The "ABC" Reading Challenge...Kinda

So here's the deal folks, I'm not much one for these sort of internet challenges, but this one looked fun so I thought I'd give it a go. And wouldn't you know that it is far more difficult to find 26 books that start with different letters than I anticipated. As a result, I have produced this mess of a list of books I would like to read that sort of, dances around the alphabet if you will. I would appreciate it if you guys could give me suggestions in the comments. Also, no promises! I'm not guranteeing that I will be reading all of these books anytime soon, if at all. Wow, this post just seems to falling apart sentence by sentence.

Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins. I guess it's about time; I read The Hunger Games two years ago.

The Host by Stephenie Meyer. Even though Twilight made me want to throw up in my mouth and set fire to the saga, I've heard good things about this book.

The Other Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I mean, it's Fitzgerald so why not?

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. I'd thought I'd give it a go. Just to be a good American and all that poop.

Northanger Abbbey by Jane Austen. Ha, did you REALLY expect me to make a reading list without including my favorite author?

Animal Farm by George Orwell. To be honest a fascist pig farm sounds like a nice shake-up.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. They made a movie out of it, so it must be mildly entertaining.

Inferno by Larry Niven. I don't much about this book other than that it was number one one the New York Times best seller list.
 
A Time to Kill by John Grisham. He's suppossed to be good.

A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway. It sounds sufficiently depressing.

David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. I enjoyed Oliver Twist, so I thought that this might be up my street.

Frankenstien by Mary Shelley. I've never read anything like this before.

The Great Gastby

There are numerous reasons why The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald remains one of the greatest works of American literature. However this story is hardly beloved like other American classics such as To Kill a Mockingbird. Yet even for those of us who don't like the story of Gatsby, the supreme quality of the writing and potent use of metaphor cannot be disputed. I've read the book three times now, and have fallen in love with the writer's voice even more than so that of my favorite authors such as Jane Austen. Fitzgerald was a true word-master. Much like the voice of Daisy Buchanan his sentences move up and down so rhythmically that our ear follows the sound like listening to a piece of soothing music.
He used big, yet unpretentious words without tiring the reader. It is one of those rare books where I wouldn't mind if the author went on a tangent describing the leaf that just fell on the ground, because the writing is really that pleasant. One of the most important aspects in narration, is flow. After all, if the writing feels abrupt and awkward, your ideas can hardly be considered well-expressed even if you carefully selected descriptive words and phrases. My advice to all writers would be to read The Great Gatsby slowly, allowing the sentences to dance off your tongue. Yet the book is so much more than that. Even though most of the characters are unlikable, and they appear to abide by no moral code, these people are larger than life, and Gatsby's naivety that deems him capable of childlike aspirations is a bittersweet trait that repeatedly manifests itself throughout the book. I only hope that my writing can become as smooth as that of Fitzgerald.

Oh, and if you're wondering, yes I saw the movie; I enjoyed it. They stayed very true to the book. I hope ya'll don't mind this slightly different post. Occasionally you just have to write about how much you love something.

If you haven't seen my last post I would urge you to check it out; I posted the second chapter of my book!

Written by: Karoline Kingley

The Second Chapter of My Book

Well, here it is folks! The second chapter of my book Royal. Just like last week please leave your thoughts and advice in the comment below. You may want to go back and read the first chapter to refresh your memory, as in the following passage I will be rewinding the clock a little bit. Again, I apologize for the strange formatting, but there isn't much I can do about that.

“Grey eyes like a deer

Brown hair thinning at the top

He holds those who are near

True priorities are wrought

Visions always sure

Spirits rarely down

Life swoops in to find a cure

And threatens his royal crown

Title holds the key

Heart demands much more

Answer to question will he see?

Or will mistakes result in war?”

