MY top three of 2016

Damn, that's a seriously hard list. I mean that. I haven't read nearly as much as I wanted to this year, but still, what I have read has been a whole lot of good books. I started a few lemons, too, but i set them aside, because life is too short for the bad books.

I used to make myself read them. I felt an obligation. Not any more. that stuff goes to the wayside very quickly these days.

So here they are in no particular order:

1) Mark Morris's THE WOLVES OF LONDON: OBSIDIAN HEART BOOK ONE
I'm a sucker for high tension suspense. I thrive on horror that creeps in and chills you without necessarily getting all kinds of gory. I love a good time travel story. the Obsidian Heart series has all three and that's just in the first book. I have the other two short-listed in my TBR pile. You know, along with about a hundred others.

2) Christopher Golden's DEAD RINGERS
I love a good mystery. I love a good ghost story. I love a tale that mingles both and DEAD RINGERS is flawless at it. Golden continues to challenge himself with his characters and continues to be up to the challenge. An added bonus for me is that I now live in Massachusetts and when visiting Boston recently I could actually see some of the places listed in the book. Damned fine read.

3) Jonathan Maberry's KILL SWITCH
I enjoy a good series as much as the next person. I love a great series. The JOE LEDGER series by Maberry is one of the best. I'd put it up there with F.Paul Wilson's REPAIRMAN JACK series and that one is my all time favorite. In this tale Echo Team goes south, as into Antarctica, and encounters the sort of nightmarish creations that leave a chill which has noting to do with the weather. Great subplots, loads of action. I loved it.

Honorable mentions: E.J. Stevens' HUNTING IN BRUGES is the first in a spin off series (Spinning off from the Ivy Granger Series) and it's a fun ride. Lots of action, a solid mystery and a healthy heaping of snark. Dennis Lehane's A DRINK BEFORE THE WAR. I'm behind the times when it comes to reading Lehane, but, damn, he's good! I just read the first two books in the series and I'll be reading the rest in short order. Joe Hill's THE FIREMAN. I'm not even going to try to explain the book properly. It's amazing, it's different, it's fun. Highly recommended. Thomas Sneigoski's SAVAGE is a book that lives up to its name. Nature strikes back and strikes hard. Bracken Mcleod's STRANDED is a hard, brutal and utterly delightful read. It might seem like he's coming out of nowhere, but the author has earned his chops.  Lastly, Hillary Monahan's series BLOODY MARY: THE SUMMONING and BLOODY MARY: UNLEASHED are delightful YA stories that merge proper horror and local folklore to potent affect. Gruesome, scary and everything that a tale of a vengeful ghost should be.

Okay. Ten instead of three. I said it was a good year for reading and I meant it. I could go on and name more, like the latest from Tim Lebbon, or Wesley Chu, or Paul Tremblay, but I think you get the idea.

I hope 2017 brings you endless good books to read, folks.

Bracken Mcleod reading from his novel STRANDED at the release party. 

Top Three Books of 2016: Jeffe's Picks

Every year since my birth, my mother has given me a Christmas ornament. She usually gives it to me at Thanksgiving, so that I have it for decorating my tree. This year she gave me a Nambé star for a tree-topper. I may have made a special request, as I love all things Nambé, and I love this, in particular. One day I hope to have Santa's sleigh, but ... alas the price! 

Our topic this week at the SFF Seven is a round-up of our three most memorable books of the year. I think it's interesting that we frame it as "most memorable," as opposed to the best, or most loved or favorite. There's a difference, isn't it?

So when I went to write this post, instead of first combing my list of five-star reads, I thought back to what books stood out in my mind. The first that popped into my head was one I loathed - not only for the story itself, but for the blatant manipulation of the reader. I ranted already about it here, so I shan't give it any more press than that.

Another book that jumped immediately to mind turned out to be one I read in October 2015, and so not eligible. However, I figure any book with that kind of impact deserves an honorable mention, so I'm including it now: Everything I Left Unsaid by Molly O'Keefe. What a wonderful story. I've recommended it any number of times to people this last year, so I think it totally counts.

