Black Mask & Pale Rider: Part Fifty-One
Shani realizes all too well that she and Pania are in Dakota country. Pania has a revelation.
End Game
Not exactly what you might think, but it’s fitting, to a point.
Found it very odd this last weekend when I was in the city. Among the stops that I made with Pearce to the farmer’s market, the burlesque show, visiting and hanging out with friends, I also made stops at 8th Street Books & Comics and at one of the EB Games locations in the city. I was just like a kid in a candy store at 8th Street. They moved into a larger location, which is great because it’s so much more wide open than the old location. And all the stuff they had. I just wished I had enough money to buy all the books I wanted to buy. Perhaps that will be on the next trip into the city, which will be this weekend.
I managed to pick up a few trades, all of them collections of the Green Arrow Black Canary series. Always loved the writing for the character and this was no different. I pretty much poured over them when I returned to Outlook. And I know there’s more that I could pick up, along with the trades for Sandman Mystery Theatre. I need a wad of a thousand dollars and walk into there one day.
At EB Games it was very different. I used to walk in and have the same attitude as 8th Street. But this last weekend it was a big pile of meh. Nothing really jumped out at me, and perhaps that’s because I feel a little cynical about video games. I used to get pumped about a new video game on the market. Tomb Raider, Return to Castle Wolfenstein, Star Trek Voyager: Elite Force, Unreal Tournament, Freedom Force and so much more. Now I feel so much disinterest in video games. The only one that sparked any interest at all was Neverwinter Nights 2 Gold edition, but I’ve already got the first game and would only need the expansion.
I think part of it’s been my current play with MMO’s. Lately, they’ve completely underwhelmed me. I used to role play a lot in MMO’s and in games like NWN (the original Bioware product) on persistent world servers. But now, I’d rather just play, earn levels, have some fun. City of Heroes isn’t cutting it for me anymore, really. I’ve even been playing Champions Online, but really, how can you play an MMO where everyone’s treating it like a single player game. At present, MMO’s have become a great big money sink, and nothing more. Which is rather disappointing because I shelled out the bucks for the pre-release of Going Rogue. Now, I’m not sure if I want to play the game anymore.
There’s other factors involved, but right now, I find more interest in books than I do in gaming. Maybe that will change, but something tells me it won’t. I’ve been playing online games now for over ten years, the end game has come.
And sadly, it’s boring me to tears.
Until next time…
…keep ‘em flyin’!
Farmer’s Market
A while ago, I did a write up on the local Outlook Farmer’s Market. I like going to farmer’s markets, there’s all sorts of produce and products to buy, and often times you’re pretty sure it’s locally grown or produced.
This past weekend I had the opportunity to go to the Saskatoon Farmer’s market. It was awesome! Located in the city’s downtown and part of the river front project that is ongoing right now in Saskatoon, it was a nice change of pace from the bustle of going through a major shopping centre. It’s also proof that establishments like Wal*Mart will not be the end of all smaller businesses. Mostly because a lot of those smaller businesses have produce and products that Wal*Mart can’t (or will not) carry.
When I walked into the farmer’s market, I had a sudden feeling that this was like the exhibitors lane at the Saskatoon Ex, but on a smaller scale. And it’s held year round, as opposed to just for the ten day duration of the Ex. Or, in the Outlook Farmer’s Market case, just during the summer months. To be fair, this building was set aside by the Saskatoon City Council and by the business community. It adds to the River Landing.
Locally grown produce and locally manufactured food stuffs and hand crafts are all on display. Even a couple of restaurants have set up smaller food court versions in this place to give the place a nice sit down area to have a bite to eat. And next door to it all is a specialty beer and wine store, filled with imported (both internationally and interprovincially) alcohols. From pale ales, to stouts, to bitters, it’s got it all.
It’s one of many wonderful things to do on a Saturday afternoon, or during the week over the lunch hour. Be careful about heading out to the Farmer’s Market during the work day, however, because you can easily lose track of time while you’re browsing the wares. But it is an experience that should not be missed at all. Markets like this are a great thing, whether it’s in a city the size of Saskatoon, or a town the size of Outlook (or smaller). But the bottom line is this; support your farmer’s market. You are in a win win situation when you buy locally grown and produced products.
Until next time…
…keep ‘em flyin’.
Burlesque in Saskatoon
One of the big reasons why I went to the city, aside from getting out of Outlook for the weekend and have an enjoyable change of pace, was to take in a show. This show Pearce had told me about. It’s from a theatre troupe called Rosebud Burlesque, a burlesque theatre group and school in Saskatoon.
While I do not have any photos that I can show you (we were asked not to take pictures, but their website has a ton of photos from that performance and other performances), I can tell you it was incredible. I’ve never gone to a show like this before. To start, it was a small crowd that gathered in the Refinery, a small theatre hall just off Broadway in Saskatoon. The cozy location was perfect for the 100 or so that paid to see the show. And the performers did not disappoint. An incredible showing by each and every single one, right down to the Emcee, Shaharizadee, who’s tongue in cheek humour drew close to the line of risqué, sometimes leaping over it, but was never vulgar. The audience was right into each performance, encouraged by the words of Shaharizadee that the more boisterous the applause, the more would be revealed.
Some might say this was just a strip tease. Nay nay, I say. It was class, and the performers showed that they had the confidence to perform as if in a play. It was more than just removing clothing. It was dance, singing, and acting rolled into one. One of the highlights of the evening was Helena Handbasket as she performed the alphabet, with letters strategically placed, each one revealed as the song went on. And the song should not be confused with the children’s one, but more, like this one as sung by Patrick Stewart.
Check out the Rosebud Burlesque theatre if ever you get a chance to see them. You won’t be disappointed.
Until next time…
…keep ‘em flyin’.
I been hangin’ ’round gas stations
I been hangin’ around libraries
I been learnin’ ’bout books
I been talkin’ to playwriters
I been workin’ on words, phrases
Call this my very musically patriotic post. But I was struck while suddenly getting misty eyed over memories of the past. One song has always been there for me, not one that truly inspired any of my writing, but one that’s always been there. The Guess Who’s Running Back To Saskatoon. It always seems that at some point in my life, I’m doing just that, running back to Saskatoon.
