The Thirteenth Chime by Emma Michaels

Pub date - August 13th, 2010.

No one knew of its existence until it was removed from the attic upstairs.

In a beautiful house that overlooks the sea, an antique clock has the power to change the course of their lives.

The power the clock resonates will not only force Destiny and ex-boyfriend David on a journey into the depths of one man's mind long dead, but into the mind of a man filled with hatred and bent on revenge.

With the only clues to the nature of the clock having disappeared into the sea, Destiny and David must retrace the steps the man had taken into the darkness, before they fall prey to the trap he had set in motion over half a century ago.

Hatred never dies. (from goodreads.com)

After careful consideration, I’ve decided to publish my review of The Thirteenth Chime by Emma Michaels. For a while I was very torn. After I finished reading it, I had my opinions which went against, literally, every single review out there. No, I wasn’t worried about what the author might think. When has that ever stopped me? What made me hesitant was what my fellow book bloggers might think as Emma Michaels was/is a book blogger.

There seems to be this feeling of unadulterated support for her because of her book blogging status. She’s a book blogger so we must support her. I support anyone that has the dream of becoming an author. Writing has been my life and I would never deny it for someone else. But I will not support by pandering, lying or being dishonest. I will support by telling the gods-honest truth as I see it because that’s what I feel this book desperately needs.

I’m not trying to convince anyone not to like this book. If you want to like it, it’s your prerogative. But as a writer, editor and book blogger, I could not, in good conscience, let the community get people’s hopes up for a book that I feel doesn’t deserve the unabashed praise its been getting.

You don’t have to agree with me. In fact, I really don’t care if you do. Just remember I’ve been doing this long enough that I’d like to think I know what I’m talking about. Plus I really don’t want that $75,000 in student loan debt to be in vain. With that being said, I’m going to treat Emma’s book as I would any other author’s.

*

I wanted to dump this book after the first word. I absolutely abhor the name Destiny. It’s used so often in Suefic that it’s hard for me to disassociate it. But that certainly wouldn’t have been fair. Judging a book because I don’t like the name of the main character? Silly. So I gave it the benefit of the doubt and kept reading.

By the fifth page I was Googling the publisher to make sure I wasn’t reading a book from a vanity press. After verifying that it didn’t look like they were pay-to-publish, I read on. Oh how badly I wanted to stop but I made it to the end for only one reason – to see if Michaels could write the ending. She couldn’t.

Where to start?

Let’s start by saying that I felt like I was reading the first draft of a person’s very first novel who only has a couple years of high school-level English classes behind them. The idea was undeveloped and the writing was mediocre at best.

The writing as a whole was horribly mechanical. I felt as if Michaels just didn’t know how to transition anything so it felt like I was reading a laundry list of actions. “They went there. Then they walked over here. They got filled in on what happened. They left.” Everything was totally devoid of emotions. I was told everything and shown nothing. I didn’t feel any of the action or suspense or character emotions. I was just told what they were and then we carried on.

The incessant passive voice kept me away even more. Had, had, had, had, had, had, had. Absolutely no sense of immediacy. And then there were the dialogue tags after every single line of dialogue. Not. Necessary. If the characters’ emotions need to constantly be portrayed through dialogue tags, then there’s something wrong with the dialogue.

The voice was strange as well. It looked as if Michaels might have been pushing for omniscient third but she wanted to keep some mystery behind what was happening in order to heighten tension by denying the reader information that the characters, whose heads you're in, knew. Which you can’t do in omniscient third. Because it’s omniscient. I wasn’t biting my nails in suspense; I was trying to keep from hurling my eReader across the room. It’s way too expensive to sacrifice.

I actually liked the very base premise between the clock and the jail but the development of it was so immature that as a whole, I don’t think it’s even salvageable.

The characters were pretty unlikable too. The woman and her daughter from the antique shop were pretty pointless except to be moody infodumps when needed. David’s just fucking ridiculous. Over the course of the story he carries an unconscious Destiny down a mountain in a blizzard with a busted knee, damn near drowns at sea (yet is such a great swimmer despite the fact that he’s terrified of the water that he could swim to shore after piloting a boat that capsized during a raging storm) and then falls off a cliff onto some rocks, rolls into the water and then manages to actually scale back up the cliff free hand. By that point I was laughing. Absurd. Stephanie’s a tramp and a horrible friend. Her David-lust (which is Destiny’s ex) is joked about yet serious but I couldn’t laugh at that. Your best friend’s ex is off limits. I thought that was a pretty golden rule. Leslie’s unconscious for 90% of it and Destiny’s hollow, serving only to be rescued by the superhuman David. There was absolutely no character development or growth whatsoever, despite everything that happened. That was bothersome.