          Queen Jolenta walked in to find King Roldan frantically pacing the room, hurriedly scanning the contents of a telegram just arrived. Anxiously licking her parched lips she closed the door with a purposeful bang, but he did not acknowledge her presence, and only stood still to examine the note again. With a sigh she crossed towards the window, releasing the drapes from a hook on the wall, allowing the plush, scarlet fabric to run through her hand. Like a little girl she peered in between the curtains after letting them fall to admire the winter stars and full moon that cast a ghostly glow over the front courtyard, and shrouded the trees in a pale light. At the sound of clanking chains she looked down towards the moat, to find the drawbridge being lowered for two silhouettes on unfamiliar horses. She flung the curtains back into place and turned to find her husband seated on the bed, running his fingers through his thin brown hair.                                                                             His appearance was not so much altered compared to its current state other than possessing a slimmer waistline, fewer grey hairs and eyes brighter with youth. Jolenta, even less changed remained almost identical in figure and face, except for the absence of a few matronly wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. The note lay idly on the floor near his boot, blemished with ink blotches and tears where words had been crossed out. When he lifted his face, one hand still covering his mouth, candlelight flickered in his grey eyes revealing inner anxiety. “Roldan…” she began, not sure on which sudden affair to inquire. “Are we expecting visitors?”                                                                                                      “Yes.” His answer though not short, was void of interest, discouraging her eagerness to press on. Nervously fidgeting her soft hands she embarrassedly looked down when asking,       “Who?”                                                                                                                                Roldan turned around with confident stance, though uneasy eyes betrayed him. “King Brandon.”                                                                                                                                    “What?” she rose with a start but quickly sat down when he kneeled before her, using his hand to brush away loose curls from her face.                                                                                                 “Do not be alarmed my love, it is purely business related.” When her eyes widened in disbelief he nodded sheepishly and admitted, “Well…mostly business related.”                                                     “I might have thought so. And I suppose that was him riding up just now?”                                   “More than likely.”                                                                                                                 “And he has not come to wish us on congratulations for our wedding?”                                              “I would not count upon it.”                                                                                                  She rose with a sigh and pulled a book out of her nightstand drawer, settling determinedly on the bed. “I think I will leave you menfolk to discuss the affair whatever it is own your own.” Humming, she nonchalantly flicked through the pages until four large fingers gently reached over the binding and extracted the book from her palm. She batted her eyes expectantly.

            “Actually, you will probably like to be present for this meeting.”                                          “Why, pray tell?”                                                                                                                Presently, a knock sounded upon the bedroom door, and with a weak smile Roldan slowly received the butler’s message that King Brandon of Zadith awaited his majesty in the royal parlor. Looking back at his pretty wife with all the love of a newlywed, he offered a hand. “You shall find out presently.”        Arm and arm they gracefully descended the staircase, the butler before them carrying a candle in each hand casting just enough to light to see the closest step. Roldan gazed at his Jolenta with admiring eyes as they walked, her graceful figure gliding easily, her black hair which was long even then swinging gently behind her shoulders. Blushing to feel his gaze upon her she timidly glanced up to find strength awaiting her in his honest eyes.                                                                                                “Here you are your majesties.” The man bowed and stood outside the door, allowing the king and queen to proceed on their own. Sharing one last look the royal couple strode forth to find Brandon confidently posed while his loyal assistant cowered in a dark corner.                                           “Your majesty.” The king stepped forth with a bow and kissed Jolenta’s right hand. “How fine you look this evening.” His mocking eyes and slimy speech reminded her of a serpent from whose clutches she only desired to flee from. She simply curtseyed, not trusting herself to speak.                                                                                                                                     “And King Roldan.” Both greeted one another with a bow, and they sat on opposite sides of the room after Jolenta seated herself on a chair, elegantly poised for an inevitably disappointing evening.                    “Now Brandon, from what I understand you propose a petition.”                                           “Indeed.” The fellow nodded and leaned forth, spreading apart his legs and casually resting clasped hands between them. “Now before I begin I feel it necessary to say that I am under no deception--I know we are not exactly what you would call…friends.”                                                                                                

   “Exactly?” Roldan repeated.                                                                                                   “Not friends at all. Some have even gone as far as to call us enemies.”                                            “Not a far-fetched label.” Roldan scoffed while sharing a smile with his wife.                                 “For as long as I and I daresay you as well can recall, our kingdoms have been at odds.”            Roldan thoughtfully ran his tongue over his lower lip, the amount of wrinkles on his forehead increasing every moment. “And whose fault is that?”                                                                      “To be fair, I do not think the blame can be entirely attributed to one alliance or the other.”                                                                                                                                Jolenta’s head jerked to the side and she bit her tongue in order to abstain from any cynical comment that could heighten the already existing tension. Roldan continued, “Correct me if I am wrong but…was it not you who issued the first in a series of attacks?”                 

