Author name: Sayling@@Away

Gorgito’s Ice Rink is at its core a family saga, set largely in Russia and alternating in time between the mid to late 1990’s and the post-WW II era in 1949. It derives from the author’s travel experiences and her background in helping writers set up and run their small businesses. The story develops from the loss of their sisters by two small boys, one in the 1990s and another in 1949. Emma Chambers meets the larger-than-life Georgian, Gorgito Tabatadze, when she takes over for another in her company in order to get Gorgito’s factory up and running in the picturesque town of Nikolevsky, Russia, in 1995. She discovers, while watching figure skaters on the River Volga, that Gorgito wants to build an ice rink for the most talented of them, Yulia Semenova, to draw people to his town. Having had a Russian Grandmother, Emma speaks the language and fits well into the community. When Yulia is lured to the US to train, leaving her little brother Dima behind, Gorgito becomes even more determined to fulfill his plan, in order to bring Yulia home. Gorgito himself lost his sister, Maria, who left home without telling anyone where she was going. She was following the love of her life, an older soldier she’d met in her tiny rural town, to Moscow. She disappears from Gorgito’s life and he cannot find her in the vast spaces of Russia and with the Communist regulations of the time. The first part of the book is written in third person omniscient. I think because of this, the reader never makes the emotional connection with Emma that is made in the second part of the book with Maria. Maria’s story is told in first person, and because of that, this part of the book came alive and spoke to me. In part three, Emma returns to Nikolevsky, despite the fact her first job there was over; she discovers her husband has had an extended affair with their next door neighbor during her long absence and realizes she has no strong ties to what was her home. Gorgito enlists her to help him run his factory and run interference with the local Mayor, who has very personal reasons for blocking the construction of the ice rink. Can Emma and Gorgito overcome bureaucracy, corruption, economic melt-down and the harsh Russian climate to get the ice-rink built and bring home a lost sister? The strength of this book is in its characters and the accurate descriptions of life in Russia. Gorgito himself is a scene stealer, with all his foibles and love for life. Victor Romanovitch, the Mayor, undergoes a transformation as the story progresses, as the reader learns more about him and Maria. Maria, is colorful, if foolish, but loyal and deeply in love with Alexander Rastinov, who reminds me of the character Ashley Wilkes in Gone with the Wind: bookish, loyal and proud, but deeply caring of his family. The Russian background comes through loud and clear, the English background much less so. Having lived in a Soviet satellite during the Cold War, I found the author’s descriptions of life in Russia to be spot on – politics, regulations, food, deprivations, and the spirit of the people. Gorgito’s Ice Rink is a leisurely read that gradually draws the reader into the saga. It is informative to readers not familiar with that time and place, and while emotionally understated, is a lovely story. About the author: Elizabeth Ducie began writing when she was very young. essays and poetry helped her win an overseas trip via a newspaper competition, when she was still a teenager. She returned to creative writing in 2006 after 30+ years as a technical writer, and since then has written articles for content websites and on commission, plus short stories and poetry. Ms. Ducie is currently the editor of the Chudleigh Phoenix Community Magazine, which has grown from a 4-page, bimonthly publication to a monthly 10-pager. Together with friend and fellow writer Sharon Cook, she launched the Chudleigh Phoenix Annual Short Story Competition, which is now in its fifth year. In July 2011, she and Sharon Cook published a collection of short stories and a second collection in November 2012. Both anthologies are available either as paperbacks or as ebooks. On her own, she’s published Sunshine and Sausages, a how-to book on running a successful summer garden party; Parcels in the Rain and Other Writing, a collection of short stories, flash fiction, travel writing and memoirs; and The Business of Writing series of e-books, based on lectures and blog posts aimed at helping writers set up and run their own small businesses. Gorgito’s Ice Rink is her debut novel, set in Russia and based partly on her travel experiences. To help move the book along, Ms. Ducie enrolled in the MA program in Creative Writing at Exeter University. She graduated in January 2013, and the book was published in October 2014. She admits far too much time on Facebook and Twitter, but has met some great writing buddies along the way. Elizabeth can be found on her blog: http://elizabethducie.blogspot.com/      and on Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/Elizabeth-Ducie-Author-312553422131146/ Her book can be found on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Gorgitos-Ice-Rink-Elizabeth-Ducie-ebook/dp/B00NXS2LC6/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8 and Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23273435-gorgito-s-ice-rink?from_search=true&search_version=service 0 0

