Update on me Mather, by J.C. Kavanagh

 

Book 1 of the award-winning trilogy

https://bookswelove.net/kavanagh-j-c/

It's been a trying time for everyone involved in the 24/7 care of my elderly mother in her home. She's in stage 4 bone/lung cancer. Meds have increased almost weekly and yet the fighting Irish in her marches on. 

Mom's many brothers and sisters phone regularly. I've sadly discovered that caring for the terminally ill can bring small, Canadian families together... and sometimes not. Nonetheless, we carry on. Mom, after all, is the priority.

All prayers and positive thoughts are welcome! 

In the meantime, below is Chapter One of the final book in The Twisted Climb trilogy. The book, A Bright Darkness, is a "grand and epic final to an award-winning series." Enjoy!

J.C. 

A Bright Darkness, Chapter One 

Patty pressed her body against the cold cliff wall, her hands searching for outcroppings and ledges. The ghostly rays from the moon above illuminated the jagged footholds on the rock wall above her and she pulled herself higher, edging closer to the top. Within moments, her fingers were touching the smooth top surface of the rock cliff. She peered cautiously over the edge. 

There they were – her teenaged daughter, Jayden; the handsome dark-haired dark-haired fellow; the carrot-haired guy, and a young curly-haired child – just a stone’s throw away. The flat rocky surface at the top of the cliff only spanned a mere three or four metres across. Beyond that, a yawning, deep blackness dropped into a steam-filled volcano vent. 

Ah - and there – there was the boy she followed so relentlessly. “Dick” they called him. The boy with the thick red scar etched across the top of his sickly, bald head. Patty was going to get rid of Dick once and for all. She lowered her head slowly, remaining out of their sight.

It was almost time.

She waited, panting with excitement, hands and feet braced, heart racing. 

Now. 

Patty raised her head and then gasped. The nerdy-looking, carrot-haired boy and the young child were gone. Had they jumped over the opposite side and into the volcano? Dick was standing at the opposite edge, his long, scarecrow-like arms dangling by his sides. At his feet lay the cable cutters he carried as his personal weapon. Maybe he pushed them into the abyss?

Her gaze shot over to Jayden and the handsome guy. Jayden was whispering and emphatically gesturing toward Dick. Before Patty could pull herself over the top, her daughter and the young man clasped hands. She watched in horror as they sprinted forward and picked up the scarred boy in an arm- tackle manoeuvre, just like the ‘red-rover’ game she used to play as a child. Before Dick could untangle himself from their grasp, they leapt off the cliff, taking Dick with them. 

Patty scrambled to the rock surface. All was quiet. White wisps of steam floated up from the hot volcano ahead. She was alone.

“Fools!”

Walking to where the kids had jumped, she picked up the long-handled cable cutters that Dick had dropped. Holding the tool up to the light of the full moon, she shook it angrily. A primal howl erupted from deep within her, the high pitch gaining intensity until she could hold it no more. As if on queue, a pack of wolves began a matching chorus of howls, echoing eerily across the valley.

Patty smiled – a cold, soul-less, unholy display. She manifested neither joy nor love nor sadness for the fate that had befallen her daughter, the scarred guy, and the handsome fellow. Instead, her green eyes were dark and malignant, reflecting a hatred that poured from within. She slapped the cutters across the palm of one hand and stepped toward the volcano’s edge. Steam and an orange glow came from below. She peered into the depths and the pupils of her green eyes reflected the hellish glow swirling beneath. 

“Fools!” she repeated.  “Dick was mine to destroy.”

* * * *

To purchase The Twisted Climb series, check out the links via BWL Publishing site: https://bookswelove.net/kavanagh-j-c/

J.C. Kavanagh, author of
The Twisted Climb - A Bright Darkness (Book 3)
and
The Twisted Climb - Darkness Descends (Book 2) voted BEST Young Adult Book 2018, Critters Readers Poll and Best YA Book FINALIST at The Word Guild, Canada
AND
The Twisted Climb,
voted BEST Young Adult Book 2016, P&E Readers Poll
Voted Best Local Author, Simcoe County, Ontario, 2021
Novels for teens, young adults and adults young at heart
Email: author.j.c.kavanagh@gmail.com
www.facebook.com/J.C.Kavanagh
www.amazon.com/author/jckavanagh
Twitter @JCKavanagh1 (Author J.C. Kavanagh)
Instagram @authorjckavanagh

My Left Thumb: Philosophical Essays by Phillip Hoffmann

 

Click this link to purchase

https://books2read.com/My-Left-Thumb-Hoffmann

 

“It’s right in front of me as I type. Actually, it’s left. My left thumb. The thumbnail looks like one of those pictures in embryology textbooks of us when we were tiny cauliflowers. You see, I crushed it in a ladder accident a couple of months ago. It’s okay; renovator and thumb are doing fine and resting comfortably. The good news is that there’s no permanent damage, although the looks I get from the staff at Home Depot suggest that I need to sign up for Attention and Survival 101 at the University of Hard Knocks. 