Otherwise, I made a list of the books that loomed large in my head and checked those against my lists. As many of you may know, I keep a spreadsheet (OF COURSE) of everything I read in a given year. That includes work for critique or editing, and so includes my own books. My goal for the year was to read 150 books. That was a reasonable (I thought) and optimistic increase from the 122 I read in 2015. Right now I'm at 88. There's some reasons for the lower numbers, along with other ways that 2016 was a strange dip year for me, which I'll talk about that more next week when we explore how our 2016 goals turned out - both accomplishments and deviations.

But for now... My Three Most Memorable Books Read in 2016!

The High Ground

This is the only book in my top three for 2016 that was actually published in 2016. Time is ever a problem for me. This year I read books that will be published in the future, some published long ago, and very few in the narrow twelve-month window that makes them award-eligible. I'm trying to get better about this (which did factor into the fewer books read), but I'm not where I'd like to be on this.

I met Melinda for the first time in May when we did a signing together. She bought my book, I bought hers, and we became friends - which is cool since we live quite close to each other, New Mexico-landscapewise. This sort of buying-each-other's books thing can be fraught as there's always the possibility you won't like the book, and then you see this person you like again and it's all weird and awkward. Happily, I loved this book! Fortuitously, she also liked mine. Regardless, this is a wonderful first book in a new space opera with a tasty slow-burn romance. The world - one where corporations are the aristocracy - is oddly prescient of our current political climate, but not so much that it will make you think of modern politics. Can't wait to wrest the next book out of Melinda's paws!

Wishful Drinking

I came at this book through a winding path - mostly due to having my iPod on All Songs Shuffle during a June solo road trip. Paul Simon came up and I listened to songs from Graceland and Rhythm of the Saints for the first time in ages. I loved those albums in the day, so the revisit felt wonderful and magical. In the ensuing years, I'd come to understand the significance of him being married to Carrie Fisher, who also resurfaced this year in my mind as an enduring hero - and totally badass in Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Simon's songs tell stories and, listening, I began to wonder which were about Carrie and their marriage. A LOT OF THEM it turns out. I downloaded the audio book and listened to it on the trip home. Her stories made me think about art, creativity, love and being drawn to other creative types. Fascinating stuff that fed into many of my ideas this year.


A Game of Thrones

I tried to read this book a few years ago. Before I kept a spreadsheet, in fact. I'd read my requisite 25% and set it down as a book that would not make me happy. When the HBO series came out, we starting watching that and I felt validated in my perception that, yes, this is an author who will break my heart. I even got rid of my paper copy finally.

Then it came to be that my friend Anne Calhoun talked me into reading it. We are embarking on a project, a book club of two, to read epic fantasy and learn from them. I'm on page 539 of 802, so it might be a bit of a false positive that it's a memorable book of the year.

And yet... I don't think so.

One thing I've noticed in reading this book is that it's invaded my dreams - and has done so from the first page. I think about the characters and I freaking worry about them! This is one reason I abandoned it before, because I don't WANT to be this involved with people I know will face horrible events, including their deaths. But it's also amazing that an author is able to do this. Anne has called reading this book a master class in writing and I think she's right.

It's also an interesting bookend to these three that George is longtime friends with Melinda, so now I'm friends with them both.

It's been an interesting year!

So, what about you all? Most memorable books? Most loved??

SciFi Twelve Days of Christmas

So the way I understood this week's challenge was to take one of my favorite Christmas carols and rewrite it, sort of flash fiction-y. (And if that isn't the challenge, well fa la la la la because that's what I DID...)

I've always loved "The Twelve Days of Christmas," although being an impatient person, I'm skipping all the verses and going straight to the big finale:

On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me: 12 Star Lords leaping...
On the 11th day of Christmas my true love gave to me: 11 Vulcans vamping...
On the 10th day of Christmas my true love gave to me: 10 Ewoks dancing...
On the 9th day of Christmas my true love gave to me: 9 Transporters humming...
On the 8th day of Christmas my true love gave to me: 8 Wizards wanding...
On the 7th day of Christmas my true love gave to me: 7 Mermaids swimming...
On the 6th day of Christmas my true gave to me: 6 Dragons diving...
FIVE SATURN RINGS!!!!!
Four Shooting stars...
Three Red Shirts...
Two Baby Groots...
AND A BLACK HOLE IN A GALAXY!