It’s not a bad thing, per say. I love the city, I’ve lived in it at various points in my life. I always come back to it. Saskatoon is familiar ground for me, just as Outlook is a comforting home. It wasn’t until today that some of the lyrics of Running Back To Saskatoon really hit home. Oh, I know that Burton Cummings is an excellent song writer, crafting music that sounds fun, but has a message at the same time. American Woman, for example, was ironic. It became a smash hit in the States in the early 70′s, but the focus of the song was more like a slap in the face of what the American government was doing at the time.
Those lyrics that I highlighted in Running Back To Saskatoon hit home, because I’ve really been talking to people a lot lately about books. Over the past two and a half years, I have been hangin’ out in “libraries”. Those virtual libraries of web lit authors and even going to places to learn how to publish my own material (thus, it fits with “been learnin’ ’bout books”).
I have been talking to playwriters, individuals such as authors James Melzer, Jenny Hudock, Edward Talbot. Poets like Ray Onativia. And script writers like David N. Wilson. I’ve learned from them the mistakes and triumphs that they have made, and taken their examples as I plug away at this thing called writing.
And I’ve been workin’ on words and phrases. Over 98,000 words to be exact. Black Mask & Pale Rider has been an accomplishment that has taken almost two years. And it’s so close to completion it’s not even funny. Things are coming, that’s for sure.
But for this weekend, I’m runnin’ back to Saskatoon, hookin’ up with my buddy Pearce, and we’re takin’ in a Burlesque show. Now, sing it with me…
Moose Jaw saw a few, Moosomin too
Runnin’ back to Saskatoon
Red Deer, Terrace and a Medicine Hat
Sing another prairie tune
Sing another prairie tune
Until next time…
…keep ‘em flyin’!
Blood of the Moon: Chapter 1.3
(advisement: Strong language warning)
Two young men leaned against the wall of a dusty brownstone, both wore red bandanas on their heads, and black leather jackets, each with the distinct crest of the flaming red skull that identified them as members of the Crimson Skulls. As one lit a cigarette a third joined them, motioning with a nod toward the front door of the brownstone. They moved slowly, watching the streets as they entered the front door, just as a police cruiser rounded the corner. The car moved slowly down the street as the two officers inside watched both sides with some suspicion and a great deal of scrutiny.
Inside the brownstone, the three men walked up a flight of stairs and came to the first door at the top of the stairs. The man smoking his cigarette knocked twice and listened. A knock replied and he knocked three times in return. Clicks sounded out as latches were turned, finally the door opening. A lithe looking young man stood on the other side of the threshold, a toothpick hanging out of his mouth as he studied the three men.
“Yer fuckin’ late,” he said with some disdain in his voice. He stepped back to let the three inside. “Time is money, ya shitheads. Be on fuckin’ time next time, got it?” He watched as the three young men entered the small apartment. Each took a seat on a ratty old couch that matched the decor of the rest of the room. An old television, flanked by mismatched end tables, one on which supported the gaudiest of lamps. Beer cans piled in a corner next to the cases that once carried them. Doors hung crookedly on their frames and bedsheets hung from the windows instead of regular curtains.
“We had some trouble with the cops, Sammy,” one of the young men piped up. “They’d been tailin’ us for a while, an’ we needed ta take a diff’rent route here.” Sammy took a deep breath and placed his hands on top of his shaved head.
“’Kay, good ‘nough,” he finally said in his own version of an apology. “We gotta talk ’bout Justin,” he finally stated in a rather cool tone, as though he were speaking about taking out the trash. “Little punk needs ta be taught a lesson, which means we gotta make sure his ass gets inta Upton. We still got a few connections there, so he can get whacked in a prison fight ‘r somethin’.”
“Dude, no ‘ffense,” one of the other young men replied with a chuckle. “You seen his legal team. They workin’ pro-bono for ‘im. Say he should get juvey.”
“What, he took the whole rap?” Sammy said as he pulled up a chair.
“Justin admitted ta everything,” the man replied. “Said he was the one with the gun, an’ it was him that tried ta rob those coupla stores.”
“What gun?”
“The .44 he carried.”
“Fuck!” Sammy cried out in anger at the news. “We can’t even pin a murder on ‘im with that gun. An’ there’s no chance a cop would be on the take with us, they too busy with Don Maximus guys uptown.” He rose from his chair and paced the room for a while as he thought of a solution. “What ’bout that job we did three months ‘go. When we tried pushin’ Chow at the corner market?”
“Guy fell down dead o’ a heart attack, Sammy,” one of the others stated.
“Yeah, but the cops think it was just that b’cause you guys never took nothin’,” Sammy said with a smile as the three young men began to understand. “Get word on the street an’ see if ya can’t get it ta the cops somehow that Justin was the one pressin’ Chow.” Sammy smiled as he crossed his arms, gloating with the idea. “That’ll make sure Justin gets closer ta Upton for sure.”
Sask Books: Song Dogs
Song Dogs
By Betty Wilson
Published by Coteau Books
Review by Marie Powell Mendenhall
Price: $ 9.95 CDN ISBN: 1-55050-216-6
Anyone who has heard coyotes yipping and howling across the prairie will have no trouble identifying Betty Wilson’s Song Dogs.
Wilson conveys the story of these animals with humor and understanding, in this nonfiction book for middle grades and older. She describes their unique call as “warnings, greetings, threats and a little hollering just for the heck of it.”
The book follows a young coyote named Silvertip, and other coyotes nearby, as he grows up in a particular section of rural Alberta. Using the traditions of creative nonfiction, Wilson names the coyotes and situates their stories in the gritty realism of their habitat. For instance, Silvertip fights off a bout of distemper, loses his toes in a trap, and survives fever and infection.
