In the mood for Gothic! Nostalgic! Whimsical! Magical! Mystery! Cozy Reads! // #AutumnTBRTower

  

Autumn. The nip of chilly air. Trees blushing rosy red. Dead leaves rustling like paper in the wind. The scent of bonfires and ripe, sweet apples. Something about the Fall season always makes my bones tingle with the longing to read, read, read….

— Me from this post last year.

I adore fall. Everything about it. The crisp air that makes you snuggle deeper into your flannel and pull out your wool socks and mitts and cozy things. Brilliant tones of scarlet, gold and orange painted across the landscape by a generous hand. Hayrides and pumpkin pie and cider so hot it feels like it burns your bones, art exhibitions and mission conferences and cute, heeled boots and geese flying off into the horizon.

I could go on for ages, but I shall refrain because a) you might fall asleep over the laptop and that would be all the sads + highly uncomfortable + Not Recommended, or b) we would never get to the truly important part of this post which, obvs, involves BOOKS and LISTS and (you guessed it) BOOKS.

Since after all, what is fall without a delightful, pretty stack of books that you probably won’t even read half of, but just looking at the stack and your list of said stack gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling right down to your toes?

#AutumnTBRTower

(aka. all the excite + hyperventilating because FALL and GLORIOUS BOOKS TO BE HAPPY WITH)

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Jane Eyre — ugh, excited to re-read this, Booklings. So very excited. The atmosphere is perfect for autumn, all deliciously mysterious and creepy and simply overflowing with old English castles and foggy days and dark secrets and brooding masters-of-the-house. Jane is a heroine dear to my heart and her story is beautiful. #allthelove

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Dracula — I blame the Oldest Sister for this. She read Dracula this January and proceeded to rave all over the house about it like a cute, but hyperbolic maniac, and then bought me a copy for Valentine’s Day (we buy books for each other on this holiday. it’s great). Clearly I must read it for the sake of my safety from sisterly terrorizing, at least. she is the most lovable human, tho, really. i promise.  To be strictly honest–always a good thing–I started reading it during our recent holiday trip, but then I decided to wait until fall because for certain books ambiance is key. Actually, I am thoroughly looking forward to digging into it because the instant October arrived I’ve been in the mood for melodramatic, Gothic books and I want to read them allllll. The good ones, obviously.

Also, I have an allegorical vampire high fantasy in the planning stages which means research needs to happen. SO RIDICULOUSLY THRILLED ABOUT THIS STORY/PLOTSY THING. It’s been in percolations for a while + I want to smash all the sparkly vampire cliches to dust and show vampires for the dark, twisted, unlovely creatures they were. Not something to glamorize and swoon over, y’all. *gently nudges soapbox away from Self*

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Rebecca — speaking of Gothic literature, I have heard lots of good things about this from several friends and it sounds just like my cup of tea.

Jane of Lantern Hill — This was on last year’s list too… well, then, apparently I like re-reading favorite books in the fall. Nostalgic, cozy reads are in high demand currently, that’s for sure. I can’t wait to snuggle up with this book and immerse myself in the wonderful world of Jane and Dad and the ice-queen Grandmother, and cats with special names, and food descriptions that make me hungry every time I read them. I love this book so much it hurts.

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The Sherlock Holmes stories — for obvious reasons.

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The James Herriot books — I’ve known about this WWII era Yorkshire veterinarian all my life, we grew up on his books for children, and just recently my entire family fell in love with the BBC TV show (disclaimer: it has a goodish amount of swearing and some inappropriate moments, but other than that it’s wonderful). My Older Sister has read the All Creatures Great and Small series and I decided it’s high time I do too. They sound full of all manner of hilarity and good-old British culture and loveliness, and if they’re anything like the TV show I’ll not regret I picked them up.

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A Time to Die — How! Have! I! Not! Read! This! Yet?!! *crawls away in abject shame*

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Inkspell — I need more Dustfinger and Meggie and Mo and deliciously magical book quotes in my life.