This is the second in the Gavin Shawlins Thriller series. I did not read the first, but this book is written well enough to stand quite on its own…although the reader is left with a cliffhanger. The novel begins in Berlin in 1936, when Hitler, disappointed by the performance of some of the German athletes, is told by his advisers, who seek a plausible excuse, that the Americans have fortifying energy drinks. This drink gives them the energy to win. Despite the fact this is an utter lie, Hitler directs his scientists to develop such a drink. Aiden McSwann, father of a child with a special problem, borrows money from the wrong people to pay for her medical care and ends up as a slave in a drug factory when he can’t repay the loan. The member of a judo team, locked in a room by his teammates after his grandstanding costs them a tournament win, disappears in thin air. Aiden McSwann’s wife is beaten and threatened by thugs, looking for something they think was left with her by the missing judo player. Sir James Barscadden, once a respected billionaire, becomes involved in criminal activities, but manages to escape from England despite the best efforts of an MI5 team to capture him. And this is the problem I had with this book: four full chapters of seemingly unrelated threads before the crux of the story begins in chapter 5. I was just a tad confused, and ended up rereading some of these chapters to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. In chapter five, we learn that a research team has produced a new product it claims will boost the performance of every athlete in the world. The Lambeth Group, an investigative group within the British government, puts together a team using some of the MI5 agents and a scientist, Gavin Shawlins, to investigate the claim, which they believe is bogus. A top athlete using the product disappears, the product is stolen, and the team discovers the slave-run drug factory is involved. Then Shawlins himself disappears. Complicating the story is the fact a powerful US general has decided that Gavin must die to prevent exposure of a 60-year-old secret capable of world-changing and power-shifting events. Despite the introduction of more governmental units than I could keep track of, the plethora of threads weaving in and out, and seemingly endless twists and turns, I was interested enough to finish the book. However, it was a challenge. There was an overwhelming amount of exposition and backstory to wade through all along the way, which tempted me to skip pages – but then I would miss yet another thread. The basis of the plot is contemporary, the introduction of a historical context adds interest, and the author is a very good writer, which saved the book for me. I recommend it to any spy/thriller/ mystery/government conspiracy lover with a strong mental constitution. Would I be tempted to read another of his books – yes, I would, maybe the next one. About the author: Gordon Bickerstaff was born and raised in Glasgow but spent his student years in Edinburgh. He learned biochemistry, authored two biochemistry books and taught the subject until he retired to write fiction. He reports he has mastered plumbing and garden maintenance and other aspects of DIY, but gets very tired when it’s time to clean up the mess. He enjoys walking, 60s & 70s music, reading and travel. He lives with his wife in the west of Scotland where corrupt academics, mystery, murder and intrigue occupy his thoughts. He is the author of the Gavin Shawlens series of thrillers: Deadly Secrets, Everything to Lose, and The Black Fox. You can find this book on Amazon: and on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24768418-everything-to-lose 0 0

I just realized I’ve reviewed three books without posting the reviews. So this is a warning, a come-on, a post generating high anticipation (check one): they will be up on this site over the next week: Everything to Lose by Gordon Bickerstaff Murder at the Lighthouse by Frances Evesham Gorgito’s Ice Rink by Elizabeth Dulcie In between, I’ll take you along on my trip to the Blueridge Folk Life Festival in Ferrum, Viginia, this coming Saturday. We’ve been before and had a wonderful day: food, music, crafts, old cars, and hunting dog competitions. Stay tuned! 0 0

Just to follow up on a comment I made in the previous post: I did go to Bouchercon last week. I attended the speed dating event and two sessions. That’s it. This is how it fell out. Wednesday I was experiencing an ominous tickle in the back of my throat (posterior oral pharynx for any anatomists out there). My husband was just beginning to recover from a bad virus I assume he’d gotten from one of his patients, and my only thought was uh-oh. But I started sucking on zinc lozenges, went to bed early and was on my way at 6 AM Thursday morning, determined to get through the speed dating. Washed my hands extensively. Turns out having to talk loudly to be heard over the general noise in the room for two hours really did my throat in, and by the time noon rolled around, something had snuck up and sucker punched me, so I pleaded for my room at the hotel so I could lie down. Nothing available until 4 PM I was told, so I attended another session, sitting way back in the room and leaning up against a wall. I took notes but can’t remember most of what transpired. At 3 PM, a room opened up, so I schlepped my bags to the room, fell on the bed and slept until 6. Ordered something to eat, went back to sleep and slept through the Sisters in Crime breakfast the following morning, At that point, I realized I was good and truly sick, no point in even trying to make myself go to sessions and spread the evil virus, so I packed up and headed home. Thus endeth my time at Bouchercon 2015. Thanks to my friend Elizabeth Callwell for checking in on me and taking notes at various sessions to share. My voice has still not returned, so I’m grateful for a keyboard. Can’t give this to my husband since that darned germ carrier’s already had it.   0 0

