Whittier, CA | Member Since 2011
The story of Orson Welles adapting The War of the Worlds on the radio one Halloween and terrifying a ridiculous amount of the United States is kind of legendary today, but as someone who'd never heard it before, I wasn't sure if it'd live up to the legend or not.
It does, and it's a lot of fun to hear and imagine people listening to it when it originally broadcast. The moments of silence between reporters or military personnel when they go off the air unexpectedly just hangs there, and you can imagine the genuine dread that must've inspired (and still does, for those of us unafraid to use our imaginations).
I recently listened to Wells' original novel (narrated by Simon Vance) and I was impressed how much Orson Welles channeled that here - particularly the scene toward the end with the artillery man. It's a very solid adaptation, and a genuine piece of Americana.
It does sound like an old production, but it's well worth listening to if you've ever been curious about how Welles and Wells created possibly the best Trick or Treat in the world.
When Dorie Rochart is refused a job as a field scientist based on her gender, she does what anyone who is half-fey would – she makes herself look like a man (Dorian – a nice touch!), and gets the gig. From there on, she reunites with her childhood friend and adopted cousin Tam (who doesn’t realize it’s Dorie underneath all that Dorian), they’re off hunting basilisks and wyvern eggs, and also saving the world with mythology-based science. If this sounds a bit like Indiana Jones, well, it certainly put me in mind of the man with the hat, with the caveat that the University never seems very far away from where the majority of the field work takes place. There may be no hat and fedora, but there continue to be wicked (and perhaps misunderstood) fairies, mythical beasts, adventure, friendship, and romance. In short, Silverblind is a very fun time.
Like Silverblind’s predecessors, there’s a lot more happening here beneath the skin. The times are slowly changing, and while it may be better to be a woman than it was before, Silverblind points out it’s still a pretty crap playing field. In addition to the gender politics, the government is hell bent on hunting the wyvern eggs to extinction, and committing genocide against the faeries. Many of the characters are more complicated than they might first appear – in addition to Dorie and Tam are haunted by events from their the past, and I was particularly fond of Jack (short for Jacqueline) and Stella, two of Dorie’s friends, as well as Annika, the beautiful foreign student work in the field, but who has had to fight her own battles to get there.
You don’t have to have read the previous volumes in Connolly’s Ironskin trilogy to appreciate Silverblind, but it doesn’t hurt. Each book follows a different protagonist, and generally stands perfectly well on its own, although they’re all connected to each other. Dorie was a child in Ironskin, and Tam was a child in Copperhead. Silverblind is certainly the closing chapter of this series, weaving together threads and characters but also working very well as a standalone adventure for Dorie, Tam, and their friends, rivals, and enemies.
Rosalyn Landor returns to finish out the series, and provides another poised and elegant performance that compliments the story well.
If you’re looking for literature to fit that Downton Abbey shaped-hole in your life but packs a little extra punch, ring the bell for these books, and enjoy them with a nice cup of tea.
Appearances can be deceptive.
There are two sisters. Jane was wounded in an invasion by the fae, and now suffers from a disability in which she is cursed by a supernatural anger, and is a constant outsider, and goes to work as a governess in what appears to be a haunted house in the countryside. Helen is beautiful, married a wealthy aristocrat, and is obsessed with society and its balls and fashions.
If you’d asked me which sister I’d rather read about, I wouldn’t have thought twice. Jane sounds far more interesting and engaging. And I did enjoy reading Ironskin. So much, I listened to it as well. So you can imagine my surprise when I loaded Copperhead onto my phone and enjoyed it even more. But like I said, appearances can be deceptive.
Jane disappears from Copperhead early on, while attempting to help convince some of the most prestigious women in society that they have to do away with their fae-glamoured beauty. Helen is forced to take over after Jane’s disappearance, to track down the women, and convince them of the danger they’re in. A nice twist – some of the women Jane and Helen have to convince are using their supernatural beauty for good – such as celebrity-like spokeswomen for charitable causes.
Copperhead largely shifts the conflict and villainy away from evil faeries to a conspiracy of prominent men in society. Helen’s husband is one of these prominent men, though thankfully less of a moustache twirler, and through Helen, we see this group of society (known as Copperhead) do their best to increase their power and retain privilege – mostly by stripping it away from other groups. Women, in particular.
