From Addiction in Australia, to Being Sober On The Streets In London---Meeting Bob Was the Best Thing Ever!!! By James Bowen

 

There is something about the presence of a cat … 

that seems to take the bite out of being alone. --Louis Camuti

If man could be crossed with the cat, 

it would improve man but deteriorate the cat. --Mark Twain

One Saturday lunchtime, for instance, I answered a knock on the door and found the guy from the flat across the hallway standing there. ‘Hi, just thought I’d let you know that your cat is out here.’ ‘Sorry, erm, no. Must be someone else’s. Mine’s in here,’ I said, turning around to scout around the living room. ‘Bob. Where are you?’ There was no sign of him. ‘No, I’m pretty sure this is him out here. Ginger isn’t he?’ the guy said. I stepped out into the hallway to discover Bob sitting around the corner, perfectly still on top of a cupboard on the landing with his head pressed against the window, looking down on the street below. ‘He’s been there a while. I noticed him earlier,’ the guy said, heading for the lift. ‘Oh. Thanks,’ I said. Bob just looked at me as if I was the world’s biggest party pooper. The expression on his face seemed to say: ‘Come on up here and take a look at this view with me, it’s really interesting.’ 

‘Bob, how the heck have you got there?’ I said, reaching up to collect him. Belle was visiting and was in the kitchen rustling up a sandwich. ‘Did you let Bob out?’ I asked her back inside the flat. ‘No,’ she said, looking up from the worktop. ‘I can’t work out how he got out into the hallway and hid himself up on top of the cupboard.’ ‘Ah, hold on,’ Belle said, a light coming on somewhere inside her head. ‘I popped downstairs about an hour ago to put some rubbish out. You were in the bathroom. I shut the door behind me but he must have slid out without me noticing and then hidden away somewhere when I came back up. He’s so damned clever. I’d love to know what’s going on in his mind sometimes.’ 

I couldn’t help laughing out loud. It was a subject I’d speculated on quite a lot over the years. I’d often found myself imagining the thought processes Bob went through. I knew it was a pointless exercise and I was only projecting human behaviour onto an animal. Anthropomorphising I think they call it. But I couldn’t resist it. It wasn’t hard, for instance, to work out why he’d been so happy finding his new vantage point out in the hallway today. There was nothing Bob loved more than watching the world go by. Inside the flat, he would regularly position himself on the kitchen window sill. He could sit there happily all day, monitoring the goings on below, like some kind of security guard. His head would follow people as they walked towards and then past our flats. If someone turned into the entrance to the building, he’d stretch himself until he had lost sight of them. It might sound crazy, but I found it incredibly entertaining. He took it so seriously that it was almost as if he had a list of people who were allowed to travel this way at certain times and in certain directions. He’d see someone passing and look as if to say ‘yes, OK, I know who you are’ or ‘come on you’re running late for the bus to work’. At other times he’d get quite agitated, as if he was thinking: ‘Oi, hang on! I don’t recognise you’ or: ‘Hey. You don’t have clearance, where do you think you’re going. Get back here.’ I could easily while away half an hour just watching Bob watching others. Belle and I used to joke that he was on patrol. Bob’s escape into the hallway today was typical of something else he seemed to love doing as well, playing hide and seek. 

I’d found him hiding in all sorts of surprising nooks and crannies. He particularly loved anywhere warm. One evening, I went to have a bath before I went to bed. As I nudged the bathroom door open, I couldn’t help thinking it felt a little odd. Rather than swinging open easily it needed an extra nudge. It felt heavy somehow. I didn’t think much more of it and started running a bath. I was looking in the mirror by the sink when I noticed something moving on the back of the door amongst the towels I kept in a rack. It was Bob. ‘How on earth have you got up there?’ I said, howling with laughter. I worked out that he must have climbed on to a shelving unit near the door and then, somehow, jumped from there on to the towels, pulling himself up on to the top of them. It looked pretty uncomfortable as well as precarious but he seemed really happy. The bathroom was a favourite spot for hide and seek. 

Another frequent trick of his was to hide inside the clothes horse I often used to dry my washing in the bathtub, especially during winter. Several times I’d been brushing my teeth or even sitting on the toilet, and suddenly noticed the clothes moving. Bob would then appear, pushing the clothes apart like curtains, his face wearing a sort of peek-a-boo expression. He thought it was great entertainment. 

