Review: Don't Look Back by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Two music boxes with ballerinas, two missing girls, several suspects, and amnesia are the points that converge on Samantha and her best friend who is missing, Cassie. Sam has no memory of what happened nor does she know why there is blood all over her clothes. She doesn't know if all the blood is hers. She remembers nothing of the past four days while she has been missing or who she was before or now. She doesn't recognize her own face when she walks out of the night and into the swirling chaos that is the void that once was her life.

Jennifer L. Armentrout begins what is at first easily dismissed as a mystery where amnesia forms the central focus of the main character's life, and oh how boring and predictable that is. Except that Don't Look Back is anything but boring or formulaic. There are the usual elements of any mystery: lost memory, lost time, lots of suspects, and a confused protagonist. That is where the similarities end. Don't Look Back is also commentary about bullying and status and what happens when young people -- and adults -- succumb to the siren song of wealth, power, and fear. In the end, fear is what the book is really all about. Fear of not fitting in. Fear of being too different. Fear of other people's perceptions. Fear of peer pressure. Fear of wealth, and of losing wealth.

Sam was a likeable young woman, at least as long as her memory is missing. I'm not sure I'd want to know the kind of person who would gain pleasure out of bullying everyone around her. Her best friend, Cassie, is an equally nasty customer who is driven by popularity and fear and never hesitated to use both to get what she wanted, especially Sam's life and possessions.

Sam's twin brother and her best friend before Cassie, support her during this difficult time, but neither boy, despite being on the baseball team, are part of Sam's previous group of friends. Add Sam's previous friends and her very wealthy boyfriend and their on again-off again relationship, and Sams' parents' expectations coupled with her mother's drinking habit, and life just could not get any worse, except that Sam's life is worse. She cannot remember what happened to Cassie or who she really is. Someone keeps leaving Sam notes warning her that she does not want to remember her past or give the murderer any clue that she has begun to remember. And the police are taking a closer look at Sam because they think she might have murdered Cassie. So do Sam's old best friends and her boyfriend and everything keeps getting worse as Sam gets closer to the hired help's son.

The killer is not easy to spot. Most of the characters had a reason to get rid of Cassie and Sam. Although there are several candidates for murderer, I would have liked to get to know some of the major players better; however, it is a big cast with a lot of axes grinding in the wings.

Armentrout does a credible job of dealing with Sam's amnesia without resorting to manipulating the reader as the memories resurface. The characters are believable, though some are a bit one-dimensional. As Sam's relationships change in the wake of her memory loss, I wonder if the new Sam, so much like the Sam before Cassie, is who she would have been. As one character reminds Sam, she has gotten a huge break by being given a second chance to make herself and her life better.

Overall, I enjoyed Don't Look Back and was surprised by the ending. I did get hung up on grammar errors and the ubiquitous use of ahold, which is not a word and was yet used throughout. Ms. Armentrout would serve her readers and her novels better if she stopped using the word in place of hold, in place of ahold. One grabs hold of something, not ahold of anything, which, in my estimation, drops Don't Look Back from 4/5 to 3/5. Yes, grammar and word choice do count. 

Review: The Kiss of Deception by Mary E. Pearson

Beginning The Kiss of Deception, I was struck by the similarity between so many other stories where a princess is dreading her arranged marriage to a man she doesn't know and has never met and the ensuing thwarting of her royal parents' plans. There was one small change and that was the princess lying face down and nake while artisans painted what amounts to a mehndi (henna painting) on her back that merged the symbols of two houses: the princess's and the betrothed's. The dress she put on framed the kavah (mehndi) with lace and precious fabrics and the princess was stunned by the beauty of the work, work that she plans to destroy as soon as she can get away from her parents and the guards. Princess Arabella Celestine Idris Jezelia, First Daughter of the ruling house of Morrighan, is just such a boring princess and I forced my way through the first two chapters.

It was after the first two chapters that things, and Lia, as her brothers call her and she prefers, flees Morrighan with her best friend and personal maid, Pauline, to Pauline's home before her mother died and she was sent to Civica, the Morrighan capital, to become Lia's maid. What happens next is far more interesting than would at first appear. The Kiss of Deception is far more complex and yet simple in its premise. Lia wants to fall in love and marry a man of her own choosing, a man who values her above her position, her royal blood, and the power of magic that reportedly courses through her, the power of the Sight, which she does not have. She knows the power; her mother has it. Lia does not -- or does she?

Lia is different from most privileged princesses used to dining on fine food, drinking the best wines, and dressing in finery. She wants an uncomplicated life, the life of every free man and woman in her country, a life worth living as her privileged life never was. It makes things interesting that Lia is also an intelligent woman with a sharp, ungoverned tongue who felt more at home with her brothers than with the life she was corralled and groomed to lead, a life of duty to family and country and marriage for the sake of alliance.

Two men, one the prince Lia spurned and an assassin set to kill Lia to keep the two kingdoms from merging with the marriage.  Both men follow Lia and Pauline to the village and are entranced by Lia's bold manner and beauty. It does help that the prince discovers the pot boy has seen Lia's kavah. The assassin aligns himself superficially with the prince to keep from being quickly discovered and the games begin.

While Mary E. Pearson's characters are memorable and interesting, she does lavish a great deal of detail on Lia's eccentricities that would otherwise put her at risk if this were anything but a fantasy, specifically a jeweled dagger that no tavern wench would own, Lia's aura of command and privilege, and her tart tongue. Lia may model herself after a saucy tavern wench, but she fails horribly and ends up about as subtle as a holocaust in the middle of the small town square.

Aside from those serious flaws, Lia is an interesting character and the situation between the prince, the assassin, and Lia make for a fascinating read. I raced through the story, which, for me, is a good indicator that I am enjoying the suspension of disbelief, even though suspending disbelief is a little more difficult than usual. The Kiss of Deception is the first book in the Remnant series and a fantastical fantasy worth the read. Many will miss the glaring errors and focus only on Lia's good heart, bravery, smart mouth, and boldness. These are all good qualities that would have pushed Pearson's first novel in the Remnant series into a much higher rating than 3/5 stars. Even so, the book and the characters are worth taking the plunge.