Something I liked about Ironskin was that Jane was essentially a character struggling with a disability, and that anger was eventually portrayed as something that could be righteous. Copperhead is equally infuriated by injustices perpetrated against women – and specifically married women, reminding us that the playing field isn’t been equal. What I appreciated most about it, though, was that it makes plain that women don’t have to be physically tough and abhor pretty things to be a strong. Helen is an incredibly likeable character I loved getting to know – one who is so much more than meets the eye. All the conflict, wit, desire, and guilt hidden beneath the surface make for a rich character I’d be happy to read more about.
Rosalyn Landor returns, and does a very fine job with the narration, and it seemed had more fun with the story Connolly told this time out. This is partially helped by the supporting characters – but it was in particular fun to hear Helen make friends with Frye and Calenduala, as well as Rook.
Copperhead’s romance is both more playful and natural, the supporting characters are more fun at drunken sleepovers, and the adventure isn’t afraid to revel in its own glamour and beauty. Like it’s protagonist, there’s much more happening beneath the surface of Copperhead than what we might’ve initially been led to believe, and it makes me very eager for what Connolly will do next with Silverblind (the final book in the trilogy), and beyond.
(Originally published at the AudioBookaneers.)
I'm a huge Neverwhere fan - the kind that is always pining for any kind of hint or glimmer of the Seven Sisters (ONE DAY WE SHALL HAVE OUR SEQUEL) or film adaptation. This radioplay is nothing short of superb, and a must for Neverwhere fans.
This cast brings London Below to life way better than any I could've fancasted. McAvoy makes Richard not only good and sweet and earnest, but someone you can't help but love. Dormer is the perfect Door to this bizarre land. Harewood and Okonedo lend delicious edges to the Marquis de Carabas and Hunter. Chirstopher Lee's hysterical and a little sad as the Earl. Head is wicked, terrifying fun as Mr. Croup. Cumberbatch is, of course, awesome as Islington.
I could listen to it over and over again.
If you are a Neverwhere fan, you need this adaptation. It's as sweet as the last drop of wine from an extinct Atlantean vineyard.
Imagine going to church, taking communion, and as soon as you swallowed the wafer and wine, seeing God right beside you. Or, if not God, an aspect of God – one that you could converse with, argue with, beg, weep with, and scream at. Now, imagine all that if you were an atheist.
Regardless of what you believe or do not believe, as a science fiction fan you have to wonder: short of this miraculous wafer falling from the sky like manna, where is this drug coming from?
In the not too-distant future, anyone with a 3D printer and passable google-fu can print up DIY drugs. When a new drug called Logos starts seeping into the market, giving people a chemically fused Damascus experience, drug lords start acting like music executives, trying to halt the competition however they can. The thing is Logos, also known as Numinous, actually seems to transform sinners into saints, converting them into evangelicals of Logos: people who would lay down their lives for friends and enemies alike – especially if the outcome furthers the gospel of Logos.
Years ago, Lyda Rose was roofied with an overdose of Numinous – the very drug she helped create. It played a part in the death of her wife, stole the child she was pregnant with, led to frequent stays at various mental institutions, and blessed/cursed her with a constant guardian angel she can’t kick. When Lyda discovers Numinous has leaked out on the street, she and the angel living inside her head check out of their current mental institution, and hit the road to find out who’s been manufacturing Logos.
The road trip Lyda and her friends embark stretches across not only Canada and the United States but also maps free will, redemption, the nature of God, and examines the similarities of religion and substance abuse more explicitly than any other book I can think of (and there are a pretty fair amount of SF/F books that have made that comparison). I appreciate that it seems to treat its characters fairly - a lot of the evangelical-esque characters aren't monsters. They're striving for some kind of redemption - even if it happens to be a chemically induced one.
Also: it’s funny as hell, which is kind of surprising for what seems like such a dark book on the cover. But fans of Raising Stony Mayhall will want to check this one out too.
A large part of that is Tavia Gilbert’s narration - it's a perfect match for Gregory’s prose. Her work here as Lyda, Dr. Gloria, Ollie, and the rest of the gance comes off as intelligent, sharp, witty, and someone you'd want to roadtrip with.
Afterparty is a novel with a dark, chewy center that reminds me quite a bit of William Gibson's later novels, but with a style that cranks up the entertainment factor and laughs making this story way more fun than you'd expect it to be with such heady subject matter.
