Stuart Aken's Blog, page 260

Cutting Through the Academic Crap, by Judy Taylor, Reviewed.

Are you a university student, or the parent, best friend, trusted sibling or confidante of such a student? If so, I strongly advise you to read this little book. It took me 40 minutes, that’s all. So, it’s hardly an imposition, is it?Written in a friendly, approachable style, it details the methods, pitfalls, techniques and crucial points in the process of writing that all-important dissertation. I learned a good deal I didn’t know about this specialist academic topic and was prompted to read the book because my daughter is currently attending university and will be required to produce a dissertation in her final year.The book is presented in easily digested bites, each of which deals with a specific aspect of the whole. Breaking it down in this way makes a difficult subject more easily understood. The author has personal experience of the needs, having two degrees herself. She demonstrates empathy with the lot of the student and uses some vernacular with which the student should be familiar. But she provides her advice in an authoritative manner without that off-putting arrogance and superiority that defines so much academic writing.Students who follow her advice and take account of the various pitfalls and distractions she highlights will stand a very good chance of not only completing the dissertation on time, but also of gaining maximum marks. Such a chance to increase the success of all that hard work and study that exemplifies the lot of the student must surely be worth the short time and attention that this essential little book deserves.So, if you’re studying for that degree, or supporting someone involved in that demanding task, I unconditionally recommend the reading of this book: BEFORE you start.
BTW: this is an ebook only at present, and available on Smashwords.

Uninterested or disinterested?

Okay, so this is an old bugbear of mine. But usage seems to be a growing problem, even for supposed professionals, especially amongst those broadcasting on TV and radio, who should be ashamed of themselves!
It’s really quite straightforward, you know.
If you’re not interested, the term is uninterested, in line with most similar opposites. You’re either dressed or undressed, moved or unmoved, reasonable or unreasonable, so, similarly, you’re either interested or you’re uninterested.
If, however, you’re politically neutral, you are disinterested. If you’re making a judgement without bias, you need to be disinterested. Disinterested means without bias, impartial, neutral.
So:‘Jennifer was uninterested in football, so didn’t care which side won.’But:‘The referee was disinterestedin the outcome of the match and remained neutral throughout.’
Does that help?
We have such a subtle and comprehensive vocabulary in English; it seems a shame not to use the right word, when perfectly good examples are available, don’t you think?