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Scythe — I want this book for three reasons. 1) I love Neal Shusterman’s writing. He knows how to use the little details, how to grab a person’s attention and make them think. 2) have you even read that premise? NEED. BOOK. NOW. and 3) the cover is pretty. so pretty.

I fully intend to pre-order it at some point, but right now… *gestures at tweet*

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What is on your autumn reading list, Wrenlings?

 

Book Review — Resist // by Emily Ann Putzke

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Synopsis

Munich, Germany 1942—Hans Scholl never intended to get his younger sister involved in an underground resistance. When Sophie Scholl finds out, she insists on joining Hans and his close friends in writing and distributing anti-Nazi leaflets entitled, The White Rose. The young university students call out to the German people, begging them to not allow their consciences to become dormant, but to resist their tyrannical leader and corrupt government. Hans knows the consequences for their actions—execution for committing high treason—but firm in his convictions, he’s prepared to lose his life for a righteous cause. Based on a true story, Hans, Sophie and all the members of The White Rose resistance group will forever inspire and challenge us to do what is right in the midst of overwhelming evil.

My Thoughts

I picked up this book with high hopes and, happily, it did not disappoint. The WWII era is one of my favorite historical periods, I’ve been planning on reading more books with male protagonists, sibling relationships make me happy, and the German resistance is something I know little of but am curious about.

Resist covers all those bases and then some.

It’s a book about war and coming of age and struggling against tyranny and the age-old battle of good and evil. At its heart Resist is the story of a young man who chooses not to take the easy path, who has the courage to act upon what he believes. Hans Scholl has his whole life ahead of him… and his country is crumbling to pieces around him. I love that he doesn’t bury his head in the sand and he doesn’t misuse his sense of patriotism by pretending that his country is so great it could never really become the monster Hitler was creating of it. Instead he takes his frustration, his passion for justice and truth, and channels it into doing everything he can to make a difference. The fact that he really lived and the events of the book actually happened only make it that much more poignant and impactful.

The story is by necessity disturbing and heart-breaking at times, but the darkness is beautifully woven in with simple, happy moments of light—such as when Sophie and Hans eat and exchange sibling-chat after midnight or at the dance scenes or the touching, sweet moment with the Russian family or when his friends gave Hans grief about Gisela. Speaking of which, their relationship made me a happy human. Nothing like falling in love over deep discussions about literature and politics and religion.

And Sophie and Hans melt my heart. I have a wonderful, close relationship with my older brothers too so it was extra special to see how the siblings looked out for each other and protected each other.

Which makes the ending of the book all the more powerful and painful. I honestly couldn’t remember what was going to happen, and reading a few of those last chapters was suspenseful to the point that I was actually feeling nauseous from the sense of dread and impeding peril. Not good for my peace of mind, dearies.

Also, this book is chockfull of stellar quotes, my fellow rabid bookworms. I’m pretty sure I ended up high-lighting about 50% of my Kindle ARC. It’s that good.

“If they allow their dreams to be dormant, I don’t see the point in dreaming at all.”

“Nothing is so unworthy of a civilized nation as allowing itself to be governed without opposition…”

“It is my firm belief that every human needs at least one friend in whom he can confide.”

“When, thus, a wave of unrest goes through the land, when ‘it is in the air,’ when many join the cause, then in a great final effort this system can be shaken off. After all, an end in terror is preferable to terror without end.”

“But I am your brother. I have to take care of you… no matter how stubborn you are.”

“He may call me home sooner than I’d wish, but I’d rather die for what is right, true, and just than to live with a dead soul and conscience.”

One of the many reasons Resist left such a deep impression on me is because much of it parallels the direction America is headed right now—so much of it flashes a stark light over all the missteps we’ve taken, the missteps we are considering taking, and the consequences of them. Hans’ frustration and agony of mind over his countrymen turning a blind eye and choosing to do nothing cuts me to the quick because I’ve often felt the same about the apathy and deliberate ignorance of so many Americans.