Outside of David’s world of Murphy’s Law, there were other equally contrived and self-serving events in the story. For instance, the tree that falls in front of the house decides, after lying still for a bit, to not only roll over the only car but roll right in front of the house’s only entrance (which is implausible in and of itself) to further inhibit the characters. Really? Was there a kitchen sink we could have thrown in there too? The ending might as well have been rocks fall and everyone dies. Except in this case Super David unburies everyone with only one arm and everything turns out a-okay.

Between the juvenile writing and the blip of a story idea buried underneath it, this should have been a trunk novel, without a doubt. Kill your darling and move on.

I honestly can’t recommend this book to anyone. Why? I wouldn’t recommend anyone read anyone else’s first draft of anything ever. It’s just not ready for anyone else’s eyes but the author’s. It’s poorly written, the idea is poorly executed, it’s not scary in the slightest and at the end of the day it could have used, at the very least, one total rewrite, if not more.

I wish Emma the best of luck with writing in the future. I really do. But if I had to be frank (and why wouldn’t I be?), I would highly recommend a good honest critique group. These writing flaws are not fatal and can be killed dead with some solid constructive criticism. The want to succeed is there. I can see that. But there’s a lot of room for improvement.

Secret Society by Tom Dolby + Contest!

Published September 29th, 2009.

Do you ever wonder how some people have it all? The best schools, the hottest parties, the priciest clothes, the easiest jobs? Maybe it's not because they work hard or get a lucky break every once in a while. Maybe it's because they're part of a secret group. A secret society. (book back blurb)

Gee. Yet another book about rich prep school kids getting everything handed to them. How original.

It's Skull and Bones, peanut version but with some estrogen. The whole Egyptian involvement is completely contrived and never really explained. I understand we're hopping around behind the eyes of the noobs to the group but as far as I'm concerned, these guys thought the Egyptians were cool and decided to use their logos for their club. By the end of the book, they could have been pirates for all it mattered to the overall plot.

And noob tattoo dude mistake numero uno - the neck is one of the most conspicuous spots to put a tattoo. No matter how small it is, unless it's a little black dot, it's going to get noticed. No more bobs for those girls! For a secret society, they sure flaunt their marker, don't they?

As far as the writing goes, I didn't feel it was quite there yet. It was . . . mediocre. In the hands of someone with more experience or greater talent, I think it could have done better but instead we get a Swiss cheese plot that meanders in all the wrong places, is thoroughly short on suspense and elementarily written. The characters are one dimensional, narrow-minded and as woe-is-me as you'd expect them to be in their current situations.

What little information we are given of this half-assed society is awkwardly dumped in some of the most chunky and ridiculously-sounding sentences I've ever read. The fact that the invitation is only handed out to prep school kids in their junior year is laughable. Want to narrow it down anymore? People with only blue eyes? One leg slightly shorter than the other? Literally, I laughed when that information was dumped because, considering the context and the way it was said, it was just absurd.

Maybe this is something that's just showing my age but the casualness of underage drinking in this book really shocked me, not to mention the lack of consequences for these over-privileged kids. It's parentfail if I've ever seen it because if I had ever come home drunk and hours past curfew, my grounded ass would never see the light of day again. These kids are actually encouraged to act like shitheads. Again, parentfail. I'm all for lowering the drinking age to 18 because if you're old enough to die for your country, you're old enough to have a drink (because that beer is so more more to handle than those assault rifles and justifiable homicide) but the extreme casualness of it all, how out in the open it was, just really bothered me. We had to be super sneaky when we drank. These kids just did it out in the open with absolutely no consequences. How nice.

The whole secret society concept is unoriginal. The writing needs to be improved. To me, the characters were unrelatable. Because of the poor writing, it lacked the suspense required of these kids' situations. Maybe if it was there, maybe if I was able to feel their fear at what was going on, I might have been able to connect to them. But nope. Tell, tell, tell. I don't care. If I don't feel it, those characters could drink themselves to death and I wouldn't bat an eye . . . oh wait . . .

Maybe it's just my age that's preventing me from liking this one. Or the sheer number of writing flaws have thoroughly detracted me from anything that might be worthwhile in the text. Either way, I didn't like it. This one easily blends in to all the other prep school crap that's out there. Except now it's tainting ancient Egypt's good name and for, apparently, no good reason because the connection is never made.

Alas, by the looks of the end, this isn't the last we'll see of this OMG-we-must-keep-this-secret-but-lets-give-ourselves-secret-tattoos-in-one-of-the-most-unsecret-places-on-our-bodies secret society but rest assured, I won't be reading it. Inconsistencies and technical fallacies irk me. Especially when I'm sick. Irk meter is that much higher. And the ending wasn't even good either. You almost expect it for everything that's happened. But because the author can't write a suspenseful sentence, you don't actually feel it so it all falls flat.

