To Pike with Love

For the better part of this year, I’ve been on a scavenger hunt for Christopher Pike novels. So far, my search has only proved disappointing and whenever I hear of people picking up a stack Pikes from their used bookstores and library sales, I gnash my teeth in uncontrollable jealousy.  Someone in the Southern California area is collecting vintage Pike paperbacks and I consider that someone my arch-nemesis! If I ever meet that someone in a dark alley, I will be forced to to kick him or her… in the FACE. Every bloody time I visit The Dollar Bookstore, I leave soul-crushed and Pikeless.

Until now…

A few days ago, my luck changed:

Ho Ho! The loot!

You may express your envy.

Guess what I also found? A pristine 1971 edition of The Witch of Blackbird Pond! No broken spine. No bent cover. The pages are a little acid-eaten but that’s expected for a paperback that is OLDER than I am. This cover brings back so many fond elementary school/tween memories!

I spent the afternoon gleefully scrubbing my loot with a generous dose of rubbing alcohol.

An intense internet search session yielded squeal-able information:

More Christopher Pike reissues! The Remember Me trilogy (Remember Me, The Return, and The Last Story) and the To Die For Omnibus (including Slumber Party and Weekend).

I’ve vowed never to say ‘OMFG’ again but what the hey? Pike is writing a sequel to The Last Vampire sextet! THIRST NO. 3: ETERNAL DAWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He’s also penning a new YA that involves magic carpets and a genie! The Secret of Ka. ZOMG!!!!!

I think I broke my ! button.

Detouring from my Pike worship, I snagged a new summer dress from the sales rack and frolicked about town. To answer your question: yes, many Smurfs had to die to make that handbag you see on my person. Under my gentle guise, I am a Cruella Deville at heart and my next project is to skin an Oompa Loompa colony to make a coat. Cue sinister cackle.

And if I were a librarian (why aren’t I a librarian?), my life would be a collage of cardigans, cat eyed spectacles, cupcakes, and Austen.

Happy reading!

Die Softly

Die Softly by Christopher Pike

Dude. This plot…

I’d like to paint you a picture of myself with both hands raised to the sky in the ultimate gesture of WTFery. Christopher Pike never ceases to make my head explode like a watermelon stuffed with dynamite. But in a good way, mind you. After I’ve sponged my brain off the floor, I usually trot up to the Master of YA Suspense and plead “Please Sir, may I have some more?”

Since Die Softly is out-of-print and you’ll probably have to scavenge the four corners of the earth to find a used copy (like I did), I see nothing wrong in engaging in a little spoiling of the plot. But first, the opener:

“His blood was hot. His thoughts were naughty. Outside, in front of the gymnasium, were Alamo High’s cheerleaders, posing prettily for Herb’s camera. Inside his head were the same cheerleaders, only in his imagination they were even prettier—they were naked. Soon they would be naked. It would be that night that he would set his plan in motion.”

Now that’s how you kick off a novel! If that doesn’t make you want to read ahead, you are dead inside! I don’t normally quote from books, but in this case, I considered this one of the best openers I’ve encountered in a long time and it is, quite simply, a work of art. Of course, if you value simple, engaging, and most importantly, entertaining writing as art, then we visceral readers are on the same page. Christopher Pike always entertains and I can’t help but wonder how many high schoolers would graduate with a life-long love of reading if they were assigned to read Die Softly in English class as opposed to say, The Scarlet Letter. But that is a topic for discussion on another day…

Die Softly is an early ‘90’s relic, a breed of YA horror that cannot exist in today’s YA market. Imagine the controversy, the banning parties, and the book burnings if this story was published today. This is prime example of pre-Columbine YA literature and it should be preserved as a slice of simpler times.

Herb, our slightly pervy protagonist, plants his camera in the girl’s shower and plans to distribute the nudy pics on graduation day. He has a crush on Alexa, one of the cheerleaders, who’s best friend Lisa (another bouncy cheerleader) perished in a fiery car crash the day before. The film Herb develops shows Alexa sneaking up to Lisa with a baseball bat.

