to drag a sentence kicking and screaming another way but it’s moments like that when I have to remember to ‘be’ a reader only. When a book leaves you with a satisfying ending it’s been a good day and this did it for me. It was one of those rare books that have a good deal of sex between the covers and yet managed not to forget the emotional play that’s so necessary. The book was a good lesson on how people so often fail to communicate.

I also read “Tennyson’s Gift” by Lynne Truss against Anne Brooke’s (fellow author and myspace friend) advice and have to say the book rather perplexed me. I…enjoyed it and can see what the author was trying to do but I can’t say I love this book or loathe it. It leaves me very much on the fence — which, unfortunately, seems to be how many books leave me these days. As a farce it does its job but I found it humourous only, only one laugh out loud, and I even found a couple of the ‘jokes’ rather offensive. Yes, I know it’s not to be taken seriously but when you’re setting real life people as characters in a book I think you need to be extremely careful. I’m not sorry I read it but I couldn’t recommend it to a friend unless I knew they especially love that type of story.

A first review for NIPS

Elisa Rolle may have started off as a reader but she’s become quite a respected reviewer among writers, although I don’t know if she’s aware of that. Being that she hails from Italy and English is not her native language, she surprises us by managing to write both eloquent and enlightening reviews. I’m not just saying that because she almost always find something to praise in my books. I’m not the only writer to feel that way. So let me start by saying a collected thank you to Elisa.

I also need to thank her for the wonderful review she has given me for Nights in Pink Satin, available from Changeling Press. She starts by saying, “The normal level of Changeling Press’ books is good but seldom they are “deep”.” She calls my book “a gothic romance with a touch of urban fantasy.” Then she goes on to say: “Martin has probably had enough bad experiences of rejection when he was a man due to the fact that he is gay, and now as a vampire he is re-living all of that, now he has another reason, even more scaring, to hide from people. It’s so sad to see his life through Vincent’s eyes when he is spying in the apartment, all the objects tell a life of loneliness and lost hopes. Even if I was really wishing that Vincent would have been starstruck by Martin at first sight, his reluctance makes for an even more interesting reading, I loved to see the innocent seduction of Martin, and the sex in the closet was hot and “symbolic”.” You read the whole review by clicking here: (http://elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/690193.html)

All about books

I’ve just finished reading “The Owl Service” by Alan Garner owing to a recommendation. I cannot say I found the writing charming and yet it has a haunting surreal quality that made for a memorable read. It’s supposed to be a child’s book but I really can’t think of a reason why apart from the old adage in the publishing world that if the main character is a child then it is a book for children. Publishers seem to think that if the lead is a child it will hold no interest for adults. I think the recent worldwide phenomenon of a certain wizard has turned this concept on the head. Whether you love or loathe the particular boy lead in question, I think this is a good thing. There are currently many books out there that cross the barrier between child and adult readers and I for one am not too proud to admit I read the occasional children’s book. In fact, I cannot imagine the inability to enjoy a pleasant afternoon revisiting some of my old favourite characters in their adventures. I have a quote on my website by C.S.Lewis: No book is really worth reading at the age of ten which is not equally (and often far more) worth reading at the age of fifty and beyond.

When I very small, my reading material was “Pooh” and then Enid Blyton’s “Mr Meddles Muddles”, “Mr Pinkwhistle” or “Mr Twiddle”. I was also very fond of her “Wishing Chair” series and to this day I own a copy of “Mr Galliano’s Circus” (although I used to call him Mr Galeeno as I couldn’t get my tongue around the pronounciation). I wanted to be young Jimmy Brown and run away to the circus. In a more enlightened time and as an adult I couldn’t imagine anything worse (I am not a supporter of animal circuses) but I understand it was the running away on an “adventure” part that I loved so well. From there I went on to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, although I always preferred “The Great Glass Elevator”. Yes, there was a second book! I adored the Vermicious Knids far greater than the Oompa-Loompas.

