Monday, April 7, 2014

PREPARE To Experience Hotelles by French Author Emma Mars... Available Tomorrow in USA!

Ten-Oh-One: 22 +1 = 23. I am twenty-three years old.
I push open the gilded door of the Josephine. Monsieur
Jacques gave me a keycard, no questions asked. He almost
seemed relieved to see me. I am now also part of this hotel.
Along with Marie, Margaretha, Caroline, Esther, Lola, and
the others. I am one of them now.
The room is as it was when I visited it two weeks ago with
my athletic client. But then I only saw it in the dark, and 
here it is bathed in the light of the setting sun. The star only
disappeared three minutes ago, if that, and the building is
covered in its dying glow. The window is open. The light
dives through it, licking the gilding.
~~~





Hotelles
By Emma Mars


"Listen, I didn't even know you were getting married until about five minutes ago...At least you won't have to worry about being a Hotelle anymore."
"A ho-what? Excuse me?"
"Rebecca never told you?"
"No..."
"Apparently, another girl named Elle used to work for her. She got pretty well known for ending all of her missions in a hotel room. And, you know, 'hot' plus 'Elle' equals 'Hotelle,' Not bad, right? I guess it stuck."
The other girl may have been named Elle, but she sounded a lot like Sophia. A girl who sparked male desire during the day from her booth and put it out at night in a hotel room for a fee.
"I had no idea Rebecca was so creative," I joked.
"Anyway, for you, that's all finished."
I wish I could have been more sure. I had really wanted the interview to go well so that I could close the door to the Josephine--and all the other rooms in the Hotel des Charmes--once and for all. To be simply Annabelle. Not a "Hotelle."
                                 ~~~


June 3, 2009
I was curled up in the
sheets of the Josephine's
unmade bed. On that day
my limbs were free.
Free and yet so ill at
ease. I had only met the
man who was about to
share my bed three hours
before, four at most.
"Which position would
you prefer, Elle? he
asked as he helped me
unzip my delicate
white dress.
~~~

From the country of love, of romance, I certainly support the phenomenal Literary Erotic Novel, Hotelles. As usual, I recommend that anybody offended by erotica not consider this book... It does not deserve to be treated lightly in evaluations, especially since the publicity clearly explains content.

If you do decide to read it, my second suggestion is that you...prepare...for your time with the book. I suggest you read it while alone and at a time when you will not be disturbed--you will not be able to stop reading until you finish...plan to do so...