Here's the obligatory article on how much the traditional set of gifts would cost this year, from The Fiscal Times.... LINK

And a fun version of the song from the Straight No Chaser group, which is their version of carol flash fiction!

Santa Claus Is Coming to Town

"Santa Claus is coming to town."

"Uh huh."

"Santa Claus is coming to town."

"Don't know how it's escaped your notice, Joe, but we're on Mars. Also. Your culture. Not mine. And while technically, the planet does have a north pole . . ."

"He knows."

I rolled my eyes. "When you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good. Yes. Yes. I know the song. What the hell is wrong with you, Joe?"

I shot him a glance, but kept a firm grip on the sample isolated inside the sealed chamber where we performed soil tests in a thus far fruitless search for signs of life. That would be a hell of a Christmas present, should I suddenly take up observing a holiday outside the purview of the Buddhist philosophy I'd grown up with in rural China. Finding life. Life outside of the increasingly odd expedition leader who'd brought me this set of samples from a tunnel bored deep into the flanks of Olympus Mons.

I studied the man. His breath fogged the clear glass shielding his face. Even so, I detected perspiration beaded on his pallid forehead and upper lip. His golden brown eyes didn't quite focus upon me. I frowned and gently set my soil sample back into the stand awaiting the test tube. I wrestled free of the thick gloves that provided my access to the flat gray-brown mud. Actual mud. That meant water. Water meant the remote possibility of life. Even in the lightless depths of the last place on this dead hunk of planet that might retain traces of life-giving warmth from the cooling core. I shook away my curiosity and speculation about the sample and approached my colleague. "You okay, Joe? You don't look so good."

"Oh, you better watch out. You'd better not cry." He reached for my air hose.

Ice dripped down my spine. I started and stepped out of reach. "I'd better not cry? Joe . . ."

"What do you want for Christmas, Mai?" Another slow move, this time for my faceplate.

"That's it." I turned for the door.

He stepped in front of it, trapping me in the increasingly small lab. "What do you want for Christmas?"

I blinked, recalling my stupid wishful thinking - that it would be fun to find life on the Red Planet. I gasped, stared at him, and couldn't stop the whisper. "Life?"

He nodded and stepped closer. "You'd better not cry. You'd better not shout. I'm telling you why."

I swung around an instrument table, scooping up a scalpel. Tiny. Ineffectual. Sharp enough to put a hole in his pressurized suit if he kept trying to get my air supply away from me. "Joe! Stop it! You're sick! Running a fever. That must be the problem. We've got to get you to the infirmary. You need treatment. Who knows what a simple infection - - " I stopped mid-sentence to listen to what I'd said. "Infection. My God. Life. Infection. Is that it? I won't find life in that sample in there because somehow you breached containment. You're hosting -- whatever."

"You'd better not cry. You'd better not shout."

I reeled. 'Don't shout.' He meant don't call out for help. My heart quaked and I couldn't get my breath. How could I not? Joe might die. And if he did, my first chance to catch a glimpse of an actual Martian organism would die with him. Yet if I alerted the rest of the base, a round of antibiotics or antivirals later, and I'd have lost my chance just the same. "If I don't tell anyone," I began, "will you let me take a blood sample? I want to see."

His teeth flashed in a grin. He caught my wrist in a tight grip that set my teeth on edge. Prying the scalpel from my fingers sliced through his gloves. Blood seaped through the cuts. My breath came in short, useless bursts. I yanked against his hold. No effect. He cut my suit and me where my gloves met my pressure suit. My blood welled up. I yelped.

"Santa Clause is coming to town." He smeared pressed his bloody fingers into the cut on my wrist.

Holver Alley Crew Cover Reveal!

Many things on my plate today, so no regular blog from me, but here's something exciting: Cover Reveal for The Holver Alley Crew!  
http://qwillery.blogspot.com/2016/12/cover-reveal-holver-alley-crew-by.html

Another beauty from Paul Young.  He's really done well by me.