Review: Ballerina by Edward Stewart

My first thought after reading the description of Ballerina by Edward Stewart is that it was a modern version of The Turning Point with Anne Bancroft and Shirley MacLaine. I was wrong.

The story is about Stephanie Lang and Christine Avery, aspiring ballerinas in New York City in the 1970s, which is the time that The Turning Point was filmed, and also mentioned in the last half of the book. Where Bancroft and MacLaine faced off after about 20 years of guarded friendship and rivalry, Steph and Chris are beginning their journey through the ranks of young girls struggling to learn from the best and brightest, gaining positions in New York ballet companies, and braving the rough waters of career, dance, and men, and not always successfully.

Chris is the daughter of a very wealthy family from Chicago. Her parents are resigned to allowing Chris to pursue ballet and have agreed to Steph's mother's compromise of letting Chris live with them while training and working. Chris's parents never show up for any of the big moments in Chris's life: premieres, opening nights, etc. and she remains in many ways a  scared and immature child even to the point of being horribly backward.

Steph is the product of genetics (both parents were ballet dancers in the 1950s) and her mother's failed ballet career. Anna Barlow Lang was going somewhere until Marius Volmar fired her and her husband. Neither could get a break after that and Anna poured all of her time and attention into Steph's career, starting at the age of 3 or 4. Anna pushes and manipulates Steph so Steph can have the career Anna always wanted and works to recreate her past in her daughter, regardless of what Steph wants.

There are men in the mix as well, from Marius Volmar, the director of National Ballet Theater, to the young men who want to be part of Steph and Chris's lives and either fail to understand what it means to be a dancer or get caught up mixing the business, pleasure, and passion of ballet. It is a heady -- and often destructive -- life fraught with friendship walking the tightrope of dance and emotion. Add in blackmail and a defector from the Kirov in Communist Russia and you have the quintessential late 20th century ballet novel.

Michael Stewart first published Ballerina in 1978, which is why the novel seemed to be more a product of the 1970s instead of merely depicting the times. The novel is full of ballet references in French, of course, and is not a quick read. One must pay attention and be familiar with the terminology, or willing to stop and look all the words up. What Stewart does very well is portray the world behind the scenes in all its glorious shades of light and dark, and there is a lot of dark to go around.

Stewart's characters may be true to life for the times, but I doubt that little has changed in ballet. Chris and Steph exist on coffee, cigarettes, bee pollen, and honey for that quick burst of energy. Anna Barlow Lang is as determined and manipulative a ballet mother as one could hope for (or fear) and Marius Volmar is intent on one thing -- his vision of ballet as art -- and just as manipulative and vicious as Anna.

Steph and Chris are supportive and kind, but Chris's constant fears of inadequacy wear dangerously thin and tend toward whining while Steph, although at times anxious and struggling, is more assertive and willing to let go and fly as she struggles to break free of her mother's machinations.

Predictably, there are gay chorus boys carping and venomous in their relationship with soloists who attempt to play both sides of the sexual game and excess and eccentricities to satisfy ballet lovers and voyeurs. Ballerina has something for everyone in its sometimes glacial pace and the ending is pure fairy tale with a surprising maturity and grace. Ballerina is still as relevant in the 21st century as it was in the 1970s and often just as much fun -- and sad and complex and perplexing and -- ballet.

Through the Grapevine

The past week has been full of surprises, thrills, and chills -- as is most every week lately. Through the grapevine, I heard that my oldest son, David Scott, was assaulted and in the hospital having abdominal surgery. Evidently, he was carjacked, beaten with a baseball bat, and waited 24 hours to go to the hospital. I asked him why he waited and he said he thought he could just suck it up. He's sucked up a lot over the years when he had stabbed himself with a knife to add veracity to his stories (yes, there were multiple episodes) that he had been accosted, assaulted, stabbed, and whatever he came back without (usually my possessions or someone else's) were stolen, but he fought hard to get them back. Of course, the money and/or things (my car radio, tools, etc.) were never retrieved, but the stab wounds (usually in his thigh) were bloody and his pants ripped, but then who doesn't have ripped pants in their closet or drawer since that is considered high fashion. Blood is just fodder for the story that inevitably follows.

Okay, so David Scott is in the hospital on a ventilator and has undergone major abdominal surgery for a bucket handle tear of his intestines, which the doctors had to go in and rearranged, closing the tear, and his belly is still open with a wound VAC attached. He has been in surgery 3x since then and I haven't yet heard about the results of the surgery yesterday because they hadn't taken him in yet when I called right before starting work. It was too late to call after work and there have been no messages. They took David off the ventilator on Sunday and I have spoken to him twice since then when he was actually lucid and his voice didn't sound like it had been dragged backward over rough grit sandpaper while gargling sharp-edged kidney stones.

Now that he is able to talk the waterworks have been several appearances and some of the carjacking story had surfaced as well. First came the "I'm sorrys" punctuated by sounds of muffled tears and the anguish I have come to know so well after these episodes. The car wasn't his; it belonged to a friend, which is why he fought so hard with the carjackers armed with only a baseball bat. The story goes that he was stopped because the engine stopped and he was looking under the hood with the driver's side door open when he heard someone get into the car. He looked up, saw the thieves were trying to steal the car -- the same car where the engine had already died at an inopportune moment -- and he got into a tussle with them. He was overwhelmed and was beaten with the baseball bat they carried with them and eventually dragged several feet as they thieves took off in the car (evidently without putting down the hood of the car first) with him hanging on for dear life. "I fought so hard because the car didn't belong to me," he said through hitching sobs and a waterfall of tears bravely held back.

I cannot say I have ever heard of carjackers using a baseball bat or, if they did use a bat, why the only place on his body they hit repeatedly was his abdomen. Carjackers want to incapacitate and immobilize their victims, so the knees and head would be the quickest and most efficacious target, not the belly.