There was no stopping me. I loved “The Water Babies” namely because it touched my sense of fair play. Every child should hear of Mrs Doasyouwouldbedoneby or Mrs Bedonebyasyoudid. One Hundred and One Dalmatians a disney film? I read the book by Dodie Smith and went on to read the sequel. Yes, once again there is a follow-up people seldom hear of called “The Starlight Barking.” Likewise, read “Bambi” the book by Felix Salten and you’ll never see that story the same way again. As a child I lent it to an aunt and insisted she read it. After much nagging she begrudingly sat down one day and only stopped when she realised it had grown too dark to see. She was that lost in the story.

Then it was “Ballet Shoes” and “What Katy Did”. My most unusual children’s book has got to be “Snowflake” by Paul Gallico. Mine is tatty, gone orange and lost its cover, though I can remember the cover to this day: pale blue and white with a white snowflake with a child’s face in the centre. Snowflake is ‘born’, falls in love with ‘Raindrop’, goes on a journey and finally returns to her creator. It’s the first book that made my heart ache.

Later came Oscar Wilde. His “Happy Prince” story made me sob. Once I was old enough we started on the classics. It’s amazing to me in this day that classic literature is termed as stuffy. Maybe it’s the classic moniker that has done the harm. They weren’t classics when I was young; they were just books. I started with Heidi but was soon on to Gulliver’s Travels, Treasure Island, Robinson Crusoe, Oliver Twist, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. These were my world. They were my friends. They never failed me. They always took me adverturing with them and I feel it’s a sad world where children don’t read these books today.

Last night I picked up Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein”. It’s disheartening that so many still believe the creature is called Frankenstein when that is the name of the monster’s creator. Or is the creature the monster? Isn’t it more realistic to say the monster is the man who created him, or the society who hounds him? That’s the point of the book. This so-called horror story isn’t only that. It’s a morality lesson. I have read it before but not for some time. At once I fell into the richness of the language, some of which may seem superfluous in this modern age but even in Mary Shelley’s introduction doesn’t “Night waned upon this talk, and even the witching hour had gone by, before we retired to rest” much more engrossing than “We talked well into the night before we went to bed”?

One of my favourite works is the Gormenghast Trilogy by Mervyn Peake, mainly owing to its rich language. I’ve managed to entice people to watch the BBC series but even though they tend to love the story, they are disinclined toward the book. I feel it’s a pity that children aren’t raised on such rich prose. Not only are they missing out on such imaginative stories, one can’t help speculating whether it would do wonders for their verbal skills and their ability to communicate.

A ‘Cosmic’ Review

Or is it? Actually, overall I’m pleased with this short but succinct review by Joyfully Reviewed, which notes that “Cosmic is an incredible journey of passion and love played out in the stars” and offer my sincere thanks to the reviewer. Nonetheless, I tweaked a puzzled eye at the remarks regarding the slow build. Maybe I’m being too British but I’ve always warned my audience if they think they’re going to get a light background story as a support for several encounters of the erotic kind, then think again. They’ll get the erotic encounters all right, the passion and the love, but I don’t know how to write without ’story’.

Every story requires conflict, and the best stories contain internal and external conflict, something Angela Knight very much proclaims. It was through her work I discovered Loose-Id and decided that although this kind of work was entirely different to what I’d been doing, I wanted to try to write for them. I later thanked Angela for her indirectly leading me to them and being the lovely lady that she is, she was thrilled to hear it and pleased for me.

In some ways, maybe not all my work is typical of the market I’m currently writing for and maybe compared to some it will mean for lower sales. On the other hand, the reader responses I mostly receive privately tell me I must be doing something right. I’m joking when I talk about being British and our ’stiff upper lip’ and all the connotations that come with it, such as we’re not comfortable with matters concerning sex. I think the truth is far from the stereotype. However, we do want more than a quick tumble for our money. Most authors probably write the kind of books they’d like to read and for that no one can make an apology. I need plenty of story. I need a slow build before the…um…ultimate climax. After all, isn’t that what foreplay is all about? *g*

The Equation of Murder

“The Equation of Murder” by J.L.Seed isn’t exactly a book one can recommend and yet its one that surprised me. Written by a friend of a friend, I received this as a Christmas present and blinked a few times, mostly because it’s not truly the type of book I usually read. In fact, I don’t read many crime books or thrillers but when I say I read anything and everything, it’s true. It’s just not a genre I read very often. I had said I found the plot of the book intriguing but I wasn’t sure it was something I would choose to read. When it came all wrapped in pretty paper I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. I wouldn’t say I felt obligated to read it for as I’ve just said, I found the story intriguing. I also found it disturbing for this is the story of one Charlie Scanlon who decides to commit murder. His mission is to kill exactly eight women and the reader has to commit to taking this physical and emotional journey with him.