(Originally posted at The AudioBookaneers)
This is the story of a private detective who has Tourette’s syndrome who is obsessed with trying to figure out who killed his boss. It’s mystery novel, but the mystery really takes the backseat to Lionel, a hilarious heartbreak of a protagonist, and one of the most intriguing characters I’ve come across: Lionel Essrog.
At least, that’s how I remembered it. Motherless Brooklyn is a novel I’d read probably a decade ago. It won the National Book Critics Award, and ever since I started listening to audiobooks, it was one I’d been looking forward to hearing. And now – it’s FINALLY available to download. So, was it worth the wait?
Without a doubt, yes. As a character, Lionel is still unique. (Just look at that name. Lionel Essrog.) And with that set up, you really have to give Lethem serious credit for that. He could’ve made this a stupid joke, but he works hard to get underneath Lionel’s skin, and show us the man behind the tics. At the same time, he mines the funny – the tics Lionel gets obsessed with EAT ME BAILEY are, well, funny.
Lethem is probably one of my favorite contemporary writers. His prose has a rhythm to it, his characters are quirky perfections, his dialogue is razor sharp and layered. He’s also one of the few authors who can make me burst out laughing while I’m reading him. On the page, it all moves and flows with perfection. Unfortunately, I don’t feel like it always has that same smoothness to it in audio. It’s not choppy, exactly. It’s just not as smooth. I don’t know how much of that is due to Cantor’s narration (which is generally solid), or with the transition of prose to audio.
I can imagine some mystery fans being disappointed that the climax is bigger or louder or more shocking. Well, they can Eat Bailey too. I didn’t remember how the mystery panned out at all, and while the unraveling of the mystery is quiet, we get some incredible scenes, locations, and characters that more than make up for it.
Geoffrey Cantor does disaffected New Yorker with ease, and manages to convey both the humor and heartbreak behind Lionel’s condition. He’ll be describing New York one moment and START SHOUTING the next. It’s a good narration, even if Cantor doesn’t quite match Lionel’s voice in my head.
It’s really nice that at long last Motherless Brooklyn is out digitally. It’s one of Lethem’s best books, and Lethem is one of my favorites, so I consider this a win for Bailey.
(Originally published at the AudioBookaneers.)
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I read all the Star Wars books. I stopped right before the New Jedi Order (when I was in college), and since then have only read two - Zahn's Scoundrels and Schreiber's Death Troopers. In general, the Expanded Star Wars Universe became too much of a chore for me - the continuity got too bloated, I heard some of my favorite characters were needlessly killed off, and it just wasn't as much fun as when Zahn's first books came out. So when I heard that James S.A. Corey - the writing duo of Ty Franck and Daniel Abraham who write the kick ass Expanse space operas - were doing a Star Wars book, and that it'd be a stand-alone Han Solo Star Wars books, AND that it'd be set between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, well, I knew I'd have to make the jump to lightspeed and pick this nerf-herder up.
Han Solo and Chewbacca are recruited by the Rebel Alliance to pull out spy Scarlet Hark from her assignment on a planet in the Imperial Core. The extraction doesn't go as simply as planned (their plans are awful). Scarlet has some loose ends to tie up, Han has a price on his head, and the Empire has their sights on a new super weapon. I don't want to give away too much, but suffice it to say blasters are drawn, planets are scorched, and Chewbacca is a far more profane wookie than I ever realized. (We always did wonder what he was saying, right?)
In other words: Franck and Abraham do not disappoint. There were times when I was worried the story was going to take a long time building up to a plot point - say a heist - and then, like the Expanse books, they barrel right into the action, never sacrificing characterization, and move onto the next play. The characters we know feel like they've walked right off the screen, just as we remembered them. And we're introduced to several fascinating new characters: the aforementioned Scarlet Hark, who is as stubborn, gutsy, and wise-cracking as Han; Hunter Maas, an arrogant would-be alpha male who always talks about himself in the third person; and Baasen Ray, a down-on-his-luck smuggler and old friend of Han. Saying too much about any of them would be spoiling the fun, but I do want to say that they were all very well-developed. I was pleased Scarlet never became part of a romantic triangle with Han and Leia - their relationship and camaraderie had a very business casual professional feel to it, playing against the obvious type. But most of all, I was surprised and delighted by the shades of grey displayed by one character. Often, we generally know which side someone is on when they walk onto the screen (or page) in Star Wars. However, one character's journey really surprised me, and it was nice to see that they're can be acts of kindness and grace, even by characters who often came off as an utter bastard. It's a nice bit of characterization, and one I feel like we don't often see in Star Wars.