Bob’s ability to get into trouble was another source of endless entertainment. He loved watching television and computer screens. He could while away endless hours watching wildlife programmes or horse racing. He would sit there, as if he was mesmerised. So when we walked past the gleaming new Apple store in Covent Garden one afternoon, I thought I’d give him a treat. The place was bursting with shiny new laptops and desktops, none of which I could remotely afford. But the Apple philosophy was that anyone could stroll in and play around with their technology. So we did. We had spent a few minutes playing with the computers, surfing the internet and watching YouTube videos when Bob spotted a screen that had a kind of aquarium-style display, with exotic and really colourful fish swimming around. I could see why he was attracted to it. It was absolutely stunning. I took him over to the giant screen and let him gape at it for a few moments. It was funny to watch. He would follow a particular fish as it progressed around the screen and then disappeared. He would then do a sort of double take. He couldn’t fathom what was happening and darted behind the giant screen, expecting to find the fish there. But when all he saw was a wall of silver and a tangle of leads, he darted back again and started following another fish. It carried on like this for minutes until he suddenly started getting frenzied and got wrapped up in a cable. I’d been temporarily distracted and turned around to see his paw wrapped around a white cable. He was pulling on it and was threatening to drag one of the giant consoles with him. ‘Oh God, Bob, what are you doing?’ I said...

!!!

Tiny, Ready, and Freddie

I had briefly saw the cover of this book and went out to get it...Adding to my TBR library... I didn't know, however, that I would pick this book one night recently to start reading after I had finished a book I really didn't like--a rare occasion for me, as you've probably guessed. I needed an immediate joyful diversion and

saw Bob smiling up at me... Yes! Just gazing at the cover made me smile and calm down... I had not yet called my babies--3 triplets--in to escape the still cold nights where I live, so I opened the book, highlighting the several quotes about cats, agreeing with them, of course... and then starting to read...It was clear from the very beginning that Bob had chosen his person himself, whose name happens to be the author of this book, James Bowen. I can count on the fingers of one hand, the number of cats who actually have chosen me--maybe I'll write a couple of short stories about them. Most of my cats are perfect blends of the male and females who have born here at my cabin--or dropped off...starting with the small brownish-black long-hair that had been at the cabin before I was even living here, but who had been fed by my brother-in-law. She had her first litter shortly after I had moved in with my three cats...

In many ways, this book can also be considered an ongoing memoir by Bowen as he shares not only stories about his new soulmate, Bob, but his life as a street person, homeless, and trying to make a living at the beginning, obviously from begging, or stealing... He had become hooked on drugs early in life while living in Australia. This book begins while he is now living in London, has managed to have a small room, and is now totally clean from drugs... Still, with the stigma of his past as well as what the drugs had done to his body, he was forced to work on the streets to gain enough money to keep living--barely...

At first, I was impressed when I learned about the various services that London provided for the homeless, including a way to make money on the streets, and access to health care, even for Bob, the cat... But, of course, just as in America, there are always "those" people who have to make it hard for anybody that is different in some way. From shouting that strumming on a guitar was too loud or making false complaints about one vendor, for one reason, or another, or to even lost status of contract if a boss wants to give a favor to a buddy...Somehow, somewhere, people have forgotten all about the needs of anybody else other than themselves... How very sad...

But that rarely will happen when you have a cat... I would describe it as it happened, but you really need to read how Bob prevented a robbery of the day's earnings after noticing a man watching, smelling his evil or hatred... or whatever an animal has to instinctively know that somebody was dangerous... Bob, normally riding on the shoulders of James, as they left for home, had actually turned around to sit backward on the backpack and attack  the thief who was trying to grab today's sales!

Or the time that James was very sick with coughing, fearing to go to the doctor, that it might be really bad...only to have Bob begin to gently approach James while he was laying down, and spread his body across James' chest... Yep! you guessed it, when he went for an x-ray, the chest was clear of any permanent issues and after a short medication addition, he was fine again... 

Bob and James went everywhere together. James provided security, while Bob added a new and fun dimension to both his life as well as to his work activities...Bob began to get a following, including the daughters of a member of the Beatles! (Just had to share my favorite Beatles Song... Something in the Way She Moves...and by the way, Tom Jones was once a heartthrob of mine, too, so I had to play one of his hits first, LOL)

While this book was my first from James Bowen, I've noticed that he has written many others which I'll check out from time to time when I need another "fix" from this chaotic world in which we live. I do want to point out that, Bowen is a natural storyteller... He moves from event to event and chapter to chapter without any sense of confusion, forever singing the praise of Bob and all that the two of them have found--together! I can imagine he and I becoming friends and perhaps Bob might one day come to visit the Cabin Cats who live somewhere in Pennsylvania... there's about 12 kittens and cats at any given time enjoying the four seasons of Our Father's World...happy to have found someone to love and to be loved by... Isn't that what's life all about!?