Then a series of seriously weird shit goes down in which Herb suspects his friends of trying to KILL him to get the negatives. Also, a crack addict jock tries to CRUSH Herb at a gas station when Herb’s friend does a DRIVE-BY and saves the day.

Somewhere in the middle of the book, Herb and Alexa hide in a bush and watch a stand off between minor characters in which someone is SHOT BY A SNIPPER RIFFLE and another someone is IMPALED.

Where is this town and why are all the teens packing heat?!!!

Okay. So I promised you the plot, but I’ve gone cross-eyed.

Nudy pics. An underground cocaine ring operated by evil cheerleaders who share the same boyfriend. Snipper riffles. You can’t read this in a YA anymore…

The ending threw me for a loop and it was, dare I say, ironic? I love how Pike isn’t afraid to throw his characters under the bus, even if that means killing off his narrator and still tie up his loose ends and finish on a high note.

Bravo! A-.

Now if only I could find Master of Murder my quest to recapture my tween years will be complete!

Thirst No. 2

Thirst No. 2 by Christopher Pike

I wish Christopher Pike wasn’t so mysterious so I could have a sneak peak at his wheel-o-plots. I’m convinced Pike works with a random shit generator or else I’m at a loss to explain the WTFery in Thirst No. 2.  Likewise, I secretly worship Pike’s storytelling genius. In the hands of a lesser writer, WTFery dizzies the mind. In the hands of Pike, it entertains the pants off me.

Thirst No. 2 chronicles the ass-kicking adventures of Sita, a five thousand year old vampire, and takes off where the NUCLEAR EXPLOSION vaporized the evil government base in Thirst No. 1.

World weary Sita tinkers with her Medieval-priest-lover’s alchemy force crystals, re-engineers her six stranded vampire DNA, and transforms herself into a lowly human.

Then she becomes preggers. The father, I should mention, is her teen lover who she thought perished in the gas tank explosion from the first book…or DID he?!!!

*Takes deep breath* Okay. So. Sita has the fastest pregnancy this side of Breaking Dawn and expels the demon child in a shower of gore goblets. The child is a modern scientific marvel and grows exponentially within a few weeks to the equivalent of a twenty year old. Also, she is evil incarnate. Also, she THIRSTS…

Meanwhile, Sita’s friend…the nun…experiences an immaculate conception and we learn through an ancient Egyptian prophecy, this child is the next messiah. But wait! Sita’s daughter was sent to kill the messiah and not even a cult with high power assault rifles could stop her. People are defenestrated off of skyscrapers.

See what I mean about WTFery?  Usually vampire stories are more or less predictable but this is so far from predictable it might as well be from another planet. Speaking of the extraterrestrial, this book ends with intergalactic time travel on a SPACESHIP.

I have nibbled on the Wonderland mushrooms and I like it.

A+

Library Loot and The Thornbirds

1. A Woman of Substance by Barbara Taylor Bradford

2. Falling by Christopher Pike

3. A Year on Ladybug Farm by Donna Bell

I’ve finished The Thornbirds! That makes 1 book in Jan. All it takes is one good book to break the reading slump. Unfortunately, my book synopsizing muscles have atrophied during my blogging break so if you are unfamiliar with the plot, this make-out montage from the 1983 miniseries should do my work for me.

The Thornbirds has everything I look for in a multi-generational epic: people eeking out a living from the LAND, paternity issues, a manipulative and horny elderly matriarch, and a forbidden love affair with a priest which spawns another paternity issue. After roughly two weeks reading this book, my life has changed in two ways: I started to believe that I was Australian even though I’ve never been down under in the physical sense of the word, I yearned to live on an Outback sheep station and grab a handful of red earth… said dirt will slip through my fingers, my hands will convulse as I stare off into the distance for I have become ONE WITH THE LAND.  Then I remembered that I hate nature and the notion goes poof. Also, I’m on the look out for hot priests.