However, here I found myself having to set aside a few preconceived prejudices that I usually accuse others of having. There’s a horror story on my website where I place the reader in the mind of a killer…or do I? Like Charlie’s story, not all is quite as it seems but this book takes the story farther than I felt comfortable with. What would I gain from looking into the mind of a serial killer? The idea is distasteful but as a storyteller myself, I understand that stories have a way of playing with you. I also had to remember that to write such a story doesn’t make you a disturbed individual, just as a horror writer sleeps well at night confident there is nothing under the bed, and a romance writer does not have to be a nymphomaniac. I would give the book a chance, and owing to the fact it was a gift, I set it high in my to-be-read pile than I otherwise might have. I picked it up a couple of days ago and sped through it.

Disturbing it most definitely is. It’s also comical in a grotesque way. You really have to have a dark sense of humour to see it, but the comical undertones are there. The psychological aspect is fascinating as is the mystery of Charlie’s motivation. Even as this becomes slowly apparent, the ending was never clear in my mind. Would he be caught? Would he commit suicide? Did I care what happened to him? Ultimately, I didn’t care. He had killed for his own selfish reasons. However, this darkly comical twisting tale of caution for us all to be careful what we wish for was worth my time. The warps and weaves of Charlie’s mind were alarming, yet well written, carefully portrayed, and entertaining with a specific destination in mind. The only problem I foresee is what kind of book this author will write next.

Maloney’s Law by Anne Brooke

“Maloney’s Law” by Anne Brooke excels on an emotional level, tugging the reader in as many directions as the investigation pushes private investigator Paul Maloney. However, I can’t help feeling that the book is ineffectively or insufficiently categorised and may well suffer for it, which would be a pity. The underlying crime is a decent backdrop to the story but not the driving force. The more explosive emotional impact arises from the consequences of obsession, desire and obstinacy. It’s a psychological thriller in many ways, but one bearing on the mental journey of the protagonist. I thoroughly enjoyed this as a riveting exploration of the human condition and complexities of all types of relationships. Perfect. The right amount of pain, the right amount of beauty, with just enough hope thrown in.  Available at Amazon.

Dirty White Boy by Clayton Littlewood

It’s incredibly difficult to come up with something someone else hasn’t said before in praise of these pages nestling between the glossy pink covers. It’s noticeable at any rate! It’s also an insight into a part of London I knew nothing about, and into the lives of the people who live there or pass by.

I was one of the passers-by and after reading how badly the shop was doing around the time I stepped over the threshold, I felt slightly guilty for only being a visitor — one of those who dropped in without buying. Maybe I should have bought my other half a thong but while I am sure Clayton or Jorge would have been most informative had I inquired with regards to size or style, I didn’t like to impose. It’s Clayton’s fault, anyway — he said “pop in anytime” and I’m rather glad I did. I got to see him in his little chair by the window. I can picture the setting. It makes the reading of this book more personal.

However, while I’m left feeling I’m rather clued in as when friends ask “Does my bum look big in this?” I am nothing but honest, I feel I am lacking in a supply of Lucozade, and I simply have to remember that if Clayton ever asks my size, I must lie to him. (You need to read the book to gather the relevant references).

There really isn’t something new I can say about this book that started out as a simple blog. It’s well-written and thoroughly entertaining but it’s also something more than that. Ultimately, the book works because it’s real. It’s human and, therefore, although Soho has a large gay community this shows us there is as much diversity there as anywhere on the planet. It’s rather true that as different as we all are, we’re also very much the same and in that, this book can speak to anyone of any sexuality. Therefore, it’s heartbreaking, heart-warming, hysterically funny, romantic, and timely. It contains a cast of characters so outrageous that if this were a work of fiction, reviewers would no doubt call it implausible and dismiss it. Yet it shows people as a collective medley, at their most odious worst and their most astonishing best. All the excellent reviews are well deserved and I hope Clay keeps writing. Purchase it here.