This book needs to be read by people for many reasons... Especially now when government is spending more time trying to crush our lives, our joy in living, we need a cat or two or three to realize that there's always somebody out there needing to love and be loved and cared for. James Bowen found Bob and hasn't stopped talking about him!

I snapped a pic of this last sketch in the book. There are several others and are wonderful line drawings by Dan Williams...

GABixlerReviews

Seb Kirby Brings Readers Extraordinary Psychological Thriller -

He told me his name was Josh Healey and that he was a clinician attached to the Trauma Ward. “It’s good to see you’re looking stronger today.” 
“You mean you’re surprised I’ve made it.”
“Don’t think that way. But if you mean you were badly injured, close to death, then I’d have to say yes.”
 I struggled to understand. “What happened?” 
“You don’t recall?”
 “There’s nothing. Nothing. Until I wake up here.” 
“They pulled you out of the water, from North Dock at Canary Wharf. A near drowning.”
 “Some kind of accident?” 
“No, you’d been beaten, before you entered the water. That’s the cause of the bruising and swelling to your arms, chest and abdomen.” He looked away. “Best not to dwell on that now. You’ve been in deep shock. But you’re now in recovery. The coldness of the water helped, I’m sure. Slowed the possibility of neurological damage. And we’ve restored your electrolyte balance. Your prognosis is good.”

 “How long have I been here?” He looked at the chart. “Three days.”
 “And where is here?” He smiled to reassure me. “We’re a few miles away from Canary Wharf, in Hammersmith Hospital.” 
“What was I doing there, at Canary Wharf?”
 “That’s what we’re hoping you’ll tell us. Once you’re better.” He took a step back. “No need to worry about this now, build your strength, give it time.”

~~~

Each Day I Wake

By Seb Kirby

Then it came.

 The first memory. Clear, straight from nowhere, like a bright light piercing the darkness. 

I’m seeing it, living it. It’s me, looking on, seeing myself doing all this. I’m with a woman. She’s young, just turned nineteen, pretty. Cathy. Smart, sexy. We’re talking about our meeting in a pub and how I brought her to this place. This dark room with wood paneled walls covered with books. Making love to her. 

My adultery. No, I’m not that kind of person. Not the kind to lie to my wife. I have a wife. I have a wife. Yet here I am with Cathy. Something intense. Something I don’t want to see. Something I don’t want to have to recall. 

My hands round her throat, squeezing the life out of her. Watching her body go limp.

~~~

I met Seb Kirby through reading Take No More which was an exciting thriller ride into the art world... But this latest book, with the psychological framework has moved him into an area in which he has excelled! Let me say right upfront--Wow! You've got to check this one out if you are into psychological thriller/suspense!

The book opens with the main male character in the hospital with almost total amnesia. I say "almost" because while he sleeps he remembers--he remembers beautiful women who are taken to a place which appears to be a library. The man and young girl have sex, but the man then strangles the young girl. Is this a scene from his own memory? He doesn't believe he would commit adultery... but how can he have these memories?

 It was hard to imagine waking up and not knowing who you are... The police sent an officer, but could tell him nothing--no witnesses had been found but they did find that he was full of narcotics... Did he know anything about that?

But then to begin having dreams--dreams so real that it seems you are the person watching young women being murdered--would be absolutely terrifying! 

It was his wife that had been looking for him, Janet Markland, who told him he'd been gone from home for 10 days. His name was Tom and the woman, who he didn't recognize, told him she was looking forward to taking him home...

