Part Five: Names

Some part of me was rebelling. “You never do this,” it was saying. “Never. Why start now?”

“Because I may burst with curiosity if I don’t,” I replied.

The rebellious part of me considered this. “Nah. I don’t think so.”

“I’m doing it anyway,” I said.

“You’re not sure about that.”

Blast me for knowing all my secrets. “I’m going to,” I replied firmly. “Kindly shut up.”

The girl was packing up, still scowling a little. “Excuse me,” I said, rather quieter than I had meant to.

She glanced over.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” She looked a little surprised.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I got bored with the lecture and read a bit of what you were working on.”

She flushed. Oops. “I liked it,” I said hurridly. “I’m a fantasy reader, and from the bit I read, I’d like to read your book.”

“Not in its current state, you wouldn’t,” she said, but she looked a little less embarrassed.

“Have you been having trouble with it?”

“Yeah.” She finished putting her laptop away, zipped her backpack, and stood up. I followed her example as she continued talking. “I do first drafts really easily, ‘cause with the first draft, anything goes. But then I have to use my other drafts to fix the major problems of the first, and usually that isn’t nearly as much fun.”

“What draft are you on?” I asked, following her to the door of the classroom. This ‘conversation’ stuff wasn’t nearly as hard as I’d thought.

“Third,” she said. “For some people, that means they’re starting to get to the polishing stage. I’m still making huge changes. I was stuck a couple of days ago, until I added another character – though now I have to re-write most of the book. She’s a somewhat important character. I don’t know how I managed to get this far without her, but now that she’s here, I’m dreading the work I have to do to fit her in.” She sighed. “And I have no way of knowing if she’ll be the last huge change.”

Well then. Now there’s only one missing piece to the puzzle. “My name’s Kate, by the way,” I said.

She smiled. “Kate. I love that name.”

“Really? I think it’s kinda plain.”

“Not all names need to be exotic.”

“Even in fantasy?” I remembered that her characters had mostly normal names.

“Even in fantasy. Oh, and I’m Kendra.”

I grinned. Jackpot. “Your name is much prettier than mine.”

“If you say so.” She shrugged, but she was still smiling. “Where are you off to?”

“Just lunch,” I said. “You?”

“FA building. I’ll see you in class.”

“See you.”

And I would. Having found her, there was no way I was going to give up the opportunity to become better acquainted with Kendra Sondson, eventual author of Red-Nosed Dragon.

Part One: Existing
Part Two: Frustrated
Part Three: Wondering
Part Four: Writer

Part Four: Writer

The girl next to me in class was distracted.

Normally, I would be too distracted myself to notice, but trying to keep my mind off of the mysterious book had resulted in one of my first efforts to pay complete attention to the lecture.

She, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be paying the least bit of attention. She was staring intensely at her laptop screen, sometimes typing, sometimes scrolling, sometimes clicking, always looking a little unhappy. Her notebook was left neglected, with a pen lying across it as if she meant to try to take notes.

Her laptop was slightly turned in my direction. Sitting forward, I could almost see what she was writing. I casually leaned back, lightly tapping my pen on my notebook, trying to act as if I was still listening to the lecture.

Ah. Now I could see what she was writing.

And it was very, very familiar.

Part One: Existing
Part Two: Frustrated
Part Three: Wondering
Part Five: Names

Part Three: Wondering

I was right. This was the book, the very same book, that I had read before. The title, the cover, the characters, the author, the setting, the magic system - all was the same. So why hadn't the employee found it on the computer? Why hadn't I found it in my trawls on the internet?

Well, I suppose things can exist even if they aren't on the internet, even in these days. And sometimes there were mistakes with inventory.

But...

Something seemed wrong.

I tuned the book over in my hands, inspecting the pages and the cover. It all seemed normal, but something was missing... ah ha! The back cover had no bar code! It must be some sort of preview copy... a preview copy that didn't say it was a preview copy? I checked the covers and the first few pages - nope, no indication that it was a preview copy.

Then what was it?

Feeling oddly guilty, I took the book to a chair instead of a register. I was afraid they'd take the book away from me if I tried to buy it, and I had to read the ending. I flipped through, trying to find my place. It had been in the middle of chapter seven somewhere. Or at least I thought it had been. Seven seemed familiar, but I didn't remember reading the scenes it contained. And there was a character I didn't remember at all. Curious, I skimmed backwards, trying to find where this new character had come from

It wasn't until chapter three that she was introduced, but I knew I had read further than that. How had I missed an entire character, specially one that was in every other scene or so? What had this supporting lead come from?