“Some of us take the easy road, myself included, for why would you risk your safety if you are a decent German citizen who’s minding your own business? You can simply close your eyes to the evil your government is committing and pretend you don’t notice while they strip away every freedom you possess. Perhaps you’ll make it through the war, through the tyrannical government, but at the end of the road, you will be in utter agony. The road that seemed the easiest led to destruction. But perhaps you take the painful road instead, the one that causes you to lie wide awake at night in fear? The one that could cut your life short, but would lead to peace and eternal rest. Would you take it? Would you bear the painful road? As you see, just as Hugo writes, ‘these two roads were contradictory.'”

“If I knew what was happening but gave it no heed, I was voluntarily allowing my people to be devoured by the wolves.”

“If everyone waits until the other man makes a start, the messengers of avenging Nemesis will come steadily closer; then even the last victim will have been cast senselessly into the maw of the insatiable demon.”

The story of Hans and Sophie Scholl demands attention because they were real. They were just two ordinary young people who loved and laughed and studied and wolfed down food at scandalous hours and managed on far too little sleep and got depressed and made mistakes and liked cake. But they were willing to put their lives on the line for what they believed was right, and they persevered even when they were terrified.

They were true heroes and I couldn’t be more thankful that history has remembered them.

May we never forget.

“When this terror is over, are we going to be included with the ones who allowed death to freely reign, or are we going to resist? If we choose the former, then what are we to say when asked ‘What did you do about it?’ We will have no answer. I for one, desire the latter. I want to stand up for life, goodness, morality, and most of all, God.”

*some disturbing scenes because of Hans’ exposure to Holocaust victims. A goodish amount of swearing.

*I received a free ARC in exchange for an honest review

If I’m ever on an island with only ten books…

Anyone else feeling the cold of winter yet? (except you Aussies and other peeps enjoying summer which we will not discuss the injustice of. Kidding. Ish. *gives you all chocolate chips and laughs maniacally as they melt in the sun*)

I really wouldn’t mind finding a hobbit hole and hibernating with a ginormous stack of books until Spring. Alas, that is not an option for us humans so shall we warm ourselves up with this taggy thing about fresh, sunny breezes and books and fun stuff like that? (thanks, Joy!). and do not remind me that a desert island would likely be sweltering and miserable and Mount Doomlike. we can pretend it’s not, m’kay.

Let’s hope I’m never actually trapped on a desert island with only ten books at my disposal (*gasp*), but if I were… what would I choose? This is an agonizing question, bookworms!

I’m going to assume I don’t need any survival books and all that. This list shall be the books I would want by my side if I could possibly have them — practical or not.

Ten Books I Absolutely Must Have If Trapped On A Desert Island

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1. The Hobbit.

Having my Bible with me is a given so the first book on my list shall be The Hobbit. My love for this book of my childhood knows no bounds. It is the first storybook I remember, and the one that had the most influence on my mind as a young Story Girl. If I’m all alone on an island, I want Gandalf and Bilbo at my side.

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2. Jane of Lantern Hill.

Of all of Montgomery’s books this one is dearest to my heart — it typifies everything that’s charming and beautiful and soul-touching about her stories. Also, the charries in this book might possibly be some of my favorites ever. Jane would make a grand friend, methinks.

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3. Les Miserables.

Because:

a) I need to read this.

b) My Mum sings its praises and begs me periodically to pick it up so I can cry and discuss it with her. I shall read it, Mumsie. Sooooon.

c) It is a Doorstopper of a read. And I love Doorstoppers with all the fierce love of a Bookworm.

book-hugging

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4. To Kill A Mockingbird.

This requires no explanation.

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5. Shadow Hand.

I dithered forever over which of the seven I would take, and I finally narrowed it down to Shadow Hand because it has Eanrin (which is obviously a Must) and one of the most convulted and epic storylines of the series. I suppose, really, it has the best of the Tales of Goldstone Wood world.

