How nice is this then? A splendid endorsement of my novel ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone” by ace-blogger, Sadje. I’m always touched when someone takes the time and effort to review my work. Thank you, Sadje!
I have just finished reading this very fascinating book by Chris Hall.
This is a spoiler free review.
The book is set in 1980’s Liverpool, England. The story is fast moving and completely attention grabbing. I finished reading the book in a couple of days. And I feel compelled to share my views with you all.
I loved the pace of the story. The characters are well developed and the plot is very interesting. Lots of things are happening and the threads of the story are woven expertly to make a believable tale. There is a monkey and a cat who are more than just pets. The charming monkey is playing a vital role in the story.
The Chinese triad is in an undeclared war with a mysterious hypnotic man and his minions. There are mysterious objects with magical powers which both parties are desirous of acquiring.
Up in the tall, tall tree, the little spider monkey hugged her infant to her chest. The air was thick and yellow-brown. The bright burning was coming. Clutching her baby she descended. It was time.
The creatures of the forest, predator and prey together, were gathering, deep in the mystical heart of the jungle. Silently they formed a circle around Her Sacred Place, wingtip to paw, talon to claw. The huge black jaguar turned his head and gazed amber-eyed at the little spider monkey, but she wasn’t afraid.
The people of the forest emerged from the trees. They lay down their bows and quietly joined the circle. The little spider monkey looked up. High in the canopy, the spirits of the forest shimmered.
They waited. And prayed.
Mother Gaia rose from the earth. She threw back her head and opened her mouth wide. Her ululation filled the air. The lament grew. The creatures of the forest joined in. The air vibrated.
On the other side of the ocean, the Powerful People were chomping their way through a lavish lunch, while discussing the iniquity of inequality and admiring the ocean view.
The crystal glasses began to rattle. Then a wave, shaped like a monstrous hand, rose up from the ocean. Huge watery fingers plucked the Powerful People from their table and dropped them into the sea one by one where they bobbed and floundered.
The hand closed into a fist and rose skyward, speeding away and disappearing over the western horizon. As it neared opposite continent the fist unclenched and scooped up a massive handful of ocean.
Cool air ruffled the little spider monkey’s fur. She smelt the moisture in the air and heard the hiss of the dying flames. Mother Gaia began to sing the sweetest song the little spider monkey had ever heard. And the forest breathed again.
The water receded around the Powerful People leaving them standing on the beach. Sweet music filled the air. They stood and waved proudly to the crowd, as if claiming victory from the sea. But then the waves rolled back. The Powerful People were no longer waving. They were drowning.
At last the shooting stops and the Doctor and I see the boys high five each other. Harris is busy with a keyboard. Over his shoulder I see him type: DS&HH and their score.
“Doctor, they’ve won!”
The Doctor squints at the screen. “Golly, 267984!”
“That’s the highest score in the known universe!”
“Clever,” the Doctor replies.
“The boys are always playing those ancient arcade games.”
“No me.” The Doctor examines his finger nails. “I’m clever.” The central column on the Tardis’ console makes a huffing noise. “Okay. The Tardis and I are clever.” He taps on the screen. “Look out there, Jemma.”
A view of the surface of a planet comes into view… and there’s the Professor’s Special Space Machine.
“I…” he eyes the column, “….we simply reset the time-stream to bring you back to square one, as it were. All the three of you need to do now is get off the Zyborgatron’s ship before any of you imagines anything else. Come on,” he strides towards the door.
“And the number I was waiting to see before I hit the green button, that wasn’t a stardate time, was it?”
“Oh that? That was a random number, a red herring; just something to keep your mind occupied, to stop you imagining something which would interfere with the Tardis’ navigation systems.” He touches his finger to his nose. “Clever, eh?”
I frown. “I thought I’d been doing something important.”
“Sometimes NOT doing something is equally important.” He opens the Tardis’ door. “Now, come along, Jenna. Let’s get you off the ship before anything else happens.”
Harris and Stevens are still celebrating.
“Did you see that?” says Stevens.
“Indeed we did. Well done, chaps!” The Doctor claps them both on the back.
I’m feeling slightly miffed. They brought on the Space Invaders attack, even if they did achieve a mega-score to defeat them.
