To begin with, you should know that Isabel is not the name of the protagonist who lives in the Epitome Apartments and solves the crime in this book. Isabel is actually the name of Ogden Nash’s daughter. For the uninitiated, Mr. Nash was an American master of light whimsical verse, a poet who appreciated tone and rhyme and odd rhyme schemes. In his 1932 poem, which is printed in full at the end of the novel, the unshakeable heroic Isabel meets an enormous bear, a wicked old witch, a hideous giant, and a troublesome doctor. Are they all characters in the saga of our unnamed protagonist? That, dear reader, is for you to discover.
Like Nash’s poem, Dorsey’s novel is light-hearted and whimsical—though frosting serious violent themes like gay-bashing and murder for hire. It’s clever, casual, and abounding in asides. A cozy dramatic mystery written in raw, effectual, and not-so-cozy language. I feel, I must caution you here: Dorsey’s characters are LGBTQ, real, and raw. They live that way and talk as they live. This is the mark of a writer who understands that most of the world doesn’t live in a hallmark card.
Our female hero, her cat Bunnywit, who she affectionately calls F*wit, her lesbian lover, and her diverse crew, are extraordinarily unique characters. This, in and of itself, calls to me. Denis (one of my favourites) is a gay crisis worker and our hero’s best friend. He calls on her for help when his friend Hep—she’s Hep because of her uncanny resemblance to Katherine Hepburn—Hep’s granddaughter gets murdered. If you don’t know who Katherine Hepburn is, I suggest you google her as our hero recommends, or watch an old movie called The African Queen—or at the very least, google images of the movie—to get a picture of what Hep may be like except for her white spiky brush cut. Katherine Hepburn would never go for that; then again, she might if she were alive today.
Maddy—full name, Madeline Pritchard—goes by the same name as her grandmother, and is a prostitute with a drug problem, so Hep assumes the police won’t care much about her murder. Denis does though, and knows our unnamed hero, a “downsized social worker” who got locked up at age fifteen and is considering becoming a prostitute herself in order to pay her bills, will too. And so the story begins with our hero drafting personal ads to sell herself as a pansexual play-toy for hire.
Denis dresses our hero up to resemble Maddy in her hooker boots, and she and Maddy’s girlfriend, Vicki cruise the streets searching for clues. During her perambulation, our unnamed detective meets a homeless Asian woman in the subway named Jian who knows Maddy and recognizes the boots. (The thigh-high boots are a recurring motif as Bunnywit falls in love with them. Cats!) When she invites Jian home for a meal and a bath, the two quickly become lovers.
Other characters of interest are Roger, a homicide detective and one of the hero’s ex-lovers. And the hero’s Christian cousin, Thelma. The Christian question dominates the story as Thelma’s church supports a group of skinheads called “Soul Patrol” who use their placard as a crowbar to beat up gays and anyone else who gets in their way. Our hero, who provides footnotes, for the proper terminology to describe her gender identity—bisexual, ambisexual, pansexual—is targeted by this Christian hate group and suffers at least one major beating that lands her in the hospital.
Dorsey subtitles her work a “postmodern mystery, by the numbers” which, in and of itself, requires a professor to unravel and a whole lot of philosophical jargon which I’m not prepared to tackle. Suffice to say, the “postmodern” phenomenon grants Dorsey a license to run amok with language, style, and social morality. I say, “Yay, Dorsey.” Her narrative is structured in short, numbered, and wittily titled scenes with footnotes and casual asides. Moreover, her narrative flips at her discretion between first, second, and third points-of-view. Please don’t be put off by this. Dorsey explains as she does it, and you never feel like you’re not a crucial part of this narrative. In first-person the private detective tells her own story. In third-person she narrates the actions of others because she’s not there and can’t share their experiences. And, in second-person, she speaks directly to the reader about the writing process. “We put in what’s necessary to build character, create mood, and advance action” and leave things out that are boring “habitual actions.” Dorsey promises never to knowingly fool the reader by “withholding clues” and admits she hates those “Jeffrey Archer twist-in-the-tale things.”