David assured me he had road rash on his back from being dragged behind the car (maybe beside it -- he hasn't actually worked out his story sufficiently) and that he fought so hard. The car is gone. David is in the hospital still -- under a fake name and birth date, which I didn't discover until the second time I called and talked to a nurse. Yes, he told the hospital staff his name was Michael and he was born in October 1978 instead of November 11, 1973. After clearing that little mistake in his hospital record (and clearing it up again twice more with the doctors), I was able to get more information. The doctor and anesthesiologist called me for permissions before he went into surgery on Sunday and I have spoken to the ICU doctor once, who was still of the opinion that David Scott's name was Michael, about David's surgery and prognosis, most of which information the doctor didn't have since he was the ICU doctor and not one of the surgeons. It is taxing listening to a doctor go on about bucket-handle mesenteric tears and rearranging bowel, washing out fecal matter from the abdomen, and exactly what a wound VAC is when I've already explained several times I've been doing medical transcription for acute care hospitals for about 30 years. I don't know how lay people sit through all this stuff without screaming.

At any rate, the story continues to change. David doesn't remember his estranged wife, Julie, has been to see him. He hasn't received a phone call from his father and stepmother in spite of his stepmother, Brenda, demanding I give them the number so they can call by way of the familial grapevine where I have given updates, and I am heartily sick of the whole shooting match. I am David's mother and I do care about him, but I have to say that this is just one more upside down pyramid of lies in a world wide web of lies that I have heard over the nearly 40 years of my son's life. He lies even when the truth sounds better. For an intelligent and talented man, my son wastes his talents on carving a wide swath of destruction everywhere he goes, littering the views with mounds of battered, broken hearted, and much poorer bodies, most of which have been women. It is exhausting.

As my friend Jeff says at the end of his updates, so tell me about your week.

Fear of Writing

I am cautiously optimistic.

Sounds like the beginning of a politician's set speech, something that uses a lot of words but says nothing.

What I mean to say is that I don't want to queer my pitch and fall back down into the hole where I've been living for at least the past 2-3 years. That's how long I have not been actively writing. Not books. Not consistently. Not even in my paper journals, except when something won't be silenced and I need to get it out. Where I once went through a good sized journal every 2-3 months, it is taking me a year, possibly more because I'm afraid to look, getting halfway through the current journal. It's in my bedside table, so there's no excuse, but I fell out of the habit of writing every day and that would be writing.

Oh, I write book reviews on occasion. I have not stopped reading, voraciously. I just stopped writing. The ideas and characters and plot points were there clamoring to be heard and put on the page, but I refused to listen. It's a skill I learned as a teenager at home. I was a master at ignoring my mother speaking, cajoling, wrangling, arguing, and criticizing me. Now I can say I'm equally good at ignoring the urge, the desire, the need to write.

Or at least I was until a couple of days ago.

There is a book I wrote several years ago that I've been meaning to format for ebooks. I did some of it initially and then . . . stopped. Fiddling with it doesn't count since I seldom got more than a few pages done. Then something caught hold of me and I opened the file and began formatting. More than a few pages. Lots of pages.

And then it happened. I wrote. Tweaking a bit of dialogue. Writing a new sentence or two. Actually editing and -- dare I say it? -- writing. Shock took hold and I stopped. It wasn't safe to continue.

The next night, I opened the file, searched for the markers, and formatted some more.

And I wrote more.

Now you know why I began with "cautiously optimistic." I'm not sure how long this will last and I don't want to scare it away. Journaling more was the catalyst, that and being unable to ignore the voices clamoring for attention.

The thing is, even if you know there's a trap ahead, you could still fall into it. My trap was set around expectations. Unreal expectations. I got away from the reason I began writing as a child -- because I wanted to tell stories, to write them down, and keep them for myself. I got caught up in making money, enough money to quit the day job and write. That didn't happen, not with the first or the second or even the 15th book. I was still slogging along, banking small royalties, and still wage slaving away.

Then there were the awful reviews from people who obviously didn't read much or thought my books were romance. I don't write romance, although there is romance in some of my books. Not the same thing at all. They had unrealistic expectations of me, that I would fulfill their need, their desire for a new romance novelist.  My books are much more complex, and I hope richer than formula romance. Those reviewers obviously didn't read the book or just "couldn't get into it" as some wrote. I can't get into some books either, but I don't trash them or eviscerate the writer for not living up to my expectations. I say I couldn't get into the book and leave it at that. I could tell those reviewers likely didn't read past the first chapter or two and yet reviewed the book as if they had. I don't read past the second chapter, or even the third, and I write the author privately and say I won't review the book and explain why. There are readers who like those books, but one of them wasn't, or isn't, me.

It seemed pointless to keep writing for people who didn't want what I had to offer. Frankly, I was deep into the abyss of depression and didn't care about anything any more. Nothing that once gave me pleasure even touched the darkness I clothed myself in. I didn't care. All I could manage was doing the job I was paid to do and very little else. And I mean very little else.

That's how it was until recently when my world was shaken, stirred, and turned upside down. The bank foreclosed on all my landlord's properties, my house included. I didn't think much would change, since the bank said nothing would change. I sent my rent to a new address and person and everything slid back down into the abyss. Then someone put a realtor's sign in my yard and a letter informed me that I would have to open my door to let people tramp through the house, people who might want to buy the house -- and toss me into the street.

Okay, the street is a bit of an exaggeration, but not much.

I've always been at my best when my back is against the wall. A spark ignited and the furnace went into heating the arctic circle mode. I would fight back. I would offer to buy the house.

Every obstacle put up against me I hurdled. Every threat I faced. I was alive again. Too bad it came at such a cost. The house is still a mess because I haven't done anything for 2 or 3 years; that means cleaning house. I did just enough to get by with laundry, with dishes, with everything.

As my anger and determination fired up, so did something else inside me -- the desire to write. That is where I am now.

No doubt I will get more bad reviews from readers who couldn't get into my books or didn't bother to read anything and are determined to leave 1/5 stars. Let them. I can take it. I'll consider the source.

Slowly and surely, I will come back from this. Whether I live here or not, if the bank allows me to buy this house or not, I will keep going. I'm not sure I can stand another slide into the abyss, and I will write and clean and fight back with all that's in me.

