I love this cover. I agree with Humphrey-D’Aigle that Danielle Page is a great photographer and Rachel has done a cool job with the colors and fonts.
I think Bloodsucker Bay would be considered a novella as it is only 73 pages and 4 chapters long. It is definitely part of a serial as the ending leaves the reader hanging in loose air.
Bloodsucker Bay is a mystery – dead body and all. The thing about Demon Isle is that most of the inhabitants know of the weirdness of both the Howard family and the Isle itself. When a dead body turns up the Sheriff uses the Howard family as much as she can in solving the crime.
For the main part the story is about the Howard siblings and their vampire guardian William. Melinda, Charlie and Michael each have their strong and not so strong sides and we get to share in them. Melinda is a great potion maker and is prescient. One of the reasons William hangs around the witches is that Melinda makes a potion that helps him not bite humans. But he also acts as their guardian while they all try to come to terms with the death of their parents. Melinda feels guilt at not having prevented the death of her parents as her newly developed prescience had warned her of it.
Charlie is a werewolf. That gives him great strength but also urges that get stronger around full-moon. He is the big-brother and suffers from all of the big-brother symptoms.
Michael happens to be the one to feel the full force of Charlie’s big-brotherness. Charlie just cannot let Michael decide on his own what his future is to be. He feels that as fate made Michael a Howard and the Howards traditionally are caretakers of Demon Isle then Michael should just get his act together and do the job. Michael’s witchy side is being a death reader. That means he is very popular with the Sheriff when some unsolvable death occurs on the island.
There were a couple of scenes that I really liked. One was in an underwater cave and involved the brothers. The other was with Emily, Michael’s probable girlfriend. The pace in those two scenes was perfect and the way they were written fun.
Bloodsucker Bay has pretty good potential. Rachel showed the ability to hit the flow and with a little more tightening she could manage to stay there.
Betsy, a grammar-school teacher from Miami, remembers this Oscar-worthy birth tableau from one of her students… I’ve been teaching now for about fifteen years. I have two kids myself, but the best birth story I know is the one I saw in my own second-grade classroom a few years back.
When I was a kid, I loved show-and-tell. So I always have a few sessions with my students. It helps them get over shyness and experience a little public speaking. And it gives me a break and some guaranteed entertainment. Usually, show-and-tell is pretty tame. Kids bring in pet turtles, model airplanes, pictures of fish they catch, stuff like that. And I never, ever place any boundaries or limitations on them. If they want to lug it to school and talk about it, they’re welcome.
Well, one day this little girl, Erica, a very bright, very out-going kid, takes her turn and waddles up to the front of the class with a pillow stuffed under her sweater. She holds up a snapshot of an infant. “This is Luke, my baby brother … and I’m going to tell you about his birthday.
First, Mommy and Daddy made him as a symbol of their love, and then Daddy put a seed in my mother’s stomach, and Luke grew in there. He ate for nine months through an umbrella cord.” She’s standing there with her hands on the pillow, and I’m trying not to laugh and wishing I had a video camera rolling. The kids are watching her in amazement. “Then, about two Saturdays ago, my mother starts going, ‘Oh, oh, oh!'” Erica puts a hand behind her back and groans. Ohhhhhhh “She walked around the house for … like an hour, “Oh, oh, oh!'”
Now the kid is doing this hysterical duck-walk, holding her back and groaning. “My father called the middle wife. She delivers babies, but she doesn’t have a sign on the car like the Domino’s man. They got my mother to lie down in bed like this.” Erica lies down with her back against the wall. “And then, pop! My mother had this bag of water she kept in there in case he got thirsty, and it just blew up and spilled all over the bed … like psshhheew!”
The kid has her legs spread and with her little hands is miming water flowing away. It was too much! “Then the middle wife starts going push, push, and breathe, breathe. They start counting, but they never even got past ten. Then, all of a sudden, out comes my brother. He was covered in yucky stuff they said was from the play-center, so there must be a lot of stuff inside there.” Then Erica stood up, took a big theatrical bow and returned to her seat.