            “If you are referring to the A-Z Wars II, I cannot deny we took the initiative to strike. And yet, was it not your great-great grandfather whom first pulled away from Zadith, beginning the small civilization that would eventually become known as Alavare?”                                                         “If you are insinuating that it is my side to be blamed for our differences…perhaps that cannot be denied. However I feel sure that even you, though our vision for our own respected kingdoms has never been the same, would not condemn my forefathers for doing what they believed to be in the best interest of their people.”    “No indeed!” King Brandon rose with a slight smile, complacently rubbing his hands together. Jolenta stiffened, and her eyes squinted like a prowling lion as she watched her “guest” pace the room. “In fact, I readily agree with you Roldan. Every man, every kingdom to use more relevant terminology, desires to seek the noblest ambitions for those in question, you and me as kings no exception. And it is for that reason today that I come before you with a request of a rather delicate and personal matter, that will surely ensure our peace for the future.”                                  “Surely?” Jolenta repeated.                                                                                                        The corner of the king’s mouth twitched with glee to behold her questioning eyebrows, and eyes bright with the certainty of her suspicion. “Yes your majesty I believe so. But then, you shall decide so for yourself presently.” He paused, offering a respectful silence, and when Roldan nodded he proceeded. “I understand you have a son, Harold is that correct?”                                             “Prince Harry, yes.” Said the queen.                                                                                            “Just a boy?”                                                                                                                           “He is only eight years of age.”                                                                                                      “I also gather that he does not biologically belong to his majesty.”                                             Roldan’s gaze faltered but Jolenta squeezed his hand and responded in a cold voice. “No. I had Harry from a previous marriage, but Roldan is his father now.”                                                               “Of course.” Brandon nodded then squared his shoulders, holding clasped hands behind his back. “Because you see, I have a daughter. Her name is Heloise. She is a little older than your boy but not by much; she is ten years old.” Jolenta leaned on her husband for support as she suddenly realized why he had wanted her to be there. “I propose that we betroth them now, and hold a wedding ceremony when the boy is eighteen years old. In my mind it is the perfect and really only reasonable solution to ensure future peace without any hasty contracts.”                                                                                          “This is a contract.” Jolenta reminded him.                                                                            Brandon’s head wobbled up and down in a sort of uncertain nod. “In a way I suppose it is, but my advisors agree there is nothing unreasonable about this petition.” King Roldan suddenly shot up from his chair as though a sword had poked him from behind, and he leaned against the wall pounding one hand in his pocket and using the other to articulate his words. “Even if they were engaged, or married for that matter…it would not change anything.”                                                                                “If you are referring to the past,”                                                                                                “I am referring to the present!” His eyes gleamed with the zeal of conviction. “Our opinions, priorities and standards…are just as different as they were when my people pulled away so long ago. Alavare and I daresay Zadith as well still abide by the principles and precepts founded by our kings and countrymen. Princess Heloise has been trained according to thinking patterns of her people, and the same applies to our Harry.”                                                                                                          “But this is why betrothing them would make all the difference!” Brandon bounded forward and the two men stood nearly nose to nose, nostrils flaring and eyes fervently searching. “In union we would be forced to set our differences aside and settle upon common ground--our children are the answer. A marriage is a perfectly logical and reasonable union.”                                                                      Roldan plopped back into a chair, his brow furrowed in concentration while Jolenta’s eyes flashed from one man to the other. The pleasant mild tone that his wife loved so well returned to Roldan’s voice, “You would be willing to sacrifice Zadith’s preferred method of subjection to our freedom?”                                                                                                                                    “Well not exactly sacrifice…mesh is a better word to describe my expectations.”                                         At the moment the parlor door creaked open, silencing the voices and drawing their eyes to it as a small hand with dimples at the end of each finger slowly pushed it open. When the door flung fully to the side they could see little Harry standing in his nightgown, his brown curly locks askew on his head.

            Jolenta immediately rose and drew the small boy into her lap without question, and after staring for a good couple minutes at the stranger Harry announced: “I came to see where the noise was coming from.”

