The Literate Kitty

There comes a time when things must end. It’s one of those inescapable truths and, as humans—keenly aware of our own mortality—we get this. But carbon life forms don’t hold a monopoly on the concept; eventually, everything hits a point of being past its prime. Most of us hope to reach a place of some decrepitude before it’s time to stop walking this mortal coil. (Being “old” is sorta the goal, for most humans.) Big-ticket items such as computers, phones, and cars are all designed with an expected obsolescence built in (which typically has more to do with corporations making money than with a sudden lack of functionality or usefulness, but I digress…). When it comes to series, though—whether books, movie franchises, or TV shows—the object is definitely to go out on a high note… before whatever-it-is seems tired and long-in-the-tooth. And that notion is what kept popping into my mind when reading Night and Silence , the latest in Seanan McGuire’s ever-engrossing (and lo...

Even though I've been incredibly busy with work, I have been reading, so a few mini-reviews (all I had time for), of things I didn't want anyone to miss out on... The Gods of Guilt (Michael Connelly) Connelly's cool legal eagle, Mickey Haller (first seen in The Lincoln Lawyer , as the attorney who conducts a major part of his work from the backseat of a chauffeured Lincoln Continental), is back for another case, this one involving someone from his past—a former client he'd befriended along the way, who used to be a prostitute, before Mickey helped her find another life path... or so he thought .  Turns out, the ex-pro was still active, and something he did may have just gotten her killed.  It's when someone else dies—again, because of Mickey ( at least, sort of) —that the story really gains its oomph, though, as we watch guilt eating away at a man struggling to cope with all the repercussions of his actions.    Like previous entries in the series, Conne...

A long time ago in an itty-bitty town far, far away… there lived a bookish little girl, who’d been saddled by her peers with a (to her way of thinking) less-than-ideal nickname.  No cutesy monikers flattering personality, energy, or looks for her; instead, what she got stuck with alluded to her undeniable geekiness (as though the oversized glasses and ever-present stack of books didn’t already make things clear enough). Times have changed a lot since then, though (and hoo-boy, thank the Quantum field for that ). Now, it’s actually cool to let your geek flag fly… to show off your knowledge of anything and everything, to sport nerdy (though rarely huge, thank you, fashion gods) spectacles, mismatched patterns, and thrift shop finds, and to revel in pursuits requiring brainpower instead of brawn. Oh, and, to convene in unbelievably-ginormous numbers at yearly mega-conventions—aka “cons”—to celebrate things now part of pop culture which used to be seen as geeky or weird, from...

Last year, when giving my two cents’ worth on Midnight Blue-Light Special (the second installment in Seanan McGuire’s urban fantasy “Incryptid” series, which you can catch up on/refresh your memory about, here ), I mentioned a few things of which I have no knowledge whatsoever. (And no, nothing has changed on those fronts, in case you’re wondering… including my utter lack of skill with an onion.) That brings me to another area in which I have no personal expertise: knowing what it’s like to be the eldest child (or the middle, youngest, or any other position in the familial pecking order, for that matter, being an only, myself).  Sure, I can sort of imagine what it must be like, growing up with siblings—splitting the attention, resources, space, blame, responsibility, etc.—but I’ll never actually know . Not so with Alex Price, star of the third “Incryptid” tale, Half-Off Ragnarok . The first-born child in a branch of the family hailing from a very long line of cryptozoolog...

It’s been a long time since I actually had a box of chocolates, but I remember looking at the just-unwrapped package with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, because chances were just as good I’d select a yummy morsel (coconut creme, maybe) as a yucky one (like the dreaded cherry cordial). (And yeah, I know there are supposed to be certain shapes for the various flavors, but I never bothered memorizing them... hence all that uncertainty.)  Anyway, the point is that not even the fear of biting into something I really dislike deterred me from enjoying my little box of choccies.  So, when a friend recently gifted me with A Fantasy Medley 2 , a collection of four short stories written by popular fantasy authors (and based in the worlds they’ve already created), I treated it the same way as those long-ago boxes of chocolates--with equal parts excitement and concern. And, although I’d previously only read one of the authors in the collection (we’ll call her my co...

As a general rule, I’m not big on grab bags.  Those mystery collections of whatevers, thrown in a bag or box for one low price, have just never panned out for me. (Like, if I really needed four identical XXS aqua t-shirts decorated with a wolf scene and one XXXL maroon tee emblazoned with a box of cartoon french fries, all for only $7.95, I’d be set , but... yeah, not so much.)  That thinking carries over to my attitude toward most anthologies, too. How many times have I shelled out a decent chunk of change for a tome of short stories penned by an assortment of authors... only to really like only one, or maybe two, of them? (More times than I care to admit, actually.) Still, sometimes it can’t be helped; either that’s the only way to read a special one-off by a favorite author, or else the whole thing just sounds like a can’t-miss, must-have... as in the case of Oz Reimagined (edited by John Joseph Adams and Douglas Cohen), a compilation of fifteen stories from th...