I’m sure I applauded the loudest. Ever since then, if it’s show-and-tell day, I bring my camcorder … just in case another Erica comes along.
I am really glad I read Inheritanceand doubly glad I am not Kimberly. Her father and brothers are crazy violent. Because of the abusive parts of the novel some of the reviewers out there have disagreed about the age-appropriateness of the story. Kimberly is 14 herself, but I think that kids younger than that would be perfectly fine with Inheritance. As usual my advice is that if you are an adult wanting to get this for a child that you read it yourself first (or read it with whomever the intended audience is).
I wonder what it would be like to know that I was going to die at a specific time? Hal Stone does. He tells his “fox” friend Ip that he will die that same evening. Rather than fight it, he makes certain the last of his preparations are finished.
Hal Stone is the author of a YA fantasy series about the land of Auviarra. His success in the book-world is not reflected in his family. His son, Nathan, is utterly and completely mad/insanse/sociopathic … Just add any adjective in this category and you could describe him. Two of Hal’s grandchildren seem to follow in the shadow of their father while the last one seems to be less under his influence and more under the influence of Hal. This, of course, is Kimberly.
Kimberly is a typical child of an abuser. She will do anything to avoid enraging her father all the time knowing that nothing she does stops his rages when he wants to get at her. Novels like Inheritance make me wonder about the future of such children. Even when she gets to Auviarra, and apparently away from her abusive family, Kimberly still cannot get away from their influence.
Ip transfers his loyalty from Hal to Kimberly. Ip is much more than the fox that Kimberly thinks him. He is a creature originally from Auverria and is some sort of shape-shifter. When Kimberly ends up in Auviarra he comes along for the ride.
I try to remember my mentality at 14. How would I have managed to deal with the life Kimberly has been dealt? Hmmmm. Difficult to say – partly because it has been an eternity since I was 14.
I like Kimberly. I also like the troupe she ends up with. They are a combination of different qualities, making their whole so much more than one of them.
Swing When You’re Winning (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
When the album was released in late 2001, it became an instant #1 hit in the United Kingdom, spending six consecutive weeks at #1. In Ireland, New Zealand, Austria, Germany and Switzerland, it reached the top 10, going on to sell over two million copies by the end of 2001 in the United Kingdom and over seven million copies worldwide (Wikipedia).
My parents are huge fans of this kind of music so I pretty much grew up with the people Robbie is covering. But my favorite song isn’t one of the oldies. Instead I Will Talk and Hollywood Will Listen by Robbie Williams and Guy Chambers is the one I liked the best. After that Mr. Bojangles by Jerry Jeff Walker was the highlight of the album.
Robbie truly has great voice. His venture into jazz was a success in my opinion.
Hilda, the Wicked Witch is the first novel in Hilda, the Wicked Witch series. Grimhilda is supposed to be wicked and she is. But she is wicked in a fun way.
The story begins in three locations. One is with a motorcycle gang on its way into a bar. The other is in a bookshop and the third is in front of a mirror. With the slap of a hand all three parts come together and Hilda is let loose on our world.
Our world gets a pretty harsh meeting with Grimhilda the wicked witch – the witch from Snow White.
The moments of gentle humour are many. We have the bar, the coffee experience, the road and so on. They just keep on coming. Kater’s writing is good and he brings me into this short story about a woman that I ought to be more afraid of but that I cannot help but adore.
Strange that not more people seem to have read this novella. The House is a tale that could just as well have been a horror tale if Hudson had twisted it slightly. All of the elements were there.
The dream of eternal life and power to rule the world have been wonderful recipes for all kinds of stories, in this case a science fiction post-apocalyptic tale. I personally do not get why people would want to live forever, nor rule the world. Imagine the boredom and insanity you would probably end up dwelling within. Maybe the yearning for this dream is a form of insanity.