Along with his mate Shadow and several other coyotes, Silvertip must fight for survival against man and the hardships of the environment. Wilson pulls no punches about the role of man in their story. The ranchers hunt them with rifles, traps, hounds and snowmobiles. The coyotes must also survive rattlesnakes, winter, starvation, and other trials of the wild.
These playful and resourceful animals punctuate their lives with their voices: “Suddenly the night was alive with coyote song, echoing with ventriloquist’s magic, from family to family, back and forth across the river valley.”
Pencil sketches appear throughout the pages as well. The book was a finalist for the Canadian Library Association book award for children.
THIS BOOK IS AVAILABLE AT YOUR LOCAL BOOKSTORE OR VISIT WWW.SKBOOKS.COM
Black Mask & Pale Rider: Part Fifty
Pania’s life hangs in the balance as Shani tries to find a way to save her. Meanwhile, the elven bard is dreamwalking.
Did You Read It? No? Then Stop Bitching
I’ve been thinking about this for a long, long time now. The thing that actually made me want to actually write a post about it (okay, rant, it’s a rant, I’ll admit it) was the release party of New Moon that Zodi posted the other day.
It’s more than obvious the popularity of the Twilight series, both in movies and in book format. And to that, I draw into the argument another series that Zodi has also read. The Harry Potter series. While Twilight has received more than a few critiques from the internet faithful, poking fun mostly at the imaginative use of the mythos that we’ve come to know about vampires. Let’s face it, first and foremost it’s original. Second, it’s a well crafted romance and people who are very much into that kind of a story will read it.
Thirdly, and possibly the most important point, both Twilight and Harry Potter did something that many had feared would be lost with the new generation growing up. It got people to read books. With Harry Potter a complete controversy arose in that it was about wizardry and magic. Had the targeted audience been a little older, then there might not have been any controversy at all, because I’ve seen a lot worse in books written by Michael Slade. But because it was directed at children, there was an outcry from the religious right. Don’t get me wrong, I consider myself a Christian, but in no way do I push my beliefs on people.
As the Harry Potter book series became more and more popular, I watched in disgust as groups banded together to have book burning parties. Yes, there were those that actually took copies of Harry Potter and burned them. I was mystified by these people, because some were old enough to have remembered the Second World War. I wondered if they were horrified that the Nazis were burning books, and if they spoke out against the very thing they were doing in the present.
To sum it up, the reason for the anger was that Harry Potter, the character, was going to a school of wizardry. And as it states in the Bible “thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” As has been translated, wizardry, sorcery, witch craft and it’s like was condemned by God. Okay, I get that, I can deal with that. Even though I know a great number of practicing witches who follow the Bible’s view of peace, love and the proper treatment of their fellow man closer than do many right wing Christians. Ain’t that ironic. But the focus of the Harry Potter books was all about witch craft and wizardry, and the religious right was worried that children would take this as the gospel truth. The religious right forgot two very important things. First, Harry Potter is a work of fiction. And second, kids are a lot smarter than we often will give them credit for. Kids aren’t stupid, but the adults who make the news these days sure are.
Harry Potter did the one thing that kids had not done in a long time. Crack open a book. Parents were reading them to their kids, and in many cases, even the parents were reading the books. The story was captivating and magical (see what I did there, huh, huh!). It drew a perfect picture so the reader could imagine what the world Harry Potter lived in was like.
The thing I found quite amusing was that the majority of people condemning Harry Potter had never opened the book at all. They didn’t read it, so they really had no clue what the story was about. In the end, it boiled down to the simple premise of most epic stories like Harry Potter; good versus evil, with good triumphing. It was a kid’s version of Lord of the Rings. Since J.K. Rowling has written that first book, several more have followed suit. A movie franchise has been created. There’s even a theme park in the works.
Those kids also grew older.
And many began reading Twilight.
I can’t compare the story of Harry Potter and Twilight, they are so far different. The only thing you can say is that both are fantasy. Twilight, however, is geared to an older audience. Teenagers and up. It’s fantasy romance, it’s nothing new that we haven’t seen before. Girl meets boy, boy turns out to be vampire, girl loves boy anyway. Just ask Joss Whedon about that.
Stephanie Mayer also did something that hadn’t been seen in such a way before with vampires. She tweaked it, just a bit. Bram Stoker and Anne Rice already had locked the market on the dark aspect of vampires. Joss Whedon did dark, but campy with Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. Mayer kept one aspect from each of those, however. The romance.
To all those who think that I love sparkly vampires; it’s not really my thing. But I’m not gonna disparage someone for liking the book series and reading it. I don’t have that right, and neither does anyone else who has never read the book series. The only one who has said something against Twilight that I’ve heard of and respect is Movie Bob from theescapistmagazine.com. He watched the movies as part of his review. But he also read the books. His opinion matters. Anyone who hasn’t read the books, and still comes out complaining should just shut up.
You’re missing the point completely. It’s not about whether or not J. K. Rowling or Stephanie Mayer books will have a longevity like Shakespear (and, sorry, my money is firmly planted on yes they will), it’s about what the books did for people right now.
It got them to read. That’s all that matters.
Until next time…
…keep ‘em flyin’.
Zodi hijack
Okay we all knew this was coming. Why wouldn’t it? I mean hell Tim just talked about two of the favorites on my list of reading.
And what is the first thing I see when I look at the comments? Someone who clearly missed the point of the blog post. I’m curious. Why on earth would you compare a novelist, yes that is what Stephanie Meyers and J.K Rowlings are, to Joss Whedon?
Okay so he redid Buffy and made it better and Stephanie showed a TEENAGED GIRL falling love. Where is the comparison? She showed a personality type, the shy quiet awkward girl. I’m sorry but no Joss Whedon did not do what Stephanie Meyer did. He took a stereo type in 1992 and made a joke.
I have said previously, yes the Twilight Saga could have been written better, and filled out more. But the concept is sound. What is to say that over thousands of years that Vampires didn’t evolve to make human-like decisions become ‘vegetarians.’ Who wrote the rules of vampires, of which I might add are FICTIONAL beings.
Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll start on Harry Potter.
SEVEN books that mixed the real world with fantasy. You know I think I know another book that did the same thing. The Chronicles of Narnia. The books hardly dealt with anything romantic until the end. Around the time when boys stop thinking that girls have cooties. Putting the children in real life situations, like dances, sport and competition.
OMG THEY ADDED WITCHCRAFT! DEVILS WORK! Did they even read the book? It’s not teaching anything the Bible hasn’t. Transfiguration is the same as transmogrifying. Did Jesus not turn water into wine? So Harry and his friend turned rats into teacup, I fail to see the difference.
Zach makes a good point here as we sit here discussing it. Jesus turning water into wine was a miracle because the water was undrinkable. But Harry turning his rat into cup was different simply because it didn’t benefit everyone. Something I’ve noticed with the world and I know I suffer from it as well. Xenophobia.
Another series that I’d like to point out that I’ve been reading is The Mortal Instrument Series. This book has a brother in love with his sister! Flowers in the Attic did the same thing. It’s books like this that cause controversy that get people to read.
I think the thing that irked me the most about the first comment is the simple fact someone had to gall to take writing a novel and compare it to someone who has never written a novel, at least to my knowledge has only written comic books and screenplays. Same genre yes; same media no.
All in all, I don’t care how shitty a book is, how dramatic it may be or how it portrays the female character to be weak and submissive. It gets to kids to read and that the important part. Here lemme repeat it:
IT GETS KIDS TO READ!
Keep it real and rockin’
Spring is sprung
I remember a small poem when I was younger…
Spring has sprung, the grass has ris’,
I wonder where the birdie is?
There he is up in the sky,
He dropped some whitewash in my eye!
I‘m alright, I won’t cry,
I’m just glad that cows can’t fly!
It was hilarious (of course I did, I was five). And as I found, there’s several different versions of it.
Spring is officially here now, the tell tale signs are all around. One of the biggest is when the sun rises in the morning. For six months (okay not exactly six months, but when you live in an area that is plunged into darkness for a good portion of the year it feels like longer) darkness still settled in around us during the early morning hours. Now around five in the morning, you can start to see the sun rise on the horizon. A reminder that it won’t be long until I start complaining that the sun is streaking through my bedroom at four in the morning.
Another stark reminder is the lack of snow. We had a pretty good snow fall the other day, but the very next day it was gone.
Yesterday’s temperature was decent enough that I could even walk around in shorts and a T-shirt (okay, shorts and a hockey jersey with a jean jacket, but still). The weather was warm, a nice breeze to be had, not the usual harsh wind we sometimes experience in March. All in all, it was pretty decent and I got to enjoy yesterday walking around and taking some photos.
While it was unfortunate that I couldn’t spot any buds yet, most likely because the weather, while warm, hadn’t been that warm for a good number of days, I did see some other signs of spring life. Rather, I heard them. Birds, and lots of them. The happy twittering of birds (and no, I don’t mean the social media program, I mean actual birds) as they gathered the necessary things to get ready for nesting.
While it wasn’t straight into the warm, wonderful days I am longing for, it at least gave hope that warmer days are coming around. While I could go on and talk about all that I saw, let’s leave it to pictures that I took yesterday.
Until next time…
…keep ‘em flyin’!
New Moon Release Party
I will admit it. I like, no love Twilight. I’ve read the books and they are fun books. Sure there are some parts that could have been better (like the sparkle) but for the most part it was a whirlwind relationship between a human girl a vampire boy. There are many other vampy romance novels where I’ve read with the same damn thing.
So last night Wal-Mart hosted the New Moon DVD release party. I arrived there about 10 pm and there wasn’t many people there which was good for me and my crowd controlled panic attacks.
When we arrived, there was a greeter there to let us know what was going on. Door prizes, cake, punch, posters. We could play the Wii or we could sit down and watch New Moon. I decided to look around for a bit. Noticing the merchandise they had out, I also decided it was time for a new purse. I picked out one with Edward and Bella on it. I also got my free poster which to my surprise had more goodies inside.
After that, Zach and I got some cake (yes we are back together 
) and some punch. We watched the people mingle about. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed but excited at the same time. More people were showing up, including some of the girls from my apartment complex.
There was also musical chairs which used the New Moon Soundtrack. I played one round and felt weird the entire time. I didn’t win, but I wasn’t upset about it. The girls who were with me in this game were pretty ruthless. The prize was a five dollar walmart gift card.
After that, I walked around walmart with Zach, we had to look for some other stuff while we were there. About eleven people started to get antsy, by this time there was only an hour left for the movie release. I wasted time walking around, talking with a few friends. Then I discovered the quiz table. I jumped in line and waited my turn.
Question one: Who sits in the middle throne of the Vultri? Answer: Aro
Question two: How much does Bella pay for the motorbikes? Answer: Zero
Question three: Who’s funeral did Charlie attend? Answer: Harry Clearwater’s
Question four: What color roses were not in the Cullen’s house? Answer: Purple
Question five: Who told Edward about the funeral? Answer: Jacob
These were just some of the questions that I came across. After my third turn, I managed to get all five questions right. My prize was an aluminum water bottle with Edward on it. Happily, I walked off with my prize.
Sorry for poor quality. Hands were a bit shaky
Finally, we stood in line waiting for the movie to come out, by this time more people had showed up. There were three lines total. Cullens, Wolfpack, Volturi. I was in Cullens, maybe 25th in line. When I turned around I saw the line extending all the way to the door.
It had finally kicked in that it was almost time for the movie release.
About 11:15, they began doing door prizes. I was one of the lucky ones who won a five dollar walmart gift card. Which of course went to pay for my movie. The surprise win of the night was Zach winning a twenty-five dollar gift card which also went to pay for the movie. I got the ultimate fan edition, which came with all the special feature and another DVD called Twilight in Forks.
Surprisingly, I had a lot of fun and was thrilled when the movie was finally released at 12:01. Now I just have to wait for June 30th, when Eclipse comes out in theaters.
