Oh the horrors of slavery!—How the thought of it pains my heart! But the truth ought to be told of it; and what my eyes have seen I think it is my duty to relate; for few people in England know what slavery is. I have been a slave—I have felt what a slave feels, and I know what a slave knows; and I would have all the good people in England to know it too, that they may break our chains, and set us free.
With my full membership ticket came the Hugo Awards Voter Pack which included an avalanche of e-freebies (a £25 supporter membership also gave access to the pack – I’ll probably buy one of these next year as I can’t afford to attend in person) which included artwork, podcasts, and ebooks such as:
A 14-book omnibus of The Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson
Hard Magic (Grimnoir Chronicles #1) by Larry Correia
Spellbound (Grimnoir Chronicles #2) by Larry Correia
Warbound (Grimnoir Chronicles #3) by Larry Correia
So I looked this one up online (and read it there for free) as I was struggling with the 13th volume which is a 2014 Hugo finalist for Best Graphic Novel, and while this is from only one point of view – Agatha’s – it’s still a little disjointed and hard to follow. Almost every sentence of dialogue feels like it should end with a exclamation mark. It’s high drama, or melodrama. But perhaps that’s a mark of the mad science genre – I wouldn’t know, I’m new to it.
Rosa Parks was not the first woman to refuse to give up her seat on a bus for a white person. I know, I didn’t know this either. It’s not our fault. Claudette Colvin had done the same nine months before. She was not considered by African American civil rights leaders to be a suitable symbol for the campaign against segregationist legislation. She was too young (she was fifteen), perceived to be too fiesty and too emotional, and too working class to be an appropriate figurehead to inspire revolution among her fellow African American residents of Montgomery, Alabama. She suffered more at the hands of the police than Ms. Parks (Colvin was jailed, among other things), more scorn from her neighbours and supposed friends than Ms. Parks, and yet she’s been conveniently forgotten by the press, the historians and the public.
The Shawl is the first book I’ve read concerning the Holocaust but it’s everything one would expect it to be. A horrific, poignant, lyrical, and heartbreaking narrative of one woman’s life before, during and after the traumatizing events for the Jewish during WWII. Listening to Yelena Shmulenson’s skillful narration brought Rosa’s suffering to life and doesn’t fail to evoke heartache for her plight.
Surprisingly Miss Marple isn’t the protagonist, instead it’s a self-deprecating vicar with a dry sense of humour in his middle years who married in haste to his young wife and is repenting at leisure. He proposed to her after knowing her a day. A day! He’s so humble he claims his own sermons are dull.
‘The sneeze was not a usual kind of sneeze. It was, I presume, a special murderer’s sneeze.’
This is some fucked up shit. Misogynistic and necrophilic fucked up shit. With illustrations. My inner feminist is vibrating with rage and is drawing disturbing comparisons with serial killer Elliot Rodger.
The meathouse is a whorehouse whose ‘whores’ are dead women, most of whom are former criminals and debtors although some have been kidnapped and killed precisely to be commodified by transforming them into brainless undead prostitutes. Outside of the meathouses, corpses are used as workers directed by handlers (read: puppeteers), similar to what The People do with vampires in Ilona Andrews’s Kate Daniels series. The entertainment industry is dominated by corpse fights like the gladiators of old, their handlers manipulating them like 3-D real world video game characters.
So you’re sitting at home watching Jurassic Park with your boyfriend for the millionth time and you turn to look at him and wonder . . . If you were a dinosaur, my love . . .
An ode to a surreal, lyrical fantasy that’s moments away from turning into monster porn. Until the end when the fantasy cracks to reveal a violent reality, and the inspiration for the daydream.
A tale of two halves. An excellent, attention-grabbing opening which gradually deteriorates into an uninteresting and contrived mess made for skimming.
Michael Sheen (Masters of Sex) did a brilliant job in voicing the title role of Oedipus in what I found to be an ‘easier’ to understand translation by Duncan Steen for the full cast audio.
I’m glad I’ve finally read the famous, fabulously sensational story of incest and patricide about the man who kills his father and marries his mother, after encountering Freud’s derivative Oedipus Complex in psychology class a decade ago.