
New To Me : Friday Favourites
This week’s Friday Favourites theme is Favourite Authors that are New To Me in 2019. Some of these names may seem a little…familiar.
This week’s Friday Favourites theme is Favourite Authors that are New To Me in 2019. Some of these names may seem a little…familiar.
This week’s Top Ten Tuesday is a freebie due to the US Thanksgiving Holiday. I’m going to take a look at the books in my backlist that I haven’t read yet.
The week before I joined the blog hop, everyone was discussing books that explained a subject of their choice. Let’s look at my favourite writing books!
My reading habits have changed so much over the past couple of years. I’m starting to refine my preferred genres and find balance with my writing.
I love when people recommend books to me. I can get a severe case of tunnel-vision when I deep-dive into a genre or series. Even worse if it’s some sort of potato-chip reading (I’m looking at you, Nora Roberts).
Yes, yes, the Prix Aurora Awards are long over by now, but I wanted to still put up my review of William Gibson’s The Peripheral. It’s taken me a while to be able to sort out my thoughts on the book.
It’s the eve of the twenty-second century: a world where the dearly departed send postcards back from Heaven and evangelicals make scientific breakthroughs by speaking in tongues; where genetically engineered vampires solve problems intractable to baseline humans and soldiers come with zombie switches that shut off self-awareness during combat. And it’s all under surveillance by an alien presence that refuses to show itself.
It’s been two months since a myriad of alien objects clenched about the Earth, screaming as they burned. The heavens have been silent since – until a derelict space probe hears whispers from a distant comet. Something talks out there: but not to us. Who to send to meet the alien, when the alien doesn’t want to meet?
It’s 2015, and Patricia Cowan is very old. “Confused today,” read the notes clipped to the end of her bed. She forgets things she should know-what year it is, major events in the lives of her children. But she remembers things that don’t seem possible. She remembers marrying Mark and having four children. And she remembers not marrying Mark and raising three children with Bee instead.
We went window-shopping at The Mall this weekend and I had a chance to stop in at Indigo. I came out with Ready Player One by Ernest Cline. I’d heard good things about it online.
I devoured it in one day.