Janet told me my name is Tom Markland. By next month we’ll have been married for five years. I’m a reporter, working for The Herald, making a name for myself as an investigative journalist. We don’t have children yet, though we’re trying. It sounded as if she was speaking about someone else. But I trusted her. 
She was all I had. It must be me. I had to listen and learn these things about myself. Then, and only then, would I find a way to recall it all. “Where do we live?” 
She didn’t show any surprise at my question. “I told you that, dear. In Lichfield.” She paused and squeezed my hand. “Mr. Healey says you’re making good physical progress since they admitted you and you can go home in a few days provided you take complete rest. You can see the house then. It will help you piece things together.” 
I held on to those words.

~~~

Even coming home did not help, however. Tom didn't remember anything, but his wife began to share about their life and tell him small things that might bring back memories, even their favorite song had not yet done it, however.

But he did have another dream. This time the girl's name was Margot... and the script went as before, except this time, he could see something different. On the arm of the man was the tattoo of a red rose!

Tom hurried to the mirror in the bathroom. No! He didn't have any tattoos... Tom was not the man in his dreams!

With relief so real, he was now able to consider what he should do about what he was experiencing. His psychologist was not too helpful in this regard.

Thinking he was feeling better, he decided to go for a walk, without telling his wife...He knew where and what locations he passed, even though he didn't recall when he saw them, but then a flash of memory and he was back in the water, afraid of dying... Fortunately a man stopped to check if he was alright and it broke his flashback sufficient to allow him to deal with it... But it made him just that more determined to find out what had happened! Who had caused him to be in the water around the Wharf?

Back home, watching television, he saw her--Cathy! It was a news item about the girl in the first dream--about Cathy who was missing from her home and her mother was making an appeal. He called his wife to watch and told her it was one of the girls he'd dreamed about, but his wife was hesitant to support his involvement, remembering that his psychologist believed they were false memories...

Tom had not been impressed with his psychologist and was not about to share anything further about his dreams... He was ready to act; he would talk to the police... But he knew that they would naturally suspect him...and that he would continue to work to discover who had tried to kill him...and see if and how it was connected to the murder of the young women in his dreams...

The added dimension of the main character not having his personal memories increases the suspense for readers since we are finding out only what is occurring within the limitation of Tom's knowledge. The story captured my attention immediately and kept me enthralled until the final page. One interesting method by which the author brings clues is that Tom's wife had kept a scrapbook of Tom's news articles...By that he was able to learn much about his career and he then discovered he had moved into a new area--securities fraud--that he'd not been involved with in the past...

Another dream--this time he watches Rebecca die...and notices more about the hands of the murder--his fingers did not match Tom's. Now he was positive he was not that man. And the only way to clear himself was to find the murderer...

I loved this one. Kirby's rhythm of inserting dreams along with Tom's finding out more about his past, claims full attention to determine who the criminal(s) might be... A captivating and compelling read!

Her client was a killer. He had killed and would kill again. When she first met him she was attracted to him. That was the mistake she regretted now with all her heart. He was so likable, so respectful, so different from most of her clients. To be honest, for a short while, she’d fallen head over heels for him. To be honest, she still loved him in some way she knew she could never shake. Even when their pillow talk, as he would call it, turned to what she convinced herself were his fantasies about killing young women. And even if she did consider telling someone, he could always demonstrate his power over her because he had made it impossible for her to go to the police. She depended on him. More than she could say. More than she would admit to anyone, more than she could admit to herself. He was the one who provided her with the heroin that fed her habit. The real thing that had kept her sane when she did what she had to do in this life in which she found herself. She shivered.

She thought of the John Lennon song. Cold Turkey. Yes, it had her on the run. She hated herself for being this weak but she knew she would never be able to tell anyone about those girls. There were times when the way he looked at her made her think she might be next. But the only thing that mattered now was that he’d soon be here bringing her next fix with him.

~~~

GABixlerReviews

Seb Kirby is the author of the James Blake Thriller series (TAKE NO MORE, REGRET NO MORE and FORGIVE NO MORE) and the Raymond Bridges sci fi thriller series (DOUBLE BIND). Look out for the new stand alone psychological thriller EACH DAY I WAKE, available from September.
He says: "I've been an avid reader from an early age - my grandfather ran a mobile lending library in Birmingham and when it closed my parents inherited many of the books. From the first moment I was hooked. Now, as a full-time writer myself, it's my goal to add to the magic of the wonderful words and stories I discovered back then. 
"I've been fortunate to travel widely and I now draw on that experience in my writing. Favourite places (in no particular order) include: Venice, Florence, San Francisco, San Diego, Boston, New York, London, The English Lake District, Lisbon, Crete....."

Lottie Moggach's Debut Novel Takes Readers Into Internet Relationships and Realities(?)

www.comicvine.com

"I'm not yet sure what I'm going to do with this. Nothing, probably. I'm certainly not going to put it up online. I know that's what we "young people" are supposed to do, but it never appealed to me. Volunteering unasked for information presuming others will be interested in one's life, seems both pointless and impolite. Of course, on Red Pill we'd present our opinions, but that was different. There it was a rational discussion about a philosophical topic, not a splurge of whatever random thing came into our heads. It's true that some people did use the site as a kind of confessional, posting long accounts of their "journey" and what terrible childhoods they had, using it as an outlet for their angst. But I didn't join in with that. I never said anything personal. In fact, apart from Adrian, I don't think anyone there knew what age I was, or even that I am a girl.

