1.  Siddarth Kara has written an important new book on trafficking in sex:

2.  Columbia University Press's move into internet, viral videos to sell books is a good idea with decent execution, so far.

Do You Go With Them?

I've been discussing on my message board a bit about Karen Moning and where she might be going writing-wise when the Fever series is done. The recent news that has kind of put me in a tailspin of upside-down smile is there will be no more romances.

From her message board, June 21, 2008 (paraphrased here):

Karen M. Moning has said on her board that she isn't sure she can write another mainstream romance. She knows this will be a disappointment for some fans, but romance alone is not enough to fulfill her. There would need to be a "whole lot of other stuff going on, too".

I have to interject here that isn't it possible to write romance with a whole lot of stuff going on? And it still be a romance? Hell yeah. Why not simply say a change in genre is in order? Hmmmmm, color me huh? on that one.

She does go on to to leave open, slightly, the possibility of going back to Highland romances one day and says "never say never". For now, though, it definitely seems, by her admittance, that urban fantasy, or dark fantasy, is where she will be and who knows, maybe other genres too. I'm sure though that this is still not the whole story behind her feelings on the matter.

Before I go on, I want to make clear that I do understand the need of an author to grow/move in a new direction. It is their work and ultimately they are entitled to do what they want with their career. In no way do I think that personal reader wants should dictate how an author writes. It might sadden me to read that Moning has no foreseeable plans to write romance again, but I can definitely respect her decision and excitement at doing something else entirely. In fact, she has always had my respect for her frank admission that what she is now writing is not strictly a romance series, instead of playing to those that want romance and telling them it's something it's not. Likewise, it takes guts to move on and admit to some die hard fans that they'll no longer get what they were hoping for from her. I have enormous respect for her for being honest.

This is not about "fandom". I simply do not believe that if a fan of an author's work (their WORK mind you, it's their work we're fans of...right?) is not willing to ride whatever roller coaster the author does, that they are not truly fans. It's a bogus assumption that "true fans" are the only ones that would be happy at any career decision an author makes. Indeed, I am very happy for authors, no matter what they might do career-wise, but the thought of no more Moning romances, a genre she excels at, admittedly makes me a bit sad on first impression.

I love urban fantasy. It certainly appears to be on the rise and I say great. I love a kick-ass heroine or hero, magic, monsters and enough smart alec wit to sink a battleship. Give me fangs, give me fur and wrap all in a magical tortilla of action and adventure. I love and love again the "nitty gritty" that Moning does in the Fever books. I may very well check out whatever new books she has published one day.

But if you were a favorite romance writer of mine that can't see writing them again? Yeah, I'll be sad. I'll be happy for you, but I'll be sad for me. And then I'll move on and read someone else's romances, wishing you all the luck while I'm at it and a happy, healthy career. Your past romance titles will become classics on my shelf and I'll likely take them out to revisit once in a while.

In the end, what else can we do? It's either that, or follow and read whatever new genre they write, no matter what it is. Now that, I would not blindly do. If it's not my taste, it's not my taste and I can't see me spending the money if that's so. In which case, it's time to take a lesson from Happy Chair's book:

So new poll time:

If an author you've read for years decided to move on to a different genre, would you follow them? Would you give their new work a chance? Would you refuse to and feel slighted? Check out the poll on the upper left column to vote and feel free to discuss in comments here.

So when I first saw Stardust coming out in theatres for some reason I just wasnt that excited but my boyfriend was because it was based off a Neil Gaiman Novel and was a bog fan. We never ended up seeing it on the big screen but I ended up picking it up for him one day on one of my monthly trips to Blockbuster to take advantage of the 4 for 20 sale. (I love that sale seriously...) So reluctantly to be a good GF I said we could watch Stardust, and wow was I soooo stupid to think I wasn't going to like it. Not only did I like the movie, it has seriously become of my favorite movies ever!

The story contains enough action and adventure that boys won't whine the whole way through and definitly enough romance and girly aspects to keep the girls happy. Really it's the best of both worlds. The movie is really extremely well acted, the cinematography is awesome and basically the story is really what makes it great. With so much crap coming out lately in Hollywood, it really nice to see that something of quality can still be created. Yeah I pick up a lot of movies at blockbuster cause its cheap entertainment but its really cool when every once in a while you find that diamond in the rough like this one.

