The Literate Kitty

A little something ( erm... make that a BIG something ) sweet for you... guaranteed to be calorie- and cavity-free... A fan of Cupid? Perhaps... :)  Hope it's a lovely day, no matter how you spend it...  xoxo,  

“How do you know you don’t like it, unless you try it?” Millions of parents have used that very line on recalcitrant toddlers stubbornly turning their little button noses up at a proffered serving of broccoli (oatmeal, liver, whatever*). A few years later, teenagers goad each other the same way--only by then, the “it” in question usually pertains to beer, drugs, or prospective hook-up material. The funny thing is, we never entirely outgrow the concept; there’ll always be something out there we’re positive we don’t like (don’t agree with, don’t believe)... without ever having tried it (or finding out about it). In our eternal, infernal stubbornness over certain things, we will always be about three years old. The solution is simple enough: go out and try the things we have strong opinions--but no actual knowledge--of... taste, read, explore, sample, experience (and then form conclusions). [Okay, brief interruption, here... if you’re sitting there thinking I’m about to go of...

When times are lean, everyone has to make some tough choices. Do you not pay the bills, and let your family go hungry... or do you suck it up and take whatever little jobs you can find to stay afloat? (That’s a no-brainer, right?) Bounty hunter Kelly Driscoll has been facing the same prospects, now that her work has slowed way down, and the fact that the bounties she tracks down are all escaped monsters--think weird, creepy things you never, ever want to encounter--makes no difference; broke is broke. But, when something that started out seeming like a small job turns into something a whole lot bigger, well... that’s when Kelly has to put her big-girl panties on, in Nina Post‘s whimsically-wild and wacky tale, The Last Condo Board of the Apocalypse .                          ~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~ If nothing else, life is rarely boring in the less-than-melodiously-named Pothole City, where Kelly Driscoll has b...

Anyone who’s ever been in the market for a house--and almost certainly balked at the exorbitant asking prices--has doubtless been treated to the same tired bit of “wisdom” from his or her desperately-earnest realtor: “Well, yes... but what you’re really paying for is the neighborhood! ” (as if that somehow makes x-ridiculous-amount more feasible, more doable). In reality, what the homeowner or renter usually finds is something rather different--that there’s no such thing as a problem-free property, regardless of the neighborhood. (Whether it’s an HVAC or plumbing issue, an appliance on the blink, a leaky roof, a flooded basement, termites or other pesky bugs, obnoxious neighbors, or whatever, there’s always something going wrong or otherwise making life in one’s domicile less-than-peachy-keen.) That being the case, it may not seem that following a cross-segment of ordinary people, going about their everyday lives, could be so fascinating... yet in crime fiction and suspe...

After reading a goodly smattering of Steampunk, it seems to me there are two basic approaches to the genre. The first is full-on fantasy (set in the Victorian era), with little technical and scientific elements providing an interesting spark to the proceedings. The second is straight-up sci-fi, with fantastical bits and bobs adding a delightful touch of whimsy. Both styles are enjoyable, and the fact that each caters to a different mood—one, sort of dreamy and otherworldly, and the other, more grounded in reality (albeit an alternate one)—is cool.  But, even better is when something unexpected is thrown into the standard mix, beyond just the de rigueur steam-powered this and mechanized that. Things tend to get really interesting when that happens... as in the case of Nathan L. Yocum’s Steampunk/detective mystery/action yarn, Automatic Woman .                                ❖ ~ ❖ ~ ❖ ~ ❖ ~ ❖...

So, it’s the holidays, and you’ve had your fill of relatives, leftovers, Christmas music, crowds, and Really Bad TV. Suddenly, getting away from everything--just you, a mug of something (hot cocoa, some Earl Grey, the last of the eggnog, a couple fingers of whiskey, whatever ), and a good book to curl up with--sounds like the best idea you’ve had all season. But what to read? Maybe something vaguely... festive . (‘Tis the season, fa-la-la, and all that.) The problem--for me, at least--is that most seasonally-appropriate books run toward the treacly, sugar-coated side... and I, most definitely, do not.  If that scenario sounds familiar, then no worries; I’ve already done the searching for you, and have a positively-delectable morsel to offer up for your reading pleasure--one which is decidedly more, erm, meaty, rather than sweet (but more about that, later)--the irreverently-titled I Saw Zombies Eating Santa Claus, courtesy of S. G. Browne.       ...