Is it as good as The Expanse or The Dagger in the Coin books? No. Not even close. But I'd be lying if it wasn't loads of fun, and had me wishing that they'd do another Star Wars book someday, in all their free time. If you like any of their books, and Star Wars, you're gonna get a kick out of this one. It'll make you want to invite your buddies over for beer and an original trilogy marathon. And it'll probably make you want to check out all their other non-Star Wars books too.
(And being a big fan of both Expanse series, and Abraham's Dagger and the Coin series, it's fun to pick out some of their kinks - whether it's where does the Rebel Alliance get their money from, a traveling Opera troupe, a labyrinth-like mad scientist laboratory filled with dead Storm Troopers. The only thing missing is vomit zombies. Basically, if they thought something was cool, and they could use it, they did.)
I've listened to exactly three Star Wars books now, two of which have been narrated by Marc Thompson (no relation). I have to give Thompson credit - it's gotta be hard to come into something like Star Wars where the sound of the characters are pretty ingrained in our minds. In that regard, Thompson is a winner - his Han Solo isn't Harrison Ford, but it's the next best thing. And he gets all the bravado, cockiness, and general scoundrelness across well. His voices for other favorites like Luke and Leia aren't quite as good, but he makes up for it with the supporting cast and characters like Scarlet, Hunter, and Baasen. Where Thompson doesn't work so well is the line-to-line delivery. Often simple actions - like Han picking up a tool to repair the Falcon - are delivered with Shatner-esque forced excitement, and I would've preferred he let the material speak for himself a little more.
The book is jam-packed with the standard sound effects and John Williams score that's have become custom for these things. The F/X are actually kind of fun, but the over-reliance on the John Williams score is distracting. When Han gets into a fistfight with an alien, and the SW soundtrack starts up, some of the tension gets lost for me. That said, it wasn't enough of a distraction to keep me from wanting to press play when I had the chance.
If you've been nostalgic at all about Star Wars, and considered diving into one of the novels - Honor Among Thieves is your ticket to all the charm and excitement that made you fall in love with this scoundrel and his wookie co-pilot from a galaxy far, far away.
(Originally published at the AudioBookaneers)
I was born in 1977, the year of Star Wars. Empire Strikes Back was the first movie I saw in theaters, and I’ve been a would-be Jedi ever since. When Timothy Zahn’s Heir to the Empire series came out, I ate up every page of those books, and I read many of the subsequent books. But around the time the New Jedi Order came out, I got burned out on the Expanded Universe books.
Fast forward to Disney buying Lucasfilm, and (completely coincidentally) Zahn writing a standalone Han Solo’s 11 novel. I’d read exactly one SW book in the past decade (the ridiculously fun Death Troopers), so as soon as I heard about this one, I wanted to check it out. I thought it’d be the perfect book to get back into SW – one that wouldn’t be overly bogged down by the Expanded Universe continuity, and that would be good old comfort food.
It wasn’t bogged down with continuity, but it wasn’t too much fun, either. Scoundrels is a “Heist” novel, starring our favorite rogues from the SW galaxy: in particular Han Solo, Chewie, and Lando Calrissian. This is the biggest problem with the book: there are too many players, and not enough of our favorite scoundresl. Han Solo is the mastermind of the heist, and thus – he oversees it all and doesn’t do as much as the rest of the players until the very end. Chewie does even less. As the frontman Lando’s part is thankfully bigger, but most of the rest of the action falls to characters Zahn created for this book (and a couple pre-existing EU characters), which is a shame. In a book with Han, Chewie, and Lando in an Imperial line-up on the cover, you want Chewie, Lando, and especially Han to steal the show, if not the prize.
My suspension of disbelief was blown pretty early on (and yes, it was set to Anakin midichlorian levels of “High” to begin with) when the characters didn’t ask some basic questions about their marks or the job itself, I was disappointed. It might have been forgivable if the pace of the book didn’t feel so slow. Perhaps it’s my own nostalgia speaking, but it just didn’t work as well as Zahn’s other Star Wars books. It took too long, and I didn’t find a lot of the rest of the team to be very entertaining or developed considering how much time we spent in their heads.