Review: Allegiant by Veronica Roth

What is it about the Divergent books that makes them so popular? Is it the headlong rush to violence? One guy/gal against the system willing to brave the odds? A world gone mad? The bleakness of the landscape? Whatever it is, Veronica Roth has brought to life a landscape of fear and control and lies within lies that is at the heart of this rocket through hell very popular -- and very readable.

At the core of change there will be blood and violence. At the core of Allegiant there is also death and redemption and the people in control willing to sacrifice everything to reset the world and wipe out generations of memories and history for the sake of . . . what? Depends who you ask.

The people on the Fringe believe it is control. The people in the government outside Chicago believe it is protection of their purification project, protection of their mythology that defective genes create defective people. For the people in Chicago, it is the truth, their truth, their faction's truth. Erudite was willing to destroy Abnegation to keep the truth from the people and protect their way of life even if they had to use mind control drugs on Dauntless to accomplish their aims and wipe out what they feel is a useless faction, Candor. Everyone wants control and no one wants to listen.

Tris and Four rescue Peter, who has done so much evil for the sake of power and his own greed for violence and destruction, and take them through Amity to the outside. They leave Four's father, the leader of Abnegation behind, but that does not change Marcus's plans or his ability to get back in control. Marcus convinces Johanna Reyes, the central focus in Amity and the new leader of the Allegiant group since she decided to leave Amity to help Four and Tris against Erudite, that she needs him to gather support because his name and presence will mobilize the remnants of the factions not under Evelyn Johnson's control.

Evelyn is Four's mother, the mother he believed to be dead, and the only person to be thrown out of Abnegation at Marcus's urging. Evelyn has become the head of the factionless when she threw in with the remaining members of the Dauntless faction not under Erudite and Jeanine Matthews's control. When Erudite was put down and Tori had killed Jeanine Matthews, Evelyn took control, abolished the factions, and became dictator, forcing the factions to disband and adopt factionless ways. Everything in Chicago is upside down, but Four has betrayed his mother, rescued Peter and Tris's brother Caleb, and fled for the outside with Amity and Johanna Reyes's help.

What they find is not a world in need of their divergent to set the world to rights, but the Bureau of Genetic Welfare and another layer of truth that belies the Truth they fought so hard to reveal against incredible odds and great personal loss.

Tris, Four, their friends and enemies, Peter chief among them, try to fit into a new world without factions and focused on the goal of fixing what went wrong in a country they didn't know existed when scientists decided to fix society's evils by changing their genetic code. Chicago was one of several enclosed cities where the goal was to fix the genetic mistakes and recreate a purer genetic heritage of which the Divergent were an integral part.

Tris and Four are tested and she is still Divergent, but Four is not. He is genetically deviant and less important in the world that the head of the bureau, David, wants to reset. The landscape opens up and a very different kind of prejudice and rebellion are revealed where the genetically deviant are slaves and menial laborers with a limited ability to advance themselves and the genetically pure, like Tris, are thrust into leadership positions. Rebellion is brewing and Tris is once again at the center of a maelstrom of change and violence where she will have to decide who to sacrifice next.

As if the imploding world of the factions in Chicago was not a violent enough landscape, Veronica Roth spreads out into the rest of the post apocalyptic American landscape where the economy has been destroyed and all semblance of a working and flourishing society has crumbled. Headquartered in what once was O'Hare airport, the Bureau has created a new kind of division between the haves and have nots by pinning it all on genetics. Underlying this new tyranny the one fact that is lost in the genetic shuffle is the resilience of humanity to bloom and grow in stony ground and continue to adapt and advance. Tris and the other Divergents are, for lack of a better comparison, the latest X-Men (and women), the evolution of the human species.

Roth focuses all of her attentions on Tris and Four and their friends -- and frenemies like Peter and Caleb -- and their struggle to return their world to one they recognize, a world of factions, but with a new focus. Evelyn's focus has been tight control and resentment of those she feels tossed her and a significant portion of their society onto the rubbish heap, forcing them into servitude and starvation. It is difficult to see Evelyn fitting into Abnegation society, especially since she has none of Marcus's ability to compartmentalize and justify his brutality to her and to their son, Tobias/Four.

Tris adapts quickly, but cannot come to grips with Caleb's betrayal of her and their parents, or how she missed Caleb's lies about who and what he was. What's more devastating is how he justifies his betrayals by upholding Jeanine Matthews's version of the truth and what he did in Jeanine's service to deliver Tris to death.

Roth puts the focus on the rebellion in the Fringe, within the Bureau, and against Evelyn's tyranny and yet she still manages to open up the heart of the main characters while adding more people and to the mix, always delving deeper for hidden truths and flaying mythologies for the seeds of their beginnings. There is no lack of violence and the violence gets bigger with high tech weapons, explosives, and a death serum protecting the serum that will reset Chicago and return the experiment to a world of factions and demolished memories. Allegiant lives up to the groundwork laid by Divergent and Insurgent and imagines a new landscape with free access to the rest of the world.

Roth does an excellent job of navigating this new and broken America and wraps it all up nicely in a bow reminiscent of an original Star Trek episode where a rigidly controlled world is allowed one day of excess and chaos and the computer controlling their society destroyed. What remained was a world of problems and unleashed minds and emotions finding a way to live in a more real, and usually chaotic, world.

The Divergent world is not without its problems, and adapting to change without the rigid construct of the factions makes it difficult, but Roth leaves readers with the hope that the scars will heal, the pain will ease, and the world will keep on ticking, ticking, ticking. I give Allegiant 4/5 stars. It is an admirable attempt to join up all the loose ends and offer a mustard seed of hope, but not without some devastating destruction wrapped in a nice neat bow.

Review: Insurgent by Veronic Roth

I have never gotten through a trilogy so quickly, at least not one where all the books have been published. I had a brief flirtation with the Children fo the Lion series by Peter Danielson, but that was far more than a trilogy and it took some time to get through the first 2 books.