"And you? Did you have a good night?
"One might say," she said smirking.
"Rich client?"
"Disgustingly rich, you mean...he
really pulled out all the stops: the
Pompadour suite and all the
trimmings.
~~~
There is one main reason that many buy erotic books. Yes, reading about Annabelle--Elle will be titillating, so you will not be disappointed, if that is your reason. Ahhhh, but for me and millions, it is the suspense, an almost palpable urgency to discover what in the world was going on! If I dare add, and at my age I do, this novel also could be helpful to women in encouraging an exploration of their sexuality. No, I don't mean learning about sex. I mean, exploring their own feelings, opinions, and desires and allowing those opinions to affect their lives.

The eloquence displayed in the writing and the setting brings images of a historical novel--but this happened only a few years ago... Annabelle was a Journalism major when it was discovered that her mother had cancer. Annabelle needed money both to finish her degree and to, hopefully, send her mother to America for treatment only available there... Unfortunately, as many young students know, there is only one way to easily make a lot of money fast. Annabelle knew little about sex and what she knew came mostly from Cosmo articles. But her best friend Sophia Petrille, 2 years older, was "at least 5 years ahead" of her in the world of men and sex.

Elle and Sophia would share about their client activities and especially about what rooms they had visited at the Hotel des Charmes where each of the rooms was named after a well-known...French lady...

The format of the novel takes particular attention--there are many indented quotes, some of which Elle writes, but some are anonymous notes. Then there are little phrases, sometimes from somebody else, but also sometimes her own thoughts. Elle started keeping a journal which had been slipped into her bag in a crowd. Some of them she wrote. Others were what she received anonymously, but they were written as if they, too, were Elle's thoughts... Quite intriguing so be alert. For instance, as she was considering becoming an escort, which could, on her decision, become more, she had written:
What makes you come, Elle? Year, what does make me come? Do I really know? What exactly is it that makes me melt, deep down inside? That makes me wet without being touched, just at the thought of it? A man's naked body? His smell? The sight of an anonymous cock erect for me? Against me? In me...
While one she had received was:
Doggy style bothers me because it's animalistic. I only like to do it with men I know. Doggy-style makes me come more than any other position...precisely because it's animalistic! I fantasize about doing it with someone I don't know, preferably with a mask on.
I found myself thinking of the story line for Sabrina, an old movie some of you may know where two brothers are interested in the same woman... Although the lives and actions were totally different, I always loved Sabrina, so naturally I began to place those characters into their roles...LOL Want to see the result?
Obviously, Elle began to meet many men who needed escorts for various functions where she would meet other men...but one she had recently seen in the news and had been attracted to him. At the same time, she had seen another man at one of those events, to whom she also was attracted. They were brothers. She became involved with the former, but was continuing to receive the notes and sometimes presents were included. She began to suspect the brother.

Things moved fairly fast regarding a relationship and Elle soon found herself engaged. The background on the two brothers is an important psychological component of the mystery. For whatever reasons, rather than assume that the eldest would inherit, he had pitted the two boys against each other. They were in competition for grades, activities, girls--everything. At an appropriate time, the father would decide the results--to whom the majority of the estate would go. Unfortunately he died and their lives had remained competitive... Enter women and sex...

Then Elle realized that she was in essence being blackmailed. Whoever it was, especially if it was her fiancee's brother, they were in a position to share her past! Could she give up the man she had fallen in love and would be marrying--and later, with whom she was now working? But would he be willing to accept that she was a Hotelle? Soon, the blackmail was very specific. She was being called to the Hotel des Charmes

Each time she was presented with a statement, something like a commandment...
1--Thou shalt love thy body. With the first one, she was to go to the Hotel at 10...
 Considering the options, Elle came to the final foolish conclusion--she had no choice but attend.
"The person who sent you that note must know the hotel quite well, Elle."
That was the first time, I think, I'd ever heard him use my nickname. One of my clients must have told him was it was.
"What do you mean?"
"'Zelle' is not a mistake on your first name. It's the family name of one of our most famous muses." 
Each room bore the last name of a great seductress or courtesan.
"Really? Which one?"
"One of the greatest: Margaretha Geertruida Zelle."
"Excuse me?" I was scanning my memory...
"Mata Hari."
Oh.

The room was empty but gorgeous...It was decorated in Belle Epoque style...
~~~

Elle had finished touring the beautiful room and was just about to take off since nobody had appeared. She was so frustrated that she started to cry from anger, lack of power, then saw a note slipped under the door, "Take off your clothes." Afraid, she started banging on the door--it had been locked. Minutes, hours went by for all she knew, then suddenly all of the walls reversed. The walls were completely covered with floor-length mirrors... She started screaming, asking if that was how [he] got off, as a voyeur. No response; nothing... Elle was wild with her thoughts... Then...
...My cotton panties with black details over my pelvis slid effortlessly down my thighs, joining the rest of my clothing on the floor. Now nothing came between his gaze and my private parts. I don't think I'd ever even shown myself to David like this, with such rawness and indecency. I didn't even have the reflex to hide my lower region, where the lips came together and drew a line under my dark curls...

Looking at my body in the mirror, from all angles and depths, I had the sensation of discovering it for the first time.