There is some entertainment value – Zahn introduces Han in a scene where someone else shoots first, and Han and Chewie turn the tables. There are some fun twists (especially at the end). And once the action does pick up (about halfway through the book), things become more fun. It just took so long to get to that point – I was literally looking up Star Wars fanfic waiting for the good stuff to kick in. But it takes a looooooong time, and Han Solo just doesn’t do enough.
Marc Thompson has a knack for narrating Star Wars, apparently. His Han Solo is flawless, which is a necessity for a book that’s supposedly about him, and his Lando is pretty good too. (His Chewabacca is INCREDIBLE. (What? It was soundbytes from the movies? NO, SIR, I REFUSE TO BELIEVE IT.) The production is punctuated by sound effects and the occasional John Williams score, which was much more distracting than the other SW book I’d listened to. Thompson sometimes overplays his line-to-line delivery as well, but I’m not sure I can really fault him for the pace.
I probably will go back and revisit Heir to the Empire at some point, as well as A.C. Crispin’s Han Solo trilogy (oh, for an UNABRIDGED AUDIO VERSION!), but overall, it felt like the only thing heisted was my time.
(Originally published at the AudioBookaneers)
A long time ago, Breq was part of a consciousness that made up Justice of Toren – one of the Radch Empire’s AI starships. She was one of many – an ancillary, a meat puppet, a single aspect of a collective. Then she was betrayed, stripped away from the rest of her consciousness, trapped in a human body, and stranded alone in the universe. Now, she’s a displaced and dysfunctional AI, and she’s out for revenge.
Wait, I said “she.” Here’s one of the fun things about this space opera – she isn’t necessarily a she. In the Radch Empire, all people are referred to as “she,” despite their gender. It’s a cool bit of world building, but more importantly – it defies gender conventions and defaults. There are a lot of interesting and fascinating characters in this book. And most of them, we have no idea what gender they are.
It’s smart and though-provoking, yes, but Ancillary Justice also manages to be a really fun ride. As an AI who is forced to become a fraction of herself, Breq is one of the most unique protagonists I’ve ever come across, and she’s a lot of fun to route for. The story is split over two timelines – one of Breq as a lone figure seeking out the means for her revenge, the other is her as an aspect of the near omniscient Justice of Toren occupying a conquered planet and people. Seeing how these two storylines crescendo is a blast. If you’re a fan of the Expanse books by James S.A. Corey, you’ll want to give this one a shot.
I’ll admit I was a little concerned at first with Celeste Ciulla’s narration. Initially, her delivery felt a bit stilted, almost forced. However, after an hour or two, I came to realize she was a really solid match for a displaced and dysfunctional AI.
Ancillary Justice has already been nominated for a Nebula, BFSA, and won a Kitchie for Best Debut Novel, and it’s easy to see why. I’ll be very surprised if it doesn’t get a nomination for the Hugo. Ancillary Justice is a smart, though-provoking thrill ride of a space opera. It’ll nuke your brain from orbit, then send its ancillary meat puppets planetside with blasters – just to make sure.
(Full Disclosure: Ann Leckie is a friend of mine who I’ve worked with for the past four years at PodCastle, and I first read this book before it had landed an agent or a publishing house. I loved it, so much so that I ended up buying the book when it came out in audio.)
It’s a simple, classic set-up: A group of explorers head out on an expedition to the mysterious Area X. They have gone through rigorous training that strips much of their identity in hopes of generating unbiased field reports. Instead, they are referred to simply by their scientific professions: Psychologist, Anthropologist, Surveyor, and Biologist. There was a Linguist too, but something happened to her. They are the twelfth expedition. Some of the prior expeditions have been successful. Others have ended in the death of every member on the team. Pretty soon, this latest expedition comes across something that’s either a tunnel or a tower – something that wasn’t on the maps in their briefings. There is, of course, something very wrong about this tower tunnel. Not long after exploring it, things start to go very wrong for the twelfth expedition.
I’d say the fun starts here, but really – the terrifying fun starts pretty much right away. The expedition is out of its depth from the very first page – before they cross over the border into Area X. It quickly becomes clear that nothing about the expedition or Area X are as these scientists have been led to believe.