~

"So, the first thing I want to say is that it's not true that Adrian "preyed" on the "vulnerable" and "socially isolated." The police psychologist, Diana, kept on going on about it too, making a big deal about mum dying and me living alone. But firstly, by the time I had found the site mum had been dead for almost three months and, secondly, it wasn't as if I'd never gone near a computer when she was alive. It's true that my online activity did increase after she died, but that seems a natural consequence of having so much more free time..."

~~~

Kiss Me First

By Lottie Moggach

Do you enjoy Chick Lit? Drama? Are you intimately involved with your computer? Then, check out this Debut novel by Lottie Moggach. It has much to offer to young individuals who dream of finding the right partner on the Internet, or uses the computer to connect with people with similar thoughts and interests... I confess that my own experience made this less than interesting for me, but you see, I've been there; done that...LOL!

So what does that say? I guess it means that if you haven't already learned, you'll be learning about what kinds of trouble you can get into if you read this book... For some of you, you may also find yourself as one of the characters. If so, please read it through so you'll understand that what you think you know about the Internet is far from true...

"Tell me Miss Leila, are you familiar with the claim
argument?" he asked.
"Now we're back to the proper interview, I thought.
Unfortunately, I didn't know what he was referring
to, I thought I could work it out rationally if I had a
minute, but Adrian didn't seem to mind my lack of
response and carried on.
"It says that not only do we not have the right to
prevent those who wish to end their lives from doing
do, but that we actually have a duty to help them, if
asked."
"Like in euthanasia?" I said.
"Well, yes," said Adrian. "But it's more encompassing
than that. And it may not be to do the actual act of
suicide itself. Put it this way--should there be a situation
when someone whom you judge to be of sound mind
asks you to help them in some way or other to end their
life, then--so says the claim argument--it is your duty
to do so..."
"I nodded. "Of course. Under the claim argument it'd
be my duty."
"He smiled at me, dazzlingly. "You really are an
extraordinary young woman, aren't you? I bet people
around you haven't appreciated this as much as they
should..."
~~~

This is a chilling story of what can happen online. If you don't believe it is possible, I believe you are wrong. The specific story might be different, but the potentials that are there are real...

Leila is the main character. She's a young inexperienced woman, early 20s, who just lost her mother to MS. She's alone for the first time ever. In the past she made money online by testing software and other short-term jobs as she cared for her mother. Then she killed her...

She believed that her mother had the right to choose to die and she helped her do that, even though they had never talked about it...

Leila was a thinker, quite intelligent and had excellent computer skills. With Google search, she learned about anything she wanted to know. So that when she found "Red Pill," a site that debated ethics, and other intellectual concepts, she felt right at home and quickly became totally involved...

Then one day Adrian, the guru of the site asked to meet her and proposed what she should consider a job... A woman wanted to die, and she wanted somebody to take over her identity so that she could slowly fall out of the lives of friends and family, not knowing she had committed suicide...

Leila carefully considered what he said and tentatively agreed and then started communicating with Tess, again challenging whether she was really serious about this. For me, this was where the novel bogged down because, of course, in order to "play" Tess, Leila had to get to know her very well! And as a computer researcher, Leila was diligent...so diligent that I kept waiting for Tess to say that Leila was driving her crazy and to forget about it. She didn't though, so if you begin to feel the same way, keep reading because the book does get much better.

All of a sudden then, Tess is gone, and Leila is Tess, and she answers emails, signs in on Facebook as Tess, talks with her friends, posts about where she is now living--yes, Leila's future for Tess was to move to Canada to a spot so remote that nobody would ever decide to drop over to visit. Actually, Leila did an excellent job, if you didn't think about what the end of the project was to be...

Perhaps you can imagine what Leila might have gotten into. There are some scene and time changes that I thought were hard to follow, but by the time you are back into the book, most individuals will have picked up on why Leila was still "working..." The most interesting issue that I found was the discussions on right to die...and if you believe in that concept, how far can and would you go...Of course, there's no answer to be found here...but it does give you time to think about it. The character Tess, who is a manic-depressive is well portrayed, I believe, and pulls in the issue of taking medication that may not be the right medication, resulting in people choosing not to take it at all... Check out other reviews as well...I have mixed feelings on this one...



GABixlerReviews

Lottie Moggach is a journalist who has written for The Times, Financial Times, Time Out, Elle, GQ and The London Paper. She lives in north London. Kiss Me First is her first novel.



Related articles

• Lottie Moggach's Kiss Me First is a study of living and dying through social media
• Review: Kiss Me First by Lottie Moggach
• Debut author: Lottie Moggach
• Kiss Me First
• No one really knows who you are in cyberspace
• Twitter fiction: Lottie Moggach
• Book review: Kiss Me First, By Lottie Moggach
• Kiss Me First

Kathleen Tessaro Shares World of Fragrance in Delightful Drama of Family Secrets Out May 16th!