I was an attendee at the Raleigh Bouchercon Convention this past week – at least for a day, which I will explain in a subsequent post. Bouchercon is held every year in a different city, and is billed as the “world’s finest annual crime fiction event, bringing together more than 1,000 authors, fans, publishers, reviewers, booksellers, and editors …for a fantastic four day event.” The very first activity was something called speed dating for authors. Those of us who signed up brought goody bags to the event and moved in pairs from table to table for 15 tables, each of us taking two minutes to introduce ourselves and our books – and hand our goody bags. I used specimen bags for mine, tucked a postcard of my first book, Death in a Red Canvas Chair, in the outside pocket, and chocolate, bookmarks for both DRCC and my second book, Death in a Dacron Sail, a red syringe pen (Rhe Brewster, my protagonist, is, after all, a nurse), my business card, and some colored paper clips for fun. I also told the people at each table that my first book would be available for free on Kindle this week.   So there you have it, folks! You can download Death in a Red Canvas Chair for FREE from Monday through Friday this week. If you haven’t read it yet, I’m making it easy for you to give it a try, and I hope you enjoy it. 0 0

Jemima Pett had been a great bogging friend almost from the beginning of my blog. She is a wonderful, thoughtful person –she emailed me early on to find out why I had not been on my blog for several weeks, when I had one of my should joints replaced! So it is with great embarrassment I post an interview and a promo for her books as part of a blog tour…three days late! Having a sick husband and a brain that looks like Swiss cheese does not make for keeping promises, but I hope better late than never. I also have to mention I’ve been very taken with her guinea pig pets, which have become very real in her books, and with her, I mourned when some of them passed on to guinea pig heaven. Jemima has written a series of books call The Princelings of the East, which feature her furry friends. The next book in that series will be out next year. In the meantime, she has The Book Elves Anthology Volume 2 for release in November and The Perihelix, her first sci-fi book, coming out in January.                        **** Jemima has offered to answer a few questions about how she came to be a writer and about herself: How did you get into writing? Well, I picked up a pencil, or maybe a crayon, and I copied the letters in front of me, and then I copied them onto the lines on the paper…. Seriously though, getting into writing was a continuous process. Writing fiction was something I did with things in my head, and by the time I tried to put it into a novel format I was about 17 or so. But I didn’t have any really good ideas about plot and characters, and it was rubbish. Unfortunately a friend told me my writing was rubbish, and I believed that I couldn’t write a book. So I didn’t until much later, when I decided that I just HAD to write these stories in my head or I would burst. I’d been writing other things in the meantime, sports journalism, if you like, but with a fair amount of fiction in them to entertain my sports club colleagues., as well as research papers, reports and manuals. Once I started writing the stories of the Princelings of the East, I shared them with my friends, and then the old thing of ‘oh you must get them published’ started. Everyone can get into writing; not everyone can or should get into publishing their stories, though! What inspired you to create stories featuring your guinea pigs? Entirely the guinea pigs, Fred and George, who were named after the Weasley twins, of course. I’d changed jobs, moved home, and was self-employed again. I needed company and I chose guinea pigs. I was fascinated with them, and watched their behaviour and interactions with each other, wondering about their personalities (I’d been in human resources before I’d retrained for environmental research), and I dubbed them the Philosopher (Fred) and the Engineer (George) way before the writing started. Well, six months at least, which is a long time in a guinea pig life. Then Hugo and Victor turned up, with totally different personalities… and we were doing a silly story on the guinea pig forum, writing one paragraph at a time, and somehow I just took that off into a whole new area and decided they needed a book. Three books, with the titles as they are today. And then I started writing them.   Tell us something about your Princelings books – they look like a great read for readers of all ages. Can you provide a brief, series overview? As one of my reviewers neatly summed it up: we are in a feudal world with advanced technology running on strawberry juice…. At first, there really isn’t much in the way of advanced technology, but due to the curious circumstances of the first book, George gets the idea to develop a new power source running on strawberry juice, which is a project that runs in the background of the second and third books, and then promotes change that occurs in society over the rest of the series. The series starts with two innocents using their friendship and their brains to solve problems, and the problems get bigger, and more acute as the series goes on, with an ever-growing cast of characters, some of whom pop up again in unexpected places. The big question, is how are they ever going to deliver the promise made at the end of the first book, when everything in their world is changing? What are your favorite books? Movies? My favourite books tend to be sci-fi with a challenging concept, or the ‘weird’ genre, or steampunk, alternative universes, and Lord of the Rings, of course. 😉 I read a lot of MG books and crime novels, MG to know what else is going on in the genre, and crime because I can’t write crime novels, so it’s a real relaxation for me!With movies it tends to be more escapist, or a ‘community banding together to overcome the evil corporation’ type of tale. My all-time favourite movies, that I can still watch at any time, are Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines, and a small film that most people haven’t heard of called Local Hero. I’m not good on tension these days – I’m back to hiding behind the sofa for scary things, and I don’t do horror! Can you share some information about the upcoming releases? It’s a busy time for me at the moment, as my first scifi book will be launched in January. It’s called The Perihelix, and it stars two asteroid miners and their girls, made to search for the bits of The Perihelix so that one of the many big organizations in the universe can wield huge power… The original inspiration for that world came from a