Speaking of nature, a sparrow flew into my workplace last week and trapped itself behind some cabinets. We could hear it twittering and chirping and flapping its bird wings against the wall. It was a most displeasing sound. Some of us (me) freaked the eff out and stayed far far away from the disease ridden avian demon while the bravest of my co-workers rigged a series of inventions: a bird scoop (a shovel fashioned out of filing folders duct taped to the back of a broom handle), a bird vacuum, etc… All to no avail. The little beast was too bird-brained to see a rescue attempt if it hit it in its simple beaky face. I made a panicked Animal Control call and several hours later, they sent the rescue squad which consisted of one man and a metal pole. I don’t think Animal Control was equipped with nets and whatnot (they deal with dead animals, which would have been the case if the suction on the vacuum was strong enough), so Animal Control guy used our bird scoop and, with prayers and swears, captured the disgusting little creature and shoved it in his pocket. Once outside, Animal Control guy did the Twilight hands and the bird flew away to crap in another office. The end.

One of my co-workers mused that she wished she had a blog to recount this amusing incident. I am the only one with a blog so here it is. If you haven’t already guessed, I hate birds. An arboretum is my idea of hell on earth. Beaks. Talons. Feathers. Beady eyes. Wings. Vile creatures, the lot of them.

I expect a flood of hate mail from falconers and pirates…

Okay. I’m not completely heartless with regards to the avian species, which is to say, I’m not above eating them.

Thirst No. 1

Thirst No. 1 by Christopher Pike

Remember in Rambo II when Rambo spears some unfortunate evil dude and said evil dude BLEW UP? Something of that nature happens in this re-issue of a ‘90’s vampire classic. Rest assured, people will explode, sometimes spontaneously, sometimes on account of sniper rifles and rocket launchers, and, if you’re a pro at suspending your disbelief, Pike will take you on a high octane roller costar ride and then blow YOU up.

In a thinly veiled attempt to ride the YA vampire train to riches and glory, the publishers of Christopher Pike’s backlist have re-issued the first three novels (The Last Vampire, Black Blood, Red Dice)  of his bestselling Last Vampire series in this thrilling pulp omnibus.

Sita is a five thousand year old vampire: blond, beautiful, and a certified badass. She’s also the last of the bloodsuckers and, as the story begins, she’s the new girl in Mayfair, a sleepy town in the Pacific Northwest. In history class, she meets Ray, a sensitive teen hunk and here I almost sent this book back to the library unread; I felt like I read this story before. In this case, I’m secretly beating a certain author who shall not be named with the plagiarism stick because I suspect Pike was probably rocking out to Nirvana when he penned The Last Vampire which is to say this chick came before that egg hatched at twilight. Plus, Sita glittered too…for logical reasons, radioactive fallout being one of them.

Out of loyalty to Pike, I soldiered through the “I drink blood and you must think this is unique” bit to the “So the lion falls in love with the lamb: I have no soul, but he has soul enough for two” crap and I am glad. There are…HELICOPTER CHASES, DEADLY FLUTE PLAY-OFFS, RABID VAMPIRE DOGS, and someone gets SPEARED with a JAVELIN (I do love a good spearing).

Let’s speak plainly. Ray—Sita’s mortal lover and ‘soul mate’—was such a sniveling wimp he makes Bella Swan look like Chuck Norris. I doubt I’m the only reader who felt this way, which is why it was so cool when Christopher Pike, probably sensing the inherent lameness of this character, BLEW HIM UP!!!! Have you ever come across a character you can’t stand and wish the author would make him or her (*cough* Bella) spontaneously combust and then the author READ YOUR MIND and plopped this annoying character next to a leaky gas tank and lit a match? This…and helicopter chases, is why Christopher Pike is the king of YA pulp.

Count me in for Thirst No. 2. I have to find out what happens after Sita launched the nuclear warheads and nuked Vegas. Don’t you dare laugh! The way I see it, vampire stories are already far-fetched; why not crank the lever to full-throttle and juice the horror/sci fi genre for all it’s worth? Pike holds nothing back. And it shows. I suspect Pike had as much fun writing The Last Vampire as I had reading it.

