Sunday, October 20, 2024

The Crack in the Crystal by Barak Engel Book Review

About the Book:


Five unlikely heroes, one buried secret.

At the heart of the volcanic city of Kyber lies a secret that has been hidden for centuries.

The clues surrounding this mystery begin to unfold when five strangers are recruited by a shadowy organization. As covert missions lead to more questions than answers, the increasingly desperate heroes seek help from unexpected sources. The key to Kyber’s secret and the truth behind each of their pasts can only be found by facing fierce stone storms, unlocking dormant fantastical abilities, and confronting past mistakes. Caught up in intrigues beyond their understanding, the ragtag band of adventurers must learn to trust themselves and each other as they reach for the stunning conclusion. This adventure fantasy—inspired by a D&D campaign—is filled with magic, missing identities, and daring escapes. Be ready for surprises at every turn with a mystery that will keep you guessing until the very end.

My Review:

Fantasy is not my preferred genre so I have high expectations when I am asked to read one. The book got off to a bit of a rough start for me as several characters are introduced in different scenes. About a quarter of the way into the book the story started to come together. There are a variety of creatures, gnomes and werewolves, for example. Each has a special ability and as the novel and their journey progresses, some receive new or enhanced abilities. They encounter various obstacles and work together to overcome them and move on.

World building for fantasy is crucial and I would have liked more detailed descriptions, setting the action firmly in place. The advanced egalley I read did not have a map. One would have been quite helpful in picturing the Stormbridge and other places along the characters' journey. One thing I did not like was the swearing. That, and since this fantasy is related to D&D, I suggest it is for older readers.

Engel's writing style is quite readable and this is a good debut effort. Since many of the characters learn about their origins as they journey, this novel has a sort of a coming of age flavor to it. There was a twist at the end that was really surprising. If I were a serious fantasy reader I would be watching for more from Engel.

My rating: 4/5 stars.


About the Author:


Barak grew up dreaming of being in the creative arts, but needed to earn a living and applied to medical school. Once accepted, he learned what it took to become a doctor, and earned an engineering degree instead. His career took him into cybersecurity, where he became the world’s first “virtual CISO” and wrote a few successful security books.

Still, fiction kept calling. As Barak crafted the narrative in The Crack in the Crystal, he hoped that he could do the final twist justice. It only took a medicine journey on a heroic dose of magic mushrooms.

He hopes his story brings you joy, and if so, then it is enough. 

You can find out more at https://barakengel.com/.

Greenleaf Book Group, 354 pages.

I received a complimentary egalley of this book through Swell Media. My comments are an independent and honest review.

(My star ratings: 5-I love it, 4-I like it, 3-It's OK, 2-I don't like it, 1-I hate it.)

Saturday, October 19, 2024

The Chemical Detective by Fiona Erskine Blog Tour Book Review


THE CHEMICAL DETECTIVE

by Fiona Erskine

October 7 - November 1, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

A Jaq Silver Thriller

 

Dr Jaq Silver blows things up to keep people safe. An engineer and explosives expert, she's also an excellent skier.

Working on avalanche control in Slovenia, Jaq stumbles across a problem with a consignment of explosives. After raising a complaint with the supplier, a multinational chemical company, her evidence disappears. Jaq is warned, threatened, accused of professional incompetence and suspended. Taking her complaint further, she narrowly escapes death only to be framed for murder. Absconding from police custody, she sets out to find the key to the mystery.

Racing between the snowy slopes of Slovenia and the ghostly ruins of Chernobyl, can she uncover the truth before her time runs out?

Don't miss your chance to access the limited time pricing for THE CHEMICAL DETECTIVE, Kindle edition, at only $0.99!

Praise for THE CHEMICAL DETECTIVE:

"Just the right blend of suspense and tension... I recommend this original and compelling debut novel for fans of mysteries and thrillers, as well as for those looking for a credible female protagonist in a genre dominated by male superheroes. Already, I am looking forward to reading the next instalment in this series."
~ Forbes, Editors' Pick

"Explosive science, strong women, and snowy landscapes, all within a gripping, smart, fast-paced read."
~ Helen Sedgwick, author of When the Dead Come Calling

"Imagine the love child of Jack Reacher and Nancy Drew...a delicious cocktail of dating and detonations. Call it Mills and Boom."
~ Evening Standard

"An audacious, female-led thriller which took the disposable women of the James Bond franchise and flipped the concept entirely on its head."
~ Chemistry World

"Fiona Erskine is an engineer, and in Jaq Silver, who shares her profession, she has created a wonderful antidote to all the resentful, floppy victims of much domestic noir... Her adventures are eye-popping and exciting."
~ Literary Review

My Review:

This novel has a complex plot with many characters and locations. I had to pay attention to keep in mind what was happening. It was not until about a third of the way into the book I began to get a hold on what was going on. Once I could grasp what was happening, I enjoyed reading about the transfer of chemicals and their potential nefarious use. I was puzzled at some of the characters, not understanding if they were on the side of good or not. I was like Jaq, fooled by some, suspicious of others. I was glad that all became clear at the end.

Much of the action takes place in eastern Europe, areas new to me. Erskine does a great job describing the settings, always very helpful. I would suggest keeping a map handy to understand all the moving action. One might also want to review the history of the area to further understand the people involved and their motives.

Jaq Silver is a relentless heroine, often getting herself in dire trouble because she just has to know the truth. I became engaged in her character by the end of the book and hope she will be having more adventures.

My rating: 4/5 stars.