It’s a simple, classic set-up, but it’s written by Jeff VanderMeer, so things are a unique level of intensely, wonderfully, WTFery weird. VanderMeer is simply an incredible writer, his prose popping like mushroom spores in your ears as he leads you in a delightful, dangerous daze across the mysterious, unexplainable landscape of Area X. It’s filled with invisible boundaries, spooky doppelgangers, strange creatures, and unexplainable events. It’s a primal story of coming to grips with a place impossible to understand – a place just as strange as ourselves. For all its weirdness, it’s incredibly accessible, and never dull.
Carolyn McCormick was the narrator of the Hunger Games trilogy, and she does very strong work here. The story is told from the journal entries of the Biologist, and McCormick does an excellent job of coming across as a seemingly detached scientist on assignment, but secretly luring you in with just the right hint of inflections that cut beneath the surface, exposing you to a surprising amount of emotion: fear, love, longing, and the struggle for individuality.
Annihilation is my new addiction. It’s as if The Company from Alien sent The Dharma Initiative into the Mountains of Madness. It’s an expedition into the bizarre, and I can’t wait to try and find my way back to the border.
(Originally posted at the AudioBookaneers.)
What do you want from a sequel? Comfort? More of the same? Or simply a continuation? A further exploration that goes somewhere different? There isn't one right or wrong answer. Sometimes it's one thing, sometimes it's something else, sometimes it's a mixture. Tim Powers' Hide Me Among the Graves falls into the latter category - there are similarities to its predecessor, but it is also very much its own book.
You should know upfront that Tim Powers’ The Stress of Her Regard is one of (if not my all time) favorite vampire books of all time. It was one of the first things I reviewed here, and it unlike any other vampire story I’d ever read. What was terrifying about it wasn’t just the inhuman vampires (though they were), but the way it examined the notions of the muse, as well as success and the arts. It remains to this day one of the most frightening books I've read.
Hide Me Among the Graves includes vampires, and some minor characters return, but it’s much more of a dark fantasy adventure than it is dark fantasy horror. It's Doctor Sleep to The Shining. There is plenty of spookiness afoot in séances, ghosts cursed to swim the Thames, and spiritualism. But it never achieves the shocking horror awful lusts of The Stress of Her Regard. It’s almost like the second half of Dracula, where Van Helsing organizes Jonathan Harker, Dr. Seward, and the rest of the gang to go a vampire-hunting. There’s danger, but it’s matched with humor and excitement.
It’s also features much more of an ensemble. Where the first book held a relatively tight focus on Michael Crawford (with occasional dalliances into Percy Shelley), the net here is cast much broader. Happily, the ratio of male/female heroes is much more even, which is good. One of the main issues with The Stress of Her Regard is that Mary Shelley (author of Frankenstein) had so little to do, and was pushed to the side for her husband and friends. This time out, we get the poet Christina Rosetti, street smart former prostitute Adelaide McKee, and young Johanna. They’re joined by veterinarian John Crawford, poet Dante Gabriel Rosetti, and elderly former explorer and adventurer Edward Trelawney. They’re all very different from each other, and due to some of the conflict that arises, the book is surprisingly quite a bit funnier. But that doesn't make this book a comedy by any stretch. There's an unsettling scene early on when teenaged Christina's father essentially forces her to take one of the demonic statues, and sacrificing her to save himself. Many of the characters suffer hellish graveyard sequences and haunted seas. But it's not as disturbing or challenging a novel as The Stress of Her Regard.
Simon Vance is one of my favorite readers in the business, so I was sad he didn’t return here. However, Fiona Hardingham narration was nothing short of excellent. This was no small task, as she had to work to differentiate the various characters – who were often in the same place together, or whose narratives jumped from one to the other. McKee in particular was a lot of fun to listen, as was her salty old-dog take on Trelawney (and when the two of them were playing off each other, it was listening bliss). The rest of the characters felt not only like individuals, but the protagonists of their own stories under Hardingham's voice. It’s the first time I’ve listened to Hardingham narrate, but her voice was easy to settle into hearing, and I hope to hear much more of her work.
All in all, Hide Me Among the Graves is a welcome return to Powers dark, mysterious world of vampires, art, and the muse. I’d be happy to go back again if Powers found himself inspired to keep us up late at night again.
(Originally posted at the AudioBookaneers)
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