I like this part of T.J. Hudson’s tale. There is certainly an exploration of the lengths some people are willing to go to in order to obtain their desires for more, more, more.
Through Char and Charlotte we get to follow the measures taken to achieve the dream of immortality and complete power and the counter-measures needed to prevent that insanity.
For some reason the reader is warned about The House being written in British English. Does one actually need that warning? I get violence and sex, but British English. Maybe the author is just taking the piss.
A man rushes into the ER and yells … «My wife’s going to have her baby in the cab.» I grabbed my stuff, rushed out to the cab, lifted the lady’s dress and began to take off her underwear. Suddenly, I noticed that there were several cabs … and I was in the wrong one.
At the beginning of my shift I placed a stethoscope of an elderly and slightly deaf female patient’s anterior chest wall.
«Big breaths,»… I instructed.
«Yes, they used to be,» … replied the patient.
One day I had to be the bearer of bad news when I told a wife that her husband had died of a massive myocardial infarct.
Not more than five minutes later, I heard her reporting to the rest of the family that he had died of a «massive internal fart.»
During a patient’s two week follow-up appointment with his cardiologist, he informed me, his doctor, that he was having trouble with one of his medications.
«Which one?» I asked.
«The patch … The nurse told me to put a new one on every six hours and now I’m running out of places to put it!»
I had him quickly undress and discovered what I hoped I wouldn’t see. Yes, the man had over fifty patches on his body! Now, the instructions include removal of the old patch before applying a new one.
While acquainting myself with a new elderly patient, I asked «How long have you been bedridden.»
After a look of complete confusion she answered, «Why not for about twenty years, when my husband was alive.»
I was performing rounds at the hospital one morning and while checking up on a man I asked … «So how’s your breakfast this morning?»
«It’s very good except for the Kentucky Jelly. I can’t seem to get used to the taste.» Bob replied.
I then asked to see the jelly. Bob produced a foil packet labelled «KY Jelly.»
A nurse was on duty in the Emergency room when a young woman with purple hair styled into a punk rocker mohawk, sporting a variety of tattoos, and wearing strange clothing, entered. It as quickly determined the patient had acute appendicitis, so she was scheduled for immediate surgery. When she was completely disrobed on the operating table, the staff noticed that her pubic hair had been dyed green and above it there was a tattoo that read «Keep off the grass.»
Once the surgery was completed, the surgeon wrote a short note on the patient’s dressing which said «Sorry, had to mow the lawn.»
As a new, young MD doing his residency in OB, I was quite embarrassed when performing female pelvic exams.
To cover my embarrassment I had unconsciously formed a habit of whistling softly. The middle-aged lady upon whom I was performing this exam suddenly burst out laughing, further embarrassing me. I looked up from my work and sheepishly said «I’m sorry. Was I tickling you?»
«No, doctor, but the song your were whistling was «I wish I was an Oscar Meyer Wiener.»»
The Eye of Divinity is probably for 10-years and up. The story is a serial as there was no closure at the end of The Eye of Divinity.
You will see from the reviews below that readers had extremely mixed views on the quality of the novel. That is not without reason.
Lannon – our protagonist – is the kind of character that you either get or do not get in my opinion. His family exhibits passive aggressive behavior toward each other and Lannon carries that with him through the novel. Later on in The Eye of Divinity we discover the reason for their reactions toward each other.
In some ways this is a typical coming of age tale. Lannon shows growth and eventually realises that he is the only one who is able to change what he is into a different version of himself. Getting through the growing up years is in some ways a dreadful experience for all of us. Carrying the baggage of a dysfunctional family only makes it worse.
To say that Cordus, Taris and Furlus are disappointed at the quality of the potential Dark Watchman they are bringing back with them to the Tower would be no exaggeration. And, you know, I get why. There is nothing special about Lannon. His personality is wishy-washy and he has no unique talents. In fact, nothing at all points toward his potential knighthood. One reviewer called Lannon a noodle.
