The Literate Kitty

Take some garden-variety youthful rebellion, then throw in a heap of raging hormones and rivalries old and new, and you’ve got the makings for the sort of angst-y drama which plays out everywhere, every single day.  Add a few unearthly mysteries, a wealth of beautiful lyrics and exquisite music, the unmatched splendor of (mostly)-unsullied nature, and a small, enigmatic race of people into the mix, though, and the end result is something quite different... something which can only be found, in fact, in a place like the bucolic Great Smoky Mountains of Eastern Tennessee, in author Alex Bledsoe’s novel, The Hum and the Shiver .  ~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~ The tale begins with what appears to be a festive event--a big parade, welcoming the return of still-wounded war hero Private Bronwyn Hyatt to her Cloud County, Tennessee home.  In reality, the very last thing the twenty-year-old soldier with the shattered leg wants is fanfare, but--as someone points out to her--a parade isn’t act...

It is often said that there is no rest for the wicked, and—regardless of whether you interpret it (as I do) to mean that evil never sleeps (but is always lying in wait, ready to attack)... or you prefer the biblically-derived (with oodles of hellfire-and-damnation implicit) interpretation which posits that evildoers will eventually find themselves forever in torment—it’s a saying which has the ring of a truism. The equally-important corollary, of course, is that the good guys—namely, the police, watchdogs (be they canine or human), and other assorted heroes and super-heroes—manage to get precious little rest, either, since they must needs be ever-vigilant against the sundry forces of all that lurking evil. Imagine, then, always having to straddle a line between the two sides... being viewed by certain segments as a savior, while others pegged you as a monster. That’s the uncomfortable (not to mention exhausting) position which Victory “Vicky” Vaughn finds herself in once again, as sh...

As summer eases into fall, we’re treated to a fabulous array of seasonal delights... brisk days warmed primarily by the sight of sun-dappled, multi-colored leaves, making their last (and grandest) hurrah; the smell of woodsmoke permeating the air by night, as fireplaces and wood stoves are brought out of semi-retirement; farmer’s markets piled high with enticements ranging from bags of shiny apples, mounds of gourds, and jugs of sweet cider, to paper cones filled with still-warm, freshly-roasted nuts; and a general desire for coziness, such as can be found in cuddly sweaters and mugs of hot cocoa. Amusements are likewise in abundance when autumn rolls around. Homecoming festivals, arts and crafts shows, beer-and-sausage-themed “Oktoberfests”, and, of course, everything that Halloween brings--from the costumed day/night itself, to the various haunted houses, hayrides, and quirky regional offerings (corn maze, anyone?), that take place in the weeks prior. Something a bit darker and more ...

When it comes to books, I rarely do “charming” or “cute”; that sort of unrelenting cheer (and overly-pat endings) just isn’t my style. Give me something with a little bite, a sharp edge, every single time. Still, I’m willing to make the occasional exception, and Rhys Bowen’s “Molly Murphy” mystery series has been one of those. With a feisty protagonist--an independent young Irish immigrant who takes up the unlikely job of sleuthing so that she can put food on her table and a roof over her head, and an irresistible setting--New York City, circa the early 1900s, this has been a fun little series with much to recommend it. All of that may be about to change, though, on the heels of Bowen’s tenth entry in Molly's ongoing saga, Bless the Bride ... * ~ * ~ *~ * It’s 1903, and our intrepid redheaded detective is on the verge of getting married (hence the dreadfully saccharine title, which if not part of the series would have sent me running away as fast as possible) to her NYPD sweetie, f...