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| Sunday, July 12th, 2009 | |
josephnassise
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6:29p |
PAN Books - A New Imprint and a Lead Title
http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ShadesOfReality/~3/7feypGH2uPk/pan-books-a-new-imprint-and-a-lead-title http://josephnassise.com/?p=381 My German publisher, Droemer Knaur, has just announced the formation of a new imprint to be known as PAN Books. My current editor Tim has been promoted to editorial director of the new imprint, something he greatly deserves. PAN will be focused on urban fantasy and paranormal romance, targeting both young adult and adult readers.
Why do I care so much about a new German imprint, you ask?
Because my latest book, EYES TO SEE - Book One of the Hunt Chronicles, (German title is Der Schattenseher) will be one of the imprint’s launch titles comes December. That means I’ll benefit from all of the launch promotional efforts and excitement, which bodes very well for the success of the series. Who knows - maybe I’ll even end up back on the bestseller list again!
EYES TO SEE will be followed by two other books - HANDS TO HEAL and A SOUL TO LOSE - continuing the adventures of Jeremiah Hunt and his companions.
I’m looking forward to tellin you all more about EYES and PAN in the weeks ahead.
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josephnassise
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5:22p |
Riverwatch - Kindle Edition
http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ShadesOfReality/~3/nSXpJe9FskE/riverwatch-kindle-edition http://josephnassise.com/?p=389 My friend Joe Konrath put up an excellent post here that talked about his success with offering editions of his book on the Amazon Kindle. I was tempted to do the same, particularly with electronic editions of all three books in the Templar Chronicles trilogy. After all, I reasoned, none of my fans in the US and Canada have had a chance to read the final two books as they have only been available in foreign language editions up until this point.
However, a quick chat with my new agent (yes, I said new agent and I’m very excited to be working with him) convinced me that the opportunity to sell the entire series to a mass market publisher still exists and that offering up the electronic rights might skew that possibility sideways. Not something I want to do, obviously.
 So instead I decided to go all the way back to the beginning and make my debut novel RIVERWATCH available instead. Despite being my first book, it was nominated for both the International Horror Guild Award and the Bram Stoker Award (which I’m always happy to brag about) and was even optioned for a few years to a Hollywood production company. All of which is a long way of saying its a pretty entertaining book.
Right now, RIVERWATCH is selling for $1.59 for the Kindle edition. If you haven’t read it yet, do yourself a favor and take advantage of this terrific price. If you have read it, buy it for someone else and make all three of us happy.
Since I’m on the topic of Kindle books, I should probably mention that my friend and fellow writer Jon F. Merz also has a terrific deal going on right now for one of his works in a Kindle edition. HIs novel PARALLAX, a first rate action thriller, is available for $1.59, too. Which means for less than the price of a vente coffee at Starbucks you can get nearly 700 pages of reading entertainment from two great authors. 
What are you waiting for?
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hellnotes_feed
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10:11p |
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buymeaclue
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6:25p |
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buymeaclue
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6:18p |
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docbrite
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4:29p |
General Home Thoughts
And when I got back, the city and my street and my house and everything were right here where I'd left them. This sounds like an obvious statement, laughable even, until the alternative has happened to you. I am glad to know I can travel. This trip was very much a baby step but still scary, and I'm not planning to go jetting off on a regular basis, but at least I know it's possible. Ah, but I do love Chicago. Apart from the food, which I believe to be as good as anywhere in the country, I never seem to hear anyone talk about what a beautiful, welcoming, walkable, generally user-friendly city it is. Obviously that changes some in the winters, which I have not yet dared since Neil says I would need special clothing to avoid death or at least severe frostbite. I want to extend a special thank-you to Elyse Marshall, Neil's publicist at Harper Collins, who took the incredibly generous step of arranging to stay with Chicagoland friends so I could have her room for the night. She looked very much like most of the publicists I've had over the past several years -- young, female, and gorgeous -- but, unlike the majority of them, I know she must be better than competent or Neil wouldn't have her. In addition to the hotel room, Elyse, you have given me a shot of new hope for the publishing industry. |
jenlight
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5:22p |
30 Rock.
I would totally have beautiful dirty, heterosexual sex with Tina Fey. |
warren_ellis
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1:16p |
Ben Templesmith At San Diego Comic-Con
We’re working on FELL #10 right now.
