Sidecar Muse

Cody and I were running errands the other day when we passed a cute older couple. The man was driving a classic gold Honda motorcycle. The woman was suited up in the gold sidecar next to him, filing her nails.

Now, I've always had this irrational love/hate relationship with motorcycles. They're gorgeous machinery, and they're deadly. (Sidecars are no exception.) When I was younger, I desperately wanted a Ducati. If you're not a car/motorcycle person, you probably can't understand falling in love with the sleek lines of these bikes, the power they represent, the allure of the speed.

Not having the money (the bike I loved cost more than my car), I never got one, and perhaps have passed the point in my life in which I'd get a motorcycle—my rational mind now holding more say than my speed-loving mind...at least as far as motorcycles go; I still desperately want a really fast luxury car. Specifically I want this Bugatti Veyron (which retails at a mere $1.7 million):

And if I was to go out and a buy a motorcycle, this would be top of the list (whenever it's released):

However, this isn't a post about expensive crushes. This is a post about sidecars. Seeing that couple gave me inspiration: I could travel and write my next novel. My head was filled with visions of cruising along in the sidecar across the US, laptop on my knees, Cody at the helm, and me typing away at my next novel. Imagine the strange ideas and inspiration that would come to me going 70 mph down the freeways of America in a deathbucket attached to a motorcycle. It'd be incredible. It'd also make for some funny tales, I'm sure, at book signings. Here, take a moment; really picture it:

Now, baring that fanciful, hilarious, and insane notion, what do you think of this magical combination of speed and safety?

It'd be a lot harder to get a laptop in there, was my first thought. Cody's was more practical: "How do you steady the bike when you come to a stop? You can't put your feet down..."

Here and Gone

I've finished Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel's Mercy. It took me a total of 30 hours, tops, and that included sleep—sleep in which I dreamed of the world and the characters. I wasn't even reading it long enough to put it on my shelfari widget.

It was everything I hoped for, everything I wanted. My headlong rush through it was the perfect way to read it, to absorb the world without becoming absorbed by it. Toward the end, realizing the wonderful tale was drawing closed, I contemplated rereading it immediately, though slower, and decided not to. The story was wonderful, but I'm not sure if I'm ready to relive it. I won't be forgetting it, either.

Coming up for Air

There is an indescribable pleasure of returning to a world and a cast of characters in a series well loved and well enjoyed. I've been reveling in that feeling all day as I began Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel's Mercy.

I imagine it's a feeling not unlike what Star Trek or Harry Potter fans feel when a new installment is released in a series. It's akin to being surrounded again by old friends, but going on a new adventure. Only, you're simultaneously solo (unless you join a fan club, I guess).

I don't get this feeling with every series I follow. In fact, for the majority that I follow, I greatly enjoy them, but they lack some indefinable element to raise them to this level. There are, in fact, only two series I can put name to that invoke the anticipation and delight for the next installment: Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time novels and Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel series. All others, such as those written by Kim Harrison, Charlaine Harris, Laurell K Hamilton, Terry Goodkind, even my beloved Katie MacAlister, fail to carry for me this same level of excitement and enjoyment.

I haven't given it too much thought yet. The only reasons I can come up with are these:

1. Both are epic fantasies, meaning that the breadth of knowledge and life that I've "lived through" with these characters is so much more than is developed in a straight fantasy series.
2. The themes are ones that resonate with me. Terry Goodkind had me in this for a while, but I felt his novels became repetitive and too preachy. Robert Jordan has the epic part down, but the themes are rather broad (good vs. evil; friendship triumphing and pulling through tough times). Carey, however, has it all.

I suppose I could wax on about the perfection of Carey's novels (which, given that I'm right in the middle of reading one, would probably make for a very long post), but I want to get back to reading. After all, I'm not quite halfway through with it. But this was a good breather for a few minutes, and a good reminder that I have a life outside the novel.

Valid Plot Device or Gimmick

I just finished Lauren Willig's The Masque of the Black Tulip. I really enjoyed her first novel in the series, The Secret History of the Pink Carnation, though it might be telling that it took me quite a while to get around to reading this second novel. Willig's already written the next three in the series, so I'm now a bit behind.

