Bad Signs of the Book Club

Book review RJ Ellory – Bad Signs

 

Second book in the book club series was Bad Signs by RJ Ellory. I have finished it in three days, several months ago (not exactly sure when – past is a blur for me).

I couldn’t put it down and it was getting worse towards the end when my e-reader melted into my palms and I ungracefully grazed my knees because I was reading while walking.

Funny thing is, that there was a parallel experience with the first book in the book club series (book no. 1). I was familiar with RJ Ellory through the Quiet beliefs in Angels. I didn’t like it that much but it had nothing to do with the writing. I am not big on the crime genre and find suspense too disturbing; it feels too real – something that could actually happen. I skimmed through the pages after reading the first two chapters and then read the last one. So, you see it was all my fault not liking the book and my inability to brave the story.

This time I have decided I will read the book, the way books are meant to be read, from start to the finish. There were some rather dark events happening though I felt that the tone of the book was quite light. I wasn’t scared reading it. I loved the characters and the way how each of them were introduced to the story, no matter how long they stayed being a part of the story. The story was engaging, the pace and gradual intensity of the writing addictive and if you are thinking to dip your toes in crime reading, this is the novel to start with.

Zero Tolerance to Gore

Just to get it out there, I do not watch horror films. I know people who love them and they love getting scared (in safe environment of the cinema or their homes). I hate being scared and as this is my personal list of things I cannot stand, gruesome grossness on TV screens is on it. Especially as gruesome stuff is allowed while boobs and willies are a taboo.

In connection to the male and female parts – don’t we think that they should have the opportunity to be presented in equal measures?

Hence my other issue for G is gender inequality.

http://www.thegreatinitiative.org.uk/

Reboot, revamp, reinvention?

I am many things – passionate, excited about new opportunities, I have mildly addictive personality and I love to face new challenges. I embrace these traits, and I very often get lost in them. I also have rather short span of attention and where my passion raises to heavens at faster-than-light speed, it crashes even faster back to the ground. One thing I am definitely not is being consistent.

I have been very tightly embracing my inner athlete past few months. I am not letting go of her just yet. I have run over 500 km, conquered 100km path along the Grand Union canal and I have now mentally recovered from running a marathon. This of course only means, that I am ready to train for the next one (London 2015).

So. As I feel quite bad about neglecting my blog (again) I think I have hopefully found a middle ground where I can share both my passions – writing and running. I will try not to make my blog yet ‘another running blog’ but truly merge and express all my feelings, experiences, ideas etc.

And that’s all there is to it.

Day 10 [Writing 101]

Clementines, satsumas, mandarines –

one of those small round oranges,

the ones that come with Christmas.

They sit in the big white bowl

surrounding the wise pineapple

or jump over bananas.

The apples are green with envy

for they get all the attention.

Walnuts are trying to get through but

they alway fall through the cracks.

They are the rocks at the bottom of the fruit display.

Ho ho ho

 

~ yeah, hmm, random. I’m not much of a foodie but I do remember the excitement of Christmas when we were allowed the small orange fruit – lets call them satsumas although it might had been mandarines (does anyone know the difference?). Exotic fruit was a short supply commodity in the 80s in the communist countries, especially if you suffered from lack of money as well (which we did). And although we have embraced the advantages of free economy, up to this day I only buy satsumas at Christmas time.

Writing 101 – Day 10

Day 9 [Writing 101]

Dress him in a sweater

   The excitement of the retirement home residents over yet another bingo afternoon left her yearning for a small explosive device. Not that the other activities were more fun. Like this knitting. They knit sweaters for dogs. Dogs! Not orphans, not homeless, not the affected by war. No. They knit for dogs. But at least she can take the needles and yarn with her to the park; it may take few hours before the caretakers notice she’s gone AWOL. She stretches her fingers. Damn arthritis. She wouldn’t mind to be young again for a moment, just like the two lovebirds strolling across the grass. She would pass on the drama of the youth though. That seems to be raised by a notch by each generation. Everything is going down the drain nowadays. Dogs  wear clothes, men are crying and being old gives you the privilege to do what they tell you to do. Back to knitting, we don’t want the damn dogs to freeze.