I liked The Eye of Divinity. Most of that has to do with Lannon. He was so hopeless, yet every once in a while a tiny glimmer of spine shone through.
1. If you are choking on an ice-cube, don’t panic. Simply pour a cup of boiling water down your throat and presto, the blockage will be almost instantly removed.
Clumsy? Avoid cutting yourself while slicing vegetables by getting someone else to hold them while you chop away.
Avoid arguments with the Mrs. about lifting the toilet seat by simply using the sink.
For high blood pressure sufferers: simply cut yourself and bleed for a few minutes, thus reducing the pressure in your veins. Remember to use a timer.
A mouse trap, placed on top of your alarm clock, will prevent you from rolling over and going back to sleep after you hit the snooze button.
If you have a bad cough, take a large dose of laxatives. Then you will be afraid to cough.
Have a bad toothache? Smash your thumb with a hammer and you will forget about the toothache.
If you can’t fix it with a hammer, you’ve got an electrical problem
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p>Sometimes, we just need to remember what the rules of life really are: You only need two tools: WD-40 and Duct Tape. If it doesn’t move and should, use the WD-40. If it shouldn’t move and does, use the duct tape.
I’m seeing the first appearances of this bunch of advice around 2005
My daughter and I have now started on the Firekeeper Saga. We had to try a few novels I have on my shelves before she found one that sounded right to her. Through Wolf’s Eyes by Jane Lindskold caught her ear. The deed is now done and I had to begin reading Wolf’s Head, Wolf’s Heart right away.
As you probably understand, my daughter has given her wholehearted approval of the series thus far.
Rumours and stories of children raised by wolves have not been uncommon. In most of them the person found is wild and untamable. Firekeeper is certainly wild when she is discovered by Earl Norwood and his group of merry men. Not quite human, not quite wolf.
In the real world I imagine a child would not have survived living with wolves. To them we are prey and no wonder. But in Jane Lindskold’s world there are Royal Beasts. Royal Beasts are a step up from their cousins (the wolves we know). Several qualities differentiate the two. Royal Beasts are larger, more intelligent and even havea bit of magic. Nor is Firekeeper your regular human. She is able to understand the language of beasts, any beast. Her ability with human talk, however, has been lost to her – due to causes that become apparent as the series continues.
In this novel we get to see human society from the outside, Through Wolf’s Eyes. Human societies make little sense to me. There are strange rules and restrictions (written and unwritten). Sometimes it seems as if some person just said “let’s try this” one day and then that was the new tradition. To one who does not even consider herself a human, human society would seem even stranger. Yet Firekeeper slowly understands that similarities exist between her Royal Wolves and humans.
Lindskold writes pretty well. I felt at times that Through Wolf’s Eyes became a bit wordy and felt my daughter’s attention waver. Then Lindskold would get through the rough patch and off we went again. We struggled with Alistair’s recitation of monarchies – especially when it was impossible to spot a good reason for this. Although the novel is step shy of flowing it still reads well aloud.
Perhaps the reader should not be too young. The complexity of the novel is the only reason I say this. If you like political maneuvering, sub-plots and lots of threads to keep straight, this is the book for you.
Rachel Caine, or Roxanne Longstreet Conrad as she is known to her friends, is a prolific writer. From what I have read of her writing (Morganville series, one Weather Warden and one The Revivalist) her novels seem to target young adults (not the youngest).
Her books are fun to read and full of murder, mayhem and entertainment. We get all sorts of magic and supernatural creatures. Some of these supernaturals are the baddest baddies while some fight on the side of light and justice for all. There is something a bit soap operaish about the books at times, but for the most part they manage to stay out of that trap. The ones that I have read are from: Weather Warden, The Morganville Vampires and The Revivalist.
THE MORGANVILLE VAMPIRES (2006 – 2013)
The Morganville Vampires books are supposed to be appropriate for age 13 and up. My library has fourteen of them while fifteen have been published thus far. According to the Morganville website no. 15 (Daylighters) is supposed to be the last one of the series (for now). I believe I have read through no. 10 (Bite Club).