Book Details:

Genre: Sexy Engineering Thriller
Published by: Snickered Mole
Publication Date: August 2024, US
Number of Pages: 400
ISBN: 978-1-7385120-5-8
Series: Jaq Silver Thriller series, 1
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookBub | Goodreads | Kobo

Read an excerpt:

PRELUDE

Teesside
Thursday 24 February, Teesside, England

The trouble with Semtex is the smell. Dogs can sense it. Most humans can’t. Boris could. Not the plastic explosive itself, you understand; neither RDX nor PETN – the main components – have much of an odor. The scent comes from the tracers added, to make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. Hands like his. Chemist’s hands. Wide hands with long fingers, calloused from handling hot glassware, thickets of black hair curling over the knuckles and between the joints. Hands now gripping the steering wheel of a five-axled truck hurtling toward the Zagrovyl factory in Teesside.

Boris only carried a small amount of Semtex these days, just enough for his personal use. He kept it in a Tupperware container, wrapped in Clingfilm, under his sandwiches. Sentimental value, really. He’d moved on. To some, it might look like a backward step, from laboratory shift work to long-distance truck driving. But only to those who didn’t know the tedium of analytical testing. The same samples, the same tests, the same results, hour after hour after hour. Not like the old days, when you had thorny problems to solve and real fires to fight. Nothing more boring than a well-run factory. He was glad when they sacked him. Glad to be free of the monotony. Glad to be out on the road. These days, his insight into tracers was a key skill for the job.

Boris yanked the wheel to the left and hauled the truck into a lay-by with a view. The chemical plant skulked on the far side of a chain-link fence. One factory was much like another. Plumes of steam billowed into the sky, glowing orange in the sodium lights, bright against a dark, winter day. He traced the familiar shapes in the condensation of his side window: an hourglass – the cooling tower curving to a waist and then flaring out again; two, thin vertical lines – the nitric acid absorption columns lit up like Christmas trees; three circles – the ammonia storage spheres, massive, metal balls trapped by sturdy legs to stop them rolling away; a rectangle – the ammonium nitrate prilling tower looming over the A19, the main road out of Teesside.

The wind whistled up the river, screaming through the gap between the warehouses, bringing with it a faint whiff of sulfur, reminding him of home: Pardubice in the Czech Republic. The Semtex factory where he trained.

He watched the car park from the lay-by, waiting until the last company car roared away, before driving up to the gatehouse and presenting his papers. At the collection bay he plugged a small black box into the vehicle’s lighter socket. It beeped, and flashed, a red light showing it had located the Zagrovyl computer network. He tucked the jamming device under the passenger seat before turning off the ignition and stepping down from the cab.

“Snow Science, right? Two metric tons?” The bald warehouseman tapped his keyboard. “Bloody system down again.”

Boris slid his papers through a hatch. “Twenty metric tons.”

“Fertilizer grade?”

“Explosives grade.” Boris jabbed his finger at the product code on the order.

“You sure?” Baldy frowned and inspected the order line by line. He picked up a phone, running a hand over his eggshell-smooth head as he waited. When there was no response, he shook his head and cursed, “Lazy tossers, all buggered off early.” He slammed the receiver back into its cradle. “I’ll get you loaded up in a jiffy, mate.”

The metal ramp screeched against the concrete floor as a forklift truck drove into the back of the truck, delivering the first pallet. Two forklifts worked in tandem, an intricate dance, weaving and turning on a dime as they loaded the cargo. Within fifteen minutes it was finished. Fast and skillful, these old men of the north.

Boris secured the load, signed the paperwork and drove out of the factory gate.

Click. Location 54.597255, -1.201133. Intensity 800X

Instead of taking the A19 south, he headed east to Haverton Hill and a decrepit warehouse lying in the shadow of a blue bridge. A damp chill rose from the misty river. Boris shivered as he opened the cab door and scanned the quayside.

A tall, thin man materialized out of the fog, moving slowly with labored, jerky movements. He emerged into the sidelights: dark coat, spiky black hair, gaunt white face. The Spider. Christ, this run must be important.

“So?” The question came out as a hiss.

“All good.” Boris pointed to the trailer. “No problems, boss.”

The Spider pressed a button and battered doors began to open, groaning and squealing with neglect.

Boris backed the truck into the warehouse and hopped down from the cab. “How long will it take?” he asked, as he unlocked the back doors and dropped the ramp.

“Assist,” The Spider ordered. “Time is of the essence.”

Two hours later, Boris’s arms ached as he maneuvered the truck onto the southbound motorway. Bloody amateurs. Leaving him to do all the heavy work.

Boris made good time to the south coast, skirting London after the rush hour. Transport of explosives was not permitted in the Channel Tunnel, so Boris and his truck boarded the ferry to France.

Click: Location 51.12646, 1.327162. Intensity 152X, 648C

He stood on deck, sipping a watery, English coffee, as the white cliffs of Dover receded into the mist. Plain sailing from here. He shivered as the towers of the titanium dioxide factory beside the Port de Calais hove into view, and returned to his truck.

Click. Location 50.96622, 1.86201. Intensity 152X, 648C

The drive through France was uneventful as far as Strasbourg, but a young border guard flagged him down at the crossing into Germany for extra checks. So much for a borderless Europe. Boris remained calm. It had happened before. Nothing to worry about.

The ginger-haired guard puzzled over the papers, wrinkling his brow. “You do know what you’ve got in there?”

“Yes.” Boris lied easily now. After the first few runs, he knew how unlikely it was that anyone would check. And even if they did, what would they see?

Ginger picked up a phone and moved out of earshot. After a few minutes, he marched back. “Drive carefully.” He waved him on his way.

Click. Location 48.5857412, 7.7583997. Intensity 152X, 648C

Boris drove on past Baden-Baden. After lunch, near Munich, he took a nap in the back of the cab. When he woke, the stars guided his way to Salzburg and the crossing into Austria.

