StanleyWheeler

I don't remember where I found this, but it is my favorite rendition of the Enterprise. This conception screams 1966 Corvette Stingray, or some sleek vehicle of that time frame.

Imagine the series if the Enterprise ran on an internal combustion engine instead of warp drive. Scotty would be doing frequent tune-ups, changing the points and plugs, boring out the cylinders, or perhaps just adjusting the fuel mixture for that extra .02 bump in speed necessary to elude the two big block Ford Klingon Battle Cruisers that were lurking behind the moons of the mysterious green planet R2X7 at the corner of the Galactic Boulevard and the Asphalt Nebula.

I know--there are no gas stations in space.

But enough of that.

The real news is that I've finished writing the sequel to Justice in Season. I still have to proof it myself and then have my special editors provide their feedback and corrections, and then it will soon be available for download. Shortly after that, both the first book, and this new book will be available in paperback as well.

I finished another book (the review follows). I'm also about half through Django Wexler's The Thousand Names. I like it so far. I'm still lazily working through Feval's Le Loup Blanc, and I've started Life Reset by Shemer Kunzits. As for the latter, I question whether I'll finish it. It's of the Litrpg genre--the first I've read of that type. It's not what I expected; I grow weary of the reviewing of the character's new stats every couple pages.

Book Review:
The Ragged Edge of Night by Olivia Hawker

General Thoughts: The was a free book from Prime; that's the only reason that I read it. I like WWII history, and I had hoped that this story would be a pleasing change of pace from my recent reading. On several occasions, I nearly abandoned the book, but I hate to quit on a book if it shows the least amount of promise. This one did--show the least amount. Initially, I was interested in the story and in the characters; I looked beyond the effusive writing style. I mean effusive in the geologic sense: characterized by the nonexplosive outpouring of lava. The words just kept coming like a slow lava flow. I kept expecting something exciting, but there never was an explosion, just more description being extruded, filling up pages between the moments that almost became tense. Many times, something almost happened, but nothing ever did. The book was rather like a scary movie with a good soundtrack that builds to a climactic moment, only to have a scared cat leap out--over and over again. The novel is based on a true story, but what turns out to be the most interesting part of the book, is the fictionalized love story between the two main characters. The development of that relationship is best described as slow, very slow, painfully slow--it was actually more like watching thick paint run than lava flow.

Story in a nutshell: A former friar enters into platonic marriage with a widowed mother of  three (or was it four?) children in a village near Stuttgart, Germany during WWII. He can't get over his past. He tries to find redemption and provide for the family by acting as a courier for an underground German resistance network. Spoiler: A stork gets shot.

Do I recommend it: No. We talk about reading a book. Really, we should talk about experiencing a book. Each person will experience a book differently to some degree; the written story remains the same, but what we bring to it, and what we appreciate and demand from a story may differ greatly. I can only speak to how I experienced the book. This story is well written in the sense that although the writing is effusive, it is not painfully annoying, just rather baroque. It was not the style that bothered me; it was the story. The author wrote the book based upon a family history story. She obviously wanted to protect the memory of the family members; she refused to take liberties that would have made the story more interesting, and yet she seemed to have a deficit of actual facts with which to provide relevant details. Instead, we get lots of irrelevant details--the descriptive extruding. The main characters are of the Catholic faith. As I read the book, I suspected that the author was not Catholic, but wanted to treat that faith with respect. I think she did that, but never fully connected with the religious experience. Finally, about midway through the book, I got the feeling that the author had her own message that she was inserting into this historical novel. The message was inserted with enough subtlety that I wasn't too irked by it; I figured that I could be wrong in my suspicion. I wasn't. In order to make certain that her message wasn't missed, an afterward had been attached. The author explained how the election of 2016 had driven her to write this story NOW. While I found the story disappointing, the afterward rendered it repugnant. I rate this book: Running Paint Dries - the over-applied paint runs at a slow pace, and dries before it reaches the bottom of the wall.

Also - Movie Review:
I re-watched an excellent film on Netflix this week: The African Doctor.

It's in French with English subtitles. The story takes place in the 1970s. A man from Zaire graduates from medical school in France and takes a job as a small town doctor. His wife and children mistakenly believe that the new job is in Paris. Their excitement meets a wet and bitter end when they arrive at the village. They have to deal with racial prejudice and local politics among other problems. The doctor does his best but it all seems for naught. He could lose his family, his job, and his chance at French citizenship. Watching this movie is like trying to swallow a wad of Silly Putty wrapped around a buck's worth of nickels--the lump stays in the back of your throat and refuses to go down. I know that sounds bad, but it's really a terrific movie that is well worth watching.