“This is a tale of blood.
And love.
And the many things that lie between.”

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6. Halo: Ghosts of Onyx.

Just thinking about this book makes my heart hurt — in the best way possible. You really can never have too much hardcore science fiction. And I will probably dehydrate myself by crying over the ending.

“Every other Spartan on the field charged as well, hundreds of half-camouflaged armored figures, running and firing at the dazed Jackals, appearing as a wave of ghost warriors, half liquid, half shadow, part mirage, part nightmare.
They screamed a battle cry, momentarily drowning the sound of gunfire and explosion.
Tom yelled with them–for the fallen, for his friends, and for the blood of his enemies.”

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7. A Christmas Carol.

As hard as it would be leaving David Copperfield and A Tale of Two Cities behind, I choose A Christmas Carol. It’s the happiest of Dickens’ books, but still has all his distinctive motifs. I love it dearly. And it is set in winter with lots of descriptions about frigid snow and wind so maybe it would help me feel cool on a hot, sandy island? I CAN HOPE.

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8. Steal Like An Artist.

It is inspiring, humans. So inspiring.

I WILL WRITE IN THE SAND AND MAKE ART WITH SHELLS AND BRAID SEAWEED INTO BASKETS AND SERENADE SEAGULLS WITH SONGS I CREATED.

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9. The Wind in the Willows.

All the whimsy and charm and humor and descriptions of tasty food and adorableness and ACK. This book is special to me.

“He saw clearly how plain and simple – how narrow, even – it all was; but clearly, too, how much it all meant to him, and the special value of some such anchorage in one’s existence. He did not at all want to abandon the new life and its splendid spaces, to turn his back on sun and air and all they offered him and creep home and stay there; the upper world was all too strong, it called to him still, even down there, and he knew he must return to the larger stage. But it was good to think he had this to come back to, this place which was all his own, these things which were so glad to see him again and could always be counted upon for the same simple welcome.”

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10. The Iliad.

Because GREEK LEGENDS.

I’ve never read this — and I hear it’s incredible — so I think that should be amended, yes? After all, between catching fish and snaring seagulls and avoiding the sun and escaping deathly scorpions and generally staying alive, there will be plenty of time to read on this island. Naturally.

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If you’re wondering why there is no Wodehouse on this list that would be because I simply could not choose just one. I tried, lovelies. It is IMPOSSIBLE. Try it yourself and you’ll see.

Cheerio, darlings! I’m off to Panama — if you understood that reference you earn a largish bag of chocolate chips.

(feel free to steal this tag if the spirit so moves you.)

 

“Tilly’s Christmas” // Twelve Days of Christmas Countdown

Tilly’s Christmas

by Louisa May Alcott

“I’m so glad to-morrow is Christmas, because I’m going to have lots of presents.”

“So am I glad, though I don’t expect any presents but a pair of mittens.”

“And so am I; but I shan’t have any presents at all.”

As the three little girls trudged home from school they said these things, and as Tilly spoke, both the others looked at her with pity and some surprise, for she spoke cheerfully, and they wondered how she could be happy when she was so poor she could have no presents on Christmas.

“Don’t you wish you could find a purse full of money right here in the path?” said Kate, the child who was going to have ” lots of presents.”

“Oh, don’t I, if I could keep it honestly!” and Tilly’s eyes shone at the very thought.

“What would you buy?” asked Bessy, rubbing her cold hands, and longing for her mittens.

“I’d buy a pair of large, warm blankets, a load of wood, a shawl for mother, and a pair of shoes for me; and if there was enough left, I’d give Bessy a new hat, and then she needn’t wear Ben’s old felt one,” answered Tilly.

The girls laughed at that; but Bessy pulled the funny hat over her ears, and said she was much obliged, but she’d rather have candy.

“Let’s look, and may be we can find a purse. People are always going about with money at Christmas time, and some one may lose it here,” said Kate.