The Morganville series begins with Glass Houses.While it is an advantage to begin reading with book no. 1 of the series, I would have had no trouble starting at any point as all of the novels have some sort of resolution to their plot. There are threads that leave you somewhat hanging but they are more of the kind that you will find in most series out there. So NOT a serial.
Claire Danvers is our main character through the series. There are others that get to shine along with her, but she is the one we always meet.
What can I say about Claire Danvers? Claire is a brilliant girl. Her IQ gets her into Texas Prarie University at the age of 16. Choosing TPU was a result of having to be closer to her parents. I can understand her parents wanting her to be a close as possible. Being the parent of two boys who have been that age, I probably would have let them go to the offered spot at MIT. Whether my choice would have been different had they been girls is impossible to predict.
So off Claire goes to Morganville. TPU is apparently a typical university town. In it she meets both ends of the spectrum of niceness. Claire gets bullied by the town diva, Monica Morell, and makes friends with the much nicer Eva Rosser. Her friendship with Eva Rosser and the bullying by Morell and her crowd is what brings about Claire’s move into what is known as Glass House.
Glass House belongs to Michael Glass. Michael lives in the house himself and he is hesitant about letting Claire live there. The other tenant, Shane Collins, also worries about having an under-age student living with them. The constellation two boys and two girls might have something to do with that. I found that rather charming and wise of the two guys. I also approved of the choice of letting Claire live with them, especially considering Monica’s influence at TPU. Monica does not have many endearing qualities.
Moving into Glass House brings the reality of Morganville crashing in on Claire. Living in Morganville can be detrimental to one’s health.
WEATHER WARDEN (2003-2010)
The Weather Warden series begins with Ill Wind and ends with Total Eclipse. According to various reviews and Ms. Caine’s own website the Weather warden is meant for an adult audience. I have only read no. 1 (Ill Wind). It is difficult for me to know exactly what differentiates a novel meant for adults or older young adults, so I am going to trust the author on this one. On the link above you can read samples from each of the novels.
Ill Wind introduces Joanne Baldwin a Weather Warden. A Weather Warden is a person who has the power to control one of the elements. In Joanne’s case that is the wind. She is not considered an especially gifted Warden. When we meet her she is on the run from the other Weather Wardens and the Weather Council. The Weather Council wields a lot of influence in society due to its nature. Together with the UN they decide when to and when not to intervene in natural disasters (having to do with wind, fire, water and earth). So, not an organization to have chasing you.
Joanne is, of course, innocent of all charges and that is what Ill Wind is about – proving her innocence and finding the real culprit.
As a mystery, Ill Wind worked for me.
THE REVIVALIST (2011 – …)
Once again you get to read sample chapters of the novels. The Revivalist is a different kind of zombie novel. As with Weather Warden, I have only read the first of the series, Working Stiff. Like the other two series in this post, The Revivalist is an urban fantasy series. Our main character is Bryn Davies. She is about to change careers – from being in a military supply unit in war to being a funeral director. An unusual choice but work is work.
At first Fairview Mortuary seems like an average funeral home. But there is one huge problem. Her bosses are experimenting on the corpses. Not all of them, but enough for Bryn to discover that there is a problem. It turns out that they are using a drug to resurrect the dead. Bryn enlists the help of the FBI and joins the take-down. During the charge, poor old Bryn ends up being one of the dead. Having no say in the matter herself (being dead and all that) Bryn ends up being one of the resurrected. At this point her options in “life” pretty much become nil. She has to do what she is told or she will not get the daily injection needed for a healthy look.
Basically, Working Stiff is an urban fantasy mystery with a zombie twist.
Gwenmereis another of those gems that just turns up out of the great blue. I believe this is author R.A.M. Graham’s first novel and I hope not the last.