I am coming close to my 300th post since starting my blog, and I want to thank all of you whom I follow for your friendship, support, humor, recommendations, and love. I’ve realized over the last couple of years that all y’all (Southern plural of you) make my life so much richer and interesting and how much I look forward to reading your blogs, enjoying your stories, delight in your photography and poetry. My only regret is that I can’t get to all of your posts every day. So thank you (in no particular order): Rara, Ali, Sally, Chris, Sylvia, Luccia, Elizabeth, Hug, Seamus, Bette, Jo, Bruce, Geof, Kev, Victo, Meredith, Barb, Becky, Irene, Melanie, Ed, Alex, NJ, Sue, Stuart, Hans, Esther, Takami, Charli, Jack, Darren, Charlotte, Tess, Joanne, Ronovan, John, Olga, Rosie, Eric, Suzie, Britteny, Annette, Keith, PG, Melissa, Nicholas, Belinda, Jemima, Janice, Nicholas, Esther, Cindy, PedroL, Pete, Anthony, Viv, Ellis, Hugh, Matt, Heather, Pam, Barb (#2), D. Wallace, J.W, W.H.…. and countless others. Please forgive my aging brain if your name isn’t here. You’re in my heart. I will be posting only occasionally for a while, because I am deep into the rewrite of my third book. But I’ll be stopping by to visit you.   0 0

When newly-fledged physician Dr. Adam Bascom discovers a body in a churchyard, he has no clue that discovering how the body came to be there and why the man had been killed will consume large parts of his life for the next few months. Thus opens An Unlamented Death, William Savage’s first historical novel.  Set against the background of Georgian and Regency Norfolk during the time of the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars, the history of this tale focuses on the daily life of the people involved, their mores and discourse. This is what captured my interest. It is also written in the style of the time – think Jane Austen, Walter Scott, Mary Shelley – and it took a few chapters to get used to it, before I could submerge myself in the story. Once there, the rest of the book was good ride in the realities of the era. The richness and depth of the historical detail is amazing, and all of the characters are exceptionally well-drawn and interesting. As a medical professional, I especially liked the description of Bascom’s practice and that of his friend, Lassimer, an apothecary and a ladies’ man who serves as Bascom’s sounding board. I don’t want to give the mystery away but will tell you the body in the churchyard is that of an ultraconservative cleric, Reverend William  Ross, a whose bombast and judgmental personality has alienated all who know him, including his own son.  Why he would have been in the isolated churchyard, in an area known for smuggling of both goods and radical revolutionaries, is the crux of the story. When his death is ruled accidental and quickly and unseemingly put to rest, Bascom begins to worry at the decision, like a kitten with a ball of yarn. Unraveling the ball introduces us to the colorful Captain George Mimms, once of the Royal Navy, then a merchantman, and now retired, and Adam’s widowed mother and her circle of widowed but highly fashionable lady friends, who very much appreciate a good-looking, single doctor. His mother is not beyond a machination of her own, hiring the charming, intelligent, and lovely Sophia LaSalle as her companion, with the unstated hope her unmarried son will become interested. Woven expertly into story is an introduction to the social structure, polite and impolite society, religious prejudices, criminals, and civil and religious corruption of that area of England in the time. The only minor complaint I have about An Unlamented Death is its slowness in coming to the crime’s solution. As a mystery writer, I prefer things to move along at a good pace, but perhaps this is just a reflection of the time in which this mystery is set and the manner in which the book was written. I award the book five stars, but a caveat: its main appeal with be to readers who appreciate history, rich detail and absorbing characters, written in period style. I look forward to reading Mr. Savage’s next book in this series, The Fabric of Murder, also set in Norfolk. About the author: William Savage grew up in Hereford, on the border with Wales and too his degree at Cambridge. After a career in various managerial and executive roles, he retired to Norfolk, where he volunteers at a National Trust property. His life-long interest has been history, which led to research and writing about the eighteenth century.  But his is not just a superficial interest in history, but a real desire to understand and transmit the daily experience of living in turbulent times.   You can find An Unamented Death on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Unlamented-Death-Mystery-Georgian-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B00RXGWIY0/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8 William Savage’s blog is Pen and Pension:  http://penandpension.com/author/bluebrdz1946/ 0 0

