Book Reviews

‘The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - which you had thought special and particular to you. And now, here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out, and taken yours.’ Alan Bennett

“Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one’s own self.” ― Franz Kafka

Showing posts with label fiction addiction blog tour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction addiction blog tour. Show all posts

Wednesday, 30 July 2014

A Place to Call Home: Toby's Tale - G. A. Whitmore - Guest Post

Today I'm pleased to share an author guest post with you by G. A. Whitmore, author of A Place to Call Home: Toby's Tale.



White German Shepherds: Defective or Just Different
by G. A. Whitmore

The main character in my new book A Place to Call Home: Toby’s Tale was inspired by an abused dog I adopted from the Connecticut Humane Society in 1989. Toby was a white German Shepherd/mix, who at the age of seven months, had already had three “homes” and was so scared and traumatized that he would not move around humans. He would not sit up, he would not walk.

Toby and his sister pup had been found in a box inside a dumpster in northern California. Somebody didn’t want them. Why? They were beautiful puppies, gorgeous white fur and chocolate brown eyes. My curiosity got the better of me, so I decided to research the history of white German Shepherds.

What I learned was that white German Shepherds have been living in the United States since the early 1900s after the first German Shepherd dogs were brought to the country from Germany.  Periodically white puppies were born as part of the litters, as they had been in Europe, and the white version of this traditionally black and tan dog soon developed its own following. As time went on the white German Shepherd became more and more popular as the dogs proved they could keep up in all respects with their black and tan brother and sisters.

In the middle of the 20th century a shift occurred and many German Shepherd breeders began to think of the white version of the dog as defective, a mar on the breed. They believed the recessive gene that resulted in the white coloration of the fur was contributing to genetic defects and medical issues within the breed as a whole. Culling of the white puppies became a standard practice among those who adhered to this belief. Lovers of the white German Shepherd remained firm. There was no scientific evidence to support the claims being made against these beautiful white dogs, and over time, the prejudice and discrimination against them subsided. It did not go away, though. I learned there are still breeders today who continue to cull these wonderful dogs from their litters.


Were Toby and his sister the victims of prejudice and discrimination based on the color of their fur? Is that why they were “discarded”? I decided to go with this story line in my book, it made sense, and it felt right. So in the book, Toby and his sister are given a death sentence by Mr. Bailey, their breeder. He tells his wife he wants the farm hand Walt to dispose of them. But his plans are thwarted when Mrs. Bailey and Walt devise a plan to save the dogs’ lives.  
                                             
It should be noted that the man considered to be the founder of the German Shepherd breed Max von Stephanitz firmly believed that: The German Shepherd dog should be judged based upon its ability to work, its courage and its temperament. Never did he mention the color of the dog’s fur as a measure of the dog’s worth.