Keep it real and rockin’
Breakout The Hard Hats
Please bear with Tim and Zodi while they vigorously work to reconstruct the blog….again… If these two ever decide to make up their minds about how it should look.
-The (wo)man behind the curtain.
Blood of the Moon: Chapter 1.2
As the legal team walked down the steps of the court house, the media throng raced forward. Justin Gomez had been taken away through the back of the court house to avoid such scenes as this. A portly gentleman, who held kind eyes and a soft smile, stepped in front of his partners as the throng came to a halt, recording equipment ready.
“Easy, everyone,” he announced with a smile but still managed to hold a serious tone in his voice. “I had heard word this would receive a lot of coverage. We don’t have a lot of time, so make your questions quick and orderly and we can all go about our business. If there is something that we don’t wish to answer, we’ll say so, so don’t try and change the question. I used to work in a news room when I was a kid.” There was a chuckle that went through the crowd, and the portly man pointed to a young woman.
“Marisa Cortez, Mr. Sigmund,” she announced quickly. There was recognition in Sigmund’s eye as he nodded. “There is some confusion as to the purpose of this trial. Gomez has been charged with three counts of armed robbery, and an admission of guilt has already been entered.”
“We are not arguing Mr. Gomez guilt in this matter. What we are arguing is the attempt of the District Attorney to have Mr. Gomez sentenced to several years behind bars in maximum security because of the gang he is associated with. At the end of the day, Mr. Gomez is just another street kid who runs with a gang. He will serve time, but not in a place like Upton.”
“Mr. Sigmund, you’ve opted to have Chelsea Morgan as the lead in this case,” another reporter asked quickly. “Her experience is less than two years. Are you certain this is wise.”
“I’m a man who knows when a gamble is a sure thing,” Sigmund replied with a confident smile. “Chelsea has shown she is more than capable of this duty.”
“Mr. Sigmund, is this an attempt to prove to the state how Upton is actually a corrupt institution and should be closed down?”
“I have to advise you…” Sigmund stopped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Chelsea stepped forward and wordlessly looked to Sigmund. He sighed and nodded, knowing no words would dissuade her from speaking her mind.
“Upton has it’s place,” she said plainly. “This city has it’s share o’ hardened criminals, men an’ women o’ pure evil that do injustice an’ have no second thoughts for what they do. Because the state has no death penalty, the only viable solution is ta lock ‘em away in Upton. But for young men like Gomez, Upton would eat him alive. Gomez does deserve ta serve time for his crimes, but in the appropriate place. The only reason why this is bein’ brought up is b’cause Gomez was associated with the Crimson Skulls.” She ended her comment and looked to the crowd of reporters, suddenly realizing that they all were looking directly at her. The feeling made her a tad uneasy. Fortunately, Sigmund was right there.
“I believe, ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a calm voice as he place a comforting hand on Chelsea’s shoulder. “That is all the questions we’ll answer for today.” The small group began moving again as the media crowd let them through. Some were already writing furiously in their notebooks or texting messages on their cell phones. The pair of lawyers made their way down the steps, unimpeded to their car. As Chelsea slid herself into the passenger seat, Sigmund went around to the driver’s side. They said nothing until the car crept onto the road.
“You know you don’t have to talk to the media,” he commented with a small smile. “I’m usually the one that can handle the sharks in the sea.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes I needa speak up,” she replied as she leaned her arm against the window and rested her head on her hand. “B’sides, you know how headstrong I can be sometimes.”
“So,” Sigmund said as he quickly changed the subject. “How was it today? How did you feel addressing the courtroom?”
Chelsea took a deep breath and let out a sigh before answering. “It went okay. I was nervous, but it went okay.”
“Did you take my advice?” Sigmund said with a smirk.
“No,” Chelsea replied as she snorted a laugh. “The minute I’d o’ thought o’ everybody naked, I’d o’ burst out laughin’.” She shook her head as she thought of the scene that would have played out had she taken such a suggestion. “An’ o’ course, no tellin’ what the judge would o’ thought.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Sigmund replied with a chuckle. “But in all honesty, you did great today, Chels. This’ll be your first big step.” His tone turned a bit more serious. “Though, I would like to know how it is that you managed to contact the Black Bowhunter.”
Chelsea took a deep breath and did her best to hide a small wince. She didn’t like it when Sigmund brought the subject up, seeing how close it was to home. She’d done her best to distance her two identities, but Sigmund pushed all the time. “I tol’ you, she came ta me. I don’t know why, she just gives me this stuff.”
“We’ve been lucky so far,” Sigmund stated as he pulled into the parking lot that sat next to the law firm. “Public opinion is very strongly in favour of Black Bowhunter. So we’ve been able to get some things by that normally wouldn’t.” He pulled the car into his personal space and shut the engine off, looking to Chelsea as he did so. “I just want to make certain that you’re not gonna get hurt because of some costumed crime fighter who thinks she’s above the law.”
“She…” Chelsea began but stopped herself from defending her actions in her nocturnal activity. “She makes sure that I don’t get in trouble. An’ I can handle myself. If things get physical, I know how ta throw a punch ‘r two.”
“Well, physical violence aside…” Sigmund said with a sigh, then left his thought open ended as he changed the subject. “You should really come out to the charity event this weekend. You spend a lot of hours here at the office, and the only other things you have are rebuilding a 1936 Harley Davidson, and your martial arts classes. You need to unwind at bit.”
“Those are good ways to unwind,” Sigmund said with a smirk as he opened his car door. “But I’m talking about a more social environment.” Sigmund closed his door as Chelsea opened her own and got out. The automatic locks clicked loudly as they both began to make their way to the back stairwell that would lead to their offices.
“Fine,” Chelsea finally said in a defeated tone. “I’ll go ta this party.”
“Sound a little more enthused,” Sigmund chuckled. “And get yourself a nice dress, you never know you might meet someone. You’ve told me enough about your shattered love life in the past, maybe this will be your chance to meet someone nice.” He stopped as he unlocked the door. “You know, without knocking his teeth in like the last time.”