Small perfume distillery on display at the Fragonard perfume factory in Èze, France. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Grace Munroe woke up with a start, gasping for breath.
She’d been running, stumbling, over uneven ground,
in a thick, dense forest; searching, calling out. But the
harder she ran the more impenetrable the woodland
became. Vines grew, twisting beneath her feet, branches
whipped against her face, arms and legs. And there was
the panicky feeling that time was running out. She was
chasing someone or something. But it was always just
ahead, out of reach. Suddenly she lost her footing, tumbling head over heels into a deep, rocky ravine...
~~~

Grace pressed her fingertips against the cold glass of
the window. This was not, as her husband Roger put
it, their real house. He had more ambitious plans for
something grander, closer to Belgravia. But Grace liked it 

here; being in the centre of Bloomsbury, close to London 

University and King’s College, it reminded her of Oxford, 

where she’d lived with her uncle until

 only a few years 

ago.

~~~

The Perfume Collector

By Kathleen Tessaro


I was happy to find a historical plus technical look at how perfume is made in the latest novel by Kathleen Tessaro! Of course, I'd never be able to apply that new knowledge since I don't have the "nose" for it, but it was fascinating to learn how and what goes into creating new scents! Certainly not what I, as a naive individual who appreciates smelling beautiful, would have thought...

Now, many cannot wear perfume due to allergies of family or professional connections. But I enjoyed my favorites when I was younger. The interesting thing about one of the perfumers in this story was his belief that nobody should wear scents also used by others! While it makes perfect sense and is an ideal for us to imagine, it obviously would be impossible to carry out. Traditionally I wear a lighter perfume in the spring and heavier in the winter...but of course I would love to have a "signature" perfume, wouldn't you?

Grace Munroe, newly married, beautiful, and...bored...She would love to have a job, even was thinking about taking some courses in secretarial studies. But when she talked about it to her friend Mallory, she quickly pointed out that she already had a job, as a wife. Grace knew that was exactly what her husband would say, if he were back from his latest business trip...

So when she got a letter from a law firm in France, she was totally caught off guard that somebody called Eva d'Orsey had left her an inheritance and she was being asked to come to France! Perhaps she realized that was exactly what she needed--to get away--and she left with nobody's permission but her own...

Paris, Winter 1954

Eva d’Orsey sat at the kitchen table, listening to the ticking
clock, a copy of Le Figaro in front of her. This was the
sound of time, moving away from her.,,

Exhaling, Eva stubbed the Gitanes cigarette out in the

ashtray. They were common – too strong. Unladylike. But

that suited her. She could only taste strong flavours now.

Cheap chocolate, coarse pâté, black coffee. What she ate

didn’t matter anyway; she had no appetite left.

There was something naïve, sweetly arrogant about the

doctor’s assumption that everyone wanted to live forever.

Picking up a pen, she traced a ring of even circles along

the border of the newspaper.

There were still a few more details to be arranged.

She’d been to the lawyer weeks ago, a diligent, rather aloof

young man. And she’d left the box with the sour-faced

concierge, Madame Assange, for safe keeping. But last

night, when she couldn’t sleep, another idea occurred to

her. There was the passage, from London to Paris. The

idea of an aeroplane intrigued her. It was extravagant and

unnecessary. But there were a few things a person should

experience in life; air travel was definitely one of them...

No. She would run a bath. Dress. And go to 7.30 Mass at Eglise de la Madeleine. Of all the churches in Paris, this was her favourite. There, Mary Magdalene, that wayward, difficult daughter of the Church, ascended regally into heaven on the arms of angels all day, every 

day. 