I turned to the front of the book and read the first paragraph, holding my breath. It was how I'd remembered. As was the next paragraph, and the next... I relaxed as I read, feeling better now that I recognized everything. Until I hit chapter three where that new character was introduced. What was that?

I wandered back to the fantasy shelves and put the book back. Right now I was too confused to worry about never knowing the ending.

Part One: Existing
Part Two: Frustrated
Part Four: Writer
Part Five: Names

Part Two: Frustrated

I was getting more worried every moment. I couldn't find the book. I'd tried Googling the title, the author; I searched archives of books old and new; I even tried variations - maybe that employee had been right, and I really hadn't had the title and author correct.

Nothing.

So either it was a dream, or I was going insane. Neither option really appealed to me, though the first was considerably better than the other. But how could that happen? I'd read the book. I had held it, flipped through it, read half of it, and then had run off to class with the firm idea of coming back when I had time and money to buy it and finish it. It had been a rather good book, too; fantasy, but not cliché; there was originality put in to the magic system, the characters, the plot. Thank heavens that was becoming a slightly more common occurrence on the fantasy shelves.

And the writing had been good, too. Not amateur as some books seemed to be, not outright bad as a certain couple of series that Must Not Be Named were, just good writing with original ideas and great characters and...

Blast! I really needed a new book to read, and I wanted to finish this one! I had left at a good part, just when the main character was about to start this master plan of his.

Oh, well. Back to the bookstore. Perhaps I would find something else. I mean, the place was full of books; surely I'd be able to find one to interest me? A part of me grumbled about never finding the ending of the other, but I tried to ignore it. Never mind that I'd never been able to leave a book alone, even one that Must Not Be Named, until I knew how it ended. Never mind how loose ends and as-yet-unobtained goals haunted my mind.

I winced at entering the bookstore - there were, as had there been for months now, entire displays dedicated to the few books of the Must Not Be Named variety. How could these monstrosities take up all this space when better books were stuffed spine-out on out-of-the-way shelves? They should be ashamed, books, authors, and book shelvers alike.

I idly wondered if the non-existent book I wanted had somehow voluntarily disappeared, unwilling to share the same space with those that Must Not Be Named.

I made my way to the fantasy shelves, as usual, taking care to avoid the information desk and any employees. Salespeople frighten me, especially when they want to sell me something I desperately want to buy. Once to the shelves I put on my 'absorbed' face, which usually kept people from talking to me, and scanned for something good. Something great.

There were a few that looked interesting. I pulled one out and glanced at the cover.

Wait a minute... I thought this book didn't exist!

Part One: Existing
Part Three: Wondering
Part Four: Writer
Part Five: Names

Part One: Existing

"I'm sorry, miss; that book doesn't exist."

I stared at the bookstore employee. "Wha - what do you mean? It has to exist! I read it!"

"Are you sure you got the title right?"

"Yes! I remember the cover, clear as day!" I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. No one was going to want to help me if I became hysterical. Not to mention that getting hysterical over a book was a little odd.

It seemed he was trying very hard to stay absolutely polite. "We don't have any record of it. Are you sure you saw it here?"

"I'm pretty sure..." I was suddenly horrified. It hadn't been a dream, had it? Me seeing the book here?

"I suggest you do a bit of research online. If you find it, come back and we'll be happy to order it for you if we can."

"All right." I walked away feeling very odd - embarrassed by how I had reacted, yes, a good deal embarrassed, but also wondering. How could a book that I was so sure I'd read be non-existent?

Part Two: Frustrated
Part Three: Wondering
Part Four: Writer
Part Five: Names

A Writer's Perspective: Grave Sight by Charlaine Harris

I found this book while wandering around the HBLL, following a couple of people from my acting class as they tried to find a copy of the play we're doing a scene from. The new look and bright colors stood out from the usual HBLL fare - scuffed, a bit bent, and mostly pasted inside special one-color covers. I picked it up and read a page or two before following my classmates to the next shelf. Much to my surprise, the book was still in my hands when I got downstairs, so I decided I might as well check it out. And then when I got home I read it instead of doing homework. Oops.