(Automatically crossposted from warrenellis.com. Feel free to comment here or at my internet church at Whitechapel. If anything in this post looks weird, it's because LJ is run on steampipes and rubber bands -- please click through to the main site.) |
bev_vincent
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2:56p |
In a 2 lb bag
 When my buddy Brian was sick he used to say that he felt like 10 lbs of crap in a 5 lb bag.
Apropos of that, we watched Seven Pounds with Will Smith last night. The movie suffers from a number of flaws. First of all, it fell into the trap of non-linear storytelling that is now de rigeur in “important” movies. Except it showed its hand far too soon, so any astute moviegoer could figure out the crux of what was happening, if not the actual substance, which meant that the non-linear way certain things played out was just annoying. ( Spoilers for Seven Pounds )
We also watched The Answer Man, starring Jeff Daniels and Lauren Graham. This was a cute film about a guy (Daniels) who twenty years earlier published a book wherein he claimed to have a direct channel to god. The book seems to have been sort of a dialog between Arlen and god (the exact contents of the book are never really described) and it was inspirational to a generation. It formed an entire cottage industry of other books about his book–there’s even a Me and God cookbook. It was like the Jonathan Livingston Seagull of its time. Now, Arlen is a cranky, bitter old man who is hiding from the fans who want more answers to their very personal questions. He meets up with Lauren Graham (Gilmore Girls), a chiropractor who tends to his nagging back problem (a plot convenience). He’s been on a quest for answers himself, reading every self-help book in existence, but if the line to god was ever open, it’s out of service now. Also in the story is a recovering alcoholic whose indy bookstore is on the ropes–Arlen is trying to offload his collection of useless spiritual guidance books and the owner has no money to pay for them so they work out a deal–he’ll take the books if Arlen agrees to answer some existential questions. It’s all fairly obvious and unsurprising, but cute. The biggest plot hole that I saw was that Arlen’s agent (Nora Dunn) also happens to live in Philadelphia. Come on–what literary agent worth her salt lived in Philly 20 years ago and, after discovering the biggest sensation of the time (150 weeks on the bestseller list) is still in Philly?
Topping off the weekend’s viewing: Torchwood, Children of the Earth, the five-part miniseries that comprises the entirety of the current season. ( Mild Spoilers for Children of the Earth )
I finished reading Rhodi Hawk’s debut novel A Twisted Ladder yesterday and started on Charlie Huston’s debut, Caught Stealing. I’ll have a review of the former forthcoming, and the latter is good study material while working on first person narrative and voice. It’s a classic story of an innocent guy who is dragged into a battle between two factions over some unknown property (a dingus, they would have called it in The Maltese Falcon). The first thing he loses is a kidney, and it only gets worse from there. Fast paced, brutal, and a heckuva ride.
Originally published at Bev Vincent. You can comment here or there. |
jewellwelles
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3:05p |
WTF, NY Post??...
According to the New York Post, I'm not middle class. In order for a single person in New York to be middle class, they have to make $67,000 a year. OMG OMG OMG. But I've always been middle class... Oh, wait. I have no health care aside from crisis care AND I make a living in a job that doesn't even require a high school diploma. I'm lower class. Or working class, if you prefer. The Post is right! Damn. Time to dye my collars. Current Mood:  confused |
eeknight
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1:40a |
I guess God doesn't want me to own appliances