   I still don’t believe Dukey is gone. My little puppy. I keep thinking about him. I try not to, especially with the cuts at the office. I am so distracted and the work is getting to me. The queen B of a boss is breathing down my neck, terrorising me with her sneaky eyes from 9 to 6. I wish I could retire and sit outside and read, play with dogs or even knit like the old lady on the bench. Is that a little sweater? It’s too little for a baby though. Oh my, so sweet – I think she is making it for a dog. Dukey would look so cute in a red sweater like that. I say that to Tom, but I don’t think he is really listening. I always thought he couldn’t stand Duke, but then he – I can’t think about it. It was such a horrible day. Tom is fidgeting. Is he crying? I would never say he has such a sensitive soul. I squeeze his hand harder and lean on his shoulder to assure him he can count on me.

   He blinks. He double blinks, triple blinks and flutters his eyelids so fast his vision is blurred. The speck of something is still lodged in his eye. His right hand is plastered up to his biceps and his left is trapped in hers. It would be unwise to try to extricate himself. He double blinks again. She keeps talking about the dog. Duke Zuzu Theodore the Third. There never was Duke Zuzu Theodore the First, nor Second for that matter. First class Pomeranian. First class yapping pom pom more likely. He was squashed under the wheels of the neighbour’s car two weeks ago along with his stupid heroic arm that tried to grab him out of harm’s way. She is still upset about it. Although it’s not a surprise that the mongrel ran off on the road. His eyes starts to water. Blink. Blink. How can I get this thing out of my eye? Triple blink.

Writing 101 – Day 9

Day 8 [Writing 101]

Wednesday. Lunch break. The day of the food market. The windswept passageways of the architectonic disaster also known as One New Change are flooded with hunters and gatherers. 15 minutes wait for a paella is not worth of my time. 15 minutes of waiting for anything is not worth of my time. The dog must have eaten his wristwatch; mine commands exact 12:46. Second date has ceased to be a romantic encounter for me and I start scripting a dump-fest in my head.

I spot him at the Portuguese stand being swallowed by the chorizo lovers. It would appear he has forgotten to sharpen his elbows today. He struggles to manoeuvre through the gaps; an elephant trapped in a glass labyrinth would be more elegant. 12:51 and I’m faced with a rumpled suit and sweat patches. His mouth is opening and closing so he must be vomiting an apology but I am distracted by the small drop trickling down his left cheek. It is almost at his chin. I don’t wait for it to fall.

 

Writing 101 – Day 8

 

Day 7 [Writing 101]

 

”Stop wiggling, would you?”

”Only if you get OFF MY BACK!’

”We have been over this zillion times already my dear. I am the head therefore am on the top.”

”Just because you are the head it doesn’t mean you get to choose!”

”Sure it does sweet cheeks. Of course butt like you could never understand this. Well it is not entirely surprising as you do not have a brain and therefore lack in th—”

”I’M NOT A BUTT – I AM A TAIL!’

”Tail, butt, ass – same difference”

”Did you just…you…how dare you…you, you…”

”Trouble expressing yourself?”

”Aaaargh. You are soooo….”

”Please honey,  calm down and go to sleep. Shall I sing something to you? And PLEASE stop the wiggling already.”

”That wasn’t me.”

”You’re the tail. You wiggle.”

”It wasn’t ME. It was him.”

”Oh.”

”I think we are going out.”

”You can’t think, you don’t hav—”

”Whatever. I’m right. We are going to fly. And maybe this time I will land on the top.”

”In your dreams.”

”He’s gonna flip it.”

”No he’s not and anyway brainless ass in charge? Not on my wa—”

”Here we goooo!”

‘—–aaaaaaatch!”

 

coin-pound-uncirculated-big

Writing 101 – Day 7

_______

Source