Hujung minggu ini saya akan menghabiskan masa menyusuri celah-celah perjuangan lelaki di atas. Saya mahu lihat, apa yang ada pada lelaki ini hingga menjadikan Anwar Ibrahim seorang pengkagum setia!

Once they lit the den fire (Barbara had already cooked with the stove fire, which doubled as a heating unit for the second floor of the house), they sat beside it and ate. They did so without speaking, tearing apart the morsels in front of them with merciless abandon. It was only some Spam, Ritz crackers and canned bean dip but none of it ever stood a chance. They had worked very hard getting the areas of the house – those they needed in the immediate future – relatively hygienic and in serviceable order. There was also an ancient generator they could fire up that would run the North side of the house if they could find some gas. It would service a few eumenities, which meant hot water and an old radio. But other than that, there were no phones, no TV, and no cell phone service if they ran into an emergency. All they had were the matches, the wood, a few days worth of food, a dozen or so oil lamps, their demons, one incomplete deck of cards, and each other.

Barbara was determined to make it up to the attic, only, after considering her oath of keeping her family in the dark about it, she finally had to admit to herself that she didn't wanted to go alone. But before she could invite company, she felt the need to clear the air a bit. Again, it was an impulse born entirely of her new surroundings and possibly her studying of the needlepoint earlier. If that section of the house – the one that had been delineated with hair – held some volatile energies, she wanted to be sure she wasn't dragging any excess energy baggage in with her. Satanism had taught her to release violent and destructive energies through psychodramatic ritual, which basically meant throwing a fit of rage. In order to get her family to cooperate, she was going to have to explain where the hell she got such a crazy idea. If they reacted harshly, it could all go horribly wrong. On the other hand, it could be just what the situation required.

"Everyone...?" she chimed, sweetly. Amanda and the Kens looked up mid-chew, bits of food dropping from their chins and fingers. "Has anyone here ever heard of...well..." she tried to make it sound casual, "Satan?"

She reached under her chair and produced a bottle of wine. She had procured it earlier from the basement, and it had beckoned her by being the only bottle with a finger streak imprinted in the dust. She assumed it was her grandmother's. The idea that she was supposed to bring it to dinner and share it with her family was more than just an assumption; she had been directed by an instinct that was both maternal and, paradoxically, infernal. The concept of hell no longer scared her when she considered the world in which she tried to raise her family. More and more she felt like she was the subject of a cruel joke. Things were a trick. And as she poured some wine in each of their glasses, she felt like she was taking the first step towards breaking a false mirror.

The reaction was one she hadn't expected. There were nods mostly, as they returned to chewing. Amanda immediately lifted her glass and sipped. Ken Jr. was next, tasting the dark, red liquid tentatively before using it to wash down a forkful of Spam. Senior took it all down in a single gulp and slid his goblet over to Barbara as if to ask for more. She poured another half glass for him and placed the bottle in the middle of the table where the fire ignited its ruby hues. Bolstered by their passivity, she began to speak. She explained about some of what she had been up to for the last few months: the missing decorator soaps and the laptop sessions in the church parking lot with a poor, misunderstood artist. It had all started with her interest in the basic tenets put forth by one Alistair Crowley. She had found a page on the internet about it and it made sense to her – especially since she had been visited by God and he had gotten frisky without her permission (she would save the real salty stuff for her husband later). She started to sniff a little as she went on about the needlepoint and how it was making her feel. She was nervous to be speaking so honestly, but it also felt good in a way that scared her a little. She was certain her family would shun her, but she couldn't stop herself. Maybe it was in her blood to be wicked? All she knew for sure was that, the wicked she was seemed less wicked than those who she was trying to be like. And now, once the dishes were done, she planned on following her intuition about the needlepoint. Grandma, she said, seemed to be luring her into the attic. And since she was going, she thought she would invite any all to join her if they wished. If not, she would go alone.

The first one to speak up was Ken Jr. He was sorry about some of the stuff he broke around the house. He wasn't sure why he did it, but he hadn't meant to. Barbara said she knew he was having...difficulties...at school and in general, but it was probably normal. And he shouldn't think he needed to apologize for being different. Yes, some things were expensive – too much so to be fooling with – and it might not be good for his clothes to be receiving so much wear and tear, but she knew what it was like to feel alone. He said he had heard of Satan and that the idea of sacrificing animals was interesting to him, but Barbara didn't think that was appropriate. It was also off the mark, and she made it clear that they could go over what she meant by that if he was willing to listen. Ken Jr. said he was, and licked his plate.