Chelsea smirked and pointed at Sigmund. “Dude totally d’served that fer what he did.”
Sigmund held the door open and pointed back to Chelsea. “When you start to talk like that, you get a fire in your belly, Chelsea. And that’s when you work best. Now come on, let’s go make sure Mr. Gomez doesn’t spend years in Upton.”
Sask Books: My Sweet Curiosity
“My Sweet Curiosity”
By Amanda Hale
Published by Thistledown Press
Review by Karen Lawson
$19.95 ISBN 978-1-897235-61-4
Amanda Hale’s third novel is a complex work that combines many different elements and themes. She has taken a variety of threads and woven them into an intricate tapestry that will keep the reader wanting more with every page.
“My Sweet Curiosity” contains several plots and is set not only in different countries but also spans many centuries. The author incorporates historical facts from the sixteenth century with a contemporary story line to create a fast moving saga that contains few boundaries.
The main characters of this novel live in present day Toronto. Talya is a young, energetic, medical student. Dai Ling is a talented cello player. Destiny brings them together and their lives become intertwined. Both young women are the daughters of immigrant parents. This complicates their relationship and adds another layer to the story. Both characters are struggling with their own personal issues and coming to terms with who they are and what their purpose in life is. Talya becomes obsessed not only with Dai Ling, but with a book of anatomical drawings compiled by a doctor by the name of Andreas Vesalius. He was a prominent Italian surgeon who revolutionized the study of medicine and anatomy during the Renaissance period.
“My Sweet Curiosity” flows seamlessly from one time period to another while providing interesting insight into how the physical body is connected to emotions and spirituality. Amanda Hale is a gifted storyteller who has tapped into her own curiosity to create a book that will spark the curiosity in her readers.
This book is available at your local bookstore or online at www.skbooks.com
Sask Books: Waiting for Elvis
Waiting for Elvis
Written by David Elias
Published by Coteau Books
Review by Shelley A. Leedahl
$21.00 ISBN 9-781550-503944
Winnipeg writer David Elias is making a name for himself as a writer of increasingly interesting books. Coteau Books recently published his fourth, the novel “Waiting for Elvis,” and because I was ardently cheering for these hardluck characters, I had a hard time putting the book down.
This time Elias focuses on the people that own “Betty’s Diner — Home of the Giant Cinnamon Bun,” a typical highway truck-stop, and on those who pass through its humble doors. Truckers and the odd tour bus of casino-patronizing seniors are its major clientele, but Betty and husband Arty’s miscreant son, Tony, and the criminal crowd he chums with, also make appearances. When a strange, mute, and beaten man stumbles into the diner from the surrounding forest, nothing is ever the same again.
For Betty, this is a wonderful thing. As a child she lived a life of relative privilege, and was known as “Elizabeth”. An alcoholic mother living in a squalid Winnipeg flophouse is a constant reminder of how far, and quickly, her life regressed. Now Betty’s bored, and thinks that “a bulldozer might be the best thing that ever happened” to the diner. Her family is a crucible. She has a hard time loving her only child: “She and Arty have made all the rounds with the social worker and psychologists. Put up with all the looks from the teachers and principals at school. Jumped through all the hoops with the probation officers and lawyers and priests. It’s been one thing after another with him right from the start … She could never understand how it happened that he got so bad so fast … Making her cry is what Tony had always done best.” Elias does a laudable job of showing how Tony’s evil and self-destructive ways began at an early age. It’s shocking.
And there are more shocks. Sal, who was horribly abused by his mother’s partner, “Clothespin Harry,” now lives like an animal in the forest beside the highway. He exists on the food travelers discard, and has created a shanty among the trees. But Sal’s ghosts have followed him. He has visions, and nightmares, and has created a “garden of pain” with car accident refuse (twisted metal, shattered glass, chains) which he’s strung from the pines. When his inner pain is too much, he “[Runs] into that garden of pain full tilt … Make it cut … Make it bleed … A crankshaft comes out of nowhere … He tackles a chrome bumper, then a rusted muffler … crushes the muscle and bone of his shoulder and still he will not stop.”
Now here’s the wondrous thing: Elias’s novel is a story of redemption. Betty “Sees there the thing [Sal] carries around with him always, the bold beauty of his quiet humility.” And she makes a kind of unexpected peace with her son.
“Waiting for Elvis” is the kind of book that would inspire much discussion and debate; it would be a terrific title for book clubs.
THIS BOOK IS AVAILABLE AT YOUR LOCAL BOOKSTORE OR FROM THE SASKATCHEWAN PUBLISHERS GROUP WWW.SKBOOKS.COM
Black Mask & Pale Rider: Part Forty-Nine
Derringer makes one last play, as Shani tries to keep Pania alive.
Blood of the Moon: Chapter 1.1
Blood of the Moon contains course language, scenes of violence and sexual content. Reader discretion is advised. Written by Tim Holtorf, all images by Clarissa Hummel.
Chelsea Morgan
The courtroom was packed as the audience watched in silence. The twelve member jury listened as the District Attorney detailed the events surrounding the case. Justin Gomez was facing a good number of years in maximum security prison. However, his only real crime was a couple of break and enters and a series of vandalism that came to fifteen hundred dollars in property damage. Not exactly something worth spending time in the big house for.
“Thank you, Mr. Harcourt,” the judge announced as the District Attorney ended his opening statement and took his seat. “The court will now hear from the defence.”
The audience watched as a young black woman rose to her feet. Dressed in a smart looking blue suit, she adjusted her glasses as she stood in front of the jury box. This would be the first time Chelsea Morgan would address the court. She’d worked in the firm of Sigmund and Howitzer for two years, and had already showed her determination for research. Within six months she became part of the team that would defend high profile cases. But never once did she address the court. Today she was given that opportunity.