I am not sure if it is the subject matter (dystopian future) or that the characters and plot are so interesting, or it could be Roth's writing, but I devour all three books in about 4 days.

Insurgent takes up where Divergent left off, but the ante has been upped way up. Tris's previous faction, Abnegation, is at the heart of the story because Erudite's leader is using Dauntless as the army to take the entire faction out. Even though faction before blood is at the heart of the factions, or at least has become in recent years, Tris cannot slough off her abnegation training and heart so easily. She is also divergent and the only person ever to come out of the simulations with three choices: Dauntless, Abnegation, Erudite. She is a very unique person, not to mention that she combines the elements of all three -- fearless, intelligent, and selfless -- in a brand new way and is immune to the simulation injections. She can control what happens and cannot be controlled by Erudite, which makes her a wild card in Erudite's plans, one that the cannot guard against.

Four, also known as Abnegation leader's son, Tobias Eaton, can be controlled, though he is also Divergent, and Tris must face off against him and all her friends in Dauntless. Erudite has a plan to get rid of her, thanks to Peter, Tris's nemesis in Dauntless, and her fear of drowning in an enclosed container is given life to take her out of the game. After all, Divergent must be eliminated in order for Erudite's plan to work.

As the Abnegation faction is attacked and many of its people eliminated, Tris must break find a way to break out of the cube and save the Abnegation people, including Four's father, whom she loathes, in order to get the truth out about the reason why factions were created and why they must live their lives within the confines of what once was Chicago, a truth that Erudite is willing to kill to protect.

Veronica Roth really turns up the heat in the Divergent trilogy with Insurgent and she brings out the interconnected layers and more characters, creating a dense onion of a world where friendships are tested and Tris's heart are laid bare. Roth adds complexity upon complexity and changes the game in fundamental ways for Tris and the faction divided world in which they all live. Sacrifice, truth, duplicity, control, manipulation, and fear add texture to a landscape already divided and fighting for its survival as the workings the workings of the remaining factions are brought to light.

Insurgent lays the groundwork for the final book of the series with a stunning truth that places Tris, Four, and their friends and enemies into a much larger world with so much more to lose -- and to gain. Insurgent is still 5/5 in writing, characterization, plot, and appeal.

I would also like to mention that although there are children killing children (and adults killing adults) the Divergent series shares nothing much with the Hunger Games books.

Review: Divergent by Veronica Roth

Amazon usually hits me with movies or books I might like by using what I've already bought. Divergent by Veronica Roth is one of those books.

I saw a trailer for the movie and, after reading the book I have one thing to say. The actress playing Tris is not at all how I pictured her. She is too tall, too obviously female, and not at all like the Tris described in Roth's words. I pictured her more like my little sister Beanie who is short, and though 49 years old, still looks a bit like a 12-year-old boy when she's dressed in jeans and t-shirt and a baseball cap. She is exactly how I see Tris. And she is blonde, though her hair has darkened with age.Having said that, I will get to the point of this post and that is reviewing the book.

Veronica paints a spare landscape using Chicago as the home of the factions: Abnegation, Erudite, Amity, Candor, and Dauntless. It is a world where the five factions are intertwined, each with their own place in their world and each with governance of one facet of their lives.

The story is told from Tris's point of view, or rather Beatrice Prior's. She changes her name when she chooses to leave Abnegation and become Dauntless. Tris doesn't feel she belongs with her family in Abnegation because she is selfish not selfless. She has a desire to live, to be free of the restrictions placed on her by the rules of her faction. She chooses with the specter of being Divergent, someone whose brain is wired so that she can do what has been thought impossible; she shows aptitudes in the simulation tests for 3 different factions: Abnegation, Dauntless, and Erudite. Being Divergent is dangerous and Tori, her examiner, tells Beatrice that she must never let anyone know or it will mean her death.

From the beginning Roth keeps up the pressure, first from Tris's rare difference to disappointing her parents because Tris doesn't think she's good enough to be in Abnegation and then on to the tough initiation in Dauntless where she pushes herself to the limit, and often beyond. Despite Tris's confusion about where she belongs, there is no confusion in the reader's mind that she is a complex young woman who has more value than she realizes, no matter how tough and fearless she acts.

Add attraction to Four, her initiation instructor at Dauntless, to the confusion already rampant in Tris's mind and her inexperience and fear of what the closeness she craves with Four means, and the action and emotion go right off the scale.

Roth adds complication to complexity as she slowly peels the layers of this closed society and the struggle that results from the Erudite leader's greed for power and control, and Jeanine's fear and loathing for the Divergent she works so hard to get rid of because she cannot control them with her science, and yet Roth never veers off the true, keeping the pressure and the focus on Tris and her fearless -- and selfless -- drive to sacrifice herself for what Tris believes is the greater good. There is also a note of selfishness in Tris's struggle to be fearless and selfless at the same time and it seems she has a death wish once her parents die in the struggle with Erudite over control of the government and everyone in it.

Roth's writing is very accessible and the story speeds along at a break-neck pace. The characters are complex and the world Roth builds complicated and simple at the same time. Divergent is the first of a trilogy, and an adrenaline fueled and emotional ride into a rigid world of compartmentalization torn by greed and intellectualism without morals or feeling for humanity. Although written for a YA audience, Divergent will appeal to everyone. I would give Divergent 5/5 for a thrill ride I will not soon forget, especially since I've moved on to Insurgent.

Snow and Blood on the Moon

It has been a while since I posted anything really personal. Time to change the pattern.

Winter definitely is not through with us here in Colorado Springs yet as is clearly evident.

Nothing like snow the first day after spring and again on Sunday. I hope that means the drought is over for us and the snow pack in the mountains is at high levels. One can only hope.

Beanie thinks it is funny when I say I live surrounding by parking lot, but it is true. There must have been a lot of business at that little building on the right, or maybe they had a lot of family visiting and wanted plenty of parking that wouldn't end up as a muddy swamp the way my parents' house looked in Hilliard every time it rained on the day we had a family get-together. The only problem is that the parking lot is usually filled morning and afternoon with parents dropping off and picking up their kids from the middle school across the road. That would be far to the left of these pictures.