Shouldn’t we all be judged by our character and actions, not by the color of our skin or fur?


~~~~~

About the book...


Every rescue dog has a tale to tell, a story uniquely their own.

A Place to Call Home is Toby’s tale.

Born on a small farm in northern California, Toby’s carefree days as a puppy are cut short when he narrowly escapes the death sentence imposed upon him by his breeder. Through a series of events driven by good intentions, he finds himself in a Connecticut suburb, where life with his new family soon collapses on him, and his newfound happiness is brutally destroyed.

On his quest to find a place to call home, Toby encounters and endures the best and worst of humanity, as he comes face to face with sorrow and joy, fear and courage, and ultimately, with the power of love.

Part of the proceeds of from the sale of each book will be donated to an organization of the author’s choice that promotes and advocates for the protection and welfare of dogs.


About the author...


Ms. Whitmore’s passion for writing and her love of dogs come together in her series The Rescue Dog Tales. The first book in the series, A Place to Call Home, was inspired by Toby, an abused dog she adopted from the Connecticut Humane Society. Ms. Whitmore currently lives in Connecticut with her two rescue dogs, Kadee and Zeus.


Author/community Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/authorgawhitmore




Tuesday, 11 March 2014

Bolder and Wiser - Sarah Dale

Today I am pleased to be part of the blog tour for Bolder and Wiser by Sarah Dale. Below are my thoughts on the book, an excerpt from the book, and an international giveaway!



'I suspect we would all be surprised by what we discovered if we took any group of twenty women over sixty and listened to them properly.'

With the subtitle 'Remarkable Conversations with Older Women', this is a wonderful collection of thoughts, reflections, hopes and lived experience of twenty women aged between 60 and 85, brought together by author and chartered psychologist Sarah Dale. Being in my thirties, initially I wasn't sure how much of relevance I would find here, or whether it would strike a chord with me, but I'm so glad I read it because I found it fascinating and extremely insightful reading.

The author sets out in her preface what drew her to thinking about this time of life: '...with fifty lurking just beyond the horizon, I can feel the stirring of another stage of life.'...'I set out to find twenty women, all at least ten years older than me, who were willing to chat to me about what matters and what doesn't, as they look back.' As she briefly considers the way things have changed in women's lives over the past couple of generations, and how big some of the differences are, which makes it fascinating, I think, to hear these older women's voices: 

'The whole concept of older women with energy, choice, education, and much closer to equal status with men is therefore relative new, and still evolving. There isn't much of a road map. The generation I've been interviewing is at the cutting edge. It feels important to me to hear what they have to say about it.'

As I read, through chapters including thoughts on marriage, parenthood, work, amongst many others, I was invigorated by some of the wonderful, sage advice these women have been kind enough to share, passing on the wisdom of their varied experiences as they look back. In particular, I loved the 'what matters' and 'what doesn't' summaries of each chapter, as well as the 'advice for younger women' and also the section introducing the women, because it was so interesting to read about their backgrounds. Sarah Dale even asked each of them to recommend a couple of favourite books, which also appealed to this fellow bookworm.

I would certainly recommend this book, it's definitely worth your time whether read all at once or dipped in and out of, the author has skillfully collated the results of her interviews and integrated these with reflections on her own experience to produce a thoughtful and inspiring read with thoughts from intelligent, lively, strong and courageous women. Also as a younger woman who doesn't have many older women in her daily life, and who is prone to worrying and indecision, it has offered me the chance to share in some valuable life experience, as well as some things to really think about and some great advice that I think could improve my life, and I genuinely thank the author, and the women who collaborated in this work, for this.

I'll leave you with a few quotes from some of the advice for younger women that I loved and which struck me as particularly wise:

'Don't let anybody (yourself included) stop you from trying what you always wanted to explore or experience.'

'Life is a learning curve and the more you know the more you realise how little you know and how much is left to learn.'

'Never think you've left something too late, that the chance has passed you by.'

'Enjoy being young and don't be too concerned with how you look because you will look back and realise you were lovely and fresh.'


~~~~~


About the book...

Hit 50 yet? Sarah Dale is about to. This impending event set her wondering about successful ageing, what life looks like for women who have been there and done that, and what adventures are to be had on the other side of 50.

In this fascinating and celebratory book, Sarah talks to 20 inspiring women who have not only made it past 50, but are happy to be there.

These open and honest conversations, punctuated by Sarah’s observations about her own journey, reflect on friendship, work, health, creativity, marriage, motherhood, money – and whether you should stop dyeing your hair.


About the author...


Sarah is a practising occupational psychologist and accredited coach. She designed the structured coaching programme, Creating Focus®, and is the author of Keeping Your Spirits Up, a guide to facing the challenges of modern life. She lives in Nottingham with her husband, two daughters and step-son. Her moments of leisure are spent Nordic walking, reading fiction and frequenting coffee shops, the more independent the better. She secretly loves a good jigsaw.


You can find out more about Sarah Dale on her website, www.creatingfocus.org or by following her on twitter (@creatingfocus) or on Facebook (Sarah Dale – author).




Excerpt

On a beautiful day in August, we seek out a wild swimming spot on Dartmoor. It is an idyllic setting, an ancient grassy common on the bend of the river, overhung by lush oak and beech trees in full summer leaf. Dappled sunlight falls across wet children sleek and glossy as seals, and their shrieks bounce off the rock face as they dare each other to ever higher leaps from the bank.

I bring up the rear of our little family group, as we haul our picnic and towels from the car park. My varifocals and unsteady flip flops, as well as customary caution, result in me being slower than everyone else in making my way along the uneven riverside footpath.

I imagine, if I were living in some fictional primeval tribe, that I might soon be discarded. What do I bring to the party? Am I becoming a liability? As a woman approaching fifty, I no longer offer physical strength or child-bearing potential. If I ever was physically daring, I’m less so now. The brief appeal of dipping in the river chills as quickly as my feet when I test the temperature.

I’m no longer the quickest, strongest or the one with the loudest voice. I have fulfilled my reproductive purpose, if that is what we are here for. I won’t have more children and my daughters are growing in independence on a daily basis.

But I don’t feel ready to resign myself to the background yet. In many ways I feel that my work has barely started. Am I deluded in thinking I have some valuable contribution to make? What shape will it take? What exactly is my purpose? And does it matter?

The women I have had conversations with over the last months have a wide range of views and experiences. My initial response is relief that not one of them is invisible. Their contribution may sometimes be subtle but is often all the more powerful for that.