I wouldn’t normally go on about the condition of my left thumb, but something puzzles me. There’s no lasting damage, but why not? If I’d lost my thumb altogether, which I was fearing at first when the ladder and I had our falling out, I would be living with a tangible and abiding disability in what is a resolutely digital world. As it turns out, I’m happy to report that my keyboard skills are no worse than they were before, and my thumb is working overtime on converting the sorry salad of keratin and skin tissue reposing on the space bar back into a normal nail. But how did my left thumb learn project management for thumbnail renewal? And why only the thumbnail but not whole thumb replacement? What does my left thumb know that I don’t?”

Those are the opening paragraphs of the title essay of “My Left Thumb: Philosophical Essays 2nd edn,” BWL’s first, brand new venture into the non-fiction market! I’m honoured and excited to be part of this latest stage in the ongoing BWL success story, although this title is something of a one-off, as BWL intends to focus primarily on genres such as biography, memoirs, history and travel writing on the non-fiction side. As for my collection, I hope this sample gives you a glimpse of my own interests and approach to writing. I have always appreciated essays as a writing form, and I’ve attempted to mirror qualities about the form that grab me most as a reader: lively, engaging, entertaining bite-size writing that illuminates philosophical topics that fascinate me, from science (in this case, biology) to free will to existence to truth and beyond. I hope you’re as interested in finding out more about me and my left thumb as I am finding out about you and your writing!

Phillip Hoffmann 2023 

 

Libraries in August

 

Find my books here

While others may think of the seashore or a cozy mountain cabin in summer, I think of the cool refuge of my local library.

Welcome to Vermont visitors with baked goods!

Our library is a true third place--not home or work, but another domain: one of learning, peace, gathering, discussion, and enjoyment. Perhaps a local politician is on a listening tour, perhaps it's story hour for some enchanted toddlers. A local author or artist may have some new work on display.

Young readers helping out at our plant sale

Visit these cherished places often. Better yet--support them. Most libraries have a Friends of the Library that help sponsor events and pay for extra supplies or needed improvements. They raise money too. We have sponsored a classic move night at our local theater, had plant and bake sales, run a trivia contest at a local restaurant. 

Classic movie night, anyone?

It's all enjoyable and a great place to meet fellow bibliophiles!  

A Fun and Inspiring Writers' Weekend

                                       Please click this link for author and book information

I'm still recovering from my hectic long weekend at Calgary's When Words Collide Festival for Readers and Writers. After three years of attending the festival online, it was great to see familiar faces in-person, make new connections, and participate in panels in front of live audiences. I also enjoyed spreading the word about BWL and Bouchercon Calgary 2026 at their Merchants' Room tables, which were conveniently located next to each other.  

BWL authors Astrid Theilgaard, Vicki Chatham, and me at the BWL table. 

As usual I especially enjoyed WWC's opening evening keynote addresses. The four Festival Guest Authors were each given twenty minutes to talk about anything they wanted. This year's speeches were intensely personal and brave. Writing coach and international speaker Angela Ackerman shared her struggle with imposter syndrome despite selling almost a million books in ten languages. I'm sure every writer in the room could relate. Stacey Kondla spoke about her stroke, which prompted her successful new career as a literary agent. Nicole Baart, author of "race-to-the finish family dramas," discussed how her need for multiple surgeries during childhood led her to becoming a writer. 

On my seven panels I discussed such topics such as creating characters, writing mental health, fiction in a world with COVID-19, putting your characters in danger, and how to write a series without losing your way (or your mind). About the latter, I confessed my method of combing through my notes and earlier series novels to recall a character's eye colour, age, or divorce date wasn't the most efficient way of keeping track of continuing series characters and suggested authors use a spreadsheet. Fellow panelist Cathy Ace prefers a series bible, which she described as a word document that she searches for a character's pertinent details. Whatever works for each writer. 

At the keynote event, WWC chair Randy McCharles passed the torch (a dragon statue) to the festival's new management, the Alexandra Writers' Centre Society. The AWCS was busy taking registrations for next year's festival in the Merchants' Room. WWC 2024 is already 70 % sold out. AWCS has put together an interesting lineup of Guests of Honour and Special Guest authors. Check their website for updates and to register for When Words Collide Volume Two: Every Chapter Has Another Great Story.

        

Thanks to Diane Bator (above) for organizing the BWL table. Author Layton Park stopped by to chat with Diane and do a table shift. Diane went home with ideas for sprucing up the BWL table next year. Even the Merchants' Room can be inspiring. 

WWC panel with mystery writers PD Workman, BWL author Joan Donaldson-Yarmey, Jonathan Whitelaw, and Cathy Ace. 