Click. Location 47.7994, 13.0439. Intensity 152X, 648C

As he approached the mountains, snow started falling, wet flakes that melted on impact. A weather report on the radio warned of treacherous conditions and several inches of snow up ahead. Great for the skiers, bad for lorries full of explosives and worse. Best to cross in the morning. He slid into a lay-by. A police car drove toward him, slowing as it passed on the opposite side of the road. Boris stared into the snowstorm, craning his neck to make sure it didn’t turn back.

Not that he need worry too much. The dispatch papers matched the Dangerous Goods Note. The bags had the correct hazard warnings. All the papers were faultless. None of the inspections, on any of the runs, had ever uncovered a thing. After all, who wanted to poke around inside bags of explosives? You could hide anything in there.

OVERTURE

Slovenia
Saturday 26 February, Kranjskabel, Slovenia

A strange bed. A naked man. And a few hours to kill before the explosives arrived. The day was looking up.

Jaq stretched, savoring the smooth cotton sheets against her skin. Snowflakes danced through a web of ice on the sloping, attic window. In the dawn glow, she could just discern the layout of the unfamiliar room. Two doors: one of solid oak with tongue-and-groove paneling, brass hinges and a sturdy lock; the other a flat, sliding panel leading to a modern shower room carved from a corner of the attic. A pine bed, wardrobe and chest of drawers, a leather sofa and a couple of metal stools tucked under a bench that divided the bedroom and kitchenette. From outside came the faint swishing and rumbling of a distant snowplow. Inside, the gurgle of a fridge, creaks and sighs of an old house waking up and the steady, slow breathing of the man beside her.

Jaq breathed in. Musk and licorice. And a faint whiff of nitroglycerine. Her scent on his body.

She slid backward across tangled sheets and ran her eyes over the golden curls decorating the pillow, down the ridge of his spine to the curve of his buttocks, sturdy thighs and powerful calves. Definitely a skier. One foot hung over the edge of the bed while the other was tucked under a leg forested in fine, bronze hairs. A tall, blond skier. Athletic. And much too young for her.

She grinned as she reached for the quilt – curved, appliqué ridges between her fingers, uneven stitching, not machine-made – and gently covered him. He stirred but did not wake.

The room smelled of pine resin with a hint of lemon. Clean and tidy. Well, at least it had been before last night. Her eyes followed the trail of clothes across the oak floorboards. Her coat and hat hung on a wooden peg near the entrance door, but her long boots had toppled over and lay at angles to the pashmina snaking across the floor, coiled around a scarlet bra and matching thong. There was no sign of her dress, but on the chest of drawers in the corner she could see his clothes, neatly folded on top. When had he folded his clothes? While she was asleep? Certainly not as she was undressing him.

The guy from the karaoke bar. Nossa. What had he done to her brains last night? She’d known he was trouble the moment she heard him sing.

What had she been thinking of? She loathed office parties, but her boss at Snow Science had insisted on it. Team building, Laurent said, a bit of fun. Laurent was a fool.

She slid down the bed, covering her head at the memory of Laurent’s excruciating impersonation of Charles Aznavour. Carapau de corrida. He’d insisted on the drinking games afterward. Sheila and Rita had the sense to refuse but Jaq could never resist a challenge.

And then the man with the golden curls took to the floor.

The moment he opened his mouth, Jaq was hooked. His voice emerged an octave deeper than she expected. He sang with authority and passion, the pitch and cadence perfectly controlled. His voice rumbled right down the small stage, across the wooden floor, up through the soles of her feet, tugging at the tight knots that held her together, unraveling all the cords of restraint with the song. An old Russian lullaby. One she knew so well.

Had she stared too hard? Clapped too loudly? Was that why the singer with the deep voice and lopsided smile singled her out afterward? She wouldn’t have danced at all if Laurent hadn’t made such an arse of himself. Sitting too close. Breathing too hard. Whispering in her ear. Escaping to the dance floor was intended to put some distance between them; Jaq always danced alone. Laurent followed her, his manbag on one shoulder, lurching and gyrating, arms outstretched in invitation to an inappropriate waltz.

The stranger interposed himself, moving between Jaq and Laurent, a subtle, sinuous barrier, increasing the separation until the drunken Frenchman found another target for his amorous attentions. Jaq danced on for a few tracks, just for the joy of the music, and then made her escape.

And there he was, outside the bar ahead of her. Waiting. Something in his eyes gave her pause, drew her in. She could have walked straight past. What was it that held her? Made her stop? The gentleness of his touch as he helped her with her coat? The deep voice bidding her lahko noč, goodnight? Had she imagined an inflection, an upturn, a question? There was no mistaking the smoldering fire she glimpsed before he hooded his eyes and turned away. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her with such honest desire. A very long time. And, oh, amor de Deus, how she had missed it.

“Wait!” Her lips found his, and there was no mistaking the interest with which he returned her kiss. Gentle, searching, increasingly confident. Hot lips and strong arms. She remembered him asking but had no memory of her reply, or how they ended up at his place.

Time to face the morning after the night before. Careful not to touch him, her detailed inspection must have registered. He brushed the curls from his face and wrinkled his nose. His eyelashes fluttered, and his breath became shorter, shallower.

She slipped out of bed and wrapped the pashmina around her. Where was her bag? Dropping to her hands and knees, she spotted it under the bed frame and took it to the bathroom. The scent of lemon behind the sliding door hit her like a wave. She sat on the toilet and grasped the edge of the sink. How much had she drunk last night? When the dizziness passed, she took stock. Clean towels neatly folded on a rail, a shower, sink and toilet spotlessly clean. Had he expected company? She opened the glass cabinet above the sink. Soap, straight razor, shaving mirror, shampoo, cotton buds, toothpaste, one toothbrush, and dental floss. A large box of condoms, somewhat depleted after last night, but no sign of a permanent, female presence. Just one tidy man.