So, as they went along the snowy road, they looked about them, half in earnest, half in fun. Suddenly Tilly sprang forward, exclaiming,

“I see it! I’ve found it!”

The others followed, but all stopped disappointed; for it wasn’t a purse, it was only a little bird. It lay upon the snow with its wings spread and feebly fluttering, as if too weak to fly. Its little feet were benumbed with cold; its once bright eyes were dull with pain, and instead of a blithe song, it could only utter a faint chirp, now and then, as if crying for help.

“Nothing but a stupid old robin; how provoking!” cried Kate, sitting down to rest.

“I shan’t touch it. I found one once, and took care of it, and the ungrateful thing flew away the minute it was well,” said Bessy, creeping under Kate’s shawl, and putting her hands under her chin to warm them.

“Poor little birdie! How pitiful he looks, and how glad he must be to see some one coming to help him! I’ll take him up gently, and carry him home to mother. Don’t be frightened, dear, I’m your friend;” and Tilly knelt down in the snow, stretching her hand to the bird with the tenderest pity in her face.

Kate and Bessy laughed.

“Don’t stop for that thing; it’s getting late and cold: let’s go on and look for the purse,” they said, moving away.

“You wouldn’t leave it to die?’ cried Tilly. “I’d rather have the bird than the money, so I shan’t look any more. The purse wouldn’t be mine, and I should only be tempted to keep it; but this poor thing will thank and love me, and I’m so glad I came in time.”

Gently lifting the bird, Tilly felt its tiny cold claws cling to her hand, and saw its dim eyes brighten as it nestled down with a grateful chirp.

“Now I’ve got a Christmas present after all,” she said, smiling, as -they walked on. ” I always wanted a bird, and this one will be such a pretty pet for me!”

“He’ll fly away the first chance he gets, and die anyhow; so you’d better not waste your time over him,” said Bessy.

“He can’t pay you for taking care of him, and my mother says it isn’t worth while to help folks that can’t help us,” added Kate.

“My mother says, ‘Do as you’d be done by;’ and I’m sure I’d like any one to help me if I was dying of cold and hunger. ‘Love your neighbor as yourself’ is another of her sayings. This bird is my little neighbor, and I’ll love him and care for him, as I often wish our rich neighbor would love and care for us,” answered Tilly, breathing her warm breath over the benumbed bird, who looked up at her with confiding eyes, quick to feel and know a friend.

“What a funny girl you are,” said Kate, “caring for that silly bird, and talking about loving your neighbor in that sober way. Mr. King don’t care a bit for you, and never will, though he knows how poor you are; so I don’t think your plan amounts to much.”

“I believe it, though; and shall do my part, any way. Good-night. I hope you’ll have a merry Christmas, and lots of pretty things,” answered Tilly, as they parted.

Her eyes were full, and she felt so poor as she went on alone toward the little old house where she lived. It would have been so pleasant to know that she was going to have some of the pretty things all children love to find in their full stockings on Christmas morning. And pleasanter still to have been able to give her mother something nice. So many comforts were needed, and there was no hope of getting them ; for they could barely get food and fire.

“Never mind, birdie, we’ll make the best of what we have, and be merry in spite of everything. You shall have a happy Christmas, any way; and I know God won’t forget us, if every one else does.”

She stopped a minute to wipe her eyes, and lean her cheek against the bird’s soft breast, finding great comfort in the little creature, though it could only love her, nothing more.

“See, mother, what a nice present I’ve found,” she cried, going in with a cheery face that was like sunshine in the dark room.

“I’m glad of that, dearie; for I haven’t been able to get my little girl any thing but a rosy apple. Poor bird ! Give it some of your warm bread and milk.”

“Why, mother, what a big bowlful ! I’m afraid you gave me all the milk,” said Tilly, smiling over the nice, steaming supper that stood ready for her.

“I’ve had plenty, dear. Sit down and dry your wet feet, and put the bird in my basket on this warm flannel.”

Tilly peeped into the closet and saw nothing there but dry bread.