To solve Maddy’s murder, our hero’s crew visit some unusual locations. The night of her murder, Maddy was seen with two nasty looking characters and a very tall and memorable drag queen who the crew think might be responsible for the young woman’s murder. Denis, Hep, our hero, and her lover, Jian, dress up and cruise the clubs searching for this enchanting being.
If you’re looking to cruise with a Canadian Lisbeth Salander (think Dragon Tattoo) you may discover that Isabel’s Adventures work for you. Our hero triumphs over every evil thrown at her as does the unflappable Isabel. She’s not only our postmodern poster woman, she turns the tables on evil and is a necessary hurrah in our chaotic world. Oh, and did I mention, she’s Canadian, as is the city where the story is set?
Published by ECW Press, October 2020 #ExceptionalCanadianWriting
*As reviewed on the Ottawa Review of Books, October 2020
We often hear of English historical exploits but less often from the cultures overtaken. Spirit Sight opens a unique and colorful window into Wales 1282—a historic moment when Edward Longshanks, the English king is bent on destroying the Cymry (the Welsh) and taking control of their land. Powell’s sensory description takes us there and keeps us there with emotional moments, adventure, romance, and an interweaving of history and imagination. Though marketed for young adults—as is the case with all excellent YA fiction—it will be of interest to an adult audience too. And the cover is beautiful.
The first book in the “Last of the Gifted” series, the tale is told by dualing teen protagonists—Hyw (16) and Catrin (14)—a brother and sister separated by war for much of the book. These two are the “last of the gifted” as both have supernatural powers. Hwy’s ability to merge his spirit with animals and birds makes him both a horse whisperer and a unique spy for the Cymry. As a hawk, Hwy is able to gain insights and strategies unknown to others. Inherited gifts from the maternal line, Hwy’s Uncle Gawain, has a similar ability with horses. At first, Hyw only sees through the hawk’s eyes, but as his gift develops he is able to physically shift with a “grinding of bone on bone” and transform physically.
Cat is a clairvoyant who is able to see the future in a drop of water. Her alarming psychic visions speak of the genocide of her people. A strong rebel warrior in the making, she gathers her girlfriends together to dress as boys and learn to fight outside the castle gates. Together, this brother and sister hold the key to squelching this impending terror. Their interweaving stories are colorful, emotional, and riveting and we want to see more of them.
These are the days when the Prince of Wales was a true Prince of Wales. Llewelyn ap Gruffydd united the country and was given that title in 1267, though Edward, the English king, continued to terrorize the Welsh people and castles. In 1282, Llewelyn’s younger brother, Dafydd, fought back and his attack escalated into a war. With plenty of action, we see Arthurian shades in the characters, culture, and quests.
In an initial heartbreaking scene, Llewelyn is executed on the battle field. Hyw runs to him and while staring eye to eye in a last breath, the prince’s spirit merges with the boy. And so, we share both points-of-view throughout the tale. This “circle of three” forms a powerful union to fight against the invading English.
Marie Powell is a professional writer, editor, and journalist with a long list of published books for children and young adults. Well researched and beautifully written, Powell keeps us riveted with this, her debut historical fantasy. History and magic are intertwined effortlessly to cast a spell over the reader. At the end, we are left with a castle under siege and a craving to read Book Two: Water Sight. Look for more at mariepowell.ca where you can watch a wonderful book trailer and learn more about “The Last of the Gifted” Published by Four Tails, June 2020
*As published in the Ottawa Review of Books, December 2020
With shades of Easy Rider and Bonnie and Clyde, in his latest crime novel, Dietrich Kalteis takes us on an archetypal magic flight through 1973 British Columbia. As Blake Snyder would say, it’s the Golden Fleece. Revamped and dirtied down, this “road movie” illuminates, not only the crime, but the character of the thieving protagonists.