Gwenmere was full of the kind of humour that I love. No belly laughs, but dry, dry wit that tugs at the corners of my mouth again and again. I do not know where Graham is from but am tempted to infer that he/she is from the United Kingdom.
Gwen is an incredibly fun character. Her fracas on the floor with her brother comes to mind. The absolutely priceless image of Captain Faroe opening the door and seeing true sibling hate is delightful. She is the teen-age version of Calvin in Calvin and Hobbes.
Flow, flow, flow. There is nothing better in the world than reading a book that flows all the way through. Graham stirs secrets, fighting, deception and class issues all together into a wonderful stew of words. Beautifully done and something that few authors manage.
Gwenmere seems to attract the seethers. Why that is, no one seems to know. Whether no one actually does not know remains to be seen. Due to the attraction of the seethers to the Royals, Gwenmere’s Crimson Guard, Captain Faroe, seems to be wanted by all of the Royals. Apparently only he is immune to the attention of the incredibly dangerous creatures.
Should you read Gwenmere? Definitely. Especially if you are a fan of dry humour interspersed with action and sibling rivalry in a fantasy world of strange people and creatures.
This month the Supreme Court will issue raptly awaited decisions about affirmative action and gay marriage. But what’s been foremost in my thoughts isn’t race, sexual orientation or our country’s deeply flawed handling of both.
Earl Wilson/The New York Times/Frank Bruni
Readers’ Comments
“Sexism endures because too few of us are feminists. … Somehow “feminism” is too scary… .”
It’s gender — and all the recent reminders of how often women are still victimized, how potently they’re still resented and how tenaciously a musty male chauvinism endures. On this front even more than the others, I somehow thought we’d be further along by now.
I can’t get past that widely noted image from a week ago, of the Senate hearing into the epidemic of sexual assault in the military. It showed an initial panel of witnesses: 11 men, one woman. It also showed the backs of some of the senators listening to them: five men and one woman, from a Senate committee encompassing 19 men and seven women in all. Under discussion was the violation of women and how to stop it. And men, once again, were getting more say.
I keep flashing back more than two decades, to 1991. That was the year of the Tailhook incident, in which some 100 Navy and Marine aviators were accused of sexually assaulting scores of women. It was the year of Susan Faludi’s runaway best seller, “Backlash,” on the “war against American women,” as the subtitle said. It was when the issue of sexual harassment took center stage in Clarence Thomas’s confirmation hearings.
All in all it was a festival of teachable moments, raising our consciousness into the stratosphere. So where are we, fully 22 years later?
We’re listening to Saxby Chambliss, a senator from Georgia, attribute sexual abuse in the military to the ineluctable “hormone level” of virile young men in proximity to nubile young women.
We’re congratulating ourselves on the historic high of 20 women in the Senate, even though there are still four men to every one of them and, among governors, nine men to every woman.
I’ll leave aside boardrooms; they’ve been amply covered in Sheryl Sandberg’s book tour.
But what about movies? It was all the way back in 1986 that Sigourney Weaver trounced “Aliens” and landed on the cover of Time, supposedly presaging an era of action heroines. But there haven’t been so many: Angelina Jolie in the “Tomb Raider” adventures, “Salt” and a few other hectic flicks; Jennifer Lawrence in the unfolding “Hunger Games” serial. Last summer Kristen Stewart’s “Snow White” needed a “Huntsman” at her side, and this summer? I see an “Iron Man,” a “Man of Steel” and Will Smith, Brad Pitt, Matt Damon and Channing Tatum all shouldering the weight of civilization’s future. I see no comparable crew of warrior goddesses.
Heroines fare better on TV, but even there I’m struck by the persistent stereotype of a woman whose career devotion is both seed and flower of a tortured private life. Claire Danes in “Homeland,” Mireille Enos in “The Killing,” Dana Delany in “Body of Proof” and even Mariska Hargitay in “Law & Order: SVU” all fit this bill.
