The Wolves of Midwinter

Monday, December 10, 2012

Review of Eve Mont's A Breath of Eyre

Review of Eve Mont's A Breath of Eyre

Disclaimer: Ignore the feminine cover and read it regardless of the targeted readership!

   Of course, I started reading the book with certain preconceived notions, since it was a young-adult novel.  Lately,I have been a bit disillusioned with young-adult fiction, ever since the Twilight love-triangle become the predominant romance formula that nearly all young adult books afterwords with a supernatural bent emulated.

   This book really caught me off-guard because of the lack of a love-triangle or really any superficial romantic elements. Rather than being replete of those generic YA trappings, this book has an awesome multifaceted plot that achieves the impossible: it takes a well-adored classic and parallels the events and the emotions of that novel seamlessly with that of  a newly developed plot that takes place in reality. The classic happens to be one of my favorite Gothic novels that featured a  brooding Byronic hero (the use of the word "hero" can be contested) and an extremely introverted, strong-minded heroine. The story has so many classical features and complex characters that some of the characters have been open to different interpretations.

    For example, some filmmaker, who've done Jane Eyre  film adaptations make Mr. Rochester too ruggedly handsome and his past sins  become sexually-appealing in some modern adaptations (one of them became a deservedly forgotten James Bond). I love how this book features far more scrutiny of the character of Mr. Rochester because I think his defects are often too overlooked in modern adaptations.

    Thus far, I have seen three  different Jane Eyre film  adaptations in my life, and it was neat to read a story that involves a  girl named Emma that has the same disposition of loving books to the point of wanting to escape fully into them. Her external world is fraught with different chaotic elements, such as a new boarding-school that is populated by girls that she has trouble befriending because they were able to get into the boarding school without any scholarships. Being endowed with certain financial benefits brands her as someone with a family that lacks the affluence of other families. This a natural part of the teen environment, where everyone is trying to adjust to a newer sense of the world that is quickly losing the idealized elements of childhood (Madeleine L'Engle is the master of these types of YA novels).Therefore, it is no surprise that Emma feels the overwhelming desire to escape haplessly into the world of Jane Eyre, and eventually both stories become more finely intertwined later in the story.

   When reading Jane Eyre, it is easy to become hopelessly enamored with the romantic elements of the story that are only a superficial layer. For many books that try to pay homage to classics, it is easy for them to become weighed down in nostalgic gushing. Both stories, the realistic story set in Emma's present and the adjacent Jane Eyre story, have the pretense of being shallow at the beginning,but Eve M. fantastically pulls the rug out from under your feet and deftly unravels an emotionally intense story that will have you reaching back for the rug, Nothing in the plot felt contrived or false, even though I would have loved to read more about Michelle's aunt. Then again, that might be something that Eve M. might be saving for the next installment

  Even the prose itself was magnificent, there was no instance of purple-prose. I was mesmerized throughout the whole novel, More importantly, I uncomfortably faced some of my worst insecurities while reading  A Breath of Eyre  because good novels are a mirror of our own psyche. This book is not some saccharine celebration of all the sensual elements of Mr. Rochester and Jane Eyre's romantic relationship (their relationship was fraught with hardship, like any relationship). Eve Mont plumbs the depths of both these characters, while simultaneously probing Emma's own psyche. The psychological layering of both novels were so seamless in this novel because Eve Mont did more than just rewrite the surface-story of Jane Eyre into Emma's own reality. Instead, she shows a great grasp of the emotional underpinnings of the novel, and astonishingly allowed me to see both Jane Eyre and even myself in a new light.

    If you're still looking for a Christmas gift, I wholeheartedly recommend this fantastic novel because it is both emotionally powerful and effective in giving you new insight into the complexity of Jane Eyre. This novel is the new standard for classical novels being reimagined for a modern audience!

For More Information about this book and others written by Eve Mont, Check out her author Website or Twitter

Monday, November 26, 2012

A Bibliophile's Reverie Still Exists!!

Blog Still Lives!!

     Hi dear readers of A Bibliophile's Reverie!

I apologize for the sparse number of posts here for the past few months. Unfortunately, my life has literally been barraged with far too many tasks that have taken away any time for book blogging. I am enjoying my busy semester nonetheless, along with my internship at Quirk Books

      Around the middle of December,once the craziness comes to a satisfying conclusion, I shall be resuming work on this blog as always. There will be a slew of new reviews, interviews, and other exciting things. Today, I went a bit crazy with interview inquiries because I am itching to work on this blog once again. 

     Also, I hope to keep improving the readability of my reviews as well. I've been looking over some of my reviews, and have found some of them to be a bit long-winded. This does not mean that the substance of my reviews will deteriorate in quality. I am just trying to make them a bit more concise.

    Oh well, improving one's writing is an ongoing task,and improving this blog will certainly be a job that never vanishes. I hope you'll keep watching this blog  this upcoming December, when this blog will be up and running once again.