Kalteis writes brash, raw, dirty, and gritty like no one else. So, it’s tough to have sympathy for the beautiful Bobbi Ricci, who hooked up with 60-year-old “Maddog” Palmieri or Lonzo, as the Italian crime boss likes to be called, because she likes the money and the “tough-guy routine”. To root for a character they need some redeeming qualities—Bobbi makes that hard and Lonzo makes it harder. Her descriptions of Lonzo leave us wondering if riding in the boss’s limo and high-end dining out in Vancouver is worth the price.
Apparently not. Five months in, Bobbi’s had enough of Lonzo with his “graying hair, combed in a swirl to hide the pink dome, bluish veins like a road map above his ankles, [and an] ass like a deflated tire.”
Not a woman to be trifled with (which might be one of her redeeming qualities) Bobbi plans her escape.
Enter Denny Barrenko. An American draft dodger who demonstrated against the Vietnam War then flew north, he landed in Vancouver and worked for a time as Lonzo’s limo driver—which is where he first saw Bobbi in the rear view mirror. Then Lonzo fired him and ripped him off. Seeking retribution, Denny breaks into Lonzo’s place in the midst of Bobbi’s escape. She catches him and forces him to help her run with two of Lonzo’s Gucci bags containing half-a-million dollars in secret cash. Bobbi’s drugged Lonzo and just to add insult to injury, they take his caddy. And so, fifty pages in, the magic flight begins.
None too smart and driven by emotion, Bobbi calls Lonzo from a pay phone in Squamish to gloat and get the last word—a mistake that gets assassin, Lee Trane on their tail.
A hair-raising escapade fueled by impulsive choices, this page-turner kept me up most of the night. I love any kind of road story, especially one that comes with down-and-dirty drama, a trail of stolen vehicles, a police chase, devious underdogs, and a map: Vancouver, Squamish, Whistler, Lillooet, Smithers, Ripley, and eventually, Killick, Alaska. It also comes with a fabulous 1970s soundtrack, all the details of the decade, and masterful descriptions, all in Kalteis’s casually clipped style.
I’ll leave you to discover for yourself what the title alludes to. Where’s The Cradle of the Deep? Do Bobbi and Denny get caught or do they escape the police, the assassin, and others they’ve met along the way? Does their relationship grow into anything more than mutual Lonzo-haters and escapees? And the half-a-million dollar question—what happened to the cash?
This Old Golden Land is a book about Orkney written by Helen and Mark Woodsford-Dean of Spiritual Orkney. Helen is a British archaeologist who fell in love with Orkney over several visits and moved there permanently. Helen provides, not only the archaeological perspective with the expertise of an experienced and knowledgeable tour guide, but also includes her own journalistic musings and, at some points, a window into her soul. She is a mystic and poet, as well as a scientist. I did not always agree with her opinions, but she did make me think.
The book is subtitled “An Alternative Orkney Guidebook for Spiritual Seekers, Mystics, and Pilgrims.” I most definitely fit into the latter three categories and was intrigued by the book when I heard my favourite Druid teacher, Philip Carr-Gomm, read passages from it during “Tea with a Druid #146.” I ordered it from Helen and Mark, who self-published it, and it came, inscribed, a couple of weeks later, all the way from their home in Orkney. I read it right away and added my own musings. One suggestion I have for the authors if they do another print run is this: use a bigger darker font. The book is packed full of information and beautiful photographs but the font is too small for these old eyes, even with my thick reading glasses and I found I was straining to read it in bed (which is where I do most of my best book reading.)
Helen writes: “In many ways, Orkney is the golden land. There’s a strange light here. We’re at 59 degrees north, so the sun never gets directly overhead, not even at midday in midsummer; we nearly always have the sun at an angle and that gives us the oddest light. This light is desired by artists and photographers — they flock here . . . “
My Orkney Saga
Indeed. I traveled with my friend Jackie to Orkney in August 2009 for our “Men in Kilts” tour and experienced the old spiritual sites in this golden land. We rented a car at Glasgow Airport and drove up through the Inner Hebrides (where To Sleep with Stones is set), across the Highlands, and then to the far north coast of Scotland where we caught a ferry to these incredible islands. We stayed in Stromness and Kirkwall while on the Orkney Mainland where most of the big stones stand. Then, we caught another ferry that took us all the way north to Sanday.
