Trapped in a mansion on an island during a storm, Sarah Jewell and her traveling campaign, Miss La Fleur, now have two mysterious deaths on their hands: the husband of their host and one of the guests. What was supposed to be an auction of arcane and supernatural items has become a murder mystery, and everyone is a suspect, including the rare objects up for sale. The death of Mr. Eckart has all of the earmarks of an occult ritual gone wrong. Both Sarah and Miss La Fleur suspect that the artifacts may be the cause of it all, but they have no proof and no leads. What is even stranger is that everyone has had the same dream of shadows closing in on them. Does this portend another death?
Do you wonder where poetry comes from? Do you ever ask yourself how it is that some people can dream great, wise, beautiful dreams and pass those dreams on as poetry to the world?
Upon reading Compass the first time through, one can feel that it’s steeped in history; the details about the places and people don’t feel made up (and, in many instances, they are not), but it’s also steeped in the love of Indiana Jones, The Mysterious Cities of Gold, and other adventures rooted in the joy of discovery. And in the notes following the story, the writers - Robert Mackenzie and David Walker - make specific reference to Mysterious Cities of Gold, also a show I grew up on!
I’m not even sure how to catch anyone up on what’s happening in Ultramega, and that’s honestly pretty wonderful. This is like nothing else out there right now. It’s a Kaiju story that isn’t concerned at all about pandering to tropes. It’s barely concerned about giving us a hero’s journey, and it’s pulling off avoiding that in the most spectacular way (in spades).
Quick recap so far: Seeking a reprieve and some medical help, Zoë and her crew arrive at the doorstep of one Simon Tam and Kaylee. (They have kids!) Despite Zoë’s misgivings, Simon’s sleuthing about the mysterious cargo gets them the wrong kind of notice. Meanwhile, Emma and Lu have run off with the Blue Sun contraband.
What is violence? What does power do to a person? Growing up in the '80s desensitized me to violence in a big way. Every action and horror film made was all about the death toll. I myself was never a violent person. I’ve never punched anyone, and I don’t ever intend to. As I matured, I began to find that violence could still affect me on an emotional and visceral level, and violence for the sake of violence in many cases became less and less interesting (though, admittedly, I will find the YouTube videos of all of the Mortal Kombat fatalities whenever a new chapter in the series is released). It all started to happen when the realities of how people die or are asked to die became known to me. Sending soldiers overseas to fight and die for … oil, and in the name of freedom, disgusted me.
If you’re anything like me, you’ve suddenly been hearing people talk about Ted Lasso over the last few months. Probably not a lot of specifics, just mentions of how good it is, and a few references that you didn’t quite understand. And, if you’re anything like me, you’ve thought to yourself that it sounds like it might be fun, but haven’t watched it, because it’s only available on Apple TV+. (Seriously, who needs—or even can afford—yet another paid streaming service right now?) Well, I’m here to tell you: You need Ted Lasso in your life. And you won’t even realize just how much you needed it, until you’ve seen it for yourself.
Anyone who has ever lived with a young, active cat knows the challenges of getting adjusted to his or her particular quirks. Will you have to devote two hours after work to playing with a fishing rod toy? Will kitty only be satisfied by chasing the red dot? Or is the key to feline happiness the ultimate kitty crack, catnip? Creator Victoria Douglas presents a slightly fictionalized example of their learning process with their cat in Cinnamon, a slice-of-life tale about the joys and hazards of sharing our homes with a furry overlord.
It seems rare these days, kids and teens who enjoy reading. With the glamor of the Internet and cell phone apps constantly keeping us glued to our devices, there’s not much room in those hands to hold a book. Even rarer still is a child who wants to be a writer. Beyond that is the unicorn: a female pre-teen who wants to write horror.