Jaq reached for her bag. Despite her love-hate relationship with handbags, her party clothes lacked sensible pockets, and this was the least-bad option. Black with silver buckles, the fabric was lighter and thinner than leather but textured, tough and waterproof. It could be carried by the arched handle like a briefcase or, releasing three ingenious hooks, clipped onto a bike as a pannier. When carrying a laptop or other heavy items, two, wide adjustable backpack straps unfurled so that she could take advantage of the padded, contoured panel for extra comfort against the spine. The pleated sides, held in shape by concealed Velcro strips, made it capacious enough for most outings. It even had two, parallel zippers, designed to slot over the handle of a rolling suitcase, but also perfect for carrying a snowboard.

She rummaged inside the bag for her phone, encountering ticket stubs, café receipts, coins, a set of Allen keys, a socket wrench, Maglite torch, penknife, comb, and packets of hot chocolate. Ouch! She caught her finger between the jaws of a Vernier caliper. No blood, just a scratch, but she continued her search more cautiously: hydrogel plaster, crepe bandage, latex gloves, paracetamol, ibuprofen, neodymium magnet hook, PTFE tape, thermos flask, duct tape, ball of hairy string, condoms, fuse wire, superglue, paper clip, Blu Tack, ball of rubber bands, sandpaper, a fold-up kite, Slovenian–English dictionary, an unposted letter, multiplug, catapult, USB stick, fluorescent highlighter pens, snow goggles, earplugs, spare socks, tissues, tampons, a silver propelling pencil, a tube of mints, a packet of dried apricots, a tuning fork and a green marble.

Like the Tardis, the bag was bigger on the inside.

A bunch of keys fell out, clinking against the tiled floor. Odd. She unzipped the secure inside pocket where she normally kept them and, at last! There was the phone. One missed call she had no intention of returning. Amid the dross of email, a single pearl from Emma with a long, chatty message about Johan and the kids. Not now, save for later, only one bar of battery left. No message from Snow Science. She put the phone back and zipped up the keys before dragging a comb through her hair.

As she emerged from the bathroom, the naked man sat up in bed, blue eyes fixed on her face.

Dobro jutro!” He switched to English. “Good morning.”

Now that he viewed her in the daylight, was there a shadow of surprise? If so, he hid it well. What did he see? An athletic woman, naked except for a brightly colored pashmina and a large shoulder bag. Tall - five feet nine inches in bare feet, with a Mediterranean complexion – brown eyes, olive skin and shoulder-length hair, dark brown, almost black, except for the hints of russet fire. Well proportioned, curvy even. His smile appeared uncomplicated, no hint of embarrassment or regret, only pleasure at finding her still there.

“I don’t think we were properly introduced last night.” He held out a hand. “Karel.”

She took his hand, smiling at the absurd formality. There was hardly an inch of each other’s bodies that hadn’t been stroked or kissed or explored last night, and yet the contact with his hand felt deeply intimate, sending a tingle straight to her core. Careful.

“Jaq,” she said. No second names. Polite but no promises. Civilized without commitment. “Pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” He raised the quilt in invitation.

So tempting. She hesitated and was gratified by the flicker of disappointment that rippled across his brow when she shook her head.

“Breakfast, then.” He sprang out of bed, bringing the sheet with him, wrapping it around his hips. He handed her a robe. The faint hint of musk was his. She let it envelop her and perched on a stool as he got to work in the kitchen.

“A quick cup of tea, or whatever you are making,” she said.

“Scrambled eggs and smoked salmon.”

She started to protest, but the smell of butter melting in a pan made her stomach rumble. He heard it and laughed, breaking eggs into a bowl, many more than he could possibly eat alone. When had she last eaten? She’d gone straight from work to the karaoke bar, changing from coveralls to party dress in the lab toilets. There was no reason not to eat breakfast. No reason a one-night stand couldn’t be civilized.

“Nice flat,” she said.

“Belongs to a friend. He’s working abroad.” He grinned. “I keep an eye on things when he’s away.”

He served the scrambled eggs on toasted crumpets, a thin sliver of pink salmon sandwiched above the little craters of butter, turning opaque where it touched the hot egg piled in a pyramid and topped with a sprinkle of freshly ground black pepper and a sprig of parsley from a plant by the sink. A small glass of orange juice and a bowl of tea served black, fragrant with bergamot and dark tannin. The speed and ease with which he presented two perfect covers made her curious. A singer, a skier, a chef. What else could this man do? Her eyes traveled around the room and paused at the bed. Amid the otherwise orderly space it stood out, an explosion of disarray. A surge of warmth rose through her body, and she turned her attention back to the food.

“Mmmm.” Jaq wiped her lips with a napkin. “Very good.”

Karel bowed his head to acknowledge the compliment. “More tea?”

Jaq shook her head. Time to leave. He was a young man with impeccable manners, but some awkwardness was only to be expected now. She would spare him the brush-off. He would have things to do, people to see, places to go. “My clothes?”

“I hung your dress up,” he pointed to the wardrobe. “But—”

“I should go.”

“Should you?” He moved toward her.

The glass rattled in the window above. A flurry of hail blasted the ice clear enough to reveal a storm-dark sky. No skiing today. No message from Snow Science about the delivery. Time to kill.

Karel laid a hand on her shoulder. Warm, gentle, no hint of coercion. Only invitation. Promise. He ran a finger up the side of her neck and whispered, “Come back to bed first.”

Her skin tingled under his warm breath. When his lips nibbled her earlobe, she had to fight the urge to grin inanely. The good food, the cozy little attic, the storm outside, the gorgeous man, the firm bed. She might regret this, but . . .