Oh yeah, your neck is one of the most PAINFUL places to get a tattoo. Anywhere where you have a concentration of nerve endings. Where your brain stem meets your spine? I'd say that's a pain hot spot. Just another fallacy that had me not believing anything the author wrote. For a 16 year old, they'd be crying. Just remember, a tattoo needle is as thick as a dime that moves up and down really quickly that punctures your skin over and over and over again in order to wedge the ink in there. And all this being done mere millimeters from your brain stem. Hello???

And this is an ankh tattoo people--


While the circle didn't hurt at all, the butterfly body was some of the most god awful pain I've ever felt in my life. I'll be going back to get my fifth sometime in early spring. And this is on my left hip bleeding onto the top of my leg. The circled ankh is 8 years old and the body is 5. I heart tattoos.

Contest Time!

Want my ARC? Just leave a comment with your email answering this question -

Do you have any tattoos? If so, what are they of? If not, would you get one and what of?

No answer, no entry. Period.

+3 for following
+3 for linking

This is open to US residents only and the contest will end October 30th at midnight, EST. Good luck!

The Sentinels: Fortunes of War by Gordon Zuckerman + Contest!

First published in July, 2009.

In the financial devastation of the 1930s, a greedy, power-hungry group of German industrialists plot to usher in the National Socialist Party in order to rearm Germany and reap the financial rewards - leading to the rise of Hitler. The Six Sentinels, graduates of an elite American doctoral program who have ties to the global financial community, uncover the industrialists' plan to launder their fortunes of war in order to support a new nefarious scheme. In a daring strategy of Robin Hood style thievery, the Sentinels put their lives on the line to serve justice - and thus become embroiled in a dangerous and violent international conspiracy. (book back blurb)

Sounds good, right? All espionage-y and sneaky and dangerous? The blurb sounds exciting!

And then you start reading it . . .

And realize it's the dullest fucking espionage book in the history of the world. Well, I shouldn't say that. I don't read very many of these kinds of books but you'd think, considering the subject, it'd be relatively interesting and fast paced, right?

Nope.

The only reason I read it quickly was because it's in a larger font with big margins. Zoomed right through it. Thank god.

This book is PURE telling. PURE. TELLING. From the entire book I didn't give a shit about one character. I had no idea what they were going through except what was being told to me. One of the chicks was kidnapped and held hostage and during that time, she slowly lost her mind. Do I feel any of that? Nope. I'm barely told any of it. I just keep getting told her hair's longer, her nails are longer, she's getting weaker, and she has to stay focused. When she's rescued, all of a sudden she's near catatonic. WTF? When did that happen? Trying to escape writing the hard parts, are we?

Another girl has to escape her captors by cross country skiing through the Alps. Do I feel how cold she is or how scared shitless she is? Nope. I'm just told she's huddled under a tarp, waiting for the dudes to pass.

One of the guys is in love with two women. Apparently he was this girl-jumping French playboy and now not only is he in a pickle with some Germans, he's genuinely fallen in love with two women. Do I feel any of this? Of course not. Why would I? I'm simply told that he has sex with one, has sex with the other, oh what is he to do?

I felt nothing throughout the entire book. No suspense, no adrenaline rush, no giving a shit about any of the characters. It just plain sucked. In the right hands, this could have been an awesome book. You know, with someone that knows the proper sentence constructs that creates the element of suspense. Not to mention knows what "show, don't tell" means.

Really, I was waiting for one of the Germans to just up and stab someone to make it interesting. No dice. And apparently everyone sounds the same in this little spy universe. Not sure why.

You know, maybe reading so much YA has completely sapped my patience with adult books. Maybe there's a literary value here that I'm missing. But I really don't think that's going to change the fact that I was talked at for the entire book.

Blah.

CONTEST TIME!

There's gotta be someone that wants to take this off my hands. Please? Just leave a comment with your email to enter. Ends August 13th.

The Society of S by Susan Hubbard

First published in 2007.

"If you ever want to hide from the world, live in a small city, where everyone seems anonymous."

That's the advice of twelve-year old Ariella Montero, who lives with her father in Saratoga Springs, New York, in a house haunted more by secrets than by memories. The Society of S traces her journey south, to Asheville and Savannah, and on to Florida, as she learns that everything she knows about her family is a lie.

When she finds her mother, she learns the truth: Ariella is a fledgling member of the Society of S.

S stands for Sanguinists: a sect of environmentalists concerned with ethics and human rights - although they happen to be vampires. S also stands for synesthete: a person able to see words and letters in colors. The letter S is lucky for Sara, Ariella's mother, who gravitates to cities such as Savannah and Sarasota. But will it be lucky for Ariella?