So this is what men desired when I undressed in front of them. This woman, as opposed to the one invented by my critical gaze, the one deformed by years of acquired body image issues. My imperfections hadn't disappeared. But seeing my list of faults, together in one image, I couldn't deny how attractive they were, though I had trouble really believing it.

~~~

So a secret life began, continued even while she went on interacting, living and loving her fiancee... But, more importantly, she began her own investigation into the life of her fiancee...and also his brother... What she discovered, ahhhh, that is the whole point of the novel, isn't it?!

If you were here, I would love to talk about this book! Emma Mars' book is nothing short of
eloquent... On the bottom of the front cover it says, "You will burn to add your own..." She's talking about the stories in the rooms of hotels, if only they could speak... Readers will have no choice, they will remember romances, loves of their past, their present, and, perhaps, even their future! I adored this book. I so hope that you will come to realize that this book is all about Elle, not about the other characters...about finding her own room...

Or, perhaps, it is all about the man with whom she chooses to live her future with...

Or, maybe it's about...us...each of us...

Mysterious, Suspenseful, sensual, titillating, hot and sexy...eloquent in its fluidity and expressiveness... I'll be looking for the next one out...
Song from Music List - Also included as an appendix is erotic literature as suggested in book...



GABixlerReviews














Emma Mars is the pseudonym of an author who lives in France.
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Monday, March 24, 2014

Team Seven by Marcus Burke - Reaches Out to Young/Teens...

We stopped on the sideline and I recognized the older kids that hang on the other end of our block. I let go of Ma's hand and started dribbling my ball. I knew most of them only by face. They had a car parked at half court with its trunk open, blasting a Wu-Tang Clan song I'd never heard before. I knew I liked the song when my main man Ol' Dirty Bastard started singing and beat-boxing over the beat doing his ad libs. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but it sounded funny and I liked the beat. 
Osirus (album)
Osirus (album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Right before the beat drops it pauses and it gets quiet and then ODB yells, "You bitch-ass nigga!" And the song starts. I started cracking up, Ol' Dirty Bastard's my favorite member in the Wu-Tang Clan...As I laughed I looked up at Ma and her forehead wrinkled like a chewed Tootsie Ross. She folded her arms across her chest... I recognized one of the guys smoking, it was Ma's friend Miss Myra's oldest son, Stanley. I see him around but I don't really know him. After Ol' Dirty Bastard's ad libs, Stanley turned toward us and started bopping his shoulders and swaying to the music and all the guys started laughing and cheering him on. He was shimmying his way toward us. His eyes were dragon red and he slowly blew smoke out of his nose like an angry bull. When Ol' Dirty Bastard's verse came on, he closed his eyes and tossed his head back, waving his hands in the air like he was shooting pistols as he sang along...
As high as Wu-Tang get,
Allah, allow us pop this shit
Just like black shoe fit
If you can't wear it,
 then don't fuck with it!
He jumped into a ghetto-girl pose, two feet o the ground, learning hard to his left side, popping his hips, arms crossed like he was mocking Ma. He looked at us laughing...I nudged Ma's leg and she looked down at me...
"Andre, let's go." She tucked the ball under her arm and grabbed my hand pulling me back toward the track and we started walking. I tried to wiggle away but her grip was too tight.
"But, Ma, I thought--" I whined but she wouldn't let go...
We got to the top of the hill and Ma loosened her grip but didn't let go. She looked down at me.
"They aren't smoking cigarettes, Andre. They're frying their brains, they're foolish," Ma said.
She looked back down the whill at Stanley and yelled, "Kids have to play her too!"
"Why would anyone want to fry their brain, Ma?" I asked her.
Because they are foolish. You're not like them, you're a cut above the rest. Stay away from guys like them, Andre. They're no-good men."
I didn't understand but I said okay. For whatever reason Stanley and his friends brain-frying made Ma angry. It made her so mad I got stuck walking boring laps around the track with her, every now and again trying to get her to let go of my hand.
~~~


Team Seven
By Marcus Burke

Andre's mother would constantly remind him that he was a cut above the rest...  I wondered if Andre understood what his mother was saying--what she was trying to do as she disciplined and taught her youngest. Andre already knew that he was good with the ball and maybe he thought that's what she meant. What he did know was that day  he was going to show his mother his new "lefty layup" and then she was going to walk the track while he practiced. Nothing was more important to Andre than practicing... But he had been pulled away from the group of older guys instead...