It is like a dew-laden spider’s web: visible if you look for it; awe-inspiring in its construction; efficient, beautiful and very strong in its natural habitat. It is also very easily swept aside by those clumsily making their way through life without stopping to notice what is right in front of their faces. The corporations, institutions, families and generations who ignore older women are losing far more than they realise. Society needs older women like the world needs bees. 

I have heard from women, all of whom are at least sixty years old, who hold things together. They quietly and relentlessly challenge injustice. They support and soothe and organise and nurture. They lead the way. They laugh. They struggle, and doubt themselves. They keep going, and encourage others to keep going. They see the bigger picture as well as the tiny details of life that matter. They are a curious mix of astonishing patience and exasperated energy. They care.

I have paused for a while in my middle-aged rush of busy domesticity where work and motherhood uneasily co-habit, backlit in recent years by my own uncertainties about ageing. I have stopped to listen to these ordinary, yet extra-ordinary, women. I expected interesting things.


However, I didn’t expect the project to be so immediately and intensely personal. It has confirmed or challenged my own views of what matters and what doesn’t. It has left me with clearer ideas about the kind of older woman I would like to be. It has reassured me. It has been time well spent.


Giveaway!

The International giveaway on this tour is 1 x paperback copy of Bolder and Wiser.  Entry is via the rafflecopter form below.

a Rafflecopter giveaway


Friday, 14 February 2014

Finding Mother - Anne Allen - Excerpt and Giveaway




About the novel...

Prepare to be swept away by a heart-warming tale of family relationships and love
Three women. Three generations. Sacrifices for love…
Who is she really? Nicole is about to find out as she searches for her real mother; the woman who gave her away at birth.  With her marriage in tatters, she sets out from England: travelling to Spain, Jersey and Guernsey before the extraordinary story of her real family is finally revealed.
Nicole becomes an unwitting catalyst for change in the family. Two women are forced to reveal long-buried secrets.  One going back as far as the Second World War.  Lives are transformed as choices have to be made and the past laid to rest…
This contemporary romantic drama is the second of The Guernsey Novels, a series of stand-alone books by the award-winning author Anne Allen. It is likely to appeal to lovers of the works of Joanna Trollope and Maeve Binchy.     

About the author…


I'm a late-comer to writing, having only started in my, ahem, middle years. (I'm assuming we'll all be living to 100 from now on, won't we?) I'd often had an 'itch' to write but was focussed on my career as a psychotherapist and bringing up three children on my own. Writing was a luxury I simply could not afford! Then a few years ago I was a reluctant entrant (pushed by my mother!) into a writing competition run by Prima magazine. They wanted a True- Life story and I won the first prize of £500 J So I decided that writing wasn't such a bad idea and wrote my first novel, Dangerous Waters, shortly after; eventually publishing it in 2012. As I'm now more or less retired as a therapist I've devoted a lot more time to writing and published my second novel, Finding Mother, in October 2013. 
A restless soul, I have moved around the country quite a bit, as far north as Scotland and south to Guernsey in the Channel Islands. I've learnt that the sea must be part of my soul and am happiest when living near it. I now live in Devon to be near my daughter and grandchildren so I have the best of both worlds. As a family we lived in Guernsey for many happy years and I left one son behind as a valid excuse for frequent return visits. My other son's based in London so great for when I need some cultureJ
Am happiest in warmer climes, however, and lived in Spain for a few years.  My ideal would be to spend part of the English winter somewhere warm, possibly Spain, so that I can recharge my body and soul. So, if and when I write that bestseller…!

Author links: Website |Facebook |Twitter |Amazon.com |Amazon.co.uk 

Excerpt...

Chapter 1

‘I want a divorce!’
            Nicole’s cry hung in the air as she slammed out of the house. She flung herself into the driver’s seat of her car, an Audi TT parked adjacent to its twin. After substantial and unnecessary, but therapeutic revving, the car shot out onto the road as Tom appeared at the front door, shouting something Nicole couldn’t and didn’t want to hear.
            Half a mile along the road towards Bath, she pulled into a layby and, leaning her head on the steering wheel, sobbed.  A few minutes of unrestrained tears later, Nicole reached for a tissue from her handbag and, using the vanity mirror for guidance, wiped the black streaks of mascara from her face and blew her reddened nose.  A few deep breaths helped restore her breathing, but her head continued thumping from the release of emotion.
            I thought crying was supposed to be good for you, but I’ve never felt so awful.  Well, not since I broke my leg skiing when I was twelve.  In a rare moment of clarity she wondered which was worse – a broken leg or an unfaithful husband.  It was a close call. Reclining the car seat, Nicole stretched out her tall, slim frame, allowing her clenched muscles to finally relax. What a mess!