“Right then,” says the Doctor, clapping his hands together. “Off you all pop.” He waves us in the direction of the ship’s door. “And I hope NOT to see you again!” He touches his hand to his head in salute, spins on his heel and bounds back into the Tardis.
I glance at the viewing screen as the Tardis takes off. “Look guys. It’s the Professor!”
We watch as she emerges from her Special Space Machine. Slowly she raises her hands in the air. Another figure appears behind her.
“That’s a Klingon, isn’t it?” says Harris.
The swarthy humanoid jabs his disruptor into the small of the Professor’s back.
My heart sinks.
Where did that Klingon come from? Are there more? Can the Cadets save the Professor? Tune in next week for the next episode of Space Cadets!
At first, I think I’m having a flashback. I’m sitting on Cynthia’s garden bench and the sun is shining. A bead of moisture runs down the glass I’m holding.
“Cheers, Ms Hall!” Connor raises his glass to me. “Here’s to another great review of our book!”
Cynthia smiles at me. “It’s so nice to see our author doing well.” She sips her drink and leans over to stroke Asmar, her beautiful Abyssinian cat, who is lounging by her feet. “And even darling Asmar gets a mention.” Asmar pricks up his ears at the sound of his name. “Well, he was rather a hero, wasn’t he?” Cynthia continues. Asmar rolls over and looks up at me, the suspicion of a smug smile behind his long whiskers.
I stretch out my hand towards him, nodding in agreement.
Next I hear a familiar screech and Fingers bounds up to me from the side gate where Bob and Gary have just appeared. The little monkey launches himself at me, chattering excitedly. Bob hurries to retrieve him. “Sorry about that luv, but he’s dead excited about being in a book review.”
Connor refills he glass from the jug of Pimms which is sitting on the little wrought-iron table. He sits back down and leans towards me. “I understand you’re running a wee promotion on that first book of yours?”
“Marketing eh? Sound.” Gary gives me a ‘thumbs up’ sign. His face lights up as Gina appears at the French doors. “We got any beers upstairs, luv?”
Gina rolls her eyes and sits down next to him, ignoring his request.
“I’ll go,” says Bob, lowering Fingers into Gina’s lap.
“And bring some crisps,” Gary adds. Fingers chirrups in agreement.
“The Silver Locket, it’s a lovely romantic book with a touch of mystery and magic,” says Cynthia.
“Oh yes, it’s dead good,” chimes in Gina. “Just the kind of book to read sitting in the garden on a sunny afternoon. Like that nice Ms Scott said.” She sighs. “They even go to Paris! Wouldn’t that be wonderful, Gary?”
Gary pulls a face, he’s not one for ‘abroad’. “How do you two know what’s in the book anyway?” He glances at me, frowning. “She wrote it a while before ours.”
“Ah,” Cynthia reaches for her glass. “Gina and I, and Lucy too, were in a short story Ms Hall wrote, even before that.”
“That’s right,” Gina continues. “We had to wait ages for her to write our book.” She looks at me and smiles, fiddling with her engagement ring. “You could take us to Paris…”
Connor clears his throat. “Interesting idea, this downloading, Ms Hall. Not really sure I understand. I suppose it’s something from the future which we haven’t been written into yet.”
Was that another hint?
Mystery, romance, ghosts and dreams: perfect reading for a lazy sunny afternoon!
Get your ebook freebie of The Silver Locket, written under my pen name Holly Atkins by clicking on the links below.
Many thanks to author and songwriter, Kevin Cooper, for his review of ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’. My two animal characters are thrilled to bits at the shout out he gave them. “Sound bloke this Kevin,” said Fingers when I read out the review. I couldn’t have put it better myself.
“Come on, old girl!” shouts the Doctor smacking the side of the central column of the Tardis’ console which is emitting an unpleasant screeching sound as it rises and falls.
“Is everything all right? Doctor,” I yell over the noise, gripping the edge of the console to steady myself as the Tardis bucks and pitches.
“Um, yes, just needs a minor correction.” He frowns at the column and flicks a couple of switches. The Tardis comes to an abrupt halt and all is quiet “Come on, let’s see what’s happening outside.” He motions me to stand beside him, then with a flourish he taps a button on the console. A large viewing screen flashes up on the other side of the control room.
