Reflections on reality in fiction and fiction in reality. Book Reviews, art, oddities, and comments on life from Science Fiction Mystery Author M. D. Benoit
Until Saturday, 13 March, it’s again Read an ebook week, or as we fondly acronym it, REBW.
With Reader devices such as the Kindle, the Sony Reader, the Nook, the iPhone, and the upcoming iPad, ebooks have become increasingly popular as a medium for reading. If you’re an avid reader and love to own books, the ebook is ideal.
Yeah, yeah, I know, you love the feel and smell of a paper book. But you know what? Paper books take space. Lots of space. I currently have over two hundred books in my Sony Reader. At one inch a book (and that’s conservative), that’s 16 feet of shelf space. Since I read on average three books a week, I’d add about 13 feet of shelf space a year to my bookshelf. Frankly, I don’t have enough walls for that.
I’ve been reading ebooks since they began, really, ten years ago. I haven’t abandoned the paper book; I consider each a different medium for words and both have their level of comfort. My Sony Reader fits in my purse easily. I take it with me when I wait at the doctor’s office or when I go to the park for a picnic. It’s ideal when I travel — I can take dozens of books with me and they weigh less than a pound. Plus, I feel righteous: I’m doing my bit to diminish my carbon footprint in the world.
If you’re not sure about which reader to buy, read this article at Wired.
Zumaya has jumped into ebookweek by offering free the complete text of five of their books, in .pdf format (which means they can be read on any device):
“When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous vermin.” What has your character turned into?
I woke up, moving from sleeping to wide awake in a fraction of a second. I didn’t, however, open my eyes. I admit it, I was afraid. Afraid? No, scared shitless. Every day of my life has been like that, as long as I can remember. Even as a child, every time I awoke, it was to full consciousness in a blink, then that terror would swamp over me and keep my eyes tightly shut for as long as I could.
But it was never very long. With terror would come curiosity, a curiosity so overwhelming I had, simply had to open my eyes. And see who I had become while I was sleeping.
Today was no exception. Sweat poured over my body but I had to open my eyes. So I did. I was prepared. After all this time, I’ve been prepared for every eventuality. I’ve transformed into any type of animal I could think of, and each of them has a different need. Try to become an elephant in a two-bedroom apartment. I now live on the ground floor.
I opened my eyes and stared in horror as I started to choke. There was one eventuality I hadn’t expected, hadn’t planned for. As I watched sunlight dance on my scales, air entered my gills, and I began to die.
The bag was empty except for a smudged, slip of paper which said, “Sorry.”
The bag was empty except for a smudged, slip of paper, which said, “Sorry.” Jeannie hadn’t touched the precious artifact yet but she could clearly see the letters, crudely written with what she hoped might be what the old ones used to call a ball pen since the word was a faded blue. She wondered at the person who had written that conciliatory word and why the slip had been left in this near-fossilized leather bag.
How could the paper have survived after all these centuries? The word, this single word seemed pathetic, as if its owner had wanted to apologize for all the wrongs humanity had inflicted on itself, nearly destroying its planet in the process.
Jeannie examined the paper, the word, still without touching it. The meaning behind the word was fathomless and full of possibilities.
Six hundred years before
Lisa looked at the single word, “Sorry,” on a torn piece of paper Pete had passed her across the desk in Mrs. Benson’s arithmetic class. Yeah, he’d better be sorry for having broken her favorite pencil, the wretch. With a shrug and a glare at Pete, she stuffed the note into her bag. They’d discuss replacement at recess.
Every few months, my husband and his brother used to get together and cook a gourmet meal. My sister-in-law and I were the happy recipients of all this good food — although some dishes were rather experimental. Over the years, we’ve had French, Italian, Greek, Ethiopian, Chinese, and Korean food, to name a few. Nothing was off the menu, including ingredients like squid or raw ground beef, exotic spices, rich sauces. All ingredients were fresh or of the highest quality. And, of course, all this was accompanied with the appropriate alcoholic drink.
For a multitude of reasons, the guys haven’t cooked together for the past five or six years. In the meantime, Robert, my brother-in-law, has become an award-winning nature photographer. Last weekend, they resumed their gourmet meal creations and added a new ingredient: photos. Here was the menu (click on the picture for a larger view):
It’s not a tale of money, revenge, and it’s not modeled after the story of three women intent on plucking their husbands dry. But the First Chapters Club could lead you to laughter, tears, passion, fear, discovery, love, travel, murder, adventure, ogres, fairies, evil, aliens, evil aliens, zombies, samurais, and much, much more.
Zumaya Publications has assembled a collection of first chapters from its catalogue, in addition to one short story and the full text of my first novel, Metered Space, and offers them for free at Scribd (http://www.scribd.com/zumayabooks). You can read them online or download them in .pdf or text format to read on your own computer or reading device.
I’m not a fan of rap. I admit it. But this version of our Canadian anthem has a charm all of its own. For those who don’t know, Oh Canada was written originally in French by Calixa Lavallée. Basketball also has its origins in Canada. With the Olympics looming, it’s a great time to celebrate the fact that we’re Canadian and that there are many things we can be thankful for (even winter).
I was born in Montreal, Quebec (that’s in Canada, folks) but was raised in a small Quebec Laurentians town called Mont-Laurier. I didn’t stay there long, though, and studied and lived in Montreal, Ottawa and Halifax, where I obtained my Masters Degree in Psychology from Saint Mary’s University.Throughout the years, I’ve been a housekeeper, ...
March 5th, 2010
Fiction Friday . Humour . sf . Writing