Orkney has only been under Scotland’s jurisdiction since the 15th Century. After the Indigenous people (Picts) were — I’m not sure what word to use here as it describes a history much like what happened to Indigenous people all over the world particularly in my country, Canada, and twists my gut — overtaken by Norway, Orkney was Norse for about 700 years. This affected the language, dialect, and place names which evolved from Old Norse. When you walk the streets of a town like Stromness, the feel is definitely Scandinavian, not Scottish. Sadly, there were no men in kilts except the tour bus driver we encountered in Kirkwall; although I swear I saw the girls from Doc Martin walking down the narrow street.
The people are wonderful and the land beautiful. Golden. We went to Orkney Angora and I bought hand-dyed angora yarn from the woman who raises the rabbits, spins the wool, and runs the shop. We saw cows. Lots of cows. We went to the Italian Church built by WWII prisoners of war. We went to an amazing ice cream shop in the middle of nowhere, except that it was somewhere. And we adored the stones.
The Ring of Brodgar
One of the sites that impressed me most was the Ring of Brodgar. This four-thousand-year old Neolithic circle is one of the largest in the British isles. It currently has thirty-six stones of a possible sixty, twenty-seven of which are still standing. When we arrived there in July at the height of tourist seasons, there were few people there and, as is often the case, after traveling from British Columbia all the way to Orkney, who do we meet but a woman from Vancouver! The circle faces northeast which is the direction in which the sun rises at Summer Solstice. It is enchanting.
Helen says that if you stand in the centre of the ring and speak normally, anyone with their back touching a stone can hear you as if they’re standing right beside you. Is that magical or what? I would have liked to experience that when we were there! Unfortunately, that’s not possible. The centre is a sensitive area and off limits. But think what this meant to the Neolithic people! Did they build this effect into the structure? If you happen to know why and how this phenomenon occurs, please leave a comment to explain. I’m quite blown away by this. I mean, what would happen if someone chanted or drummed in the centre? Could it create an altered state of consciousness? I want to experience this.
Skara Brae
Another famous site is Skara Brae. It was uncovered in the 1850s when a storm swept it free of the sand dunes that had hidden it for who knows how long. Archaeologists believe it was constructed over a period of six hundred years while it was in use, beginning around five thousand years ago. It is very much a seaside stone community. It was excavated by archaeologist Gordon Childe (1928-1930) and Clark in the 1970s. Helen says that the First People who lived here in these houses did so for about three hundred years and produced middens of domestic waste. During the three-hundred-year phase, the people built covered passages through the middens that connected about ten houses. Can you imagine walking through a covered stone passageway to your friend’s house five thousand years ago? Maybe taking a bowl of oyster and crab chowder to your grandmother? There are rock beds and rock dressers or altars, sunken stone and clay-lined refrigerators. It’s also been hypothesized that Skara Brae was not a cluster of familial homes at all, but a spiritual space for pagan magician/priests to meditate, something akin to a Neolithic monastery. But who really knows?
A year ago, during meditation, I conversed with a spirit who may have come from this place. At least, I believe he did. This is what I heard and wrote.
He began dramatically with this: “enfolding, folding in on itself like a flower that dies after its bloom, your earth is disappearing into the void slowly.” As apocalyptic as that sounds, he went on to say his name was Siarba (it sounded like Sharpa but I saw it written as Siarba.) He was once a shaman, healer, builder of the stones. “You are right when you see the stone houses. They are ours. We traveled up and down the coastline. We built houses. We lived, weathered the storms and winds of the seas, raised our children, ate the fish, smoked the seaweed to see things when the moon was full, rattled shells and blew the horns of the sea gods. I loved you.”
