James Garside
I have to admit, my heart sank when I received Sugarcoated as my first book to review through the Library Thing review programme as this is really not the kind of thing I would normally read - lets just say that as a guy in his early thirties I am not the target audience - I must have clicked the wrong button!
The story centres around Cloddy, a teenage girl who is overweight and unpopular at school. She spends most of her weekends working for her Dad in the Opticians, until one day there she witnesses a violent attack. Then she meets ‘the man of her dreams' - two events that will change her life forever.
My first impressions were that this was a debut novel, relatively amateurish chick lit / teenage fiction with pretensions of being dark and edgy. Reading the novel did nothing to change this, other than to note with interest that Forde has actually already carved out a niche for herself with similar titles and has had some previous success in the young adult genre.
It's biggest setback for me was an unsympathetic and unbelievable protagonist. I've taught teenagers for a living, and none of them were ever that gullible, stupid, or unaware of how the world works. It's funny that a book that starts in an Opticians should end with a ‘shock ending' that everyone but the main character should see coming without the need for glasses.
Please take my comments about this novel with a pinch of salt or a spoonful of sugar, as I'm really not the person the book is aimed at, and I'm sure that younger readers and fans of the genre would enjoy it. It's a reasonably fast-paced thriller, and will no doubt appeal to the target market.
A ‘just enough' guide to Amsterdam that will see you through a few days there. Not quite the expert budget travel guide I was hoping for but still useful.
Odin: How do I triumph over chaos?
Troll: Give me an eye and I'll tell you.
Odin cuts out an eye
Troll: The secret is keep both eyes open.
Breathe in. Breathe out. And relax. Keep doing that. Try not to die. Breathwork is bunk. Learn meditation instead.
“We are super magic men. We stay up till 5 a.m. Although we're bound by shaman law, what goes on tour, stays on tour.”
The only thing that you have to fear is fear itself. And spiders. Fuck spiders. “Run from what's comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on I'll be mad.” ― Rumi
Success means doing what you set out to do — even if you fail. I'm a writer so success is every time I write. Even if no-one reads it.
What's holding you back?
Fear of success. Fear of failure. Imposter syndrome. Mostly fear. Nothing and no-one is keeping you from the success you deserve. Not really. If you see obstacles as outside your locus of control then you've a convenient excuse to do nothing about them.
If everyone lived truly happy, successful, and fulfilled lives then no-one would take out the bins. Metaphorically I mean. Society / the media wants to sell you the idea of success as something out of reach so that you have to keep striving for it. Like Tantalus.
Living Magic: Contemporary Insights and Experiences from Practicing Magicians
Frater U.:D.:,Axel Budenbender,+2 more
You could summon a demon to help you find arcane knowledge in a dusty old tome. Or you could order a book from Amazon. I'm just saying. Not only is it more efficient — with one-click delivery and free shipping — but you're still summoning a demon and it's still a form of magick.
Whenever someone tries to explain economic theory to me I stare at them like a dog that's being shown a card trick. Optimal Money Flow sees the flow of money to the top of the pyramid (ie. away from poor people and into the hands of the banks and big business) as a natural part of money. I'd say it was built that way by design by the rich mucky mucks who stand to make the most from it. Optimal Money Flow also proposes that the role of government is to, wait for it, ensure that some of the money flows back down to the sewer in which all the poor people live. Ok, I'm paparaphrasing. But government doesnt't exactly have such a great track record of giving the poor its due instead of lining its own pockets. That's like Robin Hood taking from the rich to give back to the poor but asking the Sheriff of Nottingham to oversee the handover. I'm also arguing by analogy, which rarely holds up to close scrutiny, but you get the idea. An interesting idea but divorced from reality.