Or maybe it was because his mother had already smelled that specific smoke that day. Andre thought he had also, but didn't know what it was... He had smelled it floating up into his bedroom from the backyard where his Pop and Uncle Elroy was drinking and blowing that smelly-smoke...

It was easy for Andre to wonder whether they were also bad men, frying their brains... Whenever they were together, they turned on their deep Jamaican accent, real thick so that Andre couldn't follow most of what they were saying, but he did figure out that they called those weird-smelling cigarettes "vitals." And if they were bad, why did his mother and aunt marry them...He was confused about that, but he already had a feeling that something strange was going on between his parents... 

But Pop really wasn't there all that much and when he was he never really said much and spent most of his time in the basement playing--he played drums in a band...

The kids at school call the "resource room" the
"romper room" and they say only Skippys and
Speds have to go there. God did not skip over me
when he was giving out brains and I never really
imagined myself being a special ed kid. At first
I hated it, I sat out of window range so no one
would see me in there with all the slow kids. I
didn't really need extra help all the time, and I
hate the way Ms. Lenny talks to me like I'm dumb,
always hinting me toward the right answer.
There was a bunch of times I tried to tell her that
I was okay and didn't need her help nor did I
belong in there with the slow kids, but it was
like screaming underwater--it did no good...
I'm not stupid, class is just boring as hell but
most of the time I got all my homework done
before I went home. I hardly ever bring my
homework home anymore, leaving me plenty
of time to play basketball after school.
~~~
Andre's Ma, as well as his grandparents, tried to keep him away from the Squad Six boys, pinching him as she tugged him past, saying "Bring yourself on! Ain't nothing over there to see. What, you think them boys are cool or something? They're fools, you're a cut above the rest. Boy, you better get with it."

Reggie was the man to whom Andre looked up to and it was hard not to get close, so Andre was excited when he was invited into their house and then sent for snacks. Andre saw the advantage of getting paid big for small acts, plus he had had his very first up and close second-hand smoke and later decided to try it...

And then there was the fight--happened to be with his best friend but they both knew it had to occur...

Squad Six became Team Seven that day, but Andre had never felt it was right beating up on Beezy...

Then a couple more things happened that changed things...

Pop beat up on Ma and it was Reggie and his crew that came running. Pop landed in jail and Reggie slid some money to Ma...

Basketball was Andre's life... He was good and played ongoing throughout the year That got the attention of one Miss Sade who claimed him as her property for awhile. But it was a secret friendship that developed between Andre and Tunnetta, both of whom went to the same church, that became important to him.

Both of them talked big about being experienced, but they knew it. They began by writing notes in class and then they would go for walks. Andre was using by that time and when her pop got drunk and beat her with a belt, Andre offered to introduce her to Mary Jane, telling her she'd make her feel better...


She sucked again. Held her breath in like a yawn. Her head fell back and she put her hand to her chest, sighing a thick stream of milky smoke. She hudded her sides and started humming. She hit the joint like a champ and I was half jealous, half impressed.
Birds flying high, you know how I feel.
Sun in the sky, you know how I feel.
Breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel.
She moaned, rocking side to side, waving the joint like an orchestra conductor. She kept singing that one verse like she was in a trance. I didn't want to interrupt her. She took another toke, coughed, and then burped. Her face got pepper red and drooped into her cupped palms. My head was tingle-fried and I was start to feel spaced. She sniffled and I thought she was laughing. I snapped my fingers loud and she looked up. Tears in her eyes, her lips pouted out as her jaw bounced. "I just miss my mother is all. It's lonely in the house without her," she gasped
~~~

They had their first kiss at that time and, without saying anymore about that kiss, they had left, but the next day Andre had asked about that song, which he had not known, and learned that it was "Feeling Good" by Nina Simone and had been her Mama's favorite song...

Pop was out of jail but by that time Andre knew about his second family...and when Pop and Ma got together to plan an outing for his birthday, Andre never told her that his Pop had taken him to his second place and wanted him to take his "younger brother" under his wing. There was no way that Andre could betray his Ma with that... But in his heart, that was the end of any type of relationship with his father...