 It had all started when she wanted to order a food delivery from Sainsbury’s and couldn’t find her credit card.  After calling out to Tom if it was okay to use his – being a joint card – Nicole took the answering grunt from upstairs to mean a yes. As she opened his wallet a bill fell out.
            Picking it up, the heading caught her eye; ‘The Stratford Manor Hotel, Warwick Road, Stratford-upon-Avon’.  Odd, when did Tom stay there?  Opening it out Nicole saw it was a receipted bill for two nights in the name of ‘Mr and Mrs Oxford’ dated for the previous weekend.  Nicole held onto the chair as the realisation hit – he was still being unfaithful. Tom had assured her he’d got it out of his system and was now a devoted husband.  Except it appeared he wasn’t.
            Nicole’s feet felt as if encased in lead boots as she went upstairs to the bedroom.  As she flung open the door to the designer decorated room which, at least for her, had represented love and harmony, Tom was shrugging into his jeans.  He was freshly showered after his run and his light brown hair stood up glistening and spiky.
            Moving slowly into the room she threw the bill onto the cream velvet bed-throw.  Tom stiffened and looked up, the turned down mouth and contracted eyebrows offering the mournful look of a penitent.
            ‘Please, darling, it’s not what you think…’
            ‘Oh, what is it then?  Entertaining a new writer, perhaps?’ Nicole’s voice sounded harsh, even to her own ears.  As a television producer Tom often met with programme writers.  But meetings were not usually conducted in a hotel bed, or so she assumed.
            Tom opened his mouth but nothing came out.  Unheard of for him.
            ‘Didn’t you tell me you were attending a conference in Birmingham last weekend?  At a city centre hotel?’
            ‘Yes, but I. . .I wanted to get away from everyone.  That’s why I moved to Stratford.’ He must have seen the disbelief on Nicole’s face as he went on, ‘It wasn’t anything important, really it wasn’t, darling.  It’s you I love, you know that, don’t you?’
            He reached out to Nicole but she stepped back from him, a coldness clutching at her heart. The thought of being touched by those adulterous hands made her feel sick. Anger at his betrayal triggered off a flow of adrenaline, propelling her through the bedroom door and down the stairs, giving herself time to grab her bag and car keys before slamming out of the house.

Thinking now of her parting shot at Tom, Nicole asked herself if she really did want a divorce. They appeared to have everything. Both successful in their media careers – she being an investigative journalist for the same television channel – beautiful, renovated farmhouse near Bath; exotic holidays when they found the time; and no children to restrict them.
            She fell madly in love with Tom twelve years ago, when they’d met at the radio station where they then worked. He seemed equally smitten and proposed two years later with a huge diamond solitaire.
            Nicole sighed as she thought back to those early days when the world was at their feet. Both dynamic and ambitious, they progressed into television to further their careers. And there Tom met temptation.
            Another deep sigh escaped her lips as she lay back with her eyes closed. Her marriage mirrored her life generally – glamour and glitter on the surface but no real substance.
            It was too depressing for words and Nicole knew that something needed to change if she was to love and respect herself again.  It was clear Tom had not changed and, at thirty-seven, it wasn’t likely to happen.  At least not until he lost his looks or his power.  Or both.  Nicole wasn’t proud  that she’d been seduced by great sex, an expensive lifestyle and the kudos of being not only a “name” in her own right, but also of being married to an even bigger one in media.  Everything came too easily for her, beginning with the very comfortable and spoiled upbringing of an only child in Jersey.  The only thing to have marred the idyll had been her adoption. She’d known forever and, as a child, it hadn’t bothered her. But the problems building up in her marriage had led to feelings of discontent and unease. Unease in herself – who on earth was she really? Nicole knew she wasn’t like her parents, which was natural. She wanted to know who she was, who she really took after. That might help her to change the person she’d become and didn’t actually much like.
            Okay, pay-back time.  Nicole squared her shoulders as she sat up and started the engine before swinging the car round to face the house from which she’d driven so furiously what felt a lifetime ago.