Last night she’d taken a risk, let herself go with the flow, to see where it led her. What did she have to lose? Things could hardly get any worse. Forget about the past. Forget about the future. Focus on the moment.

Focus on the pleasure.

***

Excerpt from THE CHEMICAL DETECTIVE by Fiona Erskine. Copyright 2024 by Fiona Erskine. Reproduced with permission from Fiona Erskine. All rights reserved.

 

Author Bio:


Engineer by day, writer by night.

Fiona Erskine is a professional engineer, born in Scotland and now based in the North-East of England. As a female engineer, she is often the lone representative of her gender in board meetings, cargo ships and night-time factories, and her fiction offers a fascinating insight into the traditionally male world of heavy industry.

Fiona’s stand-alone portrait of a factory Phosphate Rocks: A Death In Ten Objects, made the UK Literary Review’s top ten crime novels of 2021.

Her international thriller series is published (outside USA, Canada and The Philippines) by Point Blank, the literary crime imprint of Oneworld, and follows engineer protagonist Jaq Silver blowing things up to keep people safe. The Chemical Detective (2019) was shortlisted for the SPECSAVERS DEBUT CRIME NOVEL AWARD at Crimefest, The Chemical Reaction (2020) was shortlisted for the STAUNCH Prize, The Chemical Cocktail (2022) was an FT Best Summer Book of 2022. Her latest novel is The Chemical Code (2023).

Fiona is passionate about music and outdoor swimming, though not generally at the same time. 

Photo credit:  Gary Walsh and Stockton-on-Tees Library

Catch Up With Fiona Erskine:
FionaErskine.com
Substack
Goodreads
BookBub - @thechemicaldetective
Instagram - @thechemicaldetective
Threads - @thechemicaldetective
Twitter/X - @erskine_fiona
Facebook - @fionaerskineauthor

 

Tour Participants:

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I received a complimentary egalley of this book through Partners in Crime Book Tours. My comments are an independent and honest review. The rest of the copy of this post was provided by Partners in Crime Book Tours.

(My star ratings: 5-I love it, 4-I like it, 3-It's OK, 2-I don't like it, 1-I hate it.) 

Friday, October 18, 2024

The Living Medicine by Lina Zeldovich Book Review

About the Book:


First discovered in 1917, bacteriophages—or “phages”—are living medicines: viruses that devour bacteria. Ubiquitous in the environment, they are found in water, soil, inside plants and animals, and in the human body.

When phages were first recognized as medicines, their promise seemed limitless. Grown by research scientists and physicians in France, the Soviet Union, and elsewhere to target specific bacteria, they cured cholera, dysentery, bubonic plague, and other deadly infectious diseases.

But after Stalin’s brutal purges and the rise of antibiotics, phage therapy declined and nearly was lost to history—until today. In The Living Medicine, acclaimed science journalist Lina Zeldovich reveals the remarkable history of phages, told through the lives of the French, Soviet, and American scientists who discovered, developed, and are reviving this unique cure for seemingly-intractable diseases. Ranging from Paris to Soviet Georgia to Egypt, India, Kenya, Siberia, and America, The Living Medicine shows how phages once saved tens of thousands of lives. Today, with our antibiotic shield collapsing, Zeldovich demonstrates how phages are making our food safe and, in cases of dire emergency, rescuing people from the brink of death. They may be humanity’s best defense against the pandemics to come.

My Review:

The is a very informative and quite readable exploration of phage medicine. Zeldovich takes us through the personal stories of those who discovered them, studied them intently, and produced them for public use. I liked her giving us the human side of the scientists. We also read about the political situation in the eastern Europe countries, where these scientists lived.

The use of phage medicine had mixed success in the West. Penicillin came into use and phage medicine fell out of favor. The last commercial phage medicine disappeared in the 1970s in the U.S., just when antibiotic resistance became apparent. American doctors had forgotten about phages and that their use was not hindered by the evolving bacteria. Medical researchers looked for stronger and stronger antibiotics instead.

This book is quite engaging. Zeldovich adds suspense to it by relating stories of desperate and hopeless cases and the race to find the phage that worked, saving the life. I learned much about modern diseases and medicines too. Now I know more about how the FDA approves trials and ultimately drugs. I know more about how research was done in eastern Europe compared to the West.

This is a very interesting and informative book and would appeal to those who like The Emperor of all Maladies or The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. I highly recommend it.

My rating: 5/5 stars.


About the Author:


Lina Zeldovich
grew up in a dissident family of Soviet scientists and learned English as a second language in her twenties, as an immigrant New Yorker. Now an award-winning journalist, author, speaker, and Columbia Journalism School alumna, she has contributed hundreds of stories for leading publications including 
Popular Science MagazineThe New York Times, Reader’s Digest, Scientific American, Smithsonian, National Geographic, and BBC, and appeared on radio, podcasts and TV. Her last book, The Other Dark Matter: The Science and Business of Turning Waste into Wealth and Healthhas been optioned for a TV series. She lives in New York City. Photo credit: Mallory Pettee

St. Martin's Press, 304 pages.

I received a complimentary egalley of this book from the publisher. My comments are an independent and honest review.

(My star ratings: 5-I love it, 4-I like it, 3-It's OK, 2-I don't like it, 1-I hate it.)

Thursday, October 17, 2024

The Time Door by Shannon McDermott Blog Tour Book Review


About the Book

Book: The Time Door

Author: Shannon McDermott

Genre: Adult Science Fiction

Release date: October 8, 2024

A reckless last mission on Mars, a crusade for justice on Earth …

Reuben Jackson is the only one who still cares about Mars. In the shambles of the Great Collapse, Earth has abandoned the Mars explorers to their fate. But Reuben will make a stand for the Mars team—even against the powerfully united politicians and scientists.