The screen is blank.
“Ah,” he says tapping on the button repeatedly. Nothing happens. The screen is still blank.
The Doctor rushes over to the doors and flings then open.
All is black.
I follow him and peer out. “Oh,” I say. There is literally nothing there. I turn to the Doctor who is rubbing his jaw. “Where’s space gone?”
“That, Jemma, is space.” He leans out of the doors looking up and down. “Space. Nothing else.”
“But the stars and…”
“I better check the coordinates,” he says over his shoulder as he runs back to the console. “Close the doors won’t you?”
I pull the doors closed. My heart thumps. “What’s happened to Harris and Stevens? Are they all right?”
“I certainly hope so.” He pulls out his sonic screwdriver and disappears under the console.
The viewing screen flickers into life showing a view of my two shipmates sitting just where I’d left them on our spacecraft. Both have expressions of extreme concentration on their faces. In the background I can see what they’re staring at. I blink in surprise.
They’re playing the ancient arcade game ‘Space Invaders’!
The Doctor reappears from beneath the console. “That should do it. We should be able to see them now.” He glances at the screen as the Tardis shudders under a sudden impact.
“No, NO,NO, NO!” he shouts.
I turn to him, not understanding what’s happening. The Tardis shudders again; sparks fly from the console. The Doctor points at the bottom of the screen the boys are staring at. “They’re firing at us!”
We watch as the little white aliens descend towards the Tardis.
The boys are firing back.
“No Doctor, they’re defending us.”
Or at least they’re trying to…
Will the Harris and Stevens beat the aliens? Can the Tardis escape from the game? Tune in next week for the next episode of Space Cadets!
I came across this interview yesterday about the #WritingMyCity project in which I participated as a facilitator and writer a few month’s ago.
I was particularly excited that our little group, who are part of the Women for Change programme, got a mention. Their stories obviously struck a chord even if they didn’t make it into this particular collection.
Here’s an extract from the interview:
***
Q. Tell us about the fantastic book project ‘Writing My City’
A. There are so many people with wonderful stories but rarely a vehicle to share them. To help people do this, Cape Town libraries offered creative-writing workshops earlier this year. Now we’re launching a collection of everyday Capetonians’ stories about living in the city.
Q. The project is an incredible collaboration with local libraries across the city. What is your experience of connecting with these very diverse community hubs?
A. I was so impressed with the librarians who took on this challenge. It was heart-warming that each participating library had passionate teachers, writers and poets who freely gave their time and expertise to facilitate the workshops and to help would-be writers pull their stories together.
Q. It must have been exciting getting such diverse perspectives on Cape Town. What kinds of submissions really moved you?
A. As part of the workshops, the Women for Change Group had a chance to share their stories. I cried when I heard of mothers talking about losing their children, abuse and dependencies. I also embraced how they helped each other through these experiences as one big family.
***
That last paragraph is so important to me. When the ladies eventually felt able to tell me their experiences I was incredibly humbled and moved.
The collection is going to be launched at an event at the Fugard Theatre in Cape Town in September. I’m looking forward to attending.
A copy of the anthology will be in more than 100 libraries across the city, so it will be available to a wide audience. Books don’t come cheap in this country. Copies of the book will be sold at the Open Book Festival in September. It will be awesome to see my words in print alongside the other 39 chosen Capetonians.
Read the full interview with Christelle Lubbe, of the City of Cape Town’s Library and Information Services, and Frankie Murrey, Co-ordinator of the Open Book Festival by Carla Lever onTimes Live
And now there was nothing left of what had been her beautiful blue planet. Great Big Five sighed. She had given them chance after chance. She had very nearly deleted the entire human race in Earth Year 2018. Only that little message which flashed up after she had hit the big red button had given her pause.
Do you really want to DELETE?
No, she hadn’t. She’d cancelled the request. Sat back and watched and waited for fifteen Earth Years more. She’d watched the greedy, selfish humans squander more and more of the precious resources of her pretty planet. Barren soil blew away, the oceans turned to acid, the very atmosphere was toxic. Some of the little humans had tried to avert the crisis. They’d spoken out. Even important, influential ones had acted, added their voices. There were protests, social media campaigns, new policies agreed and implemented; the planet had staggered on, but it was all too little, too late.
