Archive for May, 2007

 Oops, a little late in the day getting this out, but I’ve been busy getting the house ready for friends coming over for Memorial Day dinner.

We had no takers on Friday’s ending, so I’m going to give you a bit from the same book’s opening.  See if it rings any bells.  I suppose most people would consider this young adult fiction, but I like it just as much now as I did then.

I hope you’ve had a lovely holiday if you had the opportunity!

On to the opening:

It was a dark and stormy night.

 In her attic bedroom Margaret Murry, wrapped in an old patchwork quilt, sat on the foot of her bed and watched the trees tossing in the frenzied lashing of the wind.  Behind the trees clouds scudded frantically across the sky.  Every few moments the moon ripped through them, creating wraith-like shadows that raced along the ground.

C’mon, you know this one!


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No one was adventurous enough to venture a guess on Monday’s opening.  It is the first two paragraphs on Carol Berg’s latest release, Flesh and Spirit.  It’s a fantastic read, as are her other eight novels.  If you need a place to start and would rather have a complete series before you, I recommend Son of Avonar as a lovely introduction to her writing.  Flesh and Spirit is the first of a duet; the second, Breath and Bone, is scheduled for release in January 2008.

I’ve been trying to find a method of moderating the comments on Name That Novel days so that people won’t be able to see the other guesses before all is revealed.  However, it seems the only way to do that is to moderate all comments for all my blog entries, and I’m not much interested in that.

At any rate, it’s been a crazy, hectic, frustrating week – I’ve been so busy just trying to catch up with life that I haven’t had much time for profound thoughts.  I will be dedicating more space here to endeavors other than Name That Novel, as soon as I have time to think.

Here’s your Friday Edition:

 But they never learned what it was that Mrs. Whatsit, Mrs. Who, and Mrs. Which had to do, for there was a gust of wind, and they were gone.

Make me proud!

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Well I’m back and though perhaps not better than ever, I’m certainly doing better than last week. My current complaint about life in general is that there’s never a backlog of things to take care of until you’re too exhausted and otherwise busy to do anything justice.

This week’s opener is a bit harder, but shouldn’t be outside the realm of guesses especially for those of you who know what I’ve been reading lately. Other than that, it’s fantasy, and the author will be at BaltiCon next weekend. In a fit of generosity, I’m giving you the whole first two paragraphs. Good luck!

On my seventh birthday, my father swore, for the first of many times, that I would die facedown in a cesspool. On that same occasion, my mother, with all the accompanying mystery and elevated language appropriate for a prominent diviner, turned her cards, screamed delicately, and proclaimed that my doom was written in water and blood and ice. As for me, from about that time and for the twenty years since, I had spat on my middle finger and slapped the rump of every aingerou I noticed, murmuring the sincerest, devoutest prayer that I might prove my parents’ predictions wrong. Not so much that I feared the doom itself–doom is just the hind end of living, after all–but to see the two who birthed me confounded.

Sadly, as with so many of my devotions, some to greater gods than those friendly imps carved into the arches and drainpipes of palaces, hovels, latrines, and sop-houses, my fervent petition had come to naught. I’d been bloody for two days now, the rain was quickly turning to sleet, and I seemed to have reached the hind end of everything…

There you go. Have at it! I want guesses, people! I don’t care how far off you are, and neither does anyone else!

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A Little Hiatus

I just realized that I’ve already broken my usual Monday/Friday schedule for Name That Novel, and I think I’m going to make the executive decision to cancel the challenge for this week.

My parents and I were in a pretty bad car crash on Friday night. Everyone is okay in the general sense, but rather beat up and in need of rest at this point.

I’m focusing on getting the bulk of my life back to normal in the aftermath, so I might be quiet for a few days.

My best to all of you, and please remember to always wear your seat belts.

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 I do intend to do more with this blog than just run Name That Novel – I promise. I have lots of great excuses for not posting more thoughtful material lately, and most of them revolve around the fact that it’s the end of the spring term for everyone in our household and I’m flying to Boston this weekend.

I expect to be properly philosophical again in a week or so when the wacky wears off my schedule.

Johanna L. Gribble is all kinds of on the ball. She guessed Monday’s beginning from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (JK Rowling) in record time.

Since last Friday’s book ending seemed a little to far from everyone’s consciousness and I’m in a fabulous mood as this school term draws to a close, I’m throwing you another bone this week.

 And Rose drew him in, and set him in his chair, and put little Elanor upon his lap.

He drew a deep breath.  ‘Well, I’m back,” he said.

Where’d I find it?  *g*

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 Well Friday’s challenge was a hard one, and came from the end of Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World.

This week’s Opening Challenge is a bit easier.

 Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.

Come on, folks!  You can do it!

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Congrats to K. Ceres Wright, who ventured to guess at Monday’s opening, which comes from Gaston Leroux’s The Phantom of the Opera.

And since I’m caught a bit off-guard at how difficult this “ending” guessing might be, I’m going to toss out a few clues to give everyone a context for their speculations. Please don’t be afraid of guessing – just take a wild shot if you’ve got no clue, and see if you’re right!

Here’s today’s ending:

Slowly, very slowly, like two unhurried compass needles, the feet turned towards the right; north, north-east, east, southeast, south, south-south-west; then paused, and, after a few seconds, turned as unhurriedly back towards the left. South-south-west, south, south-east, east….

Now, I read this book some years ago and have to admit I absolutely don’t remember the ending. So my clues to you are that it was required in my high school, it doesn’t really fit a genre label (though it is described in one place as “a fantasy of the future” for what what’s worth), and it’s one of those books about which almost everyone says “I should read that” when it comes up in conversation.

Speaking of which, perhaps I should read it… again.

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