‘We need to talk,’ she said, coming into the kitchen and finding Tom slumped in a chair.
            ‘Darling!  Thank God you’re back! Please, please let’s start again.  I swear I’ll never so much as look at another woman if only you say you forgive me and will stay.’
            He certainly looked miserable. She took in his tousled, uncombed hair, the pulled-down corners of his mouth and the blue eyes missing their usual sparkle.
            Tom rose to meet her but she shook her head and motioned for him to stay seated.  His gaze was wary as Nicole sat opposite him at the scrubbed pine table at which they hardly ever ate together, so busy were their respective schedules.
            Nicole took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm and not let emotion sabotage her hastily rehearsed speech.
            ‘I do want a divorce, Tom…’
            ‘No, you can’t, darling! Let me…’
             ‘Please let me finish! Then you can have your say.  What’s happened is merely a symptom of what’s wrong with our marriage. And, I now realise, has been for some time.  I really believe we’ve stayed together for the wrong reasons and it’s time to think of the future.’
            She cleared her throat. ‘We… didn’t really talk about having a family but it could be that I’ll want children one day.’
            Nicole leant on the table as if it would give her the strength she needed to continue.
            ‘But I’d want a stable, happy home for my child and that’s not guaranteed with you. I’m not sure I can trust you. Not now,’ her voice fell to little more than a whisper as she plunged the knife into their ailing marriage.
            Tom’s eyes widened and his mouth opened wide in panic as he sought to save the relationship which had been his rock for so long. He reached out to grab Nicole’s hands but she pulled them out of his way, letting them twist together under the table.
            ‘Please, darling.  I know I’ve behaved badly and have been an absolute idiot. I have no excuse. You’ve been a brilliant wife and we’ve enjoyed such a great time together. Remember that trip to Paris? And that time in Venice? Surely you don’t mean to throw away everything we’ve shared!’ He flung out his arms.
            Nicole couldn’t bear to look at him and kept her gaze focussed on a spot half-way down his navy T-shirt.
            ‘We’ve achieved so much together – our careers, this house; doesn’t this mean anything to you?  We’re the Golden Couple of television! A team – and a damn good one!’ 
            She knew that in some ways Tom was right. They were a well-respected team at work. Admired and envied by those clambering up the ladder behind them. And she knew that if they were no longer a couple then she’d have to start again somewhere else. It would be impossible to stay at Bristol. A miserable thought. But her reputation would be enough to open doors elsewhere. At the moment she was tired, tired of the cheating and lying at home and tired of the pressure at work to strive forever upwards.
            She raised her eyes slowly, finally letting them rest on his, steeling herself against the look of pain she saw there.
            ‘It’s no good, Tom.  Maybe this was meant to happen. For my part, I need to discover what I really want from my life. Yes, we’ve had good times, wonderful times.  But that’s going back years. When was the last time we took a romantic break together?  When did we last laugh together?’
            Tom looked stricken. Even she didn’t remember so he certainly wasn’t likely to.
            She ran a hand through her expertly cut bob and went on, ‘We’re not having any fun now, Tom. And material possessions aren’t making either of us happy, are they?’
            Nicole waved her hand around the Smallbone kitchen which once represented her idea of happiness. She remembered the line in the company’s advertisement which had attracted her – “A Kitchen for Life”. Hmm, pity they couldn’t offer a marriage for life!
            ‘Please, Nicole, let’s not rush into anything. I can understand that you’re hurt and angry but that’s not the time to make major decisions. How about a trial separation? To give you time to see what you really want? I know I don’t want to lose you but I’m happy to give you space, if that’s what you want.’ Tom’s eyes pleaded with her from the other side of the table.
            Nicole thought for a moment. Perhaps they both needed time to think. ‘Okay, I’ll agree to a separation, let’s say six months.’ She noticed the hope flicker in his eyes. ‘But I’m not promising there’ll be no divorce. I still feel that’s the way to go. But I can’t leave my job at a moment’s notice, either. So I’ll carry on for the two months left in my contract and then go. Might take a sabbatical to keep my options open. And I want you to move out. You could get a flat in the city.’
            Tom took a deep breath which was part groan.
            ‘Yes, if that’s what you want. Do you want me to leave today?’
            She heard the despair in his voice and anger hardened her resolve.
            ‘Yes! It’s going to be bad enough bumping into you at work so I need to be here on my own. You can move back once I go away.’
            His eyes widened.  ‘Where will you go?’
            ‘To Spain, to see my parents. They’ll be back from their cruise by then and I can have a little time with them at the villa.’
            ‘Only a little time? So will you come back here afterwards?’ he asked, brightening.

            Nicole shook her head. ‘No, probably to Jersey. I’m going to ask Mum for help in tracing my mother.  My real mother,’ she said, her eyes unfocused.


Giveaway...

The giveaway on this tour is either 2 x paperback copies of Dangerous Waters (UK only) or 2 x ecopies of Dangerous Waters (International).  The draw will be random. Click the link below to enter.
a Rafflecopter giveaway