“Warehouse 13” Last Tuesday/ A New Review of Self

Sorry for squishing together two wholly un-related topics, dear blog readers!  But self is deep —  and she means deeeep —  into putative novel, and has only tiddly-winks of time in which to blog!

And, heartfelt apologies for forgetting to post about the Season 2 premiere of “Warehouse 13” last Tuesday!  Self confesses that she only watched because the producers tweaked her interest by casting Sean Maher opposite Jewel Staite —  for one episode (next week).  Jeez, could someone give these two their own series already?  They’re like the Tracy and Hepburn of science fiction!  At least, as far as self is concerned!  Anyhoo, self watched last Tuesday and —  hey!  It was pretty good!  Sold.  So now self has something to watch every Tuesday night for the next couple of months.  YAYYY!

The next thing self wants to blog about is that she decided to find out if her book, The Lost Language, was reviewed.  Anywhere.  And as a matter of fact, it was.

Aside from the fact that reviewer again brings up that old trope “not-exactly-the-kind-of-book-you’d-take-to-the-beach,” God, and then calls the book “slim” (“Slim” is to short story collections what “Lazy” is to writers) —  it’s actually a pretty positive review.  And self just found it today.  But it seems to have appeared months ago.  So, on the premise that any review is better than NO review at all, here it is, for delectation of dear blog readers (and self has no idea who wrote it —  the article’s by-line is “SIM Staff” :  it is only a snippet of a larger article that has many other books listed that you apparently can take to the beach,  BWAH.  HA.  HAAAA!)

Oh, and by the way, the book is only available in Manila, because that’s where the publisher (the great Karina Bolasco) is!

NOT exactly the book you’d take to the beach, lest you walk straight into the surf with your dark mood weighing you down.  There is a pervading sense of loss in this slim collection of stories, as desolate characters ponder their scars, their patched-up lives, surreal dreams, and brief, brittle joys.  But read it if only for the well-crafted language and remarkable characters that will keep you glued to the page, even as you glimpse the severed hand of a character’s nightmare from your peripheral vision or smell the curdled recriminations from relationships gone sour. (PAC)

Self’s next book will be a comic novel.  Absolutely.  And it’ll be 500 pages.  Something hefty that you can use as a door-stop.

Now, if only self’s family in Manila were interested in books, so that someone could have read this article and told her about it when it first appeared!

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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