Meanwhile others had been working on a plan. Done with the Earth, they would move on. Move to another planet. Their neighbour: the red planet. Clever little humans!
Never mind what they’d done to the animals and birds, the trees and flowers, the mountains and lakes. All her best work they’d left in tatters.
She had mind-melded with Great Being Nineteen. The red planet was under his jurisdiction. She had suspected he had plans. With Earth out of the way, he could move his smaller red planet nearer to its sun, into what her imaginative earthlings called the Goldilocks Zone, after one of their sweet little stories. Allow something new to evolve. He’d even let her collaborate on his project.
You have activated Planet Total Destruction. Are you sure you want to do this?
She did.
They couldn’t be allowed to spread their wicked ways.
“That’s a black hole!” I stare in horror at the viewing screen. “How close is it?”
[FIVE MINUTES TO EVENT HORIZON]
The red light starts to flash.
“Your doctor friend,” cries Stevens. “Call him!”
I close my eyes and visualize the Tardis. Nothing happens. I empty my mind then start to picture every detail I can remember of the familiar blue box. To my relief I hear its arrival over the shrill wail of the siren. I open my eyes to see Tardis materialize. The door opens. It’s the Matt Smith version of the Doctor.
“Ah,” he says, “spot of bother?” He bounds over to the screen. “Oh, I should say so!” He looks round at us.
“Can you help us, Doctor?” I stare up at him.
[FOUR MINUTES TO EVENT HORIZON]
“Let me think,” he says, tapping his sonic screwdriver absently against the side of his head. He starts to pace about.
Suddenly he whirls around to face us. “Okay. I’m going to tether your ship to the Tardis, then we’re going to travel back in time to before that thing formed.” He points at the screen.
“But it’ll be a supernova, won’t it?” shouts Stevens.
“Good point.” The Doctor waves his sonic screwdriver at Stevens. “Back to before the star goes supernova.” He taps his head again. “I’ll just need to make a couple of calculations.”
[THREE MINUTES TO EVENT HORIZON]
“Who’s good at maths?”
The boys look at me. “Jemma!”
“Okay, Jemma,” he nods. “Come with me.”
The interior of the Tardis looks exactly as I thought it would. The Doctor runs around the control console flicking switches and turning dials. He hums to himself as he works.
Grabbing my hand he takes me to the other side of the console. “Watch this screen,” he indicates a monitor with seemingly random numbers flashing up on it. “When it reaches 367.984, hit that green button.” He points to the button. “Don’t take your eyes off that screen; we only have one chance at this!” He rushes over to the door and pokes his head out.
[TWO MINUTES TO EVENT HORIZON]
“Remember, chaps. You must believe this will work. Concentrate on nothing else!” I glance up and see him touch his hand to the side of his head in salute.
He shuts the door and returns to the console. “The monitor, Jemma. Concentrate!” I hear him flick some more switches
I stare at the screen. The numbers continue to change. I concentrate, willing 367.984 to appear.
The Storyteller arrived in the village wearing a broad-brimmed black hat which made it hard to see her face. She began to tell stories, her stories. She encouraged us to tell our stories. Stories of all kinds: short stories, sad stories, stories that would make you think, or laugh, or look under the bed before sleeping.
Our village was alive with words. Our stories became known far and wide. We were the ‘Village of the Stories’ – stories which we could shout from the rooftops or sing by the stream or whisper in the woods.
People came to hear our stories. They wanted stories of their own. Some learned how to tell them, but others came to steal them. They sent their spies to seek out our stories and sell them as their own.
We were disheartened. The Storyteller slipped away; her stories disappeared with her. We fell silent. Our words were hidden and our stories slept.
But then we decided.
‘No more,’ we shouted. ‘We will seek out the thieves and shame them. We will take our stories back.’
And so we did. And we hope the Storyteller hears this and returns with her stories and her broad-brimmed black hat.
I have just finished reading this very fascinating book by Chris Hall. 
luna's on line 