The next to speak was Amanda. She coughed a little and laid her hands on top of the table. Then she said, "Kill them." After a few seconds of stone silence, she went on to explain that those two words were spelled on the tips of her fingers. She wasn't sure why she had done it, but it had made her feel better – like she had cast a spell into the world to harm those who had done her harm. Barbara asked who had done her harm, and Ken Jr. said the guys with the camera. Amanda shot him a look that seemed to say "I will feed your balls to the squirrels" and he shut up. Barbara grabbed one of Amanda's hands and said that it was alright and that whatever had happened to her could be fixed. She didn't know how, or so much that it was true, but something told her something could be done. None of them should feel the need to apologize about what they were or what had been done to them. It was all natural in a natural world, and they should look at it in that light.

That's when Ken Sr. made much work of digging into the front of his bark-stained trousers. Just when it looked as if he might pull something, he withdrew his gun and laid it on the table.

"Thank God or Satan or whoever. Damn thing was starting to give me a rash."

The fire popped a few knots and Barabara said with no small amount of desire, "I'd be happy to have a look at that later, dear." And then she stood politely and said, "Now...would anyone like dessert? There's an unopened box of Entenmann's glazed chocolate popems still in the car."

In Middle East Illusions, Noam Chomsky unites previous and new material to construct a review of contemporary global politics that simultaneously impels the reader to heed the lessons to be learned from the past and to assess the present from a perspective free of political rhetoric and media representation.

With harsh reality as the core theme, Chomsky launches attacks on a range of subjects: from an analysis of the Zionist movement and United States presence in the Middle East, to a scathing, yet vaguely amusing, foray into the territory of his critics, whose analyses he brands as ‘amateur psychoanalysis of the Lipset variety’ and ‘out of hand as part of Alsopian fable.’

From the outset, resources – particularly oil - are established as the primary interests of the Western powers in the region.

While not an entirely unacknowledged point, the manner in which Chomsky presents his argument is an encouraging indicator of how the subsequent chapters will develop: each line of reasoning is ably supported by quotations and points of reference, lending even the most implausible and shocking of points credibility.

Nevertheless, the power of opinion cannot be underestimated and the absence of a balanced argument ultimately determines whether Middle East Illusions provides a persuasive and moralistic wake-up call to the abuse of human rights, or an idealistic voice that chimes in with a choir out of synch with the security and economic needs of a rapidly evolving world.

Divided into three parts, totalling ten papers of varying lengths, the first five chapters were initially published in 1974, having been composed during the critical period spanning the Six-Day and 1973 wars.

The two events have remained definitive and dominant factors of the course of events in the Middle East today, and the book’s structure provides a comprehensive guide through the history of the conflict, the main actors and their ideologies, accompanied throughout by the analytical and sage narrative of Chomsky. The combination of these factors works to make the publication highly accessible as both an introduction to the status quo and as a point of reference.

Recurrent throughout the book is the disappointing reality that regardless of international legislations, declarations and protocols, monopoly will prevail and sides will be chosen; in the process double standards continue to emerge and the notion of ‘them’ and ‘us’ is perpetuated in the name of peace, resources, and security.

Chomsky successfully demonstrates that the reality of sides being chosen is not only an anticipated aspect of human nature, but that the victims of the atrocities are valued differently is particularly saddening.

Citing Operation Just Cause as an example, the largest single contingency operation since World War II resulted in ‘the deaths of perhaps thousands of poor people (Western crimes, therefore unexamined) when George Bush I bombed the barrio Chorillo in December 1989…to kidnap a disobedient thug who was sentenced to life imprisonment in Florida for crimes mostly committed while he was on the CIA payroll.'       

It is difficult to disagree with the points raised throughout the collection of papers: Chomsky’s urgent request for enhanced awareness of the situation rings necessary, yet his own evidence leaves this, to a degree, a diminished plea.

Recent history has proven that superpowers will triumph, atrocities will continue and regrettably, some of the greatest injustices being perpetrated will not reach the sizeable audience required for changes to occur.

Despite this, it remains a significant and enlightening humanistic contribution to the debate on the Middle East conflict, and war in general.

Middle East Illusions: Including Peace in the Middle East? Reflections on Justice and Nationhood is published by Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 320 pages, 2004. ISBN: 0742533093.