Mass was like grand opera, a magic show with the most 

expensive props in town. And faith, a sleight of hand trick, 

in which one was both the magician and the audience; the 

deceiver and the deceived. Still, who could resist a good 

magic trick?

~~~

Monsieur Tissot had been assigned to work on Grace's case since he was fluent in English. But no matter how many times she told him that there must be some mistake, he would reiterate that this was all verified. She had inherited an apartment and stocks. He continued that the apartment was to be sold and she would get the money... Again, Grace tried to explain that she couldn't accept any of this...

But then she grabbed onto the statement about property...and demanded to see it! Tissot again explained that it was to be sold, according to the will. Grace's question led to his response "...that's precisely what she intended. My understanding was that she wanted you to have financial independence. Le droit de choisir was how she put it. The right to choose... He then presented her with a picture and her address in London, as well as her birth date... She couldn't listen to anymore!

English: Perfume urn in the Caron
shop in Paris, France.
 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Imagine what you would do if you learned that your entire life was based upon lies? Would you simply accept the strange inheritance? That's what the lawyer expected--as everybody else he'd ever worked with had... But Grace Monroe was not like other people. Perhaps because she was unsure of her present life, perhaps not, but Grace was not going to just sign those papers...

And she started by visiting the apartment... and then she learned about the shop and visited there, where there were still thousands of bottles of "absolutes" (the essence)  and "accords" (a blend)... and then she met a former perfumer who had known the woman, Eva...

The key issue for me was the ending...Does it move into a sequel!? I hope so! Otherwise, readers will want to know what happened in Grace Monroe's life based upon her discoveries. The book is beautifully done, moving from Grace's investigation back into the life of Eva, who had started in service in a large home, only to be soon enticed into traveling with a professional gambler! The drama is high, sometimes dangerous, but always there is an underlying story of a young girl who had her baby taken away from her and given to someone else...

This literary novel takes readers back to the 20s and 50s of the last century with references to the devastating results of the war and how it affected those who did anything to ensure they had food... It is sophisticated in the telling, but heartbreaking in the reality! Learn about the world of perfumes, how they can be used to bring back memories that may make you happy...and sometimes even afraid! Truly a memorable story! Highly recommended for many reasons!

GABixlerReviews

Kathleen Tessaro is the author of Elegance, Innocence, The Flirt, and The Debutante. Born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Kathleen attended the University of Pittsburgh before entering the drama program of Carnegie Mellon University. In the middle of her sophomore year, she went to study in London for three months and stayed for the next twenty-three years. She began writing at the suggestion of a friend and was an early member of the Wimpole Street Writer’s Workshop. Her debut novel, Elegance, became a bestseller in hardback and paperback. All of Kathleen's novels including Innocence, The Flirt, The Debutante, and most recently, The Perfume Collector have been translated into many languages and sold all over the world. She returned to Pittsburgh in 2009, where she now lives with her husband and son.

Check out Unsolicited Advice! on her Website
Loved it!

Related articles

• The Perfume Collector by Kathleen Tessaro - Book Review
• The Perfume Collector by Kathleen Tessaro
• Pre-Release Review: The Perfume Collector: A Novel by Kathleen Tessaro

Ben Coulter Takes Readers Into London Drug Scene...

The four men came bowling down the middle of the road towards them, Tommy in front, the biggest and meanest, Frosty behind him, weighing in at around 16 stone of muscle himself, and Mickey and Freddy bringing up the rear.

 “Get in the car, Billy!” Charlie shouted as he saw Mickey pull out a long, shiny blade from inside his jacket; his already drug-battered face distorted further with venomous hate.

 “Fuck that!” replied Billy defiantly through gritted teeth. “Not here, Billy, not now. Just get in the fucking car, mate!” Charlie commanded, exerting his full authority. Billy backed down and opened his door as Charlie did the same, the four angry gangsters almost upon them. Billy revved the engine into life, still fuming with anger. 

The Dunns and their new accomplice stopped just short of the car, laughing and jeering at the retreat. Billy hammered the car into first and wheel-spun off, but not before Freddy Dunn had time to pick up rather large piece of broken concrete curb and launch it at Billy’s rear door, causing a huge crashing sound. “Fucking Aleister cunts!” Billy screamed with fury, punching the dashboard, his face exploding with a red rage as they sped out of the estate. He wasn’t designed for retreating. “We should of fucking done ‘em, Charlie, then and there. We let ‘em beat us!” 

“What the two of us, against a couple of steroid mountains, one who we know has a gun, and two nutty little cunts, one who clearly had a massive fuck-off knife on him?” Charlie shouted back, unimpressed by Billy’s reckless bravado. 

“Fuck their guns and their knives; I’ll stick them all up their fucking shit-fuck arses!” he thundered back, still assaulting his own dashboard with all his might. 

“Listen, Billy. They’ll get it all right, but not before we’re fucking ready, and not when we’re outnumbered. But they will get it, mark my words.” Charlie attempted to reassure the livid Billy, although he himself was not convinced. Taking on the Dunns was not part of his plan, and never had been. For him it was all about the money, the turf war didn’t interest him, just as it hadn’t at Tottenham when Leon had got him into a few scrapes with other football firms. He didn’t see the point of it all. He understood the use of violence if he needed to protect his money and his business, but he didn’t see the Dunns as a threat. Their drugs were worse, they didn’t steal his customers, they didn’t owe him money; he just needed to keep them at bay, which was the whole reason for getting the gun from Leon in the first place. He wanted no part of unnecessary violence; it didn’t sit well with his admittedly black morality.

Poisoned Saints:

 The Street is Always Watching

By Ben Coulter

For those like myself who have never been tempted to participate in taking drugs, it is hard to imagine, and accept, how many of our young take that chance to get "high." Coulter's story is set in Stambro, about 20 miles from London--but it could have been set anywhere, including the United States. The accent for the characters may be a little different, but that's about the only difference...

His phone unexpectedly lit up with a text message,
launching him to another reality all together:
one that included other people,
and not just him and his shattered ego.
 Alice.
He quickly snapped out of his coke-fuelled angst,
 as her dazzling hazel eyes smashed
 their way into his grey, freezing heart,
he opened the message.
 ‘Hey Charlie, hope we’re still on 4 2night?..
Quite excited ;)’

Coulter does not spare readers from the reality of it all, so if you are not willing to openly enter that world, please don't buy this book and then give it a low rating. This writer deserves to be recognized for creating a revealing piece into the addiction, the subsequent emotional and physical changes of drugs, the loss of control, and, worse, the subsequent violent acts into which this life will lead... In fact, his short bio notes "using the regretful foundation of experience," is how he was able to write this story so effectively! Thank God he got out when he did!

Charlie wasn't so fortunate...

“Yeah, whatever Harry.
So where are you?”
Charlie replied sarcastically,
knowing all too well Harry was
 in fact a major league cokehead.
A dealer himself, he worked under
Charlie, and because of this,
had a spiralling debt which had been
 raging out of control. 

He had been a star athlete until his knee went out... Finding out work brought little money, he turned to what everybody was using and he started selling. His supplier, Leon, was from London and brought "good stuff" so that he soon became noticed in his small town and a rival began with those who also were selling.

Charlie had a vision to get enough money and then leave. Especially when he met Alice and fell hard... But then one of his boys found out the truth--she was a half-sister to one of the other gang...

That really set him off, because he was already in trouble with the law for a big one--they thought he had murdered another dealer! Yeah, he was supposed to meet him but when he got there, he was already dead. Charlie tried to save him, and then later called "999." Would the cops accept the truth?

“I’ll see you tomorrow though, yeah? Come back round at night?”

 “I wouldn’t miss it for all the,” he was about to use his line of all the coke in Columbia, but thought back to what Hayley had revealed to him. “I’m sorry for doing bag in front of you and that, Hayley.” 

“What do you mean?” she laughed sleepily.

 “Well, you must have been, you know, after Frosty doing it that…” 

She cut in, firmly, before he could continue. “Charlie, when I said I never wanna talk about it again, I meant it! I knew this would happen if I told you,”