Black Tulip ended with a delightfully lengthy happy ending. Having struggled with savoring the shorter and shorter happy endings in modern romances and paranormal romances, it was happily refreshing to get pages of amorous joy and lingering matrimonial happiness between one set of main characters toward the end of the story—the historical pair. The contemporary characters predictably didn't get the same happy ending, but I'd already had the savory ending of the other main characters, so I was willing to let it pass. A good ending typically makes me far more favorable of an entire novel just by default, but I would have classified this novel as a good one by the sheer number of lines that made me chuckle.

In fact, were it not for the more discerning eye of a friend, I probably would have chalked this one up to a great novel and called it a day. However, after I finished reading the Pink Carnation, the friend who let me borrow it pointed out that the modern plot interwoven with the historical romance was basically unnecessary.

Which meant I was hyperaware of it as I read this book. I found myself looking for justifiable reasons for the author to have selected a first-person narrative of a modern-day female historian researching what ends up being the third-person historical romance tale. The question I kept asking myself was whether this plot device was warranted or just a gimmick.

Sadly, I've concluded it felt more like a gimmick. The actual modern story didn't make a complete story arc. Although I think this is intentional on Willig's part, making the modern plot arc over several novels in the series, it feels like Willig threw the modern parts in simply to make her historical romances stand out from other historical romances on the shelves (it can now be called literature, not "just" romance) and to give a lingering feeling at the end of each novel to pull the reader into the next. However, many authors write very popular romantic series that feature a rotating cast (the protagonists become secondary characters in the next novel, secondary characters become protagonists) without the need of a heavy-handed second story imposed over everything to tie them together.

To make it work for me, more would have needed to happen in the modern plot and Willig would have had to use the two plots more to her advantage to build suspense along two storylines.

Will I read her next novel? Probably—but I won't buy it new, and I won't hunt for it. If it happens to land on my shelves, I'll get around to reading it.

NON Results: Nearly Everyone's TBR Piles Were Smaller Than Mine

I was feeling pretty normal when the first few comments from last week's NON contest came in. The question was: How many books are currently physically in your TBR pile? (Or something close to that.)

The first several people had anywhere from 45 to 200 (though I guess that people with round numbers didn't actually take inventory). That seems about right, considering I had 62. It seems normal. I was feeling rather justified, especially with Cody, who gives me those looks when he finds me in a bookstore with a new armful of books. You know those looks, right? The ones that say, don't you have plenty to read at home? Of course, the answer is yes, but just not the ones I want to read currently.

Anyway, all was going well, and then all these rational-minded people started commenting. The people who don't allow themselves to get too many new books until they finish the ones they have. The ones that list 7, 8, 10, 15 books in their TBR pile. The ones that made me look bad.

Then I realized that they're most likely jealous of me and my fine library/personal bookstore. Then I realized that I was being silly, because it's late and I've been at this computer for over 10 hours today. Good night, folks.

Don't forget to scroll down a couple entries and watch the movie I made. I'm very proud of it.

Re-read-worthy Authors

I think we all have some authors that we return to at some point or another to reread. There are some people's works that have that siren call from where they sit on the shelf, reminding us of the great story, great characters, and great writing that is printed across those previously enjoyed pages. I admit, I have met a few people who never reread anything, claiming (with acknowledged truth) that there are too many new books to read to go back and reread one, no matter how good.

For the most part, I'd say I was one of those people—after all, I have four shelves devoted to books I've not yet read. Only, I've found myself too many times sitting at the foot of one of my bookcases, rereading a novel. It's never been an intentional choice. Usually it's a complete surprise to me when I look up from a novel and find myself staring at the bottom shelves of my bookcase. What started out as a fact-hunting mission or a quest of a different kind ends with me rereading half a novel, sucked back into a world I've loved.

The author's who have this kind of pull on me include: Jacqueline Carey, Robert Jordan, Katie MacAlister, Robin McKinley, Laurell K Hamilton, Regina Thomashauer, and William Goldman (specifically, The Princess Bride).

I'm a Producer

Okay, it just took me a little over two hours, but I've written, directed, and produced a TV show! In it, the iconic figure of "Mr. Late Night" interviews a soon-to-be bestselling novelist, Rebecca Chastain.

Yes, the novel might not yet be fully edited, and yes, I might not be incredibly humble about Number One Novels, but I'm proud of my TV show. Check it out (and ignore the way it pronounces my last name; it's Chastain like Cha-stain not Cha-sten as it says):