In too deep, he discovers hidden conspiracies and unexpected allies.

As the conflict mounts on Earth, time runs down on Mars. Left to face Mars alone, Commander Donegan Moynihan and his team have no hope of surviving after their supplies are gone. Willing to accept a quicker death than starvation, the explorers strike out on a dangerous mission. They venture deep inside the ancient volcano of Arsia Mons, into perils and secrets long buried. What they discover would move mountains on Earth—but will it be enough to save themselves?

Click here to get your copy!

My Review

I like science fiction and this one highlighting a mission to Mars is a good one. I really liked the adventures of the crew, the descriptions of the crew's intriguing discoveries, and the character interaction. I felt like I was there with the adventurers as the descriptions of items and actions were very good. The faith message was quite low key and generic. I would have liked a bit more spiritual exploration after the team's surprising discoveries. There could have been some speculation and discussion on why God creates who and what He does and on the whole aspect of time travel.

The part of the book relating the situation back on earth was a little fuzzy for me. I know it was a dystopian era as there had been a great financial collapse in the U.S. Powerful people wanted to abandon the Mars venture, leaving the four people there to die. The economic reasons made sense to me, not spend millions on space when there were so many immediate needs at home. But there was also a power play going on. I did not understand all the actions and interactions taking place there.

So I liked the part of the book about the Mars mission but the political situation back home not so much. McDermott is a great writer of science fiction. I will be looking for her next novel, hoping there is much more emphasis on the science fiction aspect than the political situation back home.

My rating: 4/5 stars.


About the Author


Shannon McDermott
is an author of science fiction and has been occupied for years with constructing scenarios of the colonization of Mars. Always a fan of the genre, she reviews Christian speculative fiction with Lorehaven. Her interests include history, classic

literature, and lattes. She lives in the great Midwest, where she does her best to avoid icy weather, sweltering heat, and tornadoes, according to the season.

  

More from Shannon

There is a story of an abandoned space colony. Still young, still unsteady, and suddenly cut off from the mother planet—the colony will either learn fast to survive alone, or it will die altogether.

The story has been told again and again, a thousand variations on the old theme. When I was getting acquainted with it, through battered paperbacks and anthologies gathered from the old “scientifiction” magazines, I noticed that the colonies were usually abandoned because of a space plague, or aliens, or interplanetary war.

Exotic, exciting problems, the stuff of science fiction. But I had a thought: What if the reason for abandoning a space colony were a bit prosaic? What if there was just no more money?

The national debt is very much a thing (and an ever-growing thing, at an ever-increasing rate). We would be in trouble if that debt were ever called, or even if no more could be contracted. If it suddenly became time to pay the piper, if the money running off the press was no longer good enough—America couldn’t afford to support a colony on Mars. And we would have too many problems of our own to care very much about theirs.

A classic sci-fi story with a modern twist, something fantastic mixed with something prosaic. I liked it.

As I set to work on the idea, I soon made another variation to the theme. The abandoned colony did not take the whole stage. I gave equal space to those who had abandoned it. Good or bad, they had their reasons; they had their story, too. And as I began to write it, I realized that both stories were about survival. The struggle over whether they survived, and how, and what they would become on the other side.

These ideas grew into The Time Door—two parallel stories, separated by the distance between Mars and Earth, and yet united in the end. Whether abandoned on Mars, or caught in the collapse on Earth, they all need a way out; they all need to find a door.

Blog Stops

Book Reviews From an Avid Reader, October 17

Blossoms and Blessings, October 18 (Author Interview)

Wishful Endings, October 18

Truth and Grace Homeschool Academy, October 19

The Lofty Pages, October 20

Artistic Nobody, October 21 (Author Interview)

Texas Book-aholic, October 22

Guild Master, October 23 (Spotlight)

Tell Tale Book Reviews, October 24

Blogging With Carol, October 25

A Reader’s Brain, October 26 (Author Interview)

Fiction Book Lover, October 27 (Author Interview)

Mary Hake, October 27

Simple Harvest Reads, October 28 (Author Interview)

Locks, Hooks and Books, October 29

Lily’s Corner, October 30

Giveaway


To celebrate her tour, Shannon is giving away the grand prize of a $50 Amazon card and a copy of the book!!

Be sure to comment on the blog stops for extra entries into the giveaway! Click the link below to enter.

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/00adcf5470/

I received a complimentary egalley of this book through Celebrate Lit. My comments are an independent and honest review. The rest of the copy of this post was provided by Celebrate Lit.

(My star ratings: 5-I love it, 4-I like it, 3-It's OK, 2-I don't like it, 1-I hate it.)

Tuesday, October 15, 2024

Dinner for Vampires by Bethany Joy Lenz Book Review

About the Book:


In the early 2000s, after years of hard work and determination to breakthrough as an actor, Bethany Joy Lenz was finally cast as one of the leads on the hit drama One Tree Hill. Her career was about to take off, but her personal life was slowly beginning to unravel. What none of the show’s millions of fans knew, hidden even from her costars, was her secret double life in a cult.

An only child who often had to fend for herself and always wanted a place to belong, Lenz found the safe haven she’d been searching for in a Bible study group with other Hollywood creatives. However, the group soon morphed into something more sinister—a slowly woven web of manipulation, abuse, and fear under the guise of a church covenant called The Big House Family. Piece by piece, Lenz began to give away her autonomy, ultimately relocating to the Family’s Pacific Northwest compound, overseen by a domineering minister who would convince Lenz to marry one of his sons and steadily drained millions of her TV income without her knowledge. Family “minders” assigned to her on set, “Maoist struggle session”–inspired meetings in the basement of a filthy house, and regular counseling with “Leadership” were just part of the tactics used to keep her loyal.