    Thank you for continuing to read this blog,
     Justin B. (Fantastyfreak)


Sunday, November 04, 2012

Pie in the Sky


Pie was their pride. The whole town of Pi had a whole festival, called the Pie Festival, where they celebrated the holiness of the pie one day of the year.
    Some pies were rather holey, and had areas where the pie filling could be seen: delicious cherry filling or a tantalizing vanilla cream. Some pies had no holes or pockets, and only had a fetching layer of pumpkin atop the small pie crust.
   Not everyone likes pies, though the town made it a law that everyone was to enjoy pie without exception. One small boy, Charles, thought pies were disgusting because they were too crumbly, too sweet, and just really an unappetizing mess.
                Knowing of the boy’s unfavorable views of pies, the town felt defensive. “Why not? Why don’t you like pies? Do you not believe that pies are not good for us? How can anyone not like pies”
    “I just think they’re yucky…too much fruit in them”
  “What about the sainted Crème pie?”the high chef asked.
  “Yuck, you mean something like a Boston crème… No, I like cake far more.”the boy said, disgusted that anyone would try to force him to eat gross pie.

     The feast was coming up, and Charles’s admission caused a scandal for the whole town depended upon unanimous, unflinching agreement that pie is the greatest food. Their whole town depended upon this love to win the favor of the great pie god.
 “What will the Pie God have to say about this?” the high chef protested. “Do you know what happened the last time someone had unbelief in the goodness of pie? We could all be baked alive by the great heater in the sky, which carries far more heat than our holy ovens.”
                The town people argued for hours, and many of them started alleging that the boy was a cake demon, a minion of the insidious “Devil Cake.”
                “Haven’t any of you heard of what the Devil Cake seeks to do? He wants to have dominion over what we freely elect to eat,” one concerned townsperson fretfully mentioned. All the townspeople grew even more terrified about the unfolding events. What was the devil cake concocting this year?
                All the townspeople were relatively serene, quaint people. Like anyone, they were susceptible to the foibles of human irrationality when the pie of their life was being threatened. When the feast came, they all started gathering ingredients for the scheme they were cooking up. It was a whole different type of pie, one that would hopefully sate the Great Pie God’s hunger for wholesome pie.
                Poor Charles was only walking back to his home, before the irate townspeople snatched him away. “STOP.. What are you doing? Sue, Phil, Uncle Todd, I know all of you so well. I just don’t like pie…”
     “Shush your heathen talk, the Great Pie God is listening; There will be chaos, if we don’t have everyone in town show their unwavering devotion for pie. You don’t believe in the holiness of pie or the supremacy of the Great Pie God in our lives.” The other townspeople agreed with Sue, who was Charles’ own mother. She had got caught up in the craziness that she had forgotten that it was her own son that she was allowing to be baked alive right before her eyes.

                All the townspeople looked starved, as they pushed little Charles into the tribal bowl used for the creation of the sacrificial pie for the pie fest..
                “Actually, this works in our favor! The Great Pie God purposely created Devil Cake only to further his own divine plan. Also, he has a far bigger appetite than he has ever had. This depraved boy can be used for the good of community, for the greater Pie God will certainly savor our bounty.” The high chef proudly yelled aloud to the fervid crowd.
        “Yes, we are so willing to give one of our own to appease his hunger. Bless the Great Pie God! WE LOVE PIE!!!”  Charles mother added.
    “Mom, MOM MOOOMMMM” Charles became distressed, as he was sealed into the viscous pie batter. His screams resounded through the batter, and only a garbled whimper could be heard from the batter choking his breath.  Eventually, he stopped breathing altogether, and the batter with his lifeless body in it was placed in the oven..

    Caught up in the hysteria, his mother began silently praying for the Pie God to accept the sacrifice of her own sinful son. The town hardly knew that they were talking to themselves, praying to an imaginary Pie God that really was the poltergeist of their own villainy. They silenced everything “different” from themselves, and baked them alive every year. Inevitably, they’d be the ones eating the sacrificial pie themselves, since there was no Pie God to even serve it to.
      Ironically, the differences of those people they ended up baking was a part of them once they ingested it. There was always some small shred of that unholy difference that remained a part of each one of them.
                After the pie came out of the oven, the townspeople ate the pie without reflecting on any of this. They were hungry, and they were starved to satisfy their hunger, and deny altogether the reality of their frantic lunacy. They needed to escape reality; security in life was fleeting. Only pie can bring wholeness, and anyone that breaks that secure wholeness must be eradicated.
                Once the pie was eaten, the people fell into a gratified stupor and fell asleep. Nobody ever thought of Charles. The preservation of the ideal that pie was infallibly good must be preserved at all costs!

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Birthright Blog Tour

Title: Birthright (The Dark Gifts)
Author: Willow Cross
Publisher: Self Published
Pages: 226

For one-thousand years, Druid prophecies foretold of a young witch destined to alter the fate of both human and immortal alike. This witch-turned-vampire would be capable of harnessing the supernatural abilities of both and, in a bloody rise to power, would rule with unwavering control. Unwillingly thrust into a world she never dreamed existed, Liz Markum is catapulted into an ancient war between rival vampire factions. She must choose between those she loves and the ever-present darkness attempting to devour her very soul. Only one question remains: Will Liz claim her birthright or surrender to the dark gift? One choice. One chance. Two destinies.