Susan Hubbard's novel is an intricate literary mystery that raises provocative questions about the way we live now. Ariella's voice will lure you into a world where you'll meet the others among us: vampires who cope with their special nature and need for blood in a variety of ways, ranging from the savage to the mundane to the scientific. (jacket flap blurb)

Environmentalist vampires. That sounded, well, interesting to say the least. The real selling point, though? The hardcover was $5 on the Barnes and Noble bargain rack. Can’t beat that! And I have to say, thank whatever god may exist that that’s all I paid for it. I would have been peeved if it cost any more.

I must have missed the “literary” note in the jacket flap (I skim, it’s highly likely) but, even then, I don’t think the writing in this was good enough to be deemed literary. Not that I think literary is bad, but I would have expected something other than the hype the jacket flap was offering if I had seen that note. This is the second book where I was swayed by the flap and it thoroughly let me down (regardless of my missing the “literary” point).

First off, that very first line in the blurb completely bugs me even as I type this because it’s entirely backwards. Considering that statement is coming from a girl who’s been sheltered her entire life, it’s fitting that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about but since it’s a running motif, it’s bugging me even more. Anonymity doesn’t come in anything small, small cities, small towns, nothing where people can be a little too close. Anonymity comes in major cities because no one gives a damn.

Ariella’s journey (and this is not YA, despite the age of the MC) doesn’t start until a little more than halfway into the book (that would be around page 150). Seriously. Everything up until that point is backstory and a pretty pointless lead-up to get her out of the house. It really bothers me when authors use their writing to display just how smart they know they are and this is a prime example of that. The absolutely needless knowledge (not to mention stilted dialogue and inner thoughts) this child has is obviously just a means to express to the reader just how much the author knows, thinly disguised by Ariella’s sheltered and “formal” upbringing by a father with a very prominent stick up his butt.

The whole notion of the Society of S is first mentioned even further into the book and is nothing more than a passing note. I’ll admit, the notion of environmentalist vampires, as explained by the story, makes sense. They’re going to be around for a while so of course they’d want a stake (har har) in the caring for the planet. Really, it does make perfect sense. Too bad, unlike the flap makes it out to be, it’s really just a speck in this rambling smart dump of literature, science and all things unimportant.

The author skims over action in favor of telling. She’s way too concerned with showing the enormously stilted voice of this girl by pumping her own mind into the book and leaving plot and relevance by the wayside. This novel is a prime example of what too much telling can do to a work. I never really got into Ariella’s head, not really. I was told her reactions to things like killing her would-be rapist or to the death of her friend but I wasn’t shown any of it. I felt like I was just kind of hovering over a scene being played out by a bunch of mechanical actors going through the motions until they got to the end.

Being able to see words and letters in colors (using a word that I just can’t get my tongue around) is also a pointless running motif in the story. I have no idea why it’s in there. The notion that the letter S carries weight and allows Ariella to find her mother carries much greater weight but is overshadowed by being able to see colors. I’m still failing to see the point in that other than yet another means for the author to show how much she knows about this rare aspect of humans. Really, it’s pointless. If the concept were removed entirely it would do nothing to the skeleton plot.

The voices of this novel blend into one lump of combined characters. Ariella sounds like her father who sounds like her mother who sounds like every other person present in the story. All of the dialogue was just as stilted, all the information was just as meaningless, all the action was just as flat and emotionless which just made the story as a whole completely empty and devoid of life. I found the actions of this young girl completely unrealistic and she acted the robot the author portrayed her as although I have a strong feeling that wasn’t intentional.

In terms of mystery, there is none. I don’t think there's a single suspenseful sentence let alone an entire novel here filled with mystery, if this book is anything to go by. Suspense and mystery involves something other than brain dumping. It involves character, emotion, life; everything this book is lacking. Unless it's been redefined and I didn't get the memo.

This is a lifeless story that’s constantly on the brink of moralizing and teaching the reader the ills of living one way or another. I don’t want to read that when I’m reading a work of fiction. I don’t give a poo about the authors views on things. If she wants to portray her opinion on such things, do it in an essay, not disguised as a work of fiction. The novel is emotionally void, lifeless and lacks character to the extreme. It falls as limp as overcooked asparagus. It reads like eating a rice cake–it doesn’t necessarily taste good but it’s something even though it’s hardly more substantial than eating nothing.

I’ve honestly never read a more lifeless, empty book. Maybe you can chalk it up to the fact that I’m not too big of a fan of literary work (the high stuff, anyway), or that I’m not this book’s target demographic. Fair enough. But I do know enough about what I’m reading to see the gaping void this book is causing and the limp writing involved between the two covers. It’s almost like the author didn’t want people to get sucked into the story (contrary to what the flap says) but just to have them sit there while they’re talked at. That’s not how I like to spend my time reading.