Sometimes the final break must occur through tragedy. So much more was in store fpr Andre, although he was no longer the little boy that his Ma was able to drag away from being hurt...
Andre, last I saw him, he was heading out...


Marcus Burke's last page notes: "I'd like to give the biggest shout-out to all the underdogs out there who are misunderstood and underestimated, and yet continue to overcome...keep on pushin'"

OK, I'm a sucker for a good story--yeah, you know, where something good comes after all the bad...
This is the author's debut novel, but his writing has already received much attention...  I've mentioned Urban fiction, Street Lit---If you're interested in reading a fine example, this book is highly recommended. And for those in Team Seven and other similar groups, I think you'll find Marcus Burke speaking to all of you! Check it out!


GABixlerReviews
Harvard Club of Boston Author Series Begins April 17th...


Marcus Burke grew up in Milton, Massachusetts, just outside of Boston. A standout athlete, he attended prep school at Brimmer and May and was recruited to play basketball at Susquehanna University, where he played varsity for all four years. But a knee injury limited his playing time, so he took up fiction writing instead and was accepted at the Iowa Writers Workshop, where he was awarded a grant in honor of James Alan McPherson from the University of Iowa MacArthur Foundation Fund. He lives in Iowa City, Iowa.

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Thursday, March 13, 2014

Eerie Erotic Trapped by George A. Bernstein Tantalizingly Twisted!