This series may win no awards, but an annoying character is blown up and that’s the biggest award of all. Suffice to say, many a coma-inducing classic could use an unnecessary explosion.

As for a rating, I give this a B+ for Blockbuster.

The Knife of Never Letting Go

The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness

The first time I attempted to read The Knife of Never Letting Go, I sent it back to the library unread and unloved. I couldn’t get into the first chapter. The talking dog. The dialect. It didn’t fly with me, yo.

But Raych put it on her Wonderful Dare list and commanded me to power through the first 100 pages.

So I did.

Because she told me to.

And I fear her wrath, which I assure you, is considerable.

Now I am 1/5 done with Wonderful Dare and humbled. Raych loved Knife hard enough to make babies with it. I don’t love it that hard, but I fancy it enough to grope its boobies under the bleachers. Honk. Honk.

Pervy imagery aside…

Todd Hewitt, 12 going on 13 and days away from manhood, grew up in a world of Noise. Every man can hear another man’s thoughts; Todd can even hear his dog’s thoughts. There are no secrets, no privacy… until Todd stumbles upon a hole in the Noise, i.e. the Silence. In the thick of all this chaos, there are secrets darker than Satan’s asshole.

To sum up: A boy, his dog, and a girl run for their lives—high octane style—from an indomitable army headed by robo-mayor and a religious zealot with the durability and perseverance of the T-1000. Seriously, what is with swamp bum Aaron? Why won’t he DIE?

Then we come upon the scene that launched a thousand tears. I’m not at liberty to talk about THE SCENE, but I will just say that it shattered my heart into a million little James Frey pieces and I shook my fist into the sky: “Why? Why does the world have to be so cruel?”

Also, there’s that part way in the beginning when the first SHIT pelts their farm and Cillian (Todd’s guardian) gives him the ‘look of no return’ and Ben (Todd’s other guardian) delivers the man hug of ‘we may never meet again.’ I crumpled my Kleenex in my fist and grew a soul.

The Knife of Never Letting Go is the first book in a series. I will not say anymore, only: the cliffhanger had me wringing my hanky into knots as I ask myself: “How the eff is Todd going to get out of this one?!!!”  I suppose I’ll find my answer in the aptly titled sequel, The Ask and the Answer. Clever, Ness. Very Clever.

A

Raych, you have filled my life with wonder!

Team Gale vs. Team Peeta

A few days ago, I finished reading Catching Fire, Book 2 of Suzanne Collin’s Hunger Games trilogy. It was so good that it blew my mind all over YOUR face. If you haven’t read The Hunger Games, you better hop on the bandwagon. I’m going to cyber bully you until you do. I’m not just recommending, I am shaking a virtual fist. Do. It. Read. It. Love. Me. For. Introducing. You. To. The. Awesome.

You won’t regret it. These book are the most exciting books I’ve ever read IN MY LIFE—so fan-freakin’-tastic, in fact, that I am hereby taking  a week off reading so I can pick the pieces of my brain off your face.  Point in fact, I got my brother, a reluctant reader who said, and I quote “I hate reading” to read The Hunger Games. I had to PAY him money to read it and he still wouldn’t do it so I cornered him and read aloud to him until my voice grew hoarse and I couldn’t continue and he’s all “Please don’t stop! You were right, I was wrong. I’m not worthy!”

See the lengths I will go to pimp this book?

Because Catching Fire left me in a catatonic state, and the only adjective in my vocab. bank is ‘awesome,’ I’m putting my reviews on the back burner in favor of something less taxing: pretty pretty pictures.

Let’s pick teams, shall we? For simplicity sake, I’m going to leave my Team affiliations out of this post until my review. Just a clue: Gale appeals to the Lord of the Flies part of me who likes to hunt and feast on red meat. While Peeta has that noble messiah thing going for him, I felt like he ah…left his balls with his baked goods. *Ducks ninja darts thrown by Team Peeta.*

Whether you’re Team Gale or Team Peeta, hot guy photos will unite us all!