That's a corner of the deck and this picture was taken very early in the morning before the people started roaring down the streets. It is lovely in a way and I never have to worry about shoveling the walks because there are none.

Last night's blood moon was my first opportunity to watch a lunar eclipse. There have been 3 or 4 visible here in Colorado since I moved here, but the weather has always been lousy for viewing. It was cold and clear last night at the start of the festivities. 

I sat on the toilet and took pictures out the bathroom window. This was the start of the event.

Though far away, the moon began to pass under the Earth's shadow and it was lovely. I don't have a good enough camera to catch the nuances of color, like the blood that spread over the shining face of the moon, but it was at least proof I watched.

By manipulating the photos after I downloaded them to my computer, the background got fuzzier and the moon did too, but at least it is there. I was too early to see the high point when the moon was completely bloody.

Still fuzzy from manipulating, but definitely farther along. This was at the height of the eclipse.

My battery ran down at that point and I couldn't get another clear picture until I hunted up new batteries.By then, the eclipse was over, but I saw most of it. Another first.

That is all. Disperse.

Manipulating Illegal Immigration

I saw a video while following another news story. The headline got my attention. Why wouldn't a smart young woman with a 4.0 grade average be able to get into college?

The headline was manipulative and so was the plea by the teacher, Clint Smith. That is what the whole video was designed to do. I was manipulated by my emotions. It's easy to do when you have a caring heart and want to help out someone who is less fortunate. But, like so many other issues, some of the facts are missing or slanted far from true.

This is the video.

As sad as this is for Maria, what Clint Smith forgets is that this country was built on legal immigrants, people who waited at Ellis Island to be allowed to enter the country and become American citizens, not on people who defy the laws and sneak into the country. Maria suffers because her parents did not get in legally. It would not matter if Maria were yellow or red or white or black. Her parents broke the law. It doesn't matter the reason they broke the law. It does matter that they broke the law and must pay for that crime.

This is no longer the New World, a wide land of meadows, trees, plains, and forests waiting to be expanded and built upon. We are not an undiscovered country; we have been here for over 200 years, and we have laws. What would happen in any other country in the world where millions cross their borders and bear and raise their children and expect to be given the rights of full citizenship when their presence is based on a lie, on breaking the country's laws? Yes, the young who know nothing else will suffer, but it is their parents to whom they must look for answers, not the country that is following its own laws. Laws their parents broke.

These people cannot be allowed to break the laws of the country they sneaked into and expect to be given full citizenship as a result. That makes the laws of this country worth nothing and our borders no more lasting than a soap bubble in a wind storm. As much as my heart aches for the children, it is not the fault of the country or the law that puts them in the untenable position of not belonging; it is their parents' disregard for the laws of this land they illegally entered that is the problem and from that must come the solution.

America is the land of the free and the home of the brave, but it is also a land of laws. You cannot be free no matter how brave you were escaping poverty in your own country if you are not willing to obey the laws. That is what we must keep uppermost in mind. We have not denied Maria a college education; her family has. We have not ignored her hard work and her good grades; her family has. We have not denied her access to a better life; her family has. That is the cost of such a lie. The cost is in the damage her parents did to her by allowing her to believe she was an American and entitled to what her school fellows are legally entitled to because they are citizens?

Did her parents at any time seek to redress the wrong they did Maria by appealing to Immigration to become an American citizen? Until the 7 million illegal immigrants are willing to own up to their lies and the ways in which they broke the laws of this land and go through the naturalization process, waiting in line like all those refugees who landed at Ellis Island waited and hoped, then they cannot and should not be allowed to stay in this country and be given amnesty. It's a hard truth, but it is the truth.

I understand how Clint Smith feels about Maria. I felt the same way about a young man I once knew in Arvada, Colorado. He was a young man of Mexican heritage and he had just been rewarded for his hard work by a raise and a promotion to assistant manager of a local fast food restaurant. I was happy for him. His world came crumbling down when corporate headquarters fired him. He had done nothing wrong, at least as far as I could see, but then the story came out. He was an illegal immigrant who had lived and worked in Arvada for over 10 years. He showed me the letter he received from the social security department stating that the SS number he used was invalid and that he would be required to use the new card they had enclosed. Social Security knew he was illegal, but they gave him a valid card and number. The like to get their payments on time and in full, and he had used the correct number on all subsequent tax filings and at work. The social security system still marked him as an illegal immigrant.

The restaurant where he worked knew he was illegal from the beginning, but they continued to employ and pay him and take taxes, social security, etc. from his wages and report them to the right governmental offices. They had no problem with him working for them as long as he maintained a low profile, a profile that could no longer be maintained when he was promoted to assistant manager, a position he earned. He had risen in the ranks and he had become with that rise more visible in the system and the corporation more accountable for hiring and paying an illegal immigrant.

From what I soon found out, this is a common practice all over America. Forget about sweat shops and businesses that operate at a profit below the radar only to be raided by the Immigration and Naturalization Services (INS). Those raids you see in movies and on TV are the tips of a very large field of icebergs. The truth is more subtle with far more tendrils and roots throughout the governmental system. Illegal immigrants are not difficult to find. The government has always known where they are and how to find them, but chooses not to do so.

I felt sorry for Rafael and went with him to a lawyer specializing in making illegal immigrants into legal American citizens. I was so moved by his story that I was willing to marry him to help him get a green card and become an American citizen. His girlfriend of several years, a natural born American, though she loved him deeply and wanted to marry him, could not because her father forbade it. He knew Rafael was illegal and he would not allow his daughter to compound Rafael's crime by marrying him and allowing him to get a green card. Their marriage would not have been a sham as my marriage to him would be. The girl's father had been born in America after his parents legally entered this country and became American citizens and demanded his children uphold the laws of this land, their land. She followed her father's wishes and broke off her relationship with Rafael. It was a heart breaking moment for him and I was sad to see it happen.