Only when she became a mother did Lenz find the courage to leave and spare her child from a similar fate. After nearly a decade (and with the unlikely help of a 
One Tree Hill superfan), she finally managed to escape the family’s grip and begin to heal from the deep trauma that forever altered her relationship with God and her understanding of faith.

My Review:

This is a painful book to read. It is well written but the account of her drifting into a Bible study that slowly morphs into a cult is heartbreaking. The first half of the book is her venture into acting, getting auditions and acting roles. That part is a good read for anyone who would like to know what such a journey is like.

She relates how, as a Christian, she began attending a Bible study with other actors. She did not see the warning signs as the leaders became more domineering. Select Bible verses were used to defend control. The Family was to be the most important of relationships for her. And then there was the controlling husband.

For readers who grew up in Christianity, the buzz words will be familiar. The Scripture verses used will be recognized. Not allowing any questioning of leaders or to even think differently might bring back memories. The subtle and then not so subtle coercion for money too. The answers to prayers for direction that benefited the leader. The ignoring and hiding misconduct.

Lenz says she was willing to tell her story because she wants others to know the common signs and patterns of all cults, even a small one like she was in. The most encouraging part of the book is knowing that Lenz retained her belief in God. 


My rating: 4/5 stars.

About the Author:


Bethany Joy Lenz starred in the hit TV series One Tree Hill. Her other acting credits include Guiding Light, Grey's AnatomyCharmedFelicitySuitsDexter, and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. She is also a recording artist who has released several albums. Lenz currently cohosts the podcast Drama Queens and is the founder/editor-in-chief of the broadsheet newspaper Modern Vintage News.

Simon & Schuster, 320 pages.

I received a complimentary egalley of this book from the publisher. My comments are an independent and honest review.

(My star ratings: 5-I love it, 4-I like it, 3-It's OK, 2-I don't like it, 1-I hate it.)

Monday, October 14, 2024

Autumn Embers by Tina deBellegarde Blog Tour Book Review

 

AUTUMN EMBERS

by Tina deBellegarde

October 14 - November 8, 2024 Virtual Book Tour


Synopsis:

A Batavia-on-Hudson Mystery

 

Bianca St. Denis travels to Kyoto to return a priceless artifact recovered in Batavia-on-Hudson during last summer’s flood. It’s late October and the city of 2,000 shrines is in full autumn splendor. While she’s in Japan’s ancient capital, Bianca visits with her son, a student at Kyoto University. Ian shows her the sights and introduces her to his circle of friends—his chosen family.

On the night of her welcome party, Bianca thinks she witnesses a struggle in the garden, perhaps even a murder. When the police investigate and find no body, she is stumped yet alarm bells won’t stop ringing. She knows she’s witnessed something.

When a dead body surfaces and suspicion falls on her son, Bianca’s maternal instincts spring to action to protect Ian and clear his name. Meanwhile, things in Batavia-on-Hudson are tense. Sheriff Mike Riley is losing his re-election while tackling devastating news about his dead partner, and wavering about his troubled marriage.

Autumn Embers explores the malleable nature of our identities and reminds us that chosen families can be stronger than we think, and that true friendship can bridge any distance.

Praise for AUTUMN EMBERS:

"A beautiful novel that seamlessly embraces past and present, east and west, mystery and resolution, all the contradictions that make us human. This is the rare book that leaves its reader feeling balanced and whole."
~ Carol Goodman, two-time winner of the Mary Higgins Clark prize and author of Return to Wyldecliff Heights

"Tina deBellegarde expertly captures the details of two very disparate worlds, reminding us that at the heart of these experiences is our shared humanity. I’ve become a new fan!"
~ Naomi Hirahara, Edgar Award-winning author of the Mas Arai mystery series and the Mary Higgins Clark Award-winning Clark and Division

"Get ready for another thrilling ride with Tina deBellegarde's mystery series, this time in our own Kyoto backyard."
~ Amy Chavez, Author of The Widow, the Priest and the Octopus Hunter

"Fans of Louise Penny and Crazy Rich Asians will adore Autumn Embers...Heartful and human, an intriguing mystery, and filled to the brim with rich descriptions, this love letter to Japan is Tina de Bellegarde at her finest."
~ Jen Collin Moore, Author of the captivating Roman Holiday Mysteries

'This is a scrumptious book...Autumn Embers will have you reaching for your passport and booking a ticket to "the land of the rising sun."'
~ Carol Pouliot, Author of the Blackwell and Watson Time-Travel Mysteries

"Like a richly woven tapestry, this immersive tale has it all...With vivid descriptions and an unhurried writing style, Autumn Embers is thoroughly engrossing!"
~ Lida Sideris, Author of the Southern California Mysteries

My Review:

 There are two story lines in this novel. Bianca, the amateur sleuth, is in Japan visiting her son. At the same time, Sheriff Mike is back in New York dealing with new information on the death of his partner nine years ago when he was with the NYPD. Mike is also facing the stress of an election, struggling to retain his position.

Bianca's time in Kyoto is almost like a travelogue until there is a murder. Readers are immersed in the culture and society of the city. There is a dangerous underworld present, however and an unsavory character is murdered. He offended many and was not well liked so there are plenty of suspects, including Bianca's son. This story line is parallel with Mike's back in New York as new evidence in the old crime means he is considered a suspect in his partner's death. DeBellegarde links the two stories by having Mike help Bianca gather needed information leading to the mystery's resolution.