I think I complained some time ago that both our dishwasher and our oven (circa 1979 in a lovely shade of almond) picked the same week to poop out on us. Since then, there's been some fun wrinkles to the story. We decided to replace. I like to cook and bake now and then, and I wanted a nice stove with a powerful gas burner and convection. Plus, with the Sprog, we decided a bigger refrigerator was in order. We tried to buy from a nationwide chain, headquartered here in Illinois, that rhymes, appropriately enough, with "tears." They used to own a very high skyscraper here. I made one of my very first purchases "on my own" as a kid at Tears, and I've been a pretty good customer ever since. I like their tools especially, the line that rhymes with "Draftsmen." Tears took my money very quickly, confirmed, and told me that I'd get a phone call the day before delivery setting up the time. Never got that call. When I called to find out what was up, I was told that they couldn't get the dishwasher we wanted except for a floor model in Maryland or something, so they canceled the order. The whole order. Salesman didn't even try to save it. Which begat a mini-saga on its own. The canceling department is quite distinct from, and apparently never talks to, the "giving the customers back their money" department, and I had to make several calls, repeating the entire story from the very beginning. Tiresome business.  "If you want to get anything done in this country,
you've got to complain until you're blue in the mouth."I did get my money back, many days later. And lo, the experience with Tears begat an Quest for Appliances elsewhere. I decided to abandon the retailer I'd loyally purchased from over my youth and adulthood and go to a salt-of-the-earth local business. You know, one staffed by Jimmy Stewart and Donna Read and cheerful old besotted Mr. O'Hara from Gone With The Wind tying string around his finger, putting my money into Joe's house, so he could put his money into Fred's... So I went to a place that rhymes with Rage, family-owned since 1946. They had a very nice selection for a smallish storefront, obviously the store had grown over the years and had all these corners and nooks and crannies, reminded me of the sporting goods store I used to shop in Stillwater where I got my first ice skates. They made me a good deal on a gas range (probably a better one that I'd selected at Tears) dishwasher, and larger refrigerator. Had to wait on the stove, as it would take "about a week." You have to admire a salesman who'll lie to a customer like that, right in front of his wife and infant son. Smiled the whole time. Well, my parents were over anyway and we were eating out a lot with them so after they'd left (two weeks from purchase date) I called. Turned out they couldn't get my range, but I could get an even better one if I picked something off the floor, that way it could be delivered right away. Gave me a great price on it too to make up for my difficulty, they were a couple hundred bucks below anything I could find online. Delivery was all set for Saturday, and old salt-of-the-earth didn't show. Or call. Or answer their telephone. I went over there Sunday over regular store hours and saw this:   No one was inside doing inventory.
Doesn't exactly inspire confidence, does it?The Rage phone puts you in this infinite loop of not getting to voicemail and then not getting to customer service. For those who want to play along at home, the number is 708-366-4200. So I'm wondering if and when I'll see the four thousand dollars of my money they gladly took. I'm hoping Chase covers situations like this in all the fine print. So, dear audience, what do you think? Does God want Chats and I cooking in the condo courtyard over charcoal and boiling the Sprog's bottles in an iron cauldron until we go blind from the lye? Is there a higher power at work?If any of you know a Chicago-area appliance salesman who'd like to sell us a stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher, we'd love to hear from them. At this point, we're really easy to please. If you just take our money and put something in our house that allows me to cook, we'll be customers for life. If it's owned by someone resembling American Folk Hero Henry F. Potter (or even Nathan Arizona), who kicks ass when the exploited rabble in his establishment don't hop to it properly when serving customers, all the better. |
warren_ellis
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11:37a |
Conan! What Is Best In Life?
"BATTLE!"
(warrenellis.com is not safe for work. Conan! posts are not safe for your perception of 21st Century society.)
(Hello to anyone coming here from Observer Music Monthly. The post they were citing is very short and is here.)
(tip of the hat to Jordan at ModBlog, doing a fine job)
(Automatically crossposted from warrenellis.com. Feel free to comment here or at my internet church at Whitechapel. If anything in this post looks weird, it's because LJ is run on steampipes and rubber bands -- please click through to the main site.) |
fastfwd
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6:41p |
Getting Ready To Go To LaunchPad!