When? “When the earth was fresh and clean and not folding in on herself. When the birds sang of stories and told us where to find the fish. When the whales came. When the world was plenty and love was full like the moon.”
Where? “There (I envisioned Skara Brae) and when the wind came and the sea raged we walked south crossing waters. Moving, always moving, thousands of your years. But there is no time once you surpass the physical and move into spirit. Don’t fear it. The earth changes but spirit does not and in the ever-growing darkness there is light and love.”
Contagion
Helen writes of a term called “contagion” — not the kind of contagion we think of during a pandemic, but a different kind. This contagion is an archaeological term that refers to the “spread of power or energy through the senses.” Basically, when generations live in the same place, ancestral power and energy are transmitted through the land. I like this. I know this. Dylan McBride reveals this in To Sleep with Stones.
Sometimes, when we are open and walk the land we sense this power and energy. This love for the land transcends time and space, transcends generations. It is ever-flowing energy. We might touch a stone or shell or other artifact and feel it like a rush or ripple up our arm. Put our hands in the earth or sea and feel alive and empowered. It is one of the reasons, spiritual pilgrims walk the land barefoot and meditate in sacred sites. It is one of the reasons people go to the wild places to heal and pray for miracles. Why they pick up stones and shells and bits of driftwood as they wander.
Almost everywhere I’ve traveled, I’ve picked up stones that called to me and brought them home. In Sanday, the farthest island north, I found a perfect sand dollar on the white sand beach. Yes, Sanday has blue water, white sand beaches, and very few people. We stayed in a charming cottage there and breathed sea breezes that refreshed our souls.
I will go back and stay longer. I will go back and ask Helen to take me on a tour behind the scenes to experience ritual and the magic of this golden land. If you are considering the same, please do connect with her and buy a copy of her book before you go. You can find more information here. Tell her I sent you.
Stromness Kitty
Skara Brae showing covered passages
The Doc Martin Girls from Stromness
I love the Standing Stones
The Ring of Brodgar
Heather at the Ring of Brodgar
The sea is never far away.
The view from our B&B on Sanday
https://orkneyangora.co.uk/
There be cows. I love cows. And do they ever know how to intimidate you. Look at that stance and stare!
Blue water and white sand beaches on Surprising Sanday
Call Helen. Go there. See for yourself. This is a magical land . . . a golden land.
If you’re a fan of Alice Hoffman’s novel, Practical Magic, you’ll like this series. I picked up Book One on a free promotion. I’m not fond of the cover; in fact, I wouldn’t have bought it based on the cover. But I was intrigued by the teaser and it was free, so I gave it a chance.
It turns out that The Witches of Dark Root is one of the few paranormal fantasies I’ve read that offers a great storyline, believable magic, clever writing, and enough light to balance the darkness.
Maggie-Mae Maddock, with wild red hair hanging to her waist, is sarcastic, complex, and funny. Some folks call her a wilder. I warmed to this Welsh witch right away.
In the beginning, Maggie and her boyfriend, Michael, are religious leaders living in Woodhaven Compound in Northern California. She followed him out of Dark Root, Oregon seven years before.
Then her older sister, Merry, calls to say their mother, Sasha Shantay, is quite ill and they need her to come home. (Merry is the Herald.) Michael has become way too friendly with Leah, another woman in the compound, who’s threatening to replace Maggie as star of the religious show and seems to have Michael under her thumb. So Maggie decides to leave Michael and goes home.
This is a family of women. There are four sisters: Ruth Ann, Merry, Maggie, and Eve. They all meet up in Dark Root, except for Ruth Ann who left years ago and hasn’t been heard from since. The sisters all have witchy gifts. Maggie’s is electrokinesis, the ability to manipulate the energy of electrical devices like the radio and cell phone. Eve is an actress who can create potions and spin love spells. Merry is a healer and mother to sweet little June Bug. Their mother, Sasha, once led the coven, but now she’s old, frail, and near comatose. The family have been living in Dark Root for generations since their witchy ancestor, Juliana Benbridge, escaped there with her children. A few men appear as love interests but the romance is second place to the relationships between the women.