she
"What’s different here is all of the cognitive portions of the brain, centered in the Neocortex, seem perfectly intact,” Doctor Hirsh says. “That happens occasionally, and the Neocortex is what most often survives. We call it ‘Locked-in Syndrome.’ Mrs. Maren appears able to think, see, hear, and possibly even smell. Our preliminary tests indicate her brain activity is quite high. While voluntary motor functions have ceased, her cognitive abilities actually may have been enhanced. The centers controlling involuntary responses like heart, breathing and possibly even digestion, also seem somewhat intact. Nature often has a way of making trade-offs.” 
...Mrs. Maren appears able to think, see, hear, and possibly even smell. Our preliminary tests indicate her brain activity is quite high. While voluntary motor functions have ceased, her cognitive abilities actually may have been enhanced... 
Phil studies her through the glass, lips pursed, his gaze almost icy. He turns to Dr. Hersch, shaking his head. "You’re saying she's totally paralyzed, but she can still think, hear and see like anyone else? And that’s it? She’ll never improve?” 
“Highly doubtful,” Doctor Lefkowitz answers.
~~~


Trapped
By George A. Bernstein

When I had the opportunity to read A 3rd Time to Die (review coming soon) and saw Trapped, also by this first-time author for me, I decided I wanted to read it first...Wow! The concept is based upon the "Locked in Syndrome" which affects the Neocortex of our brains. Jackee Maren was hurt in a car accident; this was the result.

But the accident was questionable and it was believed by some that it had been the first attempt on her life... Readers will quickly believe this, given the way he treats his wife--who was now completely paralyzed, except for her eyes...

Jackee's father had recently died and when his will was read, all of the money had been placed in trust for his daughter and grandsons. Phil had been furious he had not received a separate amount... That apparently started him thinking of alternatives--how could he gain control of the money!?!
Phil looks again at Jackee. “Christ, what a screwed-up mess.
How the Hell do you feed her, if she can't even move
 her mouth too chew?”   "Through a tube through her nose
 and down her esophagus into her stomach,”
Doctor Hersch says
. “We can go directly through the stomach wall,
 but I like this better for long term care.
In her present condition, it won’t be uncomfortable,
and there’s less room for infection.
~~~
The guy’s an ex-boxer, a real Appalachian hick, but
 they say he works magic.”
 She blinks once. She’d thought of them earlier. 
The man is gigantic, craggy-featured with shoulders
 a yard wide, like some fabled Gothic warrior. 
Probably pretty good looking once. 
The mahogany-skinned woman is tiny as 
an elf… an unlikely pair. 
He sat, somber amber eyes holding hers, as the
 little nurse studied her charts. Jackee caught
 snatches during their whispered huddle: 
“… not your usual… no recovery… 
but this is different.” 
She sensed gentleness in this fierce-looking
 giant’s battered face, as  he took her hand, 
explaining, in a soft Southern drawl, who they 
were and promising to return. 
Her husband apparently arranged exactly that.
~~~

Phil had no desire to work with his wife as she now was--with Jackee realizing that she had never really been physically comfortable with him, especially with their intimate life--a massage therapist and a nurse were added to the home live-in staff.  

Before long, he added a live-in governess, who just happened to be his present secretary... Of course, everybody surmised that his secretary was already Phil's mistress...
Bedsprings, settling into to a familiar cadence, as the moaning and murmuring bombard her at a staccato pace. Squeals and urgent mutterings are overridden by a chanted "Uh, uhh, uuhhh," ramping up to a long, emphatic, "Huhhhhh-uuhh!” Quickly, the whole aural vignette begins again, the decibel level jacked up a few notches. Rhonda is having one of her multi-orgasmic episodes, while Phil builds toward his own climax. How the Hell does the bitch do that?
Jackee is inexplicably breathless, her heart racing with a strange excitement their sexual escapades somehow stir in her. for five weeks her sole sensation revolved around floating weightlessly in a dark, quiet pond. Then Rhonda arrives, and Jackee’s inundated by waves of erotic stimuli, slowly at first, but with growing intensity. The mirrored surface of her black lagoon ripples, small wavelets escalating to a heavy roil, swamping her with surging waves of erotic arousal. Electric-like bolts charge dead nerves, her heart hammering mercilessly at her breast, her skin afire with what are surely imagined goose bumps.
A slippery wetness (also imagined?) flows between her thighs. Both terribly exciting and cruelly frustrating, she reluctantly cherishes their intensity, even if only as a fantasy. She feels alive again, rift with sensations far beyond anything she’s ever experienced, even before the accident. In some strange way, she’s tapped into Rhonda's carnal soul, swept along as the redhead plunges through climax after climax. This is too much!
I’ve never had an orgasm, and it’s not about to happen now. They’re supposed to require a lot of time and clitoral stimulation, but that bitch has two or three every time they hit the bed. That’s something I never got from Phil. One more place he fell short.
This is their second time today. Lucky the boys are at Phil's mother’s. I doubt he’d stop because our sons were home. He’s so damned arrogant, now that I’m so... so useless. 

Useless! That’s it exactly!
~~~

In the meantime, Kevin has taught her to talk via eye blinking. In addition, though, he is able to teach her Morris Code and other shortcuts, so that they are routinely talking. Her two boys learn this as well, but soon she begins to realize that they hear her even when out of the room... She had been practicing after one day when Phil had started making out right there in the Den, as she sat looking out the window.

She had already "felt" their intimacy but, now, she was infuriated with Phil...