“The Food of Love” by Anthony Capella

I’ve just read a book that is a recipe for a great summer read. Sink your teeth, your gaze, caress it with your fingers, and let the flavour of this book roll around on your tongue. Quite seriously, this is a book to indulge the senses.

“The Food of Love” by Anthony Capella was one of Richard and Judy’s (UK TV presenters for those of you who don’t know them) recommended summer reads of 2005. I’m ashamed to say it’s been sitting in my t-b-r pile for probably just that long. This may be partly due to the fact that I’ve not had much luck with any of the books they’ve recommended. I’ve not consciously disliked them, and perhaps I’ve liked books they recommended that I don’t know they chose, but due to a run of books that they put their little round sticker on that were not to my taste, I hesitated to read this.

In Jamie Oliver’s quote on the front cover he tells you that you can almost taste the food. Not only is he spot-on with his review, isn’t it something when a chef quotes for a romance book? You may be wondering what on earth is going on, but this isn’t your average romance. I feel anyone could read this and take something from it. If you love romance and even if you don’t, this is an intriguing and altogether different book. If you love good food, if you have an appreciation for all things Italian, if the idea of food and sex, and love, and sex, and food brings a smile to your face, then this is the book for you. The sex is non-explicit and yet it’s as decadent as the desserts Bruno cooks for Laura. Tommaso is a waiter who spots a woman that he believes he’s instantly in love with. Laura is in Rome to study art history and has decided she’ll only date a man who can cook. Bruno is Tommaso’s best friend and a chef. Throw in a twist on the old Cyrano de Bergerac story and what you may expect is a hash of yesterday’s leftovers. This story is anything but an old recipe. It’s a new invention, as creative as Bruno is in the kitchen. If the idea of food and sex at the same time is not to your taste then start reading and when you get to this paragraph you may change your mind:

“A tartufo is a chocolate gelato shaped to look like a truffle, but it is an appropriate name for other reasons too. Made from egg yolk, sugar, a little milk and plenty of the finest Criollo chocolate, with a buried kick of chilli, Bruno’s tartufo was as richly sensual and overpowering as the funghi from which it took its name – and even more aphrodisiac.

The rest of the chapter is just hysterical as well as somewhat enlightening. This is a wonderful book that I give top marks to, and now I’m off to see what else this author has written. Probably the best book I’ve read so far this year. Go on…indulge.

Desire: a Journal

Too beautiful for words.

It’s very seldom I buy something too beautiful to use. I’m one of those who believes if you’re too frightened to use it then it’s a waste to buy. Don’t buy things you can’t use or aren’t beautiful. Things you buy you should need or they should enhance your life. I haven’t always adhered well to this philosophy but maybe it’s true that with age there comes a certain wisdom. I tend to think before I buy anything now and if I’m not likely to use it or I can’t take it out of the box, then I’ll take a pass.

“Desire, A Private Journal” is an exception. I don’t know why I bought this. I was looking for a different kind of notebook, saw this, and felt intrigued. It’s truly too beautiful to write in. The cover has a lock but it’s not just any cover. It’s padded and scripted, and feels like a rather luxurious box. The ‘book’ lies inside, fastened to its protective box. The pages are smooth, thick, and mottled. There are beautiful phrases, lovely pictures, and exquisite poems spaced throughout. This book deserves elegant script — a handwriting skill I do not possess — and precious thoughts or heartfelt poetry. This is why the book has sat on the shelf for a few weeks untouched and will remain so until I can figure out exactly what I should write in it. Anything penned for this book will need writing out beforehand so I know exactly what to say, and my hand will tremble as I try to keep the flow of my handwriting at its neatest. I feel as though I should learn calligraphy before I ‘qualify’ to get anywhere near these pristine pages.

This is a special little book that would make a lovely gift but don’t be annoyed if the person you give it to never has the heart or nerve to touch it.