Gems of an Unnoticed Nature

Books have a way of infiltrating society. We talk about them when they make the NYTimes Bestseller list. Actors throw themselves in the way of casting directors when the tomes are made into movies.

But what about the priceless book that doesn’t receive recognition? The ones that don’t make the news?

This week, let me know which books fit that description, a book no one knows about that rocked your world.

Today I want to highlight a book that I read as a kid. It started me on the Sci-Fi/Fantasy kick and literally changed my reading circle.

The Forgotten Door by Alexander Key is a YA Sci-Fi about a young man who falls through a broken door into an alien world. The people and a culture he doesn’t understand frightens him. He runs, chased by strange, violent beings who only want to harm him. 

He gives up hope of ever finding his way back to his world when a family who guesses he isn’t like them rescues him. They guard him at their own peril while the authorities search for the young man. He hopes his people will find him and save him from the strange planet called Earth.

Find this book if you can. It’s out there and waiting for you.

Dialogue Crit: me in the hot seat

All right, have at it guys!

Title: Disciple, Part IV: Salt in the Wound
Genre: Gritty fantasy romance... I think
Background: Kate, our narrator, is a magical healer. Elect is her current rank.

“Those are all down-slope, though,” Theo told me, with a flick of his hand, “and they’re certainly not Elect.”

“Does that matter?” I had to ask.

“The king’s own physician is worth a bit more than some common herb-brewer. And Elect — well, you can steal a man from under the Shepherd’s knife. Everyone knows that.”

I opened my mouth to object — dead was dead, and nothing to be done about it, even for saints — but Theo shot a look at Anders and I was sure he knew something of what had happened at the lamia’s fount. And what Saint Qadeem had said about letting people wonder echoed in my memory.

“You say I should charge more,” I said instead. “Elect Parselev charged nothing at all, sir.”

Theo nodded. “He had no children and no rent to pay, though. No husband with a half-tame warhorse and a habit of breaking lances on friends.”

“At least I didn’t drop it.”

“Rent?” That was the part my ear caught on.

“There’s house just up the street that would suit you,” Theo said. “It’s been standing empty a couple years now, but I can have it cleaned and I can bring in carpenters to rearrange it to suit you. You’re going to need about a crown and a half, all told, and I can set the rent at,” and here he tipped his head to consider, “two crescents a moon, which is a pittance for the location. I can loan you the crown and a half, if that’s what you want, and I’ll lower the repayment to two crowns sixteen crescents as I’m still soft in the head from that foul hit.”

Anders snorted into his tea mug.

“But.” Theo raised one finger. “I’d rather give you three crowns — not a loan — and let you pay me one brun of every five you earn, instead.”

Three crowns? Not a loan? And one brun of five, if I were charging…

I still figured on that as Theo leaned over and clicked a latch by his foot. Metal clinked and my eyes caught on three disks of solid sunlight that he dropped on his desk. Casual as if they were of little matter. I’d never even laid eyes on a gold crown coin before.

“Theo.” Anders chided.

Theo spread his hands. “I never bluff. Though you’re right, that’s too greedy. With this stipulation: after twenty years, the obligation expires and if I wish to re-invest — or if my children wish to, should, Mother forbid, the Shepherd call me home — we will discuss the matter afresh.”

Was that such a difference? “How is that less greedy, sir?”

He hesitated. “For if it’s left open-ended, and… well, true, not all Elect live so long but this is no place for such dark thoughts.”

Dialogue Crit #1

I'm only going to crit the dialogue here, because what you put in between the dialogue and how you tag it is a whole different can of worms.Yellow highlighter points out word repetition, something you want to generally avoid... though in dialogue, people do it more than they should. That pesky reality getting in the way again!

Title: Faerie Wings
Genre: YA/NA contemporary fantasy

People danced through an endless garden. They drifted through large French doors in and out of the real garden and back to dance some more. Chandeliers bathed the room in soft yellow to match the lanterns outside. The dimmer lighting subdued the swirl of colors. Instead of the warm sweaty air I associated with dances, a cool floral breeze drifted through the room.

“What magic is at work here?” I had to lean close to Carter so he could hear me.

“Can you guess?”

“The breeze?”

“Good. Who wants to dance in the heat? You can see that most people have calmed their colors as well.”

“Why?”

“Most people like to keep their emotions to themselves when dancing in public.”

“Not where I come from.” I warmed when Carter placed his hand on my back and led me onto the dance floor.
“I don’t dance. Please, can’t we sit somewhere instead?”

“Dancing will make it impossible for your admirers to talk to you. Isn’t that what you want? And anyway, this is what they want. To see us together, happy and in love.” If it's important to Carter to give the audience what they want (a question of his character), he can entice her into wanting that too or he can give her a solid reason why it will harm her if she doesn't -- carrot or stick. Right now, and in light of her response, this comes across as a mishmash of mild carrot and mild stick. Maybe it needs re-phrasing. Maybe he responds to her response with something more definite.

Heat rushed to my face, “But we’re not in love, and I really can’t dance."

I dug my heels in and we stopped moving forward.

“Mo Run, please. Trust me. You’ll find dancing here easier than on the human side.” Again, not much of a carrot. If this keeps up, he's going to come across as less than motivated. OTOH, her motivations are decently clear. Thumbs up.

“I doubt that.” Didn’t he realize it was impossible to dance when you’ve never heard the music before? I mean, it wasn’t bad. In fact I liked it, but you would never hear it in a club. The music had definite Celtic undertones with some rocking drums thrown in. The problem lie in the fact it couldn’t make up its mind about tempo. Some of the instruments filled the air with lyrical ballads while others played something more like a jig.

The couples in the room didn’t seem to mind. They all danced in their own way. Some rushed around the room spinning with legs and arms flying in intricate patterns. Others danced close and slow.

“What is this? Pick your own tune?”

“You’re smarter than you look. Character call: patronizing tone. Let’s start with something slower?” Carter reached for me and pulled me into dance position.

“It’s really pick your own tune?”

“Yes. Right now there are,” he paused and cocked his head to the side, “four different songs playing.”

“I’ve gone crazy.” Relevance? How does her being crazy influence the music? Though if is this a phrase she uses often, leave it.

“Trust me for one night. Let go of all your fears and give in to your imagination.” Character call: semi-canned phrases.

Carter stood so close, his eyes boring into mine. I could feel his warm hand on my back, just above the scars. His other hand squeezed mine and I wanted to let go like he asked. I really did, but his fingers were sliding down toward my waist. They paused, then moved again tracing one of the lines down my back. His brow crinkled and I stepped away from his hold.

“Mo run?”

His eyes were so deep. Bottomless pools of concern. He hadn’t bargained on me being damaged goods. Even if I wanted this life, I would never fit in. Not with these beautiful, perfect people and their swirling colors.