Full of righteous indignation and caring for my friend, I was willing to flout the law -- for him. That is the problem. Like Clint Smith, I wanted to right what I saw as a wrong done to my friend. I was wrong. The law has to be upheld no matter the cost to the heart in this case. Rafael knew he did wrong. He wanted to escape the few choices he had in his own land and was willing to break the laws of this land, America, to get what he wanted. He told me if he was deported he would have to wait for 2 years before he could apply again.

Rafael's family was not poor; they were middle class. His younger brother was employed by the government of Mexico and held a responsible position in the local government and was rising quickly. His family owned property and lived a good life, but Rafael wanted more, and he was willing to break into this country to get it. To cross the border illegally to get away from what he saw as few choices and fewer chances to rise.

He told me about how much he paid to get here, how he was given a social security card, and taught how to evade discovery. Rafael was also told that the longer he lived in America the harder it would be for him to be caught and deported. He would play the waiting game that millions had played and continue to play now. Having children on American soil would make his children Americans and it was a tool Rafael could use to his advantage in remaining in America and forcing the government to make him a legal citizen.

As he opened the doors to this dark underworld of corruption, lies, and crime, I was saddened -- and appalled. Rafael was no Cuban fleeing repression and risking death to cross the water in a leaky boat overloaded with people nor was he a Vietnamese family crowded into boats too small to hold the fleeing hordes and crossing the Pacific fighting the odds in the hope they could make it to America. Rafael is a middle class Mexican man who deliberately gamed the system, playing the odds so he could become an American.

Maria and her family are different, but not all that different. They were poor and they risked capture and being turned back when they raced across the desert to sneak past the border guards to come into America illegally. The story Clint Smith tells about running through the darkness and hiding in fertilized fields beneath trucks to avoid detection by dogs has nothing to do with fleeing their own forces. They were fleeing detection by American border guards, sneaking in under cover of darkness to exploit weaknesses in our border patrols. As dramatic and shocking as it is, what Maria and her family did was commit a crime. Maria was a small child and did what she was told, but her parents knew what they were doing and were willing to risk it. To risk their child's safety and life to break the laws of this country. That is a fact.

No amount of emotional manipulation can change the facts. Maria is not culpable, and I understand her parents' reasons for getting out of their own country, seeing America as the Promised Land, but they broke the law. Millions of people like Maria's family have broken the law. Do we bow to sentiment and allow our emotional buttons to be pushed or do we stand by our laws and the laws of this country. Do we keep out people who have entered the country legally and maybe doom someone whose life is in immediate danger from their own government to uphold the Marias and their families who broke the law? Forget sentiment. Either uphold the law or bow to emotional manipulation and doom someone who did obey the law. That is the choice.

Either uphold the law or bow to emotional manipulation and doom someone who did obey the law to possibly death. That is the choice.

Of Taxes and Death

I finally got a call back from the mortgage guy at Northstar Bank of Colorado this morning, 2 calls in fact. The first call is where I pitched Andre, the mortgage guy my plan: 80/20 mortgage, no down, 15-year fixed with a 6-year loan for down payment and closing costs. I explained my situation (no credit rating at all but stable job, payment history of 6 years without a blemish, first time buyer, etc.).

Andre was intrigued I had done my homework and said he doubted it would be feasible in the secondary mortgage market, to which I explained I wanted the bank to carry both loans and I would apply for refinancing in 2-3 years. That would establish a credit rating and eventually make me eligible for the secondary market. Andre was even more intrigued.

I did explain that in this soft market the house would be difficult to unload with the problems (needs new roof, new furnace, and maybe a new foundation) and that I was aware of the problems. He said he'd get more information from Rae Loschen, who was the bank officer who had dealt with the property from the commercial side since it was part of a commercial package the bank foreclosed on November 2013. He called back about noon since he had promised to get back to me to tell me Rae had been in a meeting all morning and he would contact me when he had finally run Rae to ground.

This all sounds like high finance, but I am impressed that I marshaled my argument so succinctly without being at all nervous.  I was all business with pros and cons. I cheated a little by writing down the talking points. It's good to be prepared.

Of course now I will also have to deal with property taxes, but for such a cheap house that should be much.

Now all I have to do is deal with HR at work. I have been told to provide links to obituaries for my Uncle Dewey and my Aunt Wilma. I found Uncle Dewey's and I was just told about his death, but he died March 31st. News travels slow in this family, but usually faster when death is involved. Aunt Wilma lived in a very small town and I haven't been able to find her obituary anywhere. It will probably come up in a few days in the weekly paper? This is all news to me. I haven't been asked for links to obituaries before. I guess that's because it is unusual for 2 family members to die in the same week and ask for bereavement pay.

I think those deaths, and Ms. Hoity-Toity's expertise in real estate, that got me thinking about buying the house I've been renting for 6 years. I'd toyed with the idea of owning this house and being able to fix it up. Now I will have that chance -- before I die.

No Sale

This has been a time of life choices and changes.

In November 2013, I was informed that my house was part of a bank foreclosure on $2 million worth of properties. No wonder it took me so long to get the roof fixed on the back addition to this house. Now I understand why getting anything done was so impossible. It took me 4 years of nagging, complaining, and threatening the landlord with the county to get the roof fixed. But it was done 18 months ago and then I was faced with losing my happy home.

I didn't realize until I talked with Beanie this morning how much I actually love this little broken down, sagging roof, slate shingles off and insulation, once mouse-infested house so much. Beanie told me that when I moved in here 6 years ago all I did was talk about this house. This morning she told me that same enthusiasm and attitude was back in my voice.

There's a simple reason. Instead of bowing once again to the real estate gods, I have decided to fight for this house -- to ask the bank for a loan to buy it. I have lived on a cash only basis for about 20 years and it shows. I have absolutely no credit rating, which I thought put me out of the running for being able to buy this house, especially with no money down. I didn't know I'd be in this position when I rented this house 6 years ago. That's where my other sister, the real estate mogul comes in.

I talked to her last night on another issue. One of our aunts died, but that's another story for another time.