Believe it or not, when I was learning to drive there was no Driver Ed available at my high school. My Dad showed me the basics of using a stick shift and a clutch (there was no automatic back in the Dark Ages) and on our way back from Cape Cod one weekend, he told me I could get behind the wheel of our Buick station wagon. I remember cruising down the two lane highway, wind blowing my hair (no A/C in the cars then either), and the tremulous voice of my Mom in the back seat, “Don’t you think she’s going a little fast, John?” “Noelle,” replied Dad, “can you slow down a little? You’re going 80.” I had to take that heavy Buick when I went to take my driver’s test. I remember coming out of the old Plymouth Court House with my examiner and getting behind the wheel. After starting the car, I put my foot firmly on the brake, released the parking brake and shifted into first. Then I stepped on the gas and gunned it. The examiner’s eyebrows went to the roof, but I just smiled as I slowly pulled away from the curb. I knew you had to rev it if the car wasn’t going to roll back into the car behind it. I had visions of having an old but serviceable car to drive to school, so imagine my surprise when I was presented with a Model B phaeton my Dad had seen in the garage of the house next to the Plymouth Yacht Club. The old woman who owned it had put 30 miles on the car and then stored it in her garage for 30 years. The only thing not surviving those years was the upholstery. Well… It took some learning to get the Ford started – it had a crank but it was just easier to jump start it on our driveway, which was a quarter of a mile straight down. As I recall, I put the key in the ignition and turned it, pushed the spark advance lever on the left hand side of the steering wheel all the way to the top, moved the throttle lever on the right hand side of the steering wheel to its center position, and released the brake. As soon as the engine “caught,” the spark lever was moved back to its original position. The throttle lever was moved back more slowly, to get the engine purring – well, chugging. The problem arose when I parked at the high school: there were no hills. I had to rely on fellow students to push me to get the car rolling. One day, I was late leaving and there was no one around…except for the small and round Miss Albertini, one of my teachers. I still can see her panting and pushing my car down the street in a dress and high heels! Of course, I drove the car to Plimoth Plantation when I was working there as a tour guide. Since there were no places to change into my Pilgrim dress, I had to wear it while driving the Model A. Wish I had a picture of that, but all the pictures were taken by the tourists when I parked in the lot at the Plantation. My father sold the car to pay my tuition for my sophomore year in college. I still miss that car, and it’s my goal to have another Model B one day. I’d thought maybe my books would sell well enough that I could buy one, but I suspect that’s a pipe dream. PS We named my car “The Untouchable,” an homage to Elliot Ness.     0 0

This is a re-post of something I posted on Jan 9, 2013, when I was a fledgling blogger. I still feel the same every time I drive by where they were. For many years I passed a dogwood and cedar on my way to and from home. There are lots of dogwoods and cedars along this road, but these two had grown intertwined.  In the spring the white blossoms of the dogwood popped against of the green of the cedar.  In summer, they offered two shades of green, and in the fall the burnished copper of the dogwood leaves and the red berries sparkled against the cedar branches.  In winter, I imagined the cedar protecting the dogwood, wrapping it with its branches, keeping it safe and warm until spring.  The two trees seemed like a married couple, husband and wife, complementing and protecting each other over the years. Finally, one day in late summer, I drove by my favorite trees and gasped. A road crew had come by and cut down the cedar.  It was gone.  The dogwood, forlorn and also damaged, stood, drooping.  It lasted through the winter but in the spring, the blossoms were few and the leaves were sparse.  It was as if its spouse had died, and it no longer had the will to live. Finally, toward the end of that year, the dogwood fell. Maybe I’m just getting old and sentimental, but I shed a few tears for those trees. 0 0