“Your honour,” she said with a respectful nod to the judge, her voice not able to hide the accent that gave away her roots. Born in New Orleans, she always sounded street tough as opposed to able to command attention in a court of law. “Ladies an’ gentlemen of the jury. Ta say that Justin Gomez is innocent o’ the charges he faces would be a flat out lie. There is no doubt that he committed three armed robberies. Each of those being a failed attempt, as even witnesses will agree, Justin got away with nothing. He fired no shots. He did not attack any of the victims. That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t pay for his crime. What it does mean is that his crime is not worthy ta spend several years of his life in Upton State Maximum Penitentiary.
“I’m sure that the District Attorney’s office would have you b’lieve Mister Gomez is a hardened criminal,” she announced as she looked to Justin, walking slowly toward the desk the young man sat behind. “Due ta his association with the notorious Crimson Skulls gang. I doubt even Mister Gomez would try to lie about the fact that he is involved in that gang.” She turned to look to those in the jury box once again. “But the District Attorney would have you b’lieve Mister Gomez has high connections in the gang when in fact he does not. He is a young man, who through intimidation, was forced into a life on the streets ta protect his family. It is my hope that Mister Gomez will spend much less time in County lockup, possibly juvenile hall due ta his age, than spend years rotting away in some maximum security prison.”
Sask Books: Songcatcher
Songcatcher by Aline Perret-Vallée
Your Nickel’s Worth Publishing
Review by Sharon Adam
$16.95 ISBN 978-894431-32-3
“Songcatcher” falls in a new genre that combines autobiography with poetry and essay. It is the story of an ordinary woman who enjoys her life and shares with her audience the blessings gathered over eight decades. A Saskatchewan girl, Aline tells us her story in a very entertaining and enjoyable format.
She begins with her mother’s family and the story of how they ended up in Duck Lake, where Aline’s mother meets her future husband and they begin their own family. The author shares the respect and joy her home-life provided in times that were hard on the prairies. We glimpse the farm life of a young girl and her brothers and sisters. Aline shares stories and poems of her school years and of leaving home in 1949 to become a nun at the Novitiate in St. Hyacinth, Quebec. She then begins a teaching career that sees her move to various locales, including Prince Albert, Spiritwood, The Pas, Laurier, Debden and Swift Current, ending in Wadena.
We learn of a love story that begins in Prince Albert and eventually ends happily with Aline leaving her vocation as a nun to become the wife of Orian Vallée. Aline’s writing is full of her appreciation of life and recounts all the things that enrich her memories. She tells us of her discovery of Toastmasters and how that organization helped her build confidence and make friends.
Visits to her ancestral homelands of Switzerland and France bring new family members into the story, and travels to Quebec and California add even more family branches to her tree. Now a widow, she lives in Saskatoon where she enjoys her family and friends. “Songcatcher” is an enjoyable read for anyone interested in our past—and the lives of the real people who lived it.
This book is available at your local bookstore or online at www.skbooks.com.
Sask Books: Run Like Jäger
“Run Like Jäger”
By Karen Bass
Published by Coteau Books
Review by Marie Powell Mendenhall
Price: $ 12.95 CDN ISBN: 1-55050-377-4
This young adult novel takes us across enemy lines and into the trenches of World War II – from the German side.
Canadian exchange student Kurt Schreiber chooses Germany to improve his German, and to discover why his Opa or grandfather is so silent about the Second World War.
When the school bully Peter calls him a coward like his grandfather, Kurt becomes haunted by dreams and possibilities. He is also falling in love with Marta, his best friend at school.
Marta’s grandfather, Herr Wolfgang Brandt, turns out to have been Opa’s best friend. Brandt, a former town mayor, is writing his memoirs and Kurt convinces him to talk about their wartime experience.
Brandt calls Kurt’s grandfather Jäger, or hunter. They were common soldiers and not members of the dreaded Nazi Secret Service or “SS.” Yet they were trained in the Hitler Youth and believed in the “Führer,” Adolf Hitler.
Karen Bass manages to get inside the head of a German soldier from World War II. Through Brandt’s honest recounting of his experience, from wartime battles to being overcome on the Kanada building site at Auschwitz, Kurt develops a new respect for his grandfather. Readers move with Kurt past blame to greater awareness.
Other threads woven into Kurt’s story include his thoughts as a Canadian high school exchange student in a foreign country, and his growing love for Marta and for his new home.
Karen Bass works a librarian in northern Alberta. “Run Like Jäger” is her first published novel.
THIS BOOK IS AVAILABLE AT YOUR LOCAL BOOKSTORE OR VISIT WWW.SKBOOKS.COM
Lyssa’s Tale: Chapter Six Part Three
I noticed out of the corner of my eye a girl who looked about my age. A wild look filled her deep green eyes as she slowly sharpened a short sword. She was staring hard at Mandrel, I fought to keep myself from laughing. Though I did wonder just how many women he had angry with him. I turned my head to look at her. Sitting next to her, was a boy who may have been just slightly younger. Both of them had the same flaming red hair that Waien had. Except the boy’s hair was neat and tidy, the girls was wild, like Waien’s. Her hair was adorned with several feathers. The boy whispered calmly to the girl, and she seemed to relax a little. As I continued to study them silently, I felt Mandrel tug me forward. For reasons unknown to me, I was apprehensive about going near the two. It might’ve had something to do with the large sword that was shouldered on the boy.
“Villith,” Mandrel said. Both looked up when he spoke. “Sylith.”
Villith’s eyes fell on me and I was fairly certain that if looks could kill, I would have been six feet under.
“This is Lyssa,” he told them while motioning to me. “She’s Waien’s girl.”
The color of my cheeks matched my hair and the look of death lingered in Villith’s eyes. She stood up, moving to Mandrel with grace unfitting to someone who looked so wild. I watched, inching away as she drew closer.
“It’s been a while,” she growled softly to Mandrel, her hand resting on his shoulder. “Maybe ya should learn ta leave yer trinkets at home next times ya come visit.”
She stalked off leaving me dumbfounded and confused. What had I done to her to make her hate me so much. I looked to Mandrel questioningly, he simply shrugged.