Cthulhu's Holiday Hits

We are supposed to be writing a flash fiction piece based on our favorite holiday song...but I'm feeling sassy so I've instead changed the words of a few holiday classics. Consider yourself warned.

O Holy Night

O Holy night, Cthulhu now is rising 

It is the night of The Great Old One's re-birth
Long lay the world bereft of his despising
Til he appeared and the soul felt it's dearth
The daemon-sultan Azathoth rejoices
As the world breaks and people everywhere mourn

Fall on your knees!

O hear the shoggoth voices
O night malign!
When comes the shoggoth horde!
O night malign!
O night, o night malign!

And at his sight, all sanity shall cease
Sweet dirge of death in mournful chorus raise we

Dagon! The Mother of Pus! Yog-Sothoth!
Shavalyoth!
Their names forever praise we

R’lyeh, R’lyeh
O night, o night malign
R’lyeh, R’lyeh
O night, o night malign
R’lyeh, R’lyeh
O night, o night malign

Cthulhu's Plunderland 

Slay bells ring, are you listening?
In the lane, entrails are glistening
Horrifying sight, we're dying tonight

Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

Gone away is the succored
Here to stay are the interred
He sings to Dagon, as we’re quartered and drawn,
Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

In the darkness we can summon D’endrrah
Then discover she is really foul
She'll say: Are you buried? We'll say: No ma’am
But you can do the job when you're in town

Later on, when things are dire
And we roast upon the fire
He’ll burst and abrade the blisters we've made
Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

In the light we can summon Tru-nembra
and dance until we have a nervous breakdown
We'll have lots of fun with him and Yog-Sapha
until they decide it’s better to let us drown

Though the snow don't stop his killing
He prefers those who are unwilling
He'll frolic and flay
the R’leyh way
Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland
Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

Here Comes Cxaxukluth

Here comes Cxaxukluth, here comes Cxaxukluth,
Right down Cxaxukluth lane
Ghroth and Daoloth and all the outer gods
Plannin’ a new reign
Worlds are breaking, children quaking
All are cursed with a blight
When he’s a-stalking better say your prayers
'Cause Cxaxukluth comes tonight!

Here comes Cxaxukluth, here comes Cxaxukluth,
Right down Cxaxukluth lane
He's got a chains and complete disdain
For boys and girls again
Hear those slay bells, wrangle entangle,
Oh what an amorphous sight
Blood so red you’re better off dead
'Cause Cxaxukluth comes tonight!

Here comes Cxaxukluth, here comes Cxaxukluth,
Right down Cxaxukluth lane
He doesn't care if you're rich or poor
He wants to cause you pain
Cxaxukluth knows we're Cthulhu’s minions
That makes everything right
So fill your hearts with R’leyh cheer
'Cause Cxaxukluth comes tonight!

Here comes Cxaxukluth, here comes Cxaxukluth,
Right down Cxaxukluth lane
He'll come around when the shoggoths cry out
That it's his arcane domain 
Peace on earth we’ll never know
If we just follow the alt-right
So beware beware the new regime
Cause Cxaxukluth comes tonight!

O Tentacles

O Tentacles, O Tentacles!
You move just like a serpent!
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
You move just like a serpent!

Hanging from Cthulhu’s face,
Slither-squirming with an air of grace.
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
You move just like a serpent!

O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
Your sucker cups are toothy!
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
Your sucker cups are toothy!

Each arm doth hold many bites
Surprising me when you hold me tight.
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
Your sucker cups are toothy!

O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
How tightly you do squeeze me!
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
How tightly you do squeeze me!

For every breath I cannot breathe,
Brings to you so much joy and glee.
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
How tightly you do squeeze me!

The Origin of Elves: Flash Fiction

He could hear them. Their rages. Their threats. Their tantrums and tirades. The words flowed down sewers and rattled under bridges. They clinked along chainlink fences and skittered over concrete alleys. They flew on wings of rancor and fear into the darkness where sunlight never reached.

They came to him.