                  

Kutock vs Kennedy by Karla Stover

 

Visit Karla's BWL Author page for book and purchase details

REGARDING CLOTHES

KUTOCK vs KENNEDY:  The Lengths to Which Women Will Go

 

            On March 21, 1922, actress Frances Kennedy raised her right hand to God, promised to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and took the stand in an Illinois courtroom. Facing her from the right of the room’s center aisle was the plaintiff, tailor Morris Kutock, and his attorney.  On the other side of the aisle were her defense attorney, Harry N. Pritzker, her husband, Thomas Johnson, and her witnesses. The witnesses included costumer Mme. Maebelle, model Doris Faulkner, Robert D. Boniel, a newspaper critic for the Dramatic Mirror, and designer, Lester Essig. At the turn of the 20th century, Essig owned Lester, Ltd. and, under the name Mr. Essig, was a famous Chicago costume and theatrical designer, dressing some of the most celebrated names in the country, including Ginger Rogers, Joan Crawford and other stars of that caliber. Presiding over the case was Justice of the Peace Max Witkower, who had impaneled an all-woman jury ranging in ages from eighteen to twenty-two.

            The issue was $175 owed for a dress ordered by Miss Kennedy, delivered after the agreed-upon date, and for which she refused to pay. And under consideration was how long women’s fashions remain in style.

            On the stand, Miss Kennedy crossed an elegantly, silk-stocking-clad leg, stated her name, and batted her eyelashes.

            “How old are you, Miss Kennedy?” asked Attorney Pritzker.

            The defendant lowered her lashes, fingered the folds of her mink, and glanced in panic at her for husband for help.

            “I just never can remember,” she answered at last. “Whenever I want to know my age I have to phone my sister, but the last time I phoned her she said she had forgotten, too.”

            By mutual agreement, it was decided she was over twenty-one.

            “And how long have you been an actress?”

            Again, she looked helplessly at her husband, then at the judge. The issue was dropped.

            Testimony began.

            “I ordered this green, sequined gown for an Irish number I had to sing at my opening (on

 St. Patrick’s Day) in New York,” she testified. “It was to be ready on February 5^th. I left the city

 on February 6^th without the gown because it wasn’t done. I had to hurriedly order another one somewhere else. I had to wear a green gown, you see?”

            “You couldn’t possible have sung an Irish song in another colored gown, orange, for example?” Asked the judge.

            “Not without running into danger. Besides, dresses go out of style about every three weeks. An actress can’t appear in old models. The public looks to her for the (current) styles.”

            Kennedy went to say that Kutock wanted to deliver the gown when she got back to town and, of course, expected payment. However, she refused to take delivery or pay him.

            At this point, her husband brought into evidence a black suitcase that he proceeded to unpack. Three gowns were held up for both the judge and the jury to inspect. The most recently-purchased gown was distinctly longer than the other two.

            Kennedy turned to the female jury. “See what you’re coming to, girls?” She indicated the change in lengths.

            Rather quickly, the judge intervened.

            Model Doris Faulkner then took the stand and wowed the courtroom with lipstick, earrings, hat, shoe heels, and buckles all of a matching shade of carmine, made, in part, from powdered insect bodies.

            “Styles change weekly, sometimes,” she testified. “Of course an actress couldn’t be expected to wear a dress that is four whole weeks behind the style.”

            One by one, Mm. Maebelle, Robert Boniel, and Mr. Lester all testified, saying essentially the same thing.

            Following this “expert testimony,” Attorney Pritzker made an impassioned closing argument on behalf of his client, Miss Kennedy.

            “Remember that this is a momentous occasion,” he said. “You are here to determine whether styles do change every few weeks and, that when a woman’s dress is new in April, it has no value in May.”

            He then did a bit of an about face, sounding more like the prosecution than the defense.

            “Remember, too,” he said, “the economic crisis were emerging from. (Did he mean World War I?). Consider what effect it would have on all the women in the country if they had to have a new gown every thirty days or be guilty of the heinous offense of being out of style. Think of the misery of the countless husbands who would be unable to provide these numerous gowns for their beloved wives. In short, it is a most important matter. Consider carefully your answer, young women.”

            And deliberate they did—for four whole minutes. After all, as the women well knew, “It might be possible to get away with a tweed suit that was a year old, but wives were expected to reflect their husband’s wealth and position. All the dressing up—the new clothes and jewelry—was a marital duty, a silent advertisement of status. Furthermore, actresses had replaced royalty as the pinnacle of fashion. They were the vehicle for showing clothes to a wider audience than ever before.”

            The jury found on behalf of Miss Kennedy whereupon she hugged and kissed the ladies, gave them autographed photographs of herself, and invited them to her show. That brought on such a cacophony of female voices that a complaint, forwarded to the Chief of Police, resulted in Judge Witkower’s court being evicted from its City Hall premises.

            As unimportant as the case may seem today, the actions of the all-woman jury fired up the doubts of those who already questioned women’s competence to “Handle the rights of full citizenship, unconvinced that women could be trusted with weighty matters of state when they so blithely and indecorously handled their own affairs.”

            As it turned out, though, seventeen years later the verdict was vindicated. In 1939 members of the Paris couture refused to participate in the New York World’s Fair. The reason given was that the clothing on display would be out of date within one month of arrival.