Book Review: The Dream Hunter

Just finished reading Sherrilyn Kenyon's The Dream Hunter, the first book in her Dark Hunter series. From her website:

"Sired by the gods of sleep, nightmares and dreams, we are the children of Mist (and at times human mothers).

"Traditionally called the Oneroi, we are what protect the humans, Apollites, and immortals while they slumber. We are the Dream Warriors. The ones who battle the Skoti Daimons who drain the energy, dreams and life from sleepers, as well as provide highly erotic dreams to those who catch their fancy.

"During the light of day, we walk among the humans as either humans or as unknown phantoms. And whenever human eyes happen upon us, they immediately glance away without registering our presence (unless we will it otherwise).

"Most of us are devoid of emotions (except for pain). Those who have been cursed to no emotions can only feel while in a dream state with a human or immortal host. But therein lies the danger--some of us come to crave emotions like a drug.

"Instead of being observers and protectors, they become dream instigators- controllers of the host. Should the evil Skotos continue to drain his victim, madness will descend and threaten us all. Hence the creation of a Dream-Hunter. Certain members of the Oneroi have been chosen to patrol the Skoti and Renegades, and ensure they do not prey upon those who sleep."

In this story, Arik is a Dream Hunter who has fallen for the beautiful Dr. Megeara Kafieri. Driven by the need to honor her father's memory, she hunts for the lost city of Atlantis with a ensemble of miscellaneous minor characters. Arik is drawn to Megeara because of her vivid dreams and pure, unbridled emotions. He becomes addicted to her, so much that he makes a deal with Hades: Arik can live as a mortal human for two weeks (and thereby be closer to the object of his obsession) but in exchange, he must return to Hades with her soul.

I must admit, I bought this book from a grocery store on an impulse- I saw the picture of the hottie on the cover and couldn't resist. But I think I learned my lesson. First page, third sentence: "The hot sun caressed her tanned skin while the fierce breeze whipped her plain white dress against her body."

I don't think I need to comment on that.

It's this soapy, melodramatic feminism that drowns what is otherwise an intriguing, original story. I finished the story because of Arik, because Sherrilyn obviously knows the formula for a compelling hero: a handsome man with a tortured past who will sacrifice himself for love. But the entire story was too formulatic. No surprises, everything was just as you'd expect in a romance. I just wish I'd known it was a romance when I bought it. (Nothing is quite as embarrassing as reading a steamy sex scene while on the elliptical at the gym.)

If this story had been written as the masculine action-adventure story it is begging to be, I would be more willing to overlook the jarring head-hopping, the melodramatic protagonist, and the cookie-cutter plot. There are some great moments in this book (some great fight scenes and a wicked banter session between Arik and his 'brother') that get overshadowed by rest of this Greece-set romance. This is one story that might be better off as a movie- if only for the chance to drool over the actors for a couple of hours. (Viggo Mortensen, anyone?)

As always, my blog is just my opinion. Until next time,

me

Book Review: Panic

This morning I finished 'Panic' by Jeff Abbott. What a ride!

This book stars Evan Casher, a young film maker who journeys home to find his mother murdered and his own life in danger. Alone, without anyone to trust, Evan finds himself on the run- nothing in his life as he thought it was. There are secret files to be found, high-speed chases to be had, cold-blooded killers to fear, bullets to dodge, and government agents to mistrust. Evan crosses both state and country borders, travelling from Austin to New Orleans to Miami and to London. Bombs explode, people die, secret lives are uncovered, and questions are raised. And did I mention the alligators?

Evan is cut off from the world he once knew and thrust into one of danger and misconception within the first seven pages. I could feel the weariness that took hold, the distrust Evan had for everyone that tried to get to him. He was stuck in the middle of a deadly tug-of-war between the government and Jargo, the leader of the Deeps: a group of spies/assassins that cannot be caught. Great detail went into setting up both the story's architecture and the character's backstories. It all tied together very nicely in the end, and several times I had to smile at how I'd been caught by surprise. 'Panic' has some smart twists and turns, truly living up to its name. There are some stunningly visual action sequences- particularly a foot chase through the zoo and a high-speed car chase down a busy highway. Evan, though never shown as weak, comes out of this journey a changed man. He loses his family but gains a new one. He finds himself the star of his own documentary, and I doubt that any projects he pursues after this will live up to his own life story.

I've never been a fan of political stories, as I know little about warring countries and hierarchies of power. Reading the 'big secret' in this story mostly went over my head, but the climax was still very enjoyable (and bloody). All the ends were tied up with satisfaction and I was able to completely lose myself in the story.