Refresh my memory: did Gale or Peeta take off their shirts?  They do in my version!

I see Gale as a young Henry Cavill. Dark hair, tall and lean, capable hands, square jaw: the man is a work of art!

As for Peeta, I pick British actor/model Alex Pettyfer. He’s no slacker in the chiseled abs department.

Let’s not forget Katniss. I pick Lucy Griffin (Maid Marian from Robin Hood). She’s the perfect combo of English Rose and chick-kicks-butt.

*Buttons taken from Galleysmith

Library Loot, Sinister Sexy, & Flick Me

Library Loot by LitCon featuring Coach bags

My library loot for this week is a BIG deal: Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins came in! I will be clearing my calender so I can have some alone time with this book. Thinking about hanging  a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on my bedroom door.

For the RIP IV challenge: Prophecy of the Sisters by Michelle Zink.

In other news, I’ve started a new movie review blog: Flick Me. Back in college, all we had were movie theaters and an infinite amount of free time. In short, I spent a  huge chunk of my life sitting in the dark; now I’m going to put those hours and my DVD player to good use. One day Roger Ebert will retire and I’ve set my eye on the throne. Okay, I started a movie review blog so I can cuss, zero in on hot guys, and sniff out silver screen whatthefuckery. Flick Me is pretty grassroot right now, but I aim to fill it full of snarky, smartass reviews. You do realize this means I can never read a book or watch a movie without pen and paper in hand, do you?

Speaking of hot guys. I believe I promised you a ‘Sinister Sexy’ post.

Here are a random assortment of actors with ‘sinister sexy’ face. I have a thing for villainy!

Draco Malfoy. I feel like a cougar for posting this, though, theoretically, Tom Felton and I are about the same age. I have a tendency to think of the Harry Potter actors as kids. Did I ever tell you that I’m on Team Malfoy?

No one can do ‘Sinister Sexy’ better than Jonathan Rhys Meyers. I think he’s got inner rage.

Ben Whishaw is no slack in the dark side department…

Observe Ben’s cold blooded sneer.  His face thrills and chills me.

Richard Armitage looks like he’s about to flash someone and I’m about to let him! R.A. is the king of the penetrating gaze.

James Dean looks like the devil.

The following James Dean picture doesn’t qualify as ‘sinister’ but it is ‘sexy’ and ‘dark & brooding.’ Turbulent. Plus, it’s just a thinly veiled excuse to post more James Dean pictures.  He’s got to be the most photogenic actor ever! Dude cannot take a bad photo.

I hope these pics made your day, it’s certainly made mine.

Bum Wars, Part Deux

The continuation of Medieval Bum Wars: An “I Can’t Believe I Wrote This!!!” Original penned by sixteen year old me.

Previously on Medieval Bum Wars…

The bums are a-gettin’ frisky

“The stick, Amanda,” Jenny instructed.  “Use the stick.  Beat the shit out of anything that moves and get us out of here!”

Amanda winds up her batting arm

I took a swing at the first bum who got too close, clocking him in the face.   He pitched forward, falling just short of my feet.

This preemptive strike seemed to have alarmed the others.  Some hopped back, some directed nervous glances at the bum I attacked earlier, who I gathered was their ringleader, for instructions.

I met the ringleader’s eye and raised the stick over my head, challenging him to make another move.   “You want a piece of this?” I spat, giving the stick a shake. “YOU WANT A PIECE OF THIS?!!!”

“Yeah!” Jenny smacked me on the shoulder.  “You tell them what’s what!”

But the head bum’s got an ace up his tattered sleeves…

The ringleader rubbed his scruffy beard and whistled.  I turned my head, but not in time.  There was a flash of grey followed by white hot pain as a bum clamped down on my forearm.  I let out a roar like a wounded animal.