I leave the day after tomorrow (Tuesday). Burglars, put down your tools--Amanda and Chris will be home, and they are armed and dangerous. Especially dangerous as they will continue to work on clearing out the study while I'm away. I'm looking forward to this, although I don't promise I'll be checking in or tweeting while I'm there. I don't have a Blackberry or anything like that and while I'll be taking my laptop, I don't know if there will be any wireless available. Frankly, I don't think it would hurt to be disconnected for a week. Today's Observer has an article in the magazine section about how utterly worn out we all are. "Spent" is the word they use. Speaking as someone who is exhausted more often than not these days, I can relate. Of course, I will be away from the greatest drain on my energy, which is not the net, my work, or anyone in the house. Nor any of the friends I wish I saw more often. Spending most of a week at a high altitude without fielding a single call from my mother will probably be exhilirating. I remember going to Denver when I was about four months pregnant. I felt incredibly good the whole time I was there. Laramie is higher than Denver, so this should be interesting (and I'm not pregnant this time; yes, I'm sure). Anyway, I'll come back ready to add space opera to my repertoire.:) Current Mood:  not high yetCurrent Music: Casualty, On Demand |
lokilokust
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1:15p |
today we begin cleaning the new apartment and moving the books! (up through dunsany, to be exact.) i'm incredibly excited about being able to easily walk to multiple bookstores (including cellar stories) and record stores. i've also decided that i'm going to be building, along with the drawer units to store my dvds, another drawer unit to store my cds. while i like having them up against the wall and looking oh so pretty, i think it's more important at this point to have a living space that feels slightly roomier and that my partner can decorate more, especially since i tend to enjoy her decorating tastes. the past few months have been an interminable hell for me, but i do think that a drastic change in location (and landord!) will help quite a bit. |
nick_kaufmann
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12:03p |
Harper's Island - The Shocking Finale! (Not Entirely Spoiler Free)
Well, maybe not shocking, but it was still pretty good. I was able to guess the (second) killer's identity about an hour before it was revealed. Not because there were any clues pointing in that person's direction -- there weren't -- but because this character was literally the last person left that it could be, barring the Agatha Christie-like reappearance of someone we thought was dead. Harper's Island was excellent at setting up clues, but only ever for red herrings, I found. They did a splendid job making you think Abby's ex-boyfriend was in on the killing spree, but kind of a terrible job at leaving any clues as to the second killer's true identity. Which kind of came out of nowhere, in my opinion. We knew John Wakefield had a child because of his journal, a child who literally could have been anyone except the black guy, but they didn't leave us a trail of crumbs to follow to the truth. Instead, they sprang the revelation on us as expository dialogue, with nothing we previously witnessed to back it up. Still, the scene where the true second killer is revealed was absolutely brutal. And that was Harper's Island's true strength. In 13-hour long form, it took the time to let you really get to know the characters, something your average 90-minute slasher movie tends not to, so when characters you've grown to like get offed, you feel it in a way you don't when Freddy rakes some cardboard character with his glove and spouts a kooky one-liner. Also, though Harper's was cheesy as hell (but such delicious cheese!), there was some writing talent behind it. The dialogue was a lot better here than in your average slasher, especially in the later episodes -- again, this is probably because they had time to develop the characters instead of just giving them quick defining characteristics before turning them into puddles of goo. Anyway, Harper's Island is over, and as an experiment in using a finite thirteen episodes to tell an entire story on American television, I think it was a success. It didn't get much viewership, but I liked it quite a bit and would love to see more horror and mystery miniseries make their way to the airwaves digital transmission system. After Harper's failure to capture a sizable audience, though, I'm not holding my breath that it'll happen anytime soon. Still, kudos to CBS for giving it a shot, and for showing all the episodes (in order!) even after announcing its cancellation so all five of us who were watching could see it through to its conclusion. |
jaylake
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6:57a |
[cancer] Things I am afraid of
It hasn't been my best week. Cancer follies are on hold til July 20th, from a purely medical perspective — appointment then for a follow-up CT scan is the opening measure of the next portion of this symphony. But I spent this past week at my parents' beach house on the Long Beach peninsula of scenic Washington State, mostly being quite ill with an upper respiratory infection. This did not lend itself to rational consideration of life options, though I did get several very good conversations in with Mom and Dad nonetheless. Lots more to say, and I'll be saying it here, but this morning I've been noodling with the idea of all the things I'm afraid of. Many of these are no rational, but rationality has never been a prerequisite for existential dread. Most of them are not formless. My fears have very definite form, thank you. (Wonder Twins power activate: in the form of a tumor!) But I find it useful to drag the fears out into the light, turn them over a few times and think about them. That seems to disarm some of their power, and makes me feel better. So, things I am afraid of: - Dying soon
- Dying slow
- Dying fast
- Not seeing
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) the_child graduate from high school (or even 8th grade)
- Chemo head
- Playing whack-a-mole with this shit til it kills me
- Losing myself in a fog of illness and never coming back
- Losing my ability to write
- Losing my desire to write
- The look in my parents' eyes
- My daughter's tears
- That I'll be so sick I won't be attractive to calendula_witch any more
- That I'll spend the rest of my life smelling sick
- That I'll get too thin on chemo
- That I'll grow too big on chemo
- That I won't be able to work and my life will collapse financially
It goes on from there. You get the idea. Hamsters chase one another through my head with alarming alacrity. Irrational or not, they're real. As chemo grows closer, I dread it more and more. The next CT scan will tell us whether I have tumors on my lungs. I dread that. Every piece of bad news is a strike against my mortality. My life. Myself. Still, I carry on. Because there are no other choices except to spit at it and fight. I am so tired of being afraid. |
jaylake
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5:59a |
[links] Link salad wakes up with a clear head, finally
A reader reviews " Rolling Steel" by calendula_witch and me — Specifically, she talks about the podcast version, read by Sean Farrell and Mur Lafferty. The soda-pop map — I used to say "Coke" generically, these days I say "soda." Where do you fall on this continuum? (Thanks to garyomaha.) Bridge to Nowhere: a Map of Golden Gate Jumpers — Another odd one from Strange Maps. Solar for Dark Climates — I love the headline alone, but the article is interesting as well, about hybrid solar systems for northern latitudes. Mmm, Stirling engines. Evidence based revenge — Ben Goldacre on revenge and bitterness. Money shot: Put very simply, if we desire it, does revenge work? People certainly believe in it, from modern thrillers such as Hamlet and Moby Dick, to classics like Kill Bill and Death Wish I-V.Get Fuzzy on American political parties — Hahahahahahahahahaha. ?otD: Soda or pop?