~~~

But it all turned bad, when Charlie learned what really had happened to Alice...

Alice had introduced Charlie into Buddhism which she had learned about many years ago and he found himself remembering a lot of what she had said, making decisions, based on his new way of thinking.  But as I closed the book, I found an old phrase from my own religion coming to mind...you know, the one about those that live by the sword, dying by the sword... 

The phrase is found in the Christian Book of Revelation, 13:10: "He that leadeth into captivity shall go into captivity: he that killeth with the sword must be killed with the sword. Here is the patience and the faith of the saints." (Rev.13:10 KJV) Commonly, the expression is understood to mean, "You can expect to become a victim of whatever means you use to get what you want."^[1] A proverb in the Gospel of Matthew, verse 26:52, describes a disciple (identified in the Gospel of John as Simon Peter) drawing a sword to defend against the arrest of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, but is rebuked by Jesus, who tells him to sheath the weapon: Then said Jesus unto him, Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword (Matthew 26:52, King James Version) 

I don't have the experience to know whether this writer over-dramatized the story, nor do I care because I found it believable, given what, news, TV, etc., shares... I think the writer wanted to share what he'd personally learned through experience and pinpoint the potential results. I believe he succeeded...

This is not a great ending type of story. Many have had the personal experience of what can happened to those who do drugs... The message is clear in Ben Coulter's book--Get out, while you still can! The key thing for me was that this boy was an athlete in school, proud of his accomplishments and looking toward a career. Why do we allow academic achievement to fall below that of athletic stardom? Obviously, the money... How I wish Charlie had had similar success in his academic life and gone on to a successful career, far away from using and dealing.

Many should consider this a must-read! You???

GABixlerReviews

About this author

Ben Coulter was born in 1980 and raised in Letchworth Garden City, Hertfordshire, England.

He has been writing 'as long as he can remember' in one form or another. The aim with his debut novel Poisoned Saints, was to portray to the reader an authentic criminal lifestyle through the art of fiction, whilst using the regretful foundation of experience.

Poisoned Saints was released at the end of last year to a pleasing on-line response. He is currently working on the follow up books to Poisoned Saints 'Keep on Running' and 'When The Saint Comes Marching Home' which will both be released in 2013.