“That’s Villith for ye,” he said as if it explained it all.
“It’s a bad day today,” Sylith commented. Mandrel nodded. There was something they weren’t telling me, though I was curious, I didn’t pry.
Lyssa looked to the wall clock and sighed at the late hour; Pania would be home any minute.
“Mr. Wallock,” she stated. “It’s quarter to three in the morning. Perhaps it would be wise if you left this recorder with me, and I will return it to you in three days, full. Unless you have more little tapes, at which point I will fill them all.”
Xavier nodded, and stifled a yawn.
“Very well, Ms. Stormwater,”
There was something suspicious about this man. Lyssa didn’t know what it was it, perhaps the way he looked at her. His eyes seemed glazed over in awe, though intently focused on her like he was burning the image of the red-haired elf to his memory. In any case, Xavier Wallock made Lyssa feel uncomfortable in her own skin.
Pania returned home that night with a sack full of groceries. Lyssa was passed out on the couch, with an empty glass in her hand. Sighing softly, she covered the small elf and took the glass from her hand. As she quietly straightened up the sitting area, Pania noticed the small recorder. Her curiosity piqued, she rewound it and pressed play.
Pania put away groceries as she listened to the recorder. It was then that Pania made up her mind to retrieve the first part. She knew Lyssa would never write the story herself. Pania would do it for her. Pania stared at the recorder when she heard Lyssa’s voice says Wallock’s name. A frown forming on her lips.
“This is no’ good,” Pania said softly. “No’ good t’all.”
Blood of the Moon: Prologue
What has come before
Your name is Chelsea Morgan, and that day when you had just turned thirteen was a strange one. You missed your brother Lewis terrible, so with all the money you had you hopped on a Grey Hound from Philadelphia to a place called Regina. You didn’t even know where it was, nor did you realize how cold it was there for October. Lewis was angry, yes, but he was only concerned for your safety. You were so young, but so brilliant.
It was eventually decided that you would stay with Lewis full time, taking high school classes at Loboldus High School in Regina. Lewis stayed in that city year round, playing football during the summer and autumn months and working with less fortunate youth in the inner city of Regina. You had the opportunity to watch your brother win a championship with this football team in a league you’d never heard of before.
Fast forward several years, you just turned twenty one. You receive a masters degree in law at UNLV, the same university your brother Lewis went to on a football scholarship. You showed how brilliant you were, which really wasn’t a surprise, graduating high school at 15. The professors took note of your thirst for knowledge, your willingness to learn. Even at graduation you wanted more.
Three years later, you accept your degree in engineering from M.I.T. Everything was falling into place. You, Chelsea Morgan, were on the fast track. You had risen so high, the world was your oyster, yours for the taking.
But even the mighty will often fall.
You didn’t know the man, but he came to you with an offer, which sounded like employment. It wasn’t. It was in the ranks of a world wide underground military called the Red Hand. You had become trapped and cut off from your family. Everything you knew had become a distant memory. When you thought you would never be able to go back again, you met him. Johnathon Tiberius Walker, a commanding officer in this underground military.
At first, you merely looked to him as you looked to all the other commanding officers within this secret organization. With neither friendship nor contempt. But you soon learned that Walker was actually much closer to a friend than you had in a while. He had plans on getting out, and he had been watching you and each person he brought into his unit. He tutored each of you, and prepared you.
Shortly after 911, the plan went into effect. You managed to escape, you were free. Or so you thought. Someone else was watching, and decided you were the weakest of the pack. A stint in prison, charged with a murder you never committed. But a law firm fought for your freedom, uncovering the conspiracy surrounding your incarceration. And they brought you into their fold, teaching you what you needed to know.
You became a criminal lawyer, working alongside the major partners of Sigmund and Oberwitz. But you needed to do more. You had souvenirs from your time in the Red Hand. You would hit the streets, katana strapped to your back and wielding a bow. The public within The City soon learned your alter ego, as you donned the black and red costume on your nightly rounds.
Fortunately, they only learned what you would allow them to learn about the Black Bowhuntress.
Sask Books: The Smiling Mask: Truths About Postpartum Depression and Parenthood
“The Smiling Mask: Truths About Postpartum Depression and Parenthood”
By Carla O’Reilly, Elita Paterson, Tania Bird, and Peggy Collins
Published by Purpose to Prosperity Publishing
Review by Marie Powell Mendenhall
Price: $ 24.95 CDN ISBN: 978-0-9781341-3-6
“The Smiling Mask” uses the stories of three women who suffered from postpartum depression (PPD) to create awareness of the issues surrounding this disease.
The book begins with forwards written by mental health experts such as Sally Elliott, perinatal nurse/counselor at Regina YMCA. In the preface, clinical psychologist Marlene Harper identifies some of the controversies and complexities surrounding PPD.
Harper identifies degrees of severity in psychiatric symptoms. Postpartum blues, for example, are mild, including mood swings and confusion lasting up to about 10 days. Postpartum depression is similar to clinical depression and may last up to a year. Postpartum psychosis is a severe, rapid mental illness, usually requiring hospitalization. Harper also discusses potential treatment, including medications and counseling.
In the next three chapters, authors Carla O’Reilly, Elita Paterson, and Tania Bird give an earnest and heart-felt account of their journey through PPD. They discuss the “smiling mask” they used to try and hide their illness, and the difficulty of setting it aside to discuss their real feelings and experiences. These women state their nightmares and fears honestly, and talk about the strong support they received from family and friends.
Following that, the book includes a chapter detailing the points-of-view of their husbands, as retold by Peggy Collins. The book concludes with an interview, a chapter of strategies to help cope with the disease, and a section of notes and references.
One dollar from the cost of the book is donated to four charities chosen by the authors, including women’s shelters, Mental Health, the YMCA/YWCA, and NICU/Mother and Baby Units.
THIS BOOK IS AVAILABLE AT YOUR LOCAL BOOKSTORE OR VISIT WWW.SKBOOKS.COM