I AM NOT A WOLF AND I WAS NOT PAID IN HAM TO REVIEW THIS BOOK. I AM A HUMAN MAN AND CAN TYPE AND DO TWITTER JUST AS WELL AS ANY OTHER HUMAN MAN WHO IS SICK OF WOLVES THANK YOU VERY MUCH. HOW COULD I TYPE IF I WAS A WOLF? EXACTLY. I BET THAT GAVE YOU PAWS FOR THOUGHT. THANK YOU I AM HERE ALL WEEK. DID YOU SAY YOU HAVE HAM? ANYWAY, I AM NOT A WOLF IS A BOOK THAT I DID NOT GET PAID TO REVIEW. IT IS BY DAN SHEEHAN THE HUMAN MAN BEHIND THE TWITTER ACCOUNT SICK OF WOLVES. IT IS A CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE BOOK ABOUT NAVIGATING THE HUMAN WORLD AS A WOLF AND TRYING TO PASS YOURSELF OFF AS HUMAN. WHO DOES THAT? LOL. NOT ME. I AM A HUMAN MAN. I USED TO READ CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE BOOKS WHEN I WAS A HUMAN CHILD. I ALSO USED TO CHEAT AT THEM BY READING ALL THE PAGES AND PICKING THE ENDING THAT I LIKED THE BEST. THIS BOOK IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU'D EXPECT IF YOU ALREADY LOVE SICK OF WOLVES BUT IT IS ALSO A STROKE OF GENIUS. THE FACT THAT I REALLY LOVE CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE BOOKS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. THE SATIRE IS OBVIOUS, OF COURSE, BUT ALSO ON POINT. THIS IS THE SORT OF BOOK THAT YOU WOULD FIND INCREDIBLY FUNNY EVEN IF YOU WERE A HUMAN MAN PRETENDING TO BE A WOLF AND NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND. BUT WHO DOES THAT? GIVE ME YOUR HAM.
Edith Eger is a Holocaust survivor, American psychologist, and specialist in the treatment of PTSD. The Gift is the eagerly awaited follow-up and companion piece to The Choice, her internationally acclaimed memoirs. Endorsed by Oprah, these ‘12 Lessons to Save Your Life” have more in common with the saccharine sentimentality of Law of Attraction nonsense like The Secret than the more serious work of other Holocaust survivors. Full as it is of nuggets like: “It's not what happens to us that matters most, it's what we do with our experiences.” “Loving yourself is the only foundation for wholeness, health, and joy. So, fall in love with yourself!” and “If you're perfectionistic, you're competing with God.” You could be reading any other self-help book or Oprah's book club title. Remembering the Holocaust and recording survivor stories is incredibly important. You'd do well to start with Edith Eger's memoirs rather than this title which is an adjunct to that work. For a clear-eyed account of someone's else's personal experiences read Elie Wiesel's devastating Night Trilogy (Night, Dawn, and Day) and for psychological insights and life-affirming motifs read Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl.
The late Satoru Iwata was the global president and CEO of Nintendo and heavily involved in the development of some of their most iconic games.
Gamers feel about Satoru Iwata the way that virgins must feel about Richard Branson. Thank you, I'll be here all week. That was a bad joke. I'll see myself out.
A prominent quote from Iwata on the book blurb conveys why he was held in such high regard:
“On my business card, I am a corporate president. In my mind, I am a game developer. But in my heart, I am a gamer.”
Iwata was the head of a company but gamers took him to heart as one of their own.
The book is comprised of his reflections previously published by Hobo Nikkan Itoi Shinbun or as part of the “Iwata Asks” column on the Nintendo website.
Although Iwata was never interested in a book being written about him in his lifetime it's easy to understand why one was made after his death.
It's a tribute to one of the most beloved and influential figures in the gaming industry.
To steal a line from Playstation, one of Nintendo's competitors, “This is for the players.”
There's something warped about a world where advertisers and business moguls are the moral arbiters of society. They sit in judgement, in ivory towers built from crass commercialism, and look down on writers and artists because they're bad for business. This is why we can't have nice things, people.
I'm sick of hearing about how I need to niche down, explore my niche, or decide my niche. Especially from people who mispronounce niche as nitch. What's my niche? My niche is writing whatever I want because I don't want to do anything else. How about that? Is that not a thing?
Whenever I read anything by internet marketing douchebags I mentally make constipated noises like I'm gurning and straining whilst I take a dump. That's what they sound like to me. “Crush it!” “Niche down!” “No pain no gain!” “To the max!” Drink some tea. You'll feel much better.