[Image via: Rusty Stewart]

I've just finished Stephen Kinzer's new book A Thousand Hills: Rwanda's Rebirth and the Man Who Dreamed It. I recommend it to anyone who wants an introduction to the country's recent past and the dilemmas it faces today. I was skeptical at first; there are many good books on Rwanda already and I had heard Kinzer discussing the book on the NPR show On Point and he seemed so enthralled with Kagame I feared his portrait of the Rwandan leader would be overly glossy. But in fact Kinzer lays out all the questions and criticisms even if he himself comes down on the side of being a Kagame fan. Mostly I was impressed by Kinzer's ability to synthesize all the complicated layers of the story in such an accessible and emotionally honest way. I was in Rwanda twice last year and still have a head full of questions about so many aspects of the genocide and its aftermath. Kinzer's contribution and especially the fuller portrait of Paul Kagame is really helpful.

Back in NY, I was a hypocrite.

For a while, before seeing the light and switching to Netflix for fleeting entertainment, I overpaid for a plethora of cable channels that provided me with a means to stay plugged-in to all the news (and I use that term loosely), current series' and (my secret favorite) celebrity profiles. As I said, I was clearly paying too much to choose between Law and Order reruns, My Big Fat Greek Wedding on 3 channels or another viewing of Lethal Weapon. Even I Love the 80s wore thin -- and my entire point of reference is the 80s!

So for the last year or so that I lived there I was caught up on all the latest releases on DVD. In addition to the stream of movies, I read Time, Wired, The New Yorker, The Utne Reader, The New York Times, The Sun and Harpers; I also perused all the usual online sources and blogs for even more information on... well, everything. In addition, I was a regular customer at Borders and have quite a library of books... and thank God I do, because the price of books here is outrageous!

We got the bubble-headed-bleach-blonde who
Comes on at five
She can tell you bout the plane crash with a gleam
In her eye
Its interesting when people die-
Give us dirty laundry

But I was also critical of print and broadcast media, having a particular disdain for what passed as news. It seemed like television, in general -- and news, in particular -- was like a big pacifier, titillating the masses with empty messages about, essentially, nothing. Like anything with no value, it may seem harmless (or even fun) at the time, but eventually you realize you've really just wasted a huge amount of time for no other reason than to waste a huge amount of time.

You don't really need to find out whats going on
You don't really want to know just how far its gone
Just leave well enough alone
Eat your dirty laundry

So I watched, read and criticized. This, in itself, was also an exercise in futility since I was skating on the same ice as I would be if I just shut up and actually cared about who would be the next American Idol, or was shocked -- shocked! -- about whatever the semi-good looking news anchor told me was ... um, shocking.

Dirty little secrets
Dirty little lies
We got our dirty little fingers in everybodys pie
We love to cut you down to size
We love dirty laundry

Eventually, I realized I'd overdosed on information. But I had my opinions, my position on things (a vague term, I know, but one that people can understand) and I knew a lot about... a lot.

Or did I? Read the rest of this entry »

Edenborn by Nick Sagan

ISBN# 0451462130

Read the rest of this entry »

Today's Chapter:

Garnett/Edmondson: 1.18

Maude: 1.21

Well, those of us who were happily tripping along reading about Natasha's dolls and Count Rostov's dancing may not have been quite prepared for the shift we get in this chapter.

With a brilliant segue, which works only on paper - the sixth dance at the Rostov's coinciding with Count Bezukhov's sixth stroke - we transfer to the awe-filled atmosphere of a house holding its breath - waiting for the death of the master.

But it is in a side room that the real secrets come out: Prince Vassily, never a particularly likeable fellow, now reveals his true nature - knowing full well what the Count's death will mean for Pierre, he urges Katish to join him in a vicious piece of double-dealing.  The irony of this scene is that Katish, in her half-distraught state, doesn't want to be drawn in to Vassily's plot.  She'd rather just play the martyr - but with enough pushing, she's persuaded to go along because of a hatred for Boris' mum, Anna Mihalovna.  What will happen next?  If you're like Dave E or Bruce M, you obviously can't restrain yourselves, and you're probably 10 chapters ahead of me by now . . . but for the rest of you - we'll find out more tomorrow.

Either that, or you think that this is all completely "Days of Our Lives" and would rather turn to more substantial literature like Barbara Taylor Bradford.