I'd love to check out more books by Jeff in the future. His writing is strong and masculine, the style is clear and vivid, and the characters were three-dimensional and enjoyable. Very good book.

Only a week and a half until my vacation!!
me

How Much is Too Much (Or, Falling Out of Fandom)

I think I've officially fallen out of fandom. It kinda hurts, too. A friend sent me a letter of comment for Obsession and as typical per her, she pointed out one thing she liked along with one thing she didn't, which was, and I quote: my developing 'trend' of writing great angst without any comfort. And she's not the only one who was disappointed- two others noticed it too. Apparently I build up really great hurt Winchester but don't follow through, don't have any payoff.

So I tried not to get emotional and figure out *why* I do it. I know it's true. I think one reason is that I'm afraid to turn the Winchesters into crying little girls. I think another reason is my compost has changed. I no longer read fanfiction. I watch movies- and watch with a critical eye for plot. I read books that are heavy on the action. I read books on how to write. All of these things (generally) follow the same rule: as soon as the climax is over, so is the story. Wrap it up quickly, in the next ten minutes or few pages. Tie up your lose ends then you run, *run* off stage! If the action is over, no one cares anymore.

Fanfiction is written with the sole purpose of breaking that rule. In fanfiction, the audience gets to see what is denied them on screen- an emotional bonding between two heterosexual male characters. I was told that I used to be good at that. Maybe I was. But have I been taking writing too seriously now that I've started a novel? Have I been following the so-called rules so closely that I've forgotten what people *really* want? Are there really two separate audiences: one for action and one for emotional development? If so, can they be bridged?

This bit of criticism was needed. It tells me that I need to slow down, not run my story on high-octane rocket fuel all the time. Let the characters breathe, let them have emotions and wrestle with them.

Just as soon as I finish bashing my protag.
me

Dreams, Hope and Trust

First, let me just say something- a disclaimer, if you will.

I like to believe in signs, but because it's fun and more interesting than not. For example, walking into the grocery store the other day, I nearly stepped on a dead bird. Now, that has got to mean something, doesn't it? Seeing a dead bird? Doesn't that hold some sort of influence for the rest of my day? I like to pretend it does- even if I make quite the stretch of the imagination.

So two nights ago, I had a dream that FOR ONCE, was not about the dogs in my kennels escaping. That in itself means something, people. I am unable to escape the responsibilities of my job, not on the weekends, not on the holidays, not in my sleep. At any given moment, I am in charge of any given number of lives; beloved pets left in my care by owners just as neurotic as me. I take that very seriously. Those animals have needs, and I must meet them. Not just keep them fed and watered- but also keep them happy and exercised. Managing a kennel is one of those jobs that can make you very happy, but it will also consume you to the point of complete burnout. How many years can you live, eat, and breathe 'dog'?? Apparently, for me, the answer is 4 and a half. I would love to have a job that ends when I walk out the door.

But anyway, back to my dream. I think I met my 'horse'- the creature that I dreamed up to symbolize my Writing Subconscious. She was a monster of a thing, with a huge broad neck and forehead much like the Chinese Tang Dynasty Horse. Her fur was a soft gray, her mane cut short. Her name was Libby, though I can't say how I know this. She came to me, walked up and lowered her head, pressing her forehead to my chest. I immediately loved her, even though she was most definitely NOT the creature of beauty I had hoped for, and I scratched her cheeks, the sides of her neck, rubbed her forehead and the soft, warm felt of her nose as she lip-nibbled at me.

And that was the entire dream. I woke up and knew that seeing this odd horse meant something- it HAD to- because I just don't have dreams like that. Ever. I think Libby came to me because of my slow progress with my novel, to reward me for hiding in the bathroom at work and writing when I should be cleaning. That day, the day after my dream, I figured out what my story is really about. I know the sequence of events for the first chapter, the motives of my antags, and I have a loose idea of how the universe will run. The details are foggy and slippery and I'm sure things will change (again), but I feel a sense of relief now. I'm thinking about the story nearly all the time, in a proud way. The bug of obsession that has been feeding Caroline has made its way back to me, after many long weeks of inactivity. (And no, there is not just ONE bug, Car. We each have one, and I am going to help you find yours again!)

So I'm signing off on a note of hope. I think that as creatures of imaginiation and creativity, writing truly is something that happens in cycles. If one were to live in a fantasy world all the time, they would find themselves in a straight-jacket among padded walls. Life demands priority. But even when you aren't inching your way towards a word-count goal, you can still be active in the story-telling. You can still examine your ideas, chew on them, twist them up and smooth them out and see if they are truly the best or only way to go. Going back into writing after days of not writing IS like plunging into cold water- but if you don't take a breath and jump, someone will come along and push you in. ;)
me