” Mother’s given me all the milk, and is going without her tea, ’cause she knows I’m hungry. Now I’ll surprise her, and she shall have a good supper too. She is going to split wood, and I’ll fix it while she’s gone.”

So Tilly put down the old tea-pot, carefully poured out a part of the milk, and from her pocket produced a great, plummy bun, that one of the school-children had given her, and she had saved for her mother. A slice of the dry bread was nicely toasted, and the bit of butter set by for her put on it. When her mother came in there was the table drawn up in a warm place, a hot cup of tea ready, and Tilly and birdie waiting for her.

Such a poor little supper, and yet such a happy one; for love, charity, and contentment were guests there, and that Christmas eve was a blither one than that up at the great house, where lights shone, fires blazed, a great tree glittered, and music sounded, as the children danced and played.

“We must go to bed early, for we’ve only wood enough to last over to-morrow. I shall be paid for my work the day after, and then we can get some,” said Tilly’s mother, as they sat by the fire.

“If my bird was only a fairy bird, and would give us three wishes, how nice it would be! Poor dear, he can’t give me anything; but it’s no matter,” answered Tilly, looking at the robin, who lay in the basket with his head under his wing, a mere little feathery bunch.

“He can give you one thing, Tilly, the pleasure of doing good. That is one of the sweetest things in life; and the poor can enjoy it as well as the rich.”

As her mother spoke, with her tired hand softly stroking her little daughter’s hair, Tilly suddenly started and pointed to the window, saying, in a frightened whisper,

“I saw a face, a man’s face, looking in! It’s gone now; but I truly saw it.”

“Some traveller attracted by the light perhaps. I’ll go and see.” And Tilly’s mother went to the door.

No one was there. The wind blew cold, the stars shone, the snow lay white on field and wood, and the Christmas moon was glittering in the sky.

“What sort of a face was it?” asked Tilly’s mother, coming back.

“A pleasant sort of face, I think ; but I was so startled I don’t quite know what it was like. I wish we had a curtain there,” said Tilly.

“I like to have our light shine out in the evening, for the road is dark and lonely just here, and the twinkle of our lamp is pleasant to people’s eyes as they go by. We can do so little for our neighbors, I am glad to cheer the way for them. Now put these poor old shoes to dry, and go to bed, dearie; I’ll come soon.”

Tilly went, taking her bird with her to sleep in his basket near by, lest he should be lonely in the night.

Soon the little house was dark and still, and no one saw the Christmas spirits at their work that night.

When Tilly opened the door next morning, she gave a loud cry, clapped her hands, and then stood still, quite speechless with wonder and delight. There, before the door, lay a great pile of wood, all ready to burn, a big bundle and a basket; with a lovely nosegay of winter roses, holly, and evergreen tied to the handle.

“Oh, mother! did the fairies do it?” cried Tilly, pale with her happiness, as she seized the basket, while her mother took in the bundle.

“Yes, dear, the best and dearest fairy in the world, called ‘Charity.’ She walks abroad at Christmas time, does beautiful deeds like this, and does not stay to be thanked,” answered her mother with full eyes, as she undid the parcel.

There they were, the warm, thick blankets, the comfortable shawl, the new shoes, and, best of all, a pretty winter hat for Bessy. The basket was full of good things to eat, and on the flowers lay a paper saying,

“For the little girl who loves her neighbor as herself .”

“Mother, I really think my bird is a fairy bird, and all these splendid things come from him,” said Tilly, laughing and crying with joy.

It really did seem so, for as she spoke, the robin flew to the table, hopped to the nosegay, and perching among the roses, began to chirp with all his little might. The sun streamed in on flowers, bird, and happy child, and no one saw a shadow glide away from the window ; no one ever knew that Mr. King had seen and heard the little girls the night before, or dreamed that the rich neighbor had learned a lesson from the poor neighbor.