Every pernicious word uttered by a child lingered in the cavern, etching the name, date, and location on cold stone walls. Every new naughty child caused a hair to grow upon his lanky body. The more caustic the brat, the darker the hair. The crueler the crime the longer his horns. Whenever the whelps drew blood his nails grew, thicker and sharper.

He danced his talons along the balustrade and surveyed the workshop below. Thousands of tormentors, bullies, and  unholy terrors labored over toys, games, and technologies they would never own. Oh how they toiled, their grimy malnourished little bodies bent and hunched. Not a word dared to be spoken, not a tune braved their misery.

Only when they'd truly repented would they be set free. He was in no rush to let them go. Good laborers took time to train. And patience. He had an abundance of one and none of the other. Plus, as the population expanded, so did the workshop. He was always shorthanded.

Lo, the holy days were finally here, when the children of the world faced the consequences of their words and deeds. Time to replenish the workforce.

He shouldered his bottomless bag and plucked a hair from his chin. The magic of the season opened a portal to the first of many new Entitled Little Vicious Evil Shits.

Elves.

Beware Krampus. 

Tonight, he is coming to town.*

*Krampusnacht was last night, 12/5. Call it literary liberty. 

Twelve Days for the Twelve Kingdoms

As Veronica hinted in her post yesterday, I have similar exciting news! The duology that Grace Draven and I did together, FOR CROWN AND KINGDOM, was picked as one of the Best Books of 2016 by Library Journal!! We are over the moon. What tremendous validation for our joint effort.

Which means, of course, that we'll have to do another!

I think the others of the SFF Seven are trying to drive me mad, because this week's topic is Flash Fiction Based on Your Favorite Holiday/Festival Carol/Song/Hymn. Tempted though I may be, I shall not cringe from this challenge or shirk my bloggerly duty. Unlike OTHERS I could mention who sometimes bail on topics. *cough*

Since I'm looking at the December 27 release of THE EDGE OF THE BLADE, I decided to riff on Jepp's Twelve Days of Christmas. Now, the world Jepp lives in doesn't have Christmas, and if it did, she'd probably loathe this song, but she still can give it her own particular spin.

~ ~ ~

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me an endless flask of Branlian whiskey.

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me two paired daggers and an endless flask of Branlian whiskey.

On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me three mountain ponies, two paired daggers, and an endless flask of Branlian whiskey.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me four hunting hounds, three mountain ponies, two paired daggers, and an endless flask of Branlian whiskey.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me five broad blade knives, four hunting hounds, three mountain ponies, two paired daggers, and an endless flask of Branlian whiskey.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me six swords for swinging, five broad blade knives, four hunting hounds, three mountain ponies, two paired daggers, and an endless flask of Branlian whiskey.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me seven sets of leathers, six swords for swinging, five broad blade knives, four hunting hounds, three mountain ponies, two paired daggers, and an endless flask of Branlian whiskey.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me eight nubile maidens, seven sets of leathers, six swords for swinging, five broad blade knives, four hunting hounds, three mountain ponies, two paired daggers, and an endless flask of Branlian whiskey.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me nine sultry ladies, eight nubile maidens, seven sets of leathers, six swords for swinging, five broad blade knives, four hunting hounds, three mountain ponies, two paired daggers, and an endless flask of Branlian whiskey.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me ten lords for mounting, nine sultry ladies, eight nubile maidens, seven sets of leathers, six swords for swinging, five broad blade knives, four hunting hounds, three mountain ponies, two paired daggers, and an endless flask of Branlian whiskey.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me eleven stalwart fighters, ten lords for mounting, nine sultry ladies, eight nubile maidens, seven sets of leathers, six swords for swinging, five broad blade knives, four hunting hounds, three mountain ponies, two paired daggers, and an endless flask of Branlian whiskey.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me twelve dead spies, eleven stalwart fighters, ten lords for mounting, nine sultry ladies, eight nubile maidens, seven sets of leathers, six swords for swinging, five broad blade knives, four hunting hounds, three mountain ponies, two paired daggers, and ...

an endless flask of Branlian whiskey.

(The last is all she really cares about!)