The idea that professional and domestic concerns can’t be balanced isn’t confined to the tube. A recent Pew Research Center report showing that women had become the primary providers in 40 percent of American households with at least one child under 18 prompted the conservative commentators Lou Dobbs and Erick Erickson to fret, respectively, over the dissolution of society and the endangerment of children. When Megyn Kellychallenged them on Fox News, they responded in a patronizing manner that they’d never use with a male news anchor.
Title IX, enacted in 1972, hasn’t led to an impressive advancement of women in pro sports. The country is now on its third attempt at a commercially viable women’s soccer league. The Women’s National Basketball Association lags far behind the men’s N.B.A. in visibility and revenue.
Even in the putatively high-minded realm of literature, there’s a gender gap, with male authors accorded the lion’s share of prominent reviews, as the annual VIDA survey documents. Reflecting on that in Salon last week, the critic Laura Miller acutely noted: “There’s a grandiose self-presentation, a swagger, that goes along with advancing your book as a Great American Novel that many women find impossible or silly.”
I congratulate them for that. They let less hot air into their heads.
But about the larger picture, I’m mystified. Our racial bigotry has often been tied to the ignorance abetted by unfamiliarity, our homophobia to a failure to realize how many gay people we know and respect.
Well, women are in the next cubicle, across the dinner table, on the other side of the bed. Almost every man has a mother he has known and probably cared about; most also have a wife, daughter, sister, aunt or niece as well. Our stubborn sexism harms and holds back them, not strangers. Still it survives.
All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal – The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now…the wax. My night began as any other normal week night. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: “Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet.”
So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. It was one of those “cold wax” kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I’m not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!)
So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. (“Cold wax,” yeah…right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn’t the best feeling, but it wasn’t too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.
With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (Yes, it
was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself….RRRRIIIPPP!!!!
I’m blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!….OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! Vision returning, I notice that I’ve only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP!!! Another deep breath and RRIIPP!! Everything is swirly and spotted. I think I may pass out…must stay conscious…Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe…OK, back to normal.
I want to see my trophy – a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There’s no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax. CRAP! I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake…remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down.
DAMN!!!!!!!! I hear the slamming of a cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut! Butt?? Sealed shut! I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself “Please don’t let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off!” What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I’ll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right???
WRONG!!!!!!!
I get in the tub – the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment – I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub…in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn’t melt cold wax. So, now I’m stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!!
God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!! I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It’s a very good conversation starter – “So, my butt and who-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!” There is a slight pause. She doesn’t know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax
is located, “Are we talking cheeks or hole or who-ha?”
She’s laughing out loud by now…I can hear her. I give her the run down and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else’s night. While we go through various solutions. I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better than to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I’m pretty sure I’m going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counselling for this event.
My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace….the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!!!
The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. It’s sooo painful, but I really don’t care. ” It works!! IT WORKS!! ” I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair….THE HAIR IS STILL THERE…….ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I’m numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Next week I’m going to try hair color……
The story begins appearing on various blogs and sites around September 2005.
For once I feel as though a novella has been reviewed by its target audience. Scary Mary is intended for a YA readership and most of the links below reflect that. I am definitely nowhere near that age but still enjoyed the tale of young Mary.
Bullying sucks in a major way. There is something about the year after year grinding down of one’s self-image that makes life more challenging than it ought to be for a child/teen-ager. Sure, most children and young adults (well, even adults) experience bullying from time to time, but many years? Being different makes it easy to become a target. Having a disturbing ability would make it even simpler for people to leech on to you.
Including this element in Hunter’s novella about Mary was a plus for me. I also liked that Mary was wounded but not broken by the years of ostracism.
I see that Scary Mary is supposed to be a horror novel. Horror seems a strong word. Mystery with a ghost element seems like a better description. The ghost was mean but didn’t quite tilt over the horror wall. There is the history of the house. That is kind of horrorish.
My favorite part of Scary Mary was the dog. A wonderful twist. Absolutely adorable and an idea for people who struggle with allergies.
humanitysdarkerside 