7/12/2009 Body movement: 30 minutes on stationary bike, 10 minutes of meditation and stretching This morning's weigh-in: 218.2 Currently reading: Brothers in Arms by Lois McMaster Bujold |
fastfwd
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2:52p |
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brian_keene
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12:38p |
2009 Phantastik Awards
http://www.briankeene.com/?p=2099 I’ve just received word that my novel Der Lange Weg Nach Hause is a Finalist for Germany’s 2009 Phantastik Awards, which honors the best of the year in horror, science fiction and fantasy. And congratulations to my fellow nominees Cassandra Clare, Neal Stephenson, John Scalzi, and Patrick Rothfuss (who I was drinking with just last weekend - and please ignore any internet rumors you might stumble across concerning Patrick and I in a kissing booth. It didn’t happen.) |
lonfiction
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7:30a |
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fastfwd
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12:44p |
Let's Help Aaron Allston
Sf writer Aaron Allston had to have an emergency bypass operation. As you know, they don't give these surgical procedures away. I know you're strapped for cash. I'm strapped for cash. Things are rough all over. But you've got a dollar/quid/euro you can spare. Put it in an envelope. Information on where to send it can be found here.If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times: this could be any one of us. We all teeter on the brink of disaster. Some of us have the good luck not to topple over. Others don't. We're only one heart attack, one stroke, one head injury, one serious illness, one accident away from ruin. If we don't try to provide the safety net for each other, no one will. |
scottedelman
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6:50a |
Readercon: Collecting (Incomplete) Quotes at the Meet the Pros(e) Party
I mentioned in my previous post that on Friday, I read from my unpublished short story "What Will Come After," which won't be out until March 2010 in my zombie collection from PS Publishing. When I give readings, I prefer using stories as yet unpublished, because I figure that gives those who take the trouble to show up for a reading, who I presume are there because they're already familiar with my work, something guaranteed to be new to them. Friday night at Readercon's Meet the Pros(e) party, however, 30 people got to read that story. Or at least the first sentence. That's because I contributed those opening words to the annual event. For those who don't know how Meet the Pros(e) works, each attending professional is asked to provide a sentence from his or her work, and that sentence is then printed on a sheet of Avery mailing labels. All attendees to the party are then given a sheet of wax paper, and set forth to mingle, asking each writer for a label. It's a great idea, because it gives even the shyest member of the con a reason to walk up to any writer, however imposing, without fear. Here's what was printed on my label, the opening sentence of "What Will Come After": I am already aware of certain events surrounding my upcoming death -- which, if I'm reading the signs correctly, is not that far off -- as surely as if they'd already occurred and I am merely remembering them.  I'm afraid I didn't mingle as much as I should have, getting caught up in too many interesting conversations (as with Eileen Gunn, above) to remember to play the game. But I did collect 17 of them, which I dutifully share with you here: The thing you don't know about dreams is the thing Marie teaches me as we follow the ambulance.
Perhaps even now it's not altogether too late.
Sifting through the radio noise, looking for miraculous candidate signals.
