Hooman, Behold My Travail

Hoomans, behold the burden and the turmoil of my difficult life:

My hooman interrupts my languishment:

[No, you do not behold any half-eaten dish of chicken meat (that hooman cooked earlier) camouflaged upon the bedsheets].

Hoomans, pity me. See how wide my eyes go. I beg:

Give me pats.

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Dang it! Did Zulejka get hold of my blog again? That’s what happens when you have a super-cat at home. They get their pawsies on everything human 😉

In any case, if you wish to deliver her some virtual pats, I will translate them into physical pats for her and she will purrrrrrrr. Or meow, or murmur, or make another kitteh-noise for her hooman’s happiness.

And maybe her usurpation of my blog brought you some little joy. Now you know cats may still manage to one day rule the world. [Also I am finally putting together my blog post about how to save the world… I promise!]

Also! I also did another book review (after forever and a day, I KNOW!). It begins “Do not read this. I assure you I am not the sort of review that anyone likes, and you will not like me…” It’s a play on the book blurb, and if you’re curious, find more below…

But first! I also did my first video ever! I used the story in images for Samorost. See below. What do you think? (Actually, I am terrified, so DON’T tell me what you think. If you hate it, just quietly close the window and pretend you didn’t see it 😉 ) In any case, BEHOLD! (it was made in capcut if you’re interested).

[I AM REDOING THE VIDEO SO PLEASE IGNORE IT 😉 ]

And NOW! The book I reviewed:

The blurb:

Do not read this.
I assure you, I am not the sort of woman that anyone likes, and you will not like me.
The fact that he likes me, it should be a sign to you, in fact. He is Mr. Marlow, and there is something wrong with him. I couldn’t say what it is exactly. He doesn’t outwardly present as deformed, not truly, but he seems that way somehow. The edges of him squirm and expand. He is shadows and barbs and coils and teeth.
He is a monster.
He likes me.
And the man that contains Mr. Marlow, the proper and buttoned up Dr. Fastian? Well, he sees me for what I am—a scarred strumpet who enjoys playing too close to the fire, who doesn’t mind getting singed now and again.
He doesn’t like me, not truly.
I am not the sort of woman that anyone likes. Well, not anyone decent, that is. You won’t like me either.
I am warning you. Do not read this.
This Jekyll-and-Hyde inspired monster romance is a gaslamp romp into the dark, seedy back alleys of a Victorian-esque city. Part psychological thriller, part musings on gender roles and social structure, and all detailed monstery spice. If a reader is looking for a simple pleasurable escape, she should look elsewhere. This one will hurt.

My review!

Do not read this.
I assure you I am not the sort of review that anyone likes, and you will not like me.
The fact that I like this book and have found nothing to dislike about it, it should be a sign to you that there is something wrong with me. I couldn’t say what it is exactly. My mind tells me the story itself doesn’t outwardly present as dangerous, but its edges squirm and expand between the pages, like the love interest twines around the heroine. The plot uncoils along with his barbs and shadows and teeth and pins you to the… page.
Its appeal is monstrous.
It hides behind the proper and buttoned-up exterior of a normal book cover, just as Mr. Marlow with his demonically dark formlessness hides behind the proper doctor–before turning him inside-out–and before bringing Magdalene into his twisted, conscienceless heart.
And Magdalene, the ‘scarred strumpet who enjoys playing too close to the fire’, enjoys getting burned by her two disparate lovers.
Time and again.
She burns them back.
And while it is Jack Marlow who seized my attention when the curtain first rose, it is Conrad Fastian who crept deeper into my heart by the end. He and Magdalene wage constant verbal wars for freedom and what it means for women, for men, and is anyone ever free–from society, from their own imperfect human natures? They spar, they love, they fight, with never a dull moment–only fraught ones, and touching ones, and amongst that, you have to wonder: can Jack Marlow, distilled from one man’s nature to be the embodiment of his pure evil, truly feel the purity of true love?
He feels fascination for Magdalene for sure, as she does for him, for his wicked, wicked ways.
And while the characters wrestle with their consciences and each other, a killer lurks in the wings, tramping on their heels, strewing murder in the streets, and in the wake of these horrors…
I told you I am not the sort of review that anyone likes. [Well, not anyone decent, that is.] So I am warning you. Do not read this review. (Although I think you already did.)
And if you read the book, don’t say I didn’t warn you about the appeal…

And there ya go! Thrice the shadow. [No, I still do not know what this means but I like how it flows, and so!]

All the love to you all 🙂 Be kind this week.

Aaaaand if you want to give me some love (or feed me 😀 since I’m always low on food [feeeeee meeee]), you can ‘buy me a coffee’, that is, send $1 (or more) via buy me a coffee, or to support me regularly, you can join the patreon I’ve been seriously neglecting (but want to resume), or get daily snippets I like to share on Facebook, check out my books I don’t want anyone to buy, or join the newsletter I haven’t been writing (but intend to). THANK YOU for any and all love!