“Get him off me!” I screamed.  “He’s biting me!  The motherfucker’s biting me!”  I shook my arm violently trying to unhinge my attacker, but the biting bum held on, his one tooth digging into my flesh.

Jenny, winding up her one good leg, gave the biting bum a swift kick in the ribs.   The bum expelled a whoosh of air and scurried back into the crowd.    I rubbed the tender spot where he bit me; his tooth had punctured my skin and the wound was starting to bleed.

Poor Amanda, I hope she didn’t contract rabies…

“At your right!” Jenny shrieked.

I spun around just in time to see a coke can sail in mid-air. Acting on reflex alone, I swung my trusty stick and deflected the can, sending it sailing through the park and batting my first home run.

The coke can was followed by another and another as the bums pelted us with their recyclable products.   We dodged and swatted to the best of our abilities, but the aluminum kept coming, soda cans and water bottles rained down upon us like a hailstorm.

Bruised and battle sore, I ducked as a root beer can whizzed by my ear, tossed Jenny my stick, and ducked behind the shopping cart.

Jenny was shouting obscenities, swinging away with my stick in one hand and punching at anything bedraggled with her bare fists.  Her good leg was kicking at cans and any bum foolish enough to get too close to our cart. She was completely unruffled, charging ahead with her three limbs like an invalid warrior on an ass-kicking spree.

Enter: the Mace

I knew we couldn’t hold off the mob forever.  And then I saw it and my heart sank.   The metal spikes glimmered under the early morning sun, blinding us.

The bums saw it too, some shielded their eyes from the glare, some crouched in awe while others cowered and scurried like mice away from the light.  They began to part like a tattered grey sea, leaving an unobstructed path between us and their ringleader.

The ringleader stepped forward, his scruffy Velcro sneakers, held on to his feet by duct-tape, crushed the aluminum cans underfoot.

In the sudden silence that descended upon the park, the crushing sound of the cans took on an unsettling resemblance to the crushing of skulls.

I’m sure you’re rubbing your greedy palms together in suspense, “Gimme more! Oh great storyteller, continue your tale!”

Too bad! Medieval warfare isn’t fought within a single post. I’m serializing this bad boy. Charles Dickens and I, we’re like this (crosses fingers).

A teaser to entice:

“That oughta teach you to cuss around ladies, you damn dirty bums!”

Library Loot & Costume Dramas

Library Loot by LitCon on Polyvore.com

1. Along for the Ride by Sarah Dessen: As I’m typing this, my bookmark is smack in the middle of this book; it’s hard to read when you’re getting swept off your feet every couple of pages. Rapid pulse. Sweaty palms. Shortness of breath. Fluttering heart. Swooning. I CAN’T HANDLE THE ROMANCE!!! S.D’s latest is as good as The Truth About Forever, which I consider her best.

I liked Along for the Ride so much that I paused to make a collage. Collage=devotion.

Along for the Ride by LitCon on Polyvore.com

2. The Thief by Megan Whalen Turner: Mems, I got this because of you! If you say Gen ties with Nat Eaton in hotness, I’m already half-in love with Gen already.

Moving on:

I’m dying to see Young Victoria staring Emily Blunt and Rupert Friend. US Release date Nov. 13, 2009. If I had to pick, Victorian England is my favorite time period; it’s creepy, repressed, erotic, a perfect setting for ghotic ghost stories. I think I’ve read more books set in this time period than any other. When I was in high school, I watched a multi-part documentary on Victorian England, another on Victorian exploration, and another on the life of Queen Victoria.

In other words: I’m jumping up and down like a caffeinated monkey excited about this movie!!!

Aren’t the costumes gorgeous?

Dorian Gray.

I’m seriously lusting after Ben Barnes.

Especially when I found this sinister looking picture.

I’m strangely drawn to actors who could pull off the ‘sexy sinister’ face. Note to self: must dedicate an entire post to ‘sexy sinister face’ in the future. I’ve got a few actors in mind, but I’m open to suggestions.

The trailer is amazing!