            “Did we wake you darling?” Jolenta continued to rock him in her arms and run her hand over his hair. He nodded, but not in a pitiful demand for further “coos” of compassion but rather in simple affirmation.                                                                                                                               “Actually Harry.” Roldan crouched before his new son, however the boy gazed at his step-father with blank eyes, and he held tighter to his mother. “King Brandon has a question for you.” Once again the prince examined the stranger, and took an immediate dislike to his appearance. Although his new father was certainly no great man in his eyes, even this King Brandon whoever he was, failed in comparison concerning appearance to his parents. The boy opened his little mouth to say something, but checked his remark as what would not perhaps be regarded as proper and polite and instead said,                     “Hello your majesty.”                                                                                                             “Hello your highness.” Brandon smiled and crouched too, attempting to appeal to a child as he best knew how. “Did you know I have a daughter?” The boy slowly shook his head. “I do. Her name is Princess Heloise and she is ten years old.”                                                                                                 Harry bit his lip thoughtfully and counted along his fingers before replying, “She is older than me.”                                                                                                                                            “Yes, though not by much.” He looked towards Queen Jolenta for affirmation and she nodded respectfully for him to continue. “I was wondering if when you grow up, you would like to marry her.” Harry’s eyes widened in amazement and all meekness vanished from his voice when he replied in a confounded tone,                                                                                                                        “Marry her?”                                                                                                                           “Not for a long while.” Jolenta comforted. The child was a little swayed when he saw his mother’s approval but when his step-father smiled his feelings reverted back to their previous state.                                                                                                                                                              “But what for?”                                                         

            Jolenta took matters into her own hands. “Harry, if you marry Princess Heloise, you will be doing a great thing for your kingdom. Do you remember when you were a very little boy, how Alavare and Zadith went to war?”                                                                                                                    “Only a bit.” He mumbled.                                                                                                     “If you were to marry Heloise, that would never happen again! We would be always peaceful. No more wars, and battles, everybody would be happy.”                                                                                 Harry looked around for a moment, attempting to absorb this new information. He did not fully realize the significance of such a choice, and no child could be expected to. Finally tilting his head and folding his hands in a business-like manner he stared thoughtfully at Brandon and inquired, “Is your daughter pretty?”                                                                                                                       All adults present stifled a laugh and the king replied. “Many have called her beautiful.”                                                                                                                                                                                  Harry was swayed, but not convinced. “Is she smart?”                                                          “I think so.”                                                                                                                               “Hmm.” He clicked his tongue against his cheek in disapproval. “I suppose you would say that. Does she want to marry me?”                 

            Brandon fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt, nervous under the scrutinizing gaze of this competent prince. He considered lying, yet when he did a nervous bead of sweat broke out upon his forehead. “To be honest your highness…she is not very keen on the idea.”                                         That settled it. Harry bounced up from his mother’s lap, his curls swinging as he did so. “And I don’t want to marry her either.”

            “Harold,” Roldan kneeled before the boy, gently grasping his shoulders. “Perhaps you should take some time to consider this before giving a final answer.” His step-father’s entreats only confirmed his impulses. The prince shook his head.                                                                                             “No. That is not how I want to marry. And that is probably not how Heloise wants to marry.”                                                                                                                                    Roldan rose with a sigh and whispered into his wife’s ear, “Perhaps we should agree anyways…you could make him come around to the idea.” But Jolenta stood and shook her head, gazing upon her one and only son.                                                                                                                                 “No Roldan. I could not risk him being unhappy. I want our son to marry for love, and I’m sure Heloise would wish the same.”                                                                                                                  Both kings sighed and Roldan ran his fingers through his hair. “Please don’t tell me that is your final word?”                                                                                                                                            She shrugged her shoulders, but her eyes did not display regret. “Unless you convince him otherwise, yes, it is.”                                                                                                                            Harry remained still on the carpet, batting his eyes expectantly, anxiously running his blanket between his hands. King Roldan tried once more. “Harry…I know it might seem scary making this kind of promise but…perhaps you will feel differently one day. Take it from someone much older than yourself. Hearts change--people change.”                                                                                              The prince’s large eyes welled with tears and his plump lip trembled. “You want me to be unhappy for Alavare? I don’t want to think about this…I shouldn’t have to think about this! ” He rushed from the room shoving Roldan out of his path, and Brandon turned to Jolenta with one last hopeful gaze. She sternly shook her  head. “If the boy does not desire it, neither do we.”                                     Now relinquishing all gracious attempts Brandon stomped his foot and declared, “You will regret this one day! But if you choose to throw away the answer that will save your kingdom…your quarrel is not with me. Goodnight.”                                                                                                                    Roldan shuddered at the sound of a slamming door and Jolenta rushed towards her husband, cupping his face in her hands. “I haven’t disappointed you terribly have I?”                                       “No…you haven’t.” When he sank back into the chair, his face buried deep in his hands, Jolenta let him alone and went to tuck Harry back in bed. 

Written by: Karoline Kingley