Beating slowly UpRiver at a mere two knots, or eight Blocks per hour, mainly under sails bellying with a warm, maritime perfumed wind, yet also employing two small supplemental engines, these impellers being the latest invention of Roger Kynard & Progeny, Ingeniators, running on a few hundred watts of beamed power from the Daysun, Samuel
Smallhorne, far from the home Slip of number 42 in the Borough of Stagwitz (Blocks 33,011,576 through 33,011,676 of the Linear City) pulled abreast of the Downtown border of the legendary Jungle Blocks of Vayavirunga at approximately ten AM on May the twelfth.
"Git for home, Bruno!"
The future isn't just one damn thing after another, it's every damn thing all at the same time.
I'm a regular Danger Mouse in the kitchen.
I dreamt John Clute was extolling the virtues of Little, Big to the Queen of England, who responded by disappearing inside her carapace, only to reappear tiny, vibrant fairy-like at the balcony set into the crown of her head.
He watched them drift through the great black portals of the Chrysler Building, whose shape, he noticed for the first time, was exactly that of coffins stood on end.
Ivory beetles bore through the forests of Khao Yai even a cibiscosis sugars, blister rust, and fa'gan fringe bore through the vegetables and huddles humanity of Krung Thep.
Your editor is an assassin; it's not as rare as you think.
I don't care who the Willow weeps for or where the Squirrel King hides his nuts.
"Watch it, Sam, Here comes your very own Kilgore Trout."
Now there was not a waiter-whore in sight, and a kitchen squatted on the stage where living musicians and dancers must once have performed.
"It isn't romantic to be ravished beside a county !ane?" [sic]
It has taken me all my life to learn that time machines do not exist.
Since we were babies we knew about Kari Kari. I can only remember the sources for a few of these. Those two massive blocks of text are from Paul Di Filippo, who couldn't contain himself on a single Avery label. The John Clute dream was from Ron Drummond. Danger Mouse came from David Shaw. As for the others, it will be up to someone else to identify them. And I hope that someone out there has collected a complete set, and will share it with us elsewhere! |
fastfwd
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11:58a |
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glamberson
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5:02a |
Day Two
We had a lot to shoot Saturday, including an orgy scene which required a ton of coverage because we had so many characters and extras. We made our day, and the footage looked remarkable, but we went late and will be starting an hour later than polanned today. Due to a comedy of errors, our actors were locked out of Actor House and John Renna had to break a window to get them in. Today we'll have to figure out what to do about that... A bigger problem today is that our port-a-potties were not delivered to today's location on Friday,a and as far as I know we don't have access to any other tolets until 3 pm... |
jlundberg
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3:26p |
singapore is slowly eating my books
 I made a startling and tragic discovery last week. As I was moving a few books from my old office (what will soon be the baby's room) to a bookcase in the living room, I saw that several of my books were spotted on the spines with what looked like book mold, as aptly demonstrated above by my hardcover copy of Hal Duncan's brilliant novel Vellum. It's certainly not all of my books, and seems to be limited to those using cheaper-quality paper, but it's enough to be a concern. This past week, I began reading Ian McDonald's Brasyl in paperback, which was also affected, but even after taking an allergy pill before each reading session, I got an itchy nose and watery eyes and had to put the book down. (I also had to put it down after 125 pages because all of the literary eyeball kicks were leaving me sore and exhausted.) As a book lover, this makes me despondent. I spent considerable effort and expense to ship my books (the ones left over after the Second Chance Book Adoption sale in 2006 and 2007) from the US to Singapore, yet now that they're here, they've been soiled in such an unexpected way. Although with the tropical climate here, it's not so unexpected. Still, for someone who is loath to even write notes in a margin or dog-ear the pages, it's extremely disappointing. These were the books that I decided to keep, the ones that were rare enough, or that had meaning for me, or that I wanted to be able to read or refer to again, and they're being slowly eaten away by Singapore's humidity. As a Buddhist, I should take this as a lesson in impermanence, as a demonstration of the way that certain things will not be around forever. Even such a solid-seeming and lasting object as a book will suffer from forces beyond my control. I could try to build a climate-controlled library that would keep the books in pristine condition, but I still would not be able to take them with me into the next life. Yet at the same time, I'm still fairly young, and hopefully have much of my life still ahead of me, and wish that I could enjoy these books for a long time to come. Sadly, for some of these titles, this will not be the case. |
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