This book is contemporary urban fantasy, spliced with flashbacks and dreams where Maggie reveals her memories and family history. There are a few scary moments but the antagonists are quite tame and easily vanquished.
April Aasheim is a clever writer. Music is interwoven through this book’s pages. Chapter titles are all 70s songs so you’ll find yourself singing along. Really, this book has its own built-in soundtrack as some of the characters are performers. I’m a fan of cool chapter titles and this gimmick caught my eye.
Aasheim also has an excellent grasp on Wicca and spices up the brew with gems of magical knowledge:
“all homes were said to be alive and should thus be named” (I like to name my home.)
“There are no coincidences … there are forces in the world at work, whether we see them or not” (Too true.)
“a witch never cuts her hair … the longer her hair, the more powerful the witch” (I didn’t know this Sampson twist.)
“one can never stay down long when there’s music in the house.” (Yes!)
When drawing a pentagram with white powder “the star must be inside the circle, but the two shapes must not touch.” (Always good to know for when you’re drawing pentagrams.)
“the symbol of the cross predates Christianity. It has been used since the dawn of civilization as a means of keeping the dark at bay … Symbolism, like any form of Magick, is reliant on a collective belief system.”
At Halloween “the veil between the worlds was lifted. Spirits moved freely between planes, spells were stronger and a witch’s power was doubled.” (True. It’s the beginning of the witch’s new year.)
“Magic could be found through music and laughter and love and, above all, family. This everyday magic was more powerful than any incantation or spell or working of the craft. This was the magic that lit up the world.” (This, I believe, is the story theme.)
If you’re curious about witchcraft, The Witches of Dark Root is a great place to start. And if you’re knowledgeable, you’ll enjoy the romp. Because it’s a series, when you finish one, there’s another waiting. I might just buy the boxed set. I feel like this is the kind of series that blossoms and grows with each book, filling in holes and letting us sink into the complex characters. And I like this cover!
I bought the paperback edition of In Restless Dreams from Wren Handman in March 2020. We read together at an Author Reading in B.C. and she was so funny and entertaining, I had to buy her book. (Mini-spoiler: Wren read the part where Sylvia eats “the brownie” at a party—an act that shows her hero’s innocence.)
Written in casual first person, we spend the whole book in Sylvia’s head. She’s a normal teen with some extraordinary problems. Her parents are separated, so after her mother almost commits suicide, Sylvia and her thirteen-year-old brother, Eric, are sent to live with her rich attorney father in the Upper East Side, New York. Oh, to have such problems—a mansion, a father who doles out credit cards, and a hot chauffeur to shuffle you to and from prep school!
The first half of the book follows Sylvia’s challenges adjusting to the rich privileged, ofttimes, cruel kids at her new rich prep school. About half-way through the book, Sylvia eats “the brownie” and suddenly starts seeing things she shouldn’t—even given the nature of “the brownie.”
The back-half of the book chronicles her adventures as the new Phantasmer—a being who can change Fairy with her thoughts. She’s introduced to The Stranger from the Unseelie Court and the hot, blond green-eyed knight from the Seelie Court, and we are entertained with the history and complications of Fairy.
There’s a thread of Alice in Wonderland running through the text. My favorite quote: “Artists and thinkers imagine so strongly, they warp bits of the world to match their creation. Lewis Carroll dreams of Jabberwocky and somewhere a fae is born who truly hates Vorpal swords.” Sylvia’s entry into Fairy is much like Alice’s into Wonderland, and this is exactly what Handman’s done in this book—dreamed a Phantasmer and so she is born.
Judging by the lengthy set-up, I’m assuming this is a series. Hurray! There’s already a hint of a love triangle between Sylvia, The Stranger, and the Green-Eyed Knight.
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