And Tilly’s bird was a fairy bird ; for by her love and tenderness to the helpless thing, she brought good gifts to herself, happiness to the unknown giver of them, and a faithful little friend who did not fly away, but stayed with her till the snow was gone, making summer for her in the winter-time.

 

 

Book Cover Reveal — Resist // by Emily Ann Putzke

Because I love World War II novels and sibling relationships and Emily Ann Putzke’s writing and revolutionist stories, naturally I am dying with anticipation for Resist. 

And today is its cover reveal birthday!

But first a synopsis:

Munich, Germany 1942—Hans Scholl never intended to get his younger sister involved in an underground resistance. When Sophie Scholl finds out, she insists on joining Hans and his close friends in writing and distributing anti-Nazi leaflets entitled, The White Rose. The young university students call out to the German people, begging them to not allow their consciences to become dormant, but to resist their tyrannical leader and corrupt government. Hans knows the consequences for their actions—execution for committing high treason—but firm in his convictions, he’s prepared to lose his life for a righteous cause. Based on a true story, Hans, Sophie and all the members of The White Rose resistance group will forever inspire and challenge us to do what is right in the midst of overwhelming evil.

Available in paperback and ebook on February 22nd, 2016.

Pre-order the book on Amazon.
Add it on Goodreads.

And now for the book cover! Drumroll, please.

 
*does a happy dance over the delicious vintage look*

Mark your calendars, bookworms! I have been in love with this story ever since Emily started sharing sneak peeks on-line. Because I adore WWII novels, and brother/sister relationships are my favorite; I’m 99% sure people will die, and it will be heartbreaking and inspiring and I have a feeling (you know how sometimes you just know) that it will be one of those books that leaves an indelible impression on my soul.

And we all know those are the best kind.

 
About The Author:

Emily Ann Putzke is a young novelist, historical reenactor, and history lover. You can learn more about Emily and her books at Taking Dictation and her Facebook page.

In which I present the 2015 Blogger Awards finalists

  
 Well, then, everyone! 

Today we have the three finalists in my category of the 2015 Blogger Awards — Best Character.

The first two were easy to choose since multiple people nominated them, but the third was agony. I haven’t been in such indecision since I can’t remember when. 

Finally I narrowed it down to two names, wrote them on bits of paper, and had my sister jumble them up. Which worked beautifully. 

Without further ado, the finalists of Best Character are….

*music intensifies*

  1. Isidore (A Wish Made of Glass)
  2. Jace (The King’s Scrolls)
  3. Perceval (Pendragon’s Heir)

Thank you all so much for your nominations, cyberspacelings! I couldn’t have done it without you. Now you only have to wait with bated breath for December 22th when I announce the winner. 

In the meantime, stay tuned because on Wednesday I am sharing something delightful that involves spectacular photos and the word sea, plus books — it’ll be epic!
Toodle-oo!

“Read that? You must be mad!” // in which I speak of banned books 

  
Last week in the bookish community was something called Banned Books Week

Books are banned for both good reasons (Mein Kampf) and bad reasons (To Kill A Mockingbird), but I’m not writing this to discuss the act of banning, rather I thought it would be fun to share a list of some of the banned books I’ve read. Plus, banned books I would like to read. 

Shall we?

Banned books I have read:

  1. The Bible (King James Version).
  2. To Kill A Mockingbird.
  3. The Lord of the Rings.
  4. The Scarlet Letter.
  5. The Hunger Games.
  6. The Giver.
  7. Green Eggs and Ham

Is anyone else confused over the fact that Green Eggs and Ham was actually banned at one point? *brain inserts sarcastic comments*

Banned books on my TBR:

  1. Alice in Wonderland.
  2. All Quiet on the Western Front.
  3. Animal Farm.
  4. Brave New World.
  5. Frankenstein.
  6. Uncle Tom’s Cabin.
  7. A Wrinkle in Time.
  8. Lord of the Flies. 

And, of course, the most ironically banned book of them all: Fahrenheit 451.

What about you? What banned books have you read? And what ones are you curious to read?