The first thing I will say is that the premise is really very interesting. The main character, Harper Connelly, was struck by lightning when she was a teenager and now has the ability to sense where corpses are and, upon getting close enough, witness their final moments. A horrid poverty-stricken past and lack of marketable skills leads Harper to turn this strange ability into a job, with her stepbrother Tolliver coming along to act as bodyguard, support, companionship, and someone to run the check to the bank to keep the person who hired Harper from changing his or her mind about paying. (Apparently many people don't like being told how their loved ones died, despite hiring Harper to find out; the book includes a scene with an old woman who is firmly convinced her husband was killed by his ex-wife and nearly becomes hysterical when Harper informs her that the cat did it.)

This lifestyle requires Harper and Tolliver to be almost constantly on the move, especially since Harper has a "get in, find body, get out" mentality. However, when they are called to the town of Sarne to find the body of a teenaged girl, Teenie, things are a bit more difficult than usual. Teenie's been missing for over six months, and many assume her body is somewhere in the woods near where her boyfriend was found shot. The boyfriend's mother wants to clear up the town rumor that the boy killed his Teenie and then shot himself. But when Harper finds the body and tells everyone that Teenie was definitely murdered, and almost certainly not by her boyfriend, she and her brother find themselves in danger.

I did a bit of searching before starting to write this, and I was quite surprised to find out that, while this is the first book of the Harper Connelly mysteries, Charlaine Harris was already a well-established author when it was published. The plot line is rather a good one, but the writing seems rather amateur to me. For example, this paragraph: "Tolliver tossed down the aged magazine he'd been riffling through. He pushed himself up from the fake-leather chair. Tolliver's twenty-seven. His mustache has a reddish cast; otherwise, his hair is as black as mine" (Grave Sight pg. 5). First of all, that description of Tolliver's hair color comes out of nowhere, even when read with the rest of the page, and it goes nowhere. We get two sentences about hair color and then back to the plot. It's sudden and unnecessary. Secondly, this paragraph has is but one example of the flow problems that pop up here and there throughout the whole book. Notice that the first three sentences have no pauses and are all rather short. This similarity between them disrupts flow and can knock a reader out of the book, which is what happened to me several times. Very few things annoy me as much as being distracted while trying to read a good book, especially when the distraction is a problem with the book itself.

Even with that, however, this is definitely on my Recommended list. The plot is engaging, the characters are interesting (though a couple of the minor ones are a bit flat), and I love the talent that Harper has.

Does include profanity and one slightly descriptive sex scene.

Grave Sight by Charlaine Harris: 4/5

Yes, my friends, BYU is in a bubble. Where else would so many young adults be either virgins or married with a bun in the oven, completely clueless when asked where the nearest bar is, and liable to argue about whether a bag with a strap that comes diagonally across the chest is modest? That's bally right: nowhere.

I myself am a staunch LDS individual. I go to church, read my scriptures, and heckle feminists and Democrats along with everyone else. (Just kidding about the Democrats. You're all my brothers and sisters. : D) I have been in The Bubble all my life; I was born in Orem, moved to Provo about ten years ago, and have been here ever since. However, I also like to think of myself as a fairly open-minded person, and as such, I am often amused at the mindsets of other people. As this is a blog about books, I will focus on the BYU Bookstore.

First off, the oft-heard "I can't believe they sell this here!" Ahem. Yes. We do. We do sell art that can be seen as inappropriate: books of photos, some of which are of immodest/semi-clothes/naked people. We do sell books with swear words and books that talk about sex. Speaking of which, there are still far too many copies of Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn hanging about. We do sell books about, and yes, even obviously supporting other religions. I myself have recommended He's Just Not That Into You, a book that is 1% swear words, 4% stuff about sex, and 95% great advice that is applicable to any girl, LDS or heathen or in between. (Which, yes, we sell at the bookstore.)

This is okay. Seriously.

Next up, yes, we do carry People magazines and the like. Quite complaining about it. (And yes, they are meant to be bought, not just read while one sits in the Bookstore and then returned to the shelf. Sheesh.)

Lastly (yeah, short list), there is the issue that has me almost constantly rearranging books in the art section. Y'see, it's the art section. Some art is of naked or seminaked people. This is, apparently, Bad, and I should not draw attention to these books. Or so some people think. How do I know they think this? Because when I put a book face out that has on the cover a piece of art that includes full or partial nudity, I almost always return to find it turned back in again.

Come on, folks. It's art, and usually depicted completely un-erotically.

P.S. Fun fact: Breaking Dawn came out about a week and a half ago. We have already sold over a thousand copies.