Blogmas 2018, Stopping By...

Blogmas Day 17: “Ask An Indie Author” (Humor | Indie Author)

Welcome to Day 17 of Blogmas 2018. Today’s blog is created by you! Leave a question in the comments below and we’ll answer! It can be about our book, Memory Bound, the writing process, literature, a previous blog, or anything Christmas related. Please keep the questions appropriate and not too personal. After all, boundaries are our friends.

And while you’re here, click that subscribe button! We’re trying to get to 100 Arcians and we can only do it with you! Ker-kaw!

Blogmas 2018, Christianity: My Journey & Thoughts, Stopping By...

Blogmas Day 16: “10 Reasons Why I Love Reading” (Humor | Indie Author)

“Welcome to Day 16 of Blogmas 2018. Mr. Swinebottom is taking a day off today. So grab your chestnut roasting pan and let’s begin!”

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Take A Book, Leave a Book, Thoughts & Reviews

Book Review & Theory: The Turn of the Screw

A friend recommended reading Henry Jame’s novella, The Turn of the Screw. It’s a psychological horror, set in Victorian times in England in Essex, specifically. Throw in an old country estate named Bly–isolated and with a large pond–a couple of potential ghosts, a country church and I’m sold. Get me a cup of tea, some caramel popcorn and away we go. Nothing better than a cozy horror snuggled up in blankets.

Expecting something like Jane Eyre, I sat and read the novella (approximately 43,000 words) over a weekend, some in the car, some in restaurants and the rest at home. It’s a quick read–I particularly loved the short, but thick chapters, that gave just enough momentum to keep the reader going. The imagery, particularly the ghost sightings I adored. James has a way with describing just enough and letting your mind fill in the rest, particularly with domestic scenes so close to our experiences.

I got to the end, eager for answers, several theories at my side I developed. I met Mr. James there, holding his white handkerchief in a tease surrender, standing next to his character’s corpse. My theories fell to the wayside. I argued, I harangued, I politely condoled. But I would get no answers, it seemed. It was up to me and all the other readers since the 1800’s.

I screamed.

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