Stop! she screams, though no one can hear. Stop! You can't do this! Not in front of me! This is wrong! All wrong!   
Rhonda wriggles around on the couch, trying to sit up.   
"What?" Phil hisses, his voice clouded by passion.     
"Stop. I can't do this. It's wrong. All wrong!"  
 Jackee and Phil are equally stunned. The redhead echoed Jackee's silent plea, almost word for word. Phil glares at her.   "What’s this? You cool off last night, right in the middle of things, and now you can't make it because she's watching?"
   "I... I don't know. It’s weird.”
~~~

Being "tuned in" to Rhonda was an experience that set Jackee into much thinking and even more experiments. She and the boys were thrilled to be able to talk to each other, but carefully kept it a secret. Jackee tried to contact Kevin, but had no success... The story continues into and stays within Jackee's intimate life of being locked in...but now able to escape...

Recognize that this is the only experience that has made Jackee "feel" anything since her accident. If you do not wish to enter into the erotic life of a woman unable to otherwise move, please don't buy the book! For me it became more fascinating than sexual as Jackee became more in control. However, this brain activity was harmful to her other bodily functions and Kevin began to be concerned...

The paranormal telekinetic activities were fascinating to watch in my opinion, and I began to get an inkling of the potential... 

Stunning! Extraordinary premise...The last female pictured above has actually worked herself out of being Trapped. That was an exciting discovery for me as I worked on this article, showing that, indeed, our minds are much more capable of anything that we can dream of! Still, it was scary to be inside Jackee's mind as she discovered, and at first, wished she would have died in the accident...

If you enjoy medical thrillers consider this one framed within a parapsychological suspense novel (a first for me)...You'll have a memorable experience! Highly recommended...


GABixlerReviews


I was born and raised in Chicago and its suburbs, living there until the age of 39. I'm now a retired corporate President, life-long fishing enthusiast, and a dedicated author. As is my nature, I've worked hard to improve my writing craft, and have produced 3 award-winning novels, as finalist and/or winners of several large writing contests. I've also become a world-class fly-fisherman and am an expert in fly-fishing for pike & musky, and wrote a book on that, as well.
I now live in sunny Florida, and split my time between writing, fishing and fine cabinet making, but my greatest love is creating riveting fiction. TRAPPED is my first novel. Look for A 3rd Time to Die!
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Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Cats are Great But...Time For a Rant...Does It Make Sense to Review Everything???

English: A Picture of a eBook Español: Foto de...
 A Picture of a eBook  (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
CAT
CAT (Photo credit: Bahman Farzad)
I love cats, right? Everybody knows that...but...

Would I pay for a boon on them? Maybe...

My sister loves crafting and learning about new ideas.... 

Should I pass on this book I downloaded?
Not...

Many of you know that I'm also a Vine member at Amazon... That means that individuals have been asked to become a group, chosen by Amazon itself, to provide reviews of products they sell... Now I have no fault with doing that and know that it's going to continue there and at other places, especially on line because it's easy to do...

But are we--have we actually corrupted a system of ranking that already leads to bad feelings, arguments, and, really, invalid information?

I started with cats because it is a recent acquisition. I believe it was offered free when I got it, but, to me, that doesn't matter. When I was deciding whether to bother doing anything for a review, I went online this morning... There were lots of 5s and one lonely 1. This article is NOT a review and I'm not voting on this particular book or similar ones I've received.

Have you seen them? They are the work of amateurs who are "authoring" books... OK, they might only charge 99 cents...but that adds up, doesn't it? Personally, I think my blog is created much better than many of those books that are now being sold... So, think about it, if I charged 99 cents for say 5 reviews which would normally lengthwise by equal to these books, with pictures, come out to a reasonably lengthy book... I could, rounding off, ask my 7000 visitors last month to pay me a dollar for 4 weeks of reviews... Again, rounding, say 5$ a week x 7000 that's $20 times 7000 or ...well, you figure it out...

Now, assuming  I must be getting returning visitors, that you might vote "5" for my blog made into a book, a "5"...

Now, take that one step further, there are thousands of professional writers out there that "create" books through their imagination, skill, research or expertise...compared to my blog which is a response to other people's writing. Should the five that you gave me equate equally to the 5 that you give, say, Norah Roberts or James Patterson, et.al. Or do you agree that there is no comparison?

Ok, here's the twist that you find in good books...

Now, I also reviewed recently a new hair product and gave it a 5... 
I also reviewed a new candy bar and gave it a 3...
Then I gave a 1 to a deodorant...

But in a global ranking system, everything is valued with the same weight...The book that has taken a year to write is evaluated the same as one created by taking pictures, adding a few simple words and calling it a book for sale, which is also evaluated the same as a new candy bar...