She asked me what was going on in my life . . . and I told her. She told me some things, too. She told me I had more to bargain than I thought. I have a good job that I've been working at for more than 2 years. I have a steady income and a 6-year history of paying rent on time. Most of all, I have no debt load. None. I live on a cash basis, so there is no accumulated debt, no interest payments, and no one else angling for my money. I am also already in possession of the house and I know the faults and work that needs to done. AND this is a soft real estate market so no down payment could be worked in. The bank wants their money and I don't want to have to move. Looks like it might be a deal made in real estate heaven.

Well, real estate heaven would be me buying the house and paying cash on the spot, but that's a different heaven.

For the first time since all this came up, and for the first time in 6 years, I might just have control over my fate, and that is the reason for my attitude change. So much of a change I actually did some housework this morning. I have a nasty headache for my efforts, but the living room is much cleaner than it was yesterday -- or for a long time past. I can see the sofa again.

I hate being at anyone else's mercy and I have felt as though I'm being batter and blown with no deep roots to hold me secure, to make me feel safe and in control again.

Last night I spent some time with a mortgage calculator and even at the highest rate, my mortgage payments would be less than what I pay for rent now. That means I could pay the same amount I paid in rent, with the excess going to the principle on the loan, which would also lower the interest paid, and the house would be mine free and clear of the bank sooner. It would be even more if I thought I could get a 30-year fixed rate mortgage, but I decided a 20-year fixed rate mortgage was a better idea and an easier sell to the bank.

I could also save the difference between the mortgage and the rent to put a new roof on the rest of the house, fix the porch, tear down the poor and leaking excuse for that roof over the front door that pours more rain down on the person standing under it than someone standing out in the rain, and replace the slate siding after fixing the insulation. I could eventually fix the bulging, rain damaged, and possibly mildewed and moldy paneling on the walls and ceiling of the addition, and tear down that awful cobbled together, poorly jerry rigged excuse for a bookcase in there. I could get a new furnace or install central air with a new heat pump. Or I could pay the mortgage off sooner. So many options, like building a greenhouse that attaches to the house with a garage/carport. First, I have to get the bank to agree to selling me the house and carrying the mortgage.

Beanie reminded me that I could take the interest payments off my taxes at the end of the year, but the best thing is that no one could throw me out of my home again (as long as I pay the mortgage) and force me out into the rental world again.

I knew when I saw the ad for this house and then saw the house 6 years ago that this was my house. If the bank agrees, this will indeed be my house -- for real.

The bank doesn't want the house; it wants the money. I don't want people tramping through my house every weekend. There is a basis for compromise. They sell me the house and I get to tell the real estate agent goodbye and thanks for taking up your signs.

This comes at a good time because I just found someone to do the repairs and maintenance around here for a reasonable amount of money. It would be good to have control for a change -- and to buy my first house.

One other perk is that finally my family will see me living here in Colorado not as a way to upset them, but as a viable choice. They can't ask me to uproot myself and move back to Ohio because I have no ties and no roots here. They will see me in a very different light. For the first time in the 59 years of my life, I will have my own home and roots. I won't have to move if I don't want to move.

Beanie reminded me of some other things, too. Any improvements I make in this house will increase its value, which means I can use that value to make some money if I decide to sell, or use the mortgage as a springboard to buying some land higher up in the mountains and building my writer's retreat with guest house, and I won't have to depend on the lottery to get there, which is good since I rarely buy lottery tickets.

I have always been a big fan of having some control. I had control when I got divorced, packed up, and moved to Florida. I have had control every time I decided to pick up and move to another state because it was my choice. I even have some control now that I've chosen to take action and talk to the bank about buying this house. I may not get a mortgage, but at least I have a good shot at it. I have some control. I have a direction. I have a choice, and it's a much better choice than whether or not to rent an apartment, rent the other half of a duplex or basement of someone else's house, or find another house to rent and move into so that I can find myself once again in a situation where someone else decides when it's time for me to move.

I am adaptable, but I find that my tolerance for being thrust into hoping for someone else to be on my side makes me feel uncomfortable and less willing to adapt. I do know that like my neighbor, Ms. Stilettos, I do not want to base my life on hoping that someone will buy this house and let me continue to rent the house. We almost lost our homes (hers is next door and part of the whole $2 million foreclosure) this week to a developer who wants to tear down both houses and put up something else. I not that adaptable. Not any more.

And so I move into the world of responsible home owner and gain control of my fate because the only factor in this situation is whether or not I pay the mortgage, and I'm not about to put myself into that kettle of rotten fish again.

Did I mention that the bank that owns this property now is also a local bank? Cross your fingers and light a candle for me. I may just have a shot at this. As far as I am concerned, the real estate agent can put "No Sale" on this house.

Where Do I Find a Seeing Eye Dog?

Sunday when I woke up there was a big black blotch in my right eye. Horrors! My first thought was retinal tear. I just got back from the eye doctor's. It's not a retinal tear. I was somewhat less anxious when the blotch immediately began to dissipate Sunday, but I needed a second opinion, preferably from a doctor. My eye doctor isn't in on Mondays, so I called back Tuesday and got an appointment for this morning -- and I went. I'm still fuzzy; my eyes are dilated. I did all the machines and they took a photo of my retina. Everything is clear.

Surprisingly, my left eye has returned to 20/20 vision and is the dominant eye. My right eye has better vision than it did 6 years ago, which is why my contacts no longer help me see better. They are too strong.

Two hours and a dilation later (I won't mention the glaucoma screen; I hate that thing) and I have new contacts in a lower power for my right eye and no contact for my left eye since it is 20/20. I am a happy camper.

What I have is a posterior vitreous detachment (PVD). That's when the vitreous (liquid in the eye) gets thicker with age and clumpy and folds over a bit. That was what the black blotch was when I woke up Sunday. The blotch is nearly gone, just a faint spot in the corner of my right eye. It happens as the eye -- and we -- age.

However, if you see a large or small or flurry of black dots, a hazy dark veil across your vision, and flashes/sparkles/lances of light, get to your eye doctor. It may be a retinal detachment and can be sealed with a laser to the affected area. Don't take your vision for granted. I certainly don't.