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About the Author

Willow Cross resides in Arkansas with her husband, two children still young enough to live at home, an enormous cat named Bitsy, and a neurotic dog named Tank. Her home has been known to host the occasional ghost and several of her friends profess to be witches. Although she dearly loves Vampires and Werewolves, they are never invited for dinner.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Zombie Princess: A Morbid Fairytale

Zombie Princess
                Zombies have no idea what an oligarchy was, but their unrecognized notion of government was exactly that. It was a coterie of mindless flesh-eaters, arguing over who would get to eat the latest kidnapped victim. That is if you could call various octaves of incoherent grunting a type of arguing. They were almost like dogs, barking competitively and wrestling each other for the brain of their victims.
                One zombie though was quite taken with the screaming girl that they had captured. She had frizzy blonde hair, a pink gown, and a plastic, gold crown. This zombie had the brainless idea of biting the girl’s cheek, rather than going directly for the brain. The girl screamed a howling scream that was completely lost on the carnivorous coterie of zombies.  
     Blood trickled from the infected wound on her cheek, and the poor girl’s eyes were still splotched with tears. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy,” she cried piteously, as the blood poured onto the grey concrete floors of the abandoned warehouse, the perfect abode for these soulless zombies.
                The cries echoed through the dead caverns of their ears, and drifted through their craniums that were barely alive. How could they receive her anymore with love and tenderness? These zombies were lost to that world, deaf to any ideas lost to a state of mumbling mindlessness.
                Her cries became hoarser, as she continued screaming incessantly at the same volume.  Her face became more sallow, and eventually became desiccated. Her hair lost its blonde coloring and suddenly turned grey. The formerly clear screams of “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy” degraded into incoherent grunts.. “Mooogrh…Moooghr… Mooghr…” Phlegm became caught in her throat, as she desperately growled this incomprehensible string of syllables.    
                Fortunately, she still had her assemblage of Halloween princess accessories.  To the coterie of mainly male zombies, she could be weakly recognized as a princess. They bowed down to her, as she stopped yelling, and began to grunt-laugh, which was the zombie technique of trying to laugh with withered vocal chords.  This sounded more like “HOARGH, HOARGH, HOARGH, HOARAGH,” this precious laugh thundered throughout the space of the abandoned warehouse, while the other zombies enthusiastically implored her with joyous grunts to laugh louder.

      “HOARGH..HOARGH…HOARGH…HOARGH…” For every living girl, the dream of being a princess is never fully realized until she completely relinquishes her life, thus her freedom. Sadly, the girl Jessica wished a little too hard, after she blew out her birthday candles and wistfully said, “God, Make me a princess!”

500 Word Stories#1-Enigmatic Alien Story??

   “Father, I’m scared!” the boy within his father’s arm trembled frightfully, while his father didn’t know whether he had the courage to face the enemy beyond or to quell his son’s fears.
      “It’s alright son really, the wardens of death are no longer here in this woods” Woods, what woods? The older man knew that what he said was a complete lie. Shaking with fear and the miserable chill of the deadly air of this leafless forest, the man knew that they were the last men on this forsaken world.
Of course, there were women, numerous women; voluptuous women, intelligent women, athletic women. There were not enough men anymore with such variety, only both the father the son languished in the perilous world.

    It wasn’t the women who wanted them dead; some deadly pathogen only men could contract had nearly accomplished this impossible feat. Yes, it wasn’t the women who had proposed this to happen to the men they had loved. This was the way that the human race was always meant to slowly go extinct. Maybe women though had the scientific means to engender new life, without men.
      What if Eve stayed in the garden, leaving Adam to wander aimlessly across the stretches of the uninhabited Earth? Where would he go? Whom would he love in earnest? Solace, What about solace? Could he concoct enough stories for both him and his son's sanity? My son. He was the only one, who still hung protectively from him, refusing to let go.           
         The man, Henry Whitaker, a name he had recalled his wife softly whispering to him at night, was fading slowly away into obscurity. Her hair, curled and red, was lovely to comb his hand through. It was the one significant gesture that he loved watching in his mind, completely separated from his immediate reality like the moon hanging nightly so high above him with its soft luminescence. He remembered her eyes, just small green ones, twinkling as he offered her a crinkled smile as they both held each other in a bed. That bed was now such a foreign object, their house was further far removed from his mind. These places were secure, but now who was he?
                “Benny, we have to stop walking soon, for the bright ones had mentioned they meet us here….” Bright ones, he had been yearning to meet them every night. Their ship was a moving star, much like what the Greeks perceived as planets, a gliding ship of existence across a sea of blackness. To think, these bright ones sailed peacefully on a sea of blue, when the sun rose every morning. Were they trying to find the last men here on this Earth? He had heard the tall tales, they wanted men only. For what reason, he did not know, but he longed for the bright ones every night and even recounted myths about them to Benny. Some day, he would find them and not know this alienation any longer.