I get many who claim my reviews are too long (at Amazon)...Well, of course--I'm reviewing a book! It takes consideration to evaluate whether a book has met the standards I consider a reader expects... 

It is NOT the same as my biting into a new candy bar...and saying, Yuk!

This is my personal challenge for books...if it's NOT a book, don't review it and give it credibility.

I even had one writer say, go to such a such store and get this "thing" that is free then proceed to do this great craft with your accumulated free materials and make these great crafts...

The item was paint chip samples...Now do you really think that a company is giving paint samples so that "great crafts" can be made from their inventory? Yet it's being sold, on line. Something, that in my opinion, is actually suggesting we all go out and steal from companies who sell paint...

And she was charging to tell her readers to do this...

My rant is over...Does any of this make sense, cause it's just my personal opinion, of course...


GABixlerReviews


Oh, you're wondering about what I suggest? Well, products are already categorized, so why lump everything together...If it's a movie, compare it to other movies...ONLY

If it's a book, compare it to other books, ONLY (and don't vote for phony stuff!
Books
Books (Photo credit: henry…)

If it's personal products, etc....

Writers give us sooooooo much enjoyment, why not adequately compensate them for their work by not comparing their work to...personal products or food products... Would you want to have your job evaluation be handled the same as I did that YUKKY Candy Bar? JMPO, of course!

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Saturday, March 8, 2014

Remembering Robert - The Loss of Wonderful Author and Friend...

I woke up this morning and his name  popped into my mind--Robert Noonan. Ok, it was kind of a selfish thought because it's my birthday...and Bob would nearly always send me an online "Lawson" card--beautiful art and music! 

Or he would call if we could get our connections... mostly my fault since I had problems with my phone then...

It's over five years since I met Bob online...it was to review his first novel...

I remember I wrote back and said it had too many errors in it and refused...LOL Well, he promptly asked for my help and I was helping him with one thing or another then on...

We became friends... Isn't that wonderful when you need never meet an individual, who lived at that time in Wisconsin, but can become close electronically??!!!


Now not a computer expert...but I was in comparison to Bob! LOL
So with my limited knowledge, I created a blog for him, even while I was explaining that a blog was not supposed to be stagnant, but one that he should continuously update...Well, it's still out there, never having been touched since then! You can see that it's not really a format to be updated, but it was what he wanted, so he was happy...
http://orphantraintrilogyauthor.blogspot.com/

Notice that all of his followers were women, older women... So we signed him up for the older groups that might be interested in his books...I likened them to Little House on the Prairie stories for those who know that television series... We found more sites out there--AARP, Not Over the Hill for instance and then the routine Facebook, LinkedIn, Gather...He worked very hard to both learn the computer at the same time he was trying to talk about his books. I know many were sold, but not enough to proceed to publish his fourth book, which would have closed out the series... Wildflowers was published first and began the reference to the orphan train which passed through communities from New York, but Bridie's Daughter was the main book which talked about the Orphan Train and the way children were moved west to find homes... Secrets was supposed to be the end, but he kept getting requests to know what happened to his characters... I hope his daughters will someday maybe put that final book in ebook form at least...



While spotlighted on Book Readers Heaven, I believe I published the one and only poem written by Robert--at my request...

Why I Write History
What I write is seen by thee
Arranged the way it ought to be
To tell a tale or present some facts
The words are guided by my acts
To share a time of days gone by
We feel that age and maybe cry
Unable to return and change things then
Accepting all that has been
The past can make our hearts react
But all words written should be exact
To please myself is what I do
Wishing it is the same for you
To reveal the past is all inspiring
Where I do my desired reveling
I share with all my heartfelt words
So those gone by can still be heard

Robert Noonan had great sympathy for those children who were orphans...I know that it came from his own strong and deep love for this own children and his family. I was so happy that he had gone to Chicago to be with them...

You know a Zemanta popup for this article revealed a young lady Leah...She used the name Bridie, wrote a historical short story, which includes a train... If she is a relative...congratulations! If she is not, it's an amazing coincident by which I can help honor the man, Robert Noonan, who loved children enough to spend his final years creating an historical account of the children who rode an orphan train to new lives. This proves that there are future writers named Noonan who will continue to share with the world...

Robert, who died February 2nd, I miss you and know I will one day see you again... 

With much friendship love,
Glenda
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