This is a good mystery for readers who like one containing a deep sense of place. Here we find out much about Kyoto as Bianca travels its streets and experiences its culture. I do have a pet peeve of an author including a suspense filled dream without letting readers know right off it is a dream. DeBellegarde does that here. Nonetheless, I enjoyed this novel as I have the earlier ones in the series. While there are some mentions of events from previous novels, this one does read well on its own.

My rating: 4/5 stars.

You can read my reviews of the earlier books in this series: Winter Witness and Dead Man's Leap.

Book Details:

Genre: Female Amateur Sleuth
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: September 17, 2024
Number of Pages: 321
Series: A Batavia-on-Hudson Mystery, 3
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER SEVEN

Bianca removed her shoes and found a pair of slippers approximately her size. She tucked her shoes in a cubby and followed Ian up the stairs of the ramen house. They settled into a spot at the counter in the far corner. She looked at the menu out of habit, but knew she couldn’t read it, nor did she need to. This was her favorite ramen place, and she knew exactly what she wanted. In fact, tired or not, this place had been on her mind all day. If she couldn’t sleep, she could at least have her black sesame ramen.

Across the counter, the server brought them each a small beer and took their orders. Bianca looked around and realized that nothing had changed at all. It was as if she had never left. She wondered what it must be like to live in a world where the movement of change could be at once imperceptible and monumental. Kyoto was remarkable in its ability to modernize dramatically while remaining steadfastly traditional.

Bianca’s mouth watered as a steaming bowl was placed before her. The handmade noodles beckoned, submerged in a rich dark broth of spicy black sesame.

Itadakimasu,” they said before they started their meal.

She took a slurp of broth first, the spice clearing her sinuses immediately, then with her chopsticks she gathered up some long strands of ramen and did her best not to make a mess.

They barely spoke as they ate. The food was too delicious and demanding of their attention, and they had talked for hours already. They were content in the sounds of their eating and the sounds of the fellow diners having a fun night out.

When Ian excused himself to find the men’s room, Bianca continued spooning the last of her broth then was surprised by a nudge. She opened her eyes and slowly realized that she had nodded off to sleep at the counter with her spoon still resting in her hands. The last strands of noodles had never made it to her mouth.

“Time to go, Mom.”

Bianca used all her energy to stand up with some dignity and followed him back to the shoe cubby and then out the door, but not before they called out to the ramen chefs to thank them for the meal.

Gochisousamadeshita!”

Once outside, they lingered briefly at the window watching as the chefs rolled and cut the fresh noodles. Bianca was mesmerized by their actions. They worked so effortlessly as if they had no need to think about these motions.

Bianca leaned on Ian as they made their way through the alley known as Ponto-chō, the traditional bar district. Too small for cars, the cobble- stone walkways were lined with tiny restaurants and clubs, their entrances illuminated by glowing paper lanterns. A different aroma escaped each establishment. Some scents Bianca could identify—ginger, garlic, grilling meats. Other delectable fragrances she couldn’t. Despite having eaten enough, her appetite was reawakened.

They walked slowly, enjoying the cool autumn night. Just as they were leaving the quiet street, they saw a geisha walking beside a businessman. The rich fabric of her amber kimono shimmered in the light of the lanterns and her hair was perfectly coiffed with a burgundy hairpin. As the lovely girl passed them, Bianca turned to catch a better look. She admired the elaborate knot of the brocade obi belt and the delicate end points of the white makeup on the young woman’s neck.

Bianca considered it a good omen to spot a geisha on her first day in Kyoto. They were a rare sight. Some tourists could spend their entire vacation in Kyoto and never see one.

Arriving at the apartment close to 9:30, Ian unlocked the gate and led her to the front door of the guest house. As he opened the door to the darkened room he whispered, “Tadaima.” I’m home.

He showed Bianca to her room where Jiro had already deposited her bags. She hugged Ian, turned to her futon, and crawled into it without changing into pajamas. Ian turned to close the door.

“Ian, wait.”

He turned back.

“You’re happy here.”

He nodded.

“You feel at home, don’t you?”

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. He nodded again.

She closed her eyes and fell asleep.

***

Excerpt from Autumn Embers by Tina deBellegarde. Copyright 2024 by Tina deBellegarde. Reproduced with permission from Tina deBellegarde. All rights reserved.

 

Author Bio:

Tina deBellegarde’s debut novel, Winter Witness, was nominated for an Agatha Award for Best First Novel. Dead Man’s Leap, her second book in the Batavia-on-Hudson Mystery series, was nominated for an Agatha Award for Best Contemporary Novel. Reviewers have called Tina “the Louise Penny of the Catskills.” Tina also writes short stories and flash fiction. Her story “Tokyo Stranger,” nominated for a Derringer Award, appears in the Mystery Writers of America anthology When a Stranger Comes to Town edited by Michael Koryta. Tina co-chairs the Murderous March Conference and is a founding member of Sleuths and Sidekicks, where she blogs, tours virtually, and teaches writing workshops. She is a member of Writers in Kyoto and reviews books for BooksOnAsia.net. She lives in Catskill, New York with her husband Denis and their cat Shelby. She travels frequently to Japan to visit her son and daughter-in-law and to do research. Tina is currently working on a collection of interconnected short stories based in Japan.

Catch Up With Tina deBellegarde:
www.TinadeBellegarde.com
www.SleuthsAndSidekicks.com
Goodreads
BookBub - @tinadebellegarde
Instagram - @tdb_writes
Threads - @tdb_writes
Twitter/X - @tdbwrites
Facebook - @tinadebellegardeauthor

 

Tour Participants:

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I received a complimentary egalley of this book through Partners in Crime Tours. My comments are an independent and honest re view. The rest of the copy of this post was provided by Partner in Crime Tours.

(My star ratings: 5-I love it, 4-I like it, 3-It's OK, 2-I don't like it, 1-I hate it.)