Read Breaking Faith, Free: Chapter 26

If you haven’t started reading my romantic thriller novel, it might be worth looking at the reviews on the 'My Books' tab. They may change your mind.
On the other hand, if you're continuing the journey, I assume you’re hooked on this story.
I posted Chapter 1 way back on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have appeared here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search by chapter number.
If you missed the start, you’ll find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Read, enjoy, invite your friends to join us.
Chapter 26
‘You ever going to finish that letter?’She looked up from the desk, face full of indecision, then glanced at the handwritten page she’d just completed. Sudden resolution made her fold the single sheet and slip it into the stamped envelope. ‘Post it for me, Leigh. Then I can’t change my mind again.’I took the proffered letter from her hand and stuck it in my jacket pocket, certain I wouldn’t post it. Netta was impatient by the door, eager to visit Matilda, whom she hadn’t seen in the three weeks since my birthday.‘You’ll be all right alone?’‘I’ll be fine. It’s only a couple of nights. I’m going to do a bit more printing, if that’s okay? Some of the landscapes I took last weekend.’‘Brilliant! The rate you’re progressing, I’ll not need to advertise to replace Merv, it’ll be another Girl Friday I’ll need.’‘I can do both, if you get that extension in the darkroom, as you promised.’She was right. That she’d learned to print from Merv still astounded me. Her determination had impressed me more than I’d let on and I was more proud of her than I could say, especially in light of what the bastard had allegedly done to Netta.‘Ring and get it organized. Okay?’‘I will. You get off down to London, Leigh and take care on the journey. Tell Zoë I’m following her advice and the signs seem promising so far.’I’d no idea what that was about but I said I’d tell her.‘Are we going now, Leigh?’‘Keep your hair on.’‘See you Sunday, Netta.’‘Yeah. Don’t wait up, though, Mum might not bring me back until late.’Faith shook her head at us. I knew what she was thinking. Her social knowledge had increased exponentially; no longer was she the naïve little girl I’d taken on. And she was wondering how Netta and I, who were at it like rabbits, could spend time with different partners for a few days. She had yet to learn the value of freedom to sexual relationships. But then, she’d yet to learn everything important about sex.Netta was quiet for the first part of the journey; I wondered if she was having one of her too frequent sulks because I’d refused to take her to London. I could hardly stay at Zizi’s with Netta in tow.‘I’ve never said this to a bloke before, but I’ll miss you, Leigh.’I was impressed, and slightly unnerved by her admission. I had no wish for her to get serious on me. ‘We’ll continue where we left off. Be all the better for a short break. You know what they say about a change. Matilda’ll have something special lined up to take your mind off me for the rest of the week.’‘Don’t you care that someone else will be pleasuring me, making me gasp with delight?’‘No more than you care about me doing the same. There’s little enough pleasure about, Netta. We should get it where and when we can.’Matilda greeted me with a hug and a full kiss as I took Netta’s case in. ‘I’d have stowed away in the boot if you were mine.’‘Cold and cramped. And it’s a long way to London.’‘Worth every bump and ache. Want a cuppa before you set off?’‘Thanks, but I’ve a small errand to run before I take the motorway. See you for Netta’s birthday, if not before.’‘Hope it’ll be before then, Leigh. That’s another six weeks.’ She kissed me again and took the case.Netta was a bit clingy but I was in a hurry. I stroked her lovely rump and parted her lips with my tongue. ‘Stay moist and ready for my return, sex kitten.’‘I wish… Yeah, right. See you on Thursday, Leigh.’She really was going to miss me. I was still unsure whether I was more pleased or troubled by that.As soon as I was out of sight of the bungalow, I took Faith’s letter from my pocket to check the address. It was out of my way and a bit isolated, but I knew exactly which cottage it was. Faith had put a huge, secret effort into discovering it and I wanted to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake.I left the market town and headed for the fells to the northwest. The single-track road appeared at last. It was gated to keep the sheep from straying. Rising steeply beyond the gate, it dropped just as precipitously over the brow. I followed it through a farmyard in the valley and across a narrow bridge where the river had become a trickle in the late spring drought. Another steep climb took me out of the deep vale and there was the turning on the right, a handmade sign pointing the way to Windyhill Cottage and stressing that the road was a dead end going nowhere.The gate was ajar on rusty hinges. An ancient Land Rover crouched under a corrugated iron lean-to at the side of the stone built house. A pile of rough cut limestone lay against the fallen wall as if someone had started a repair and then given up. A stone slab path crossed the meadow grass that fronted the house and approached a solid front door that hadn’t seen paint for a decade. I knocked and waited. From inside the house a large dog barked once.A very tall, elderly man appeared from the side of the house where the Landrover was parked. ‘Not interested, whatever you’re sellin’.’‘Hi; Leighton Longshaw. I’m not selling. I’m looking for David Lengdon.’The old man scrutinized me in silence, nodding his head slowly whilst making up his mind. ‘Why?’‘I’ll tell him that when I find him.’‘Will you, now?’‘I will.’‘He’s not well. I’ll not have his strength wasted on nowt he don’t need.’‘Sick, is he?’‘Very.’I thought of leaving it at that, but Faith had put in so much hard work to find him. In any case, if there was no reply to her letter, she was quite likely to try to make her way to the cottage herself. I wanted a chance to weigh up the situation first. The last thing Faith needed was a rotten man for her real father.‘Tell you what; I’ll wait out here. Give him this and let him decide whether to see me when he’s read it.’‘What is it?’‘A letter.’‘An’ I thought it were an elephant. Who’s it from?’‘Not me. And it’s not a summons or anything like that. It’s personal.’He eyed me up again, his head cocked on one side. Then he was gone without another word, the letter in his bony hand.I surveyed the landscape from outside the front door and listened to curlews calling their melancholy over the nearby fells. Somewhere water cascaded down a rocky course. Wind sighed quietly through grass, carrying the muttering of sheep and the piping of lapwings. The sky was devoid of cloud; a clear, fresh blue unmarked by haze or vapour trails. A small copse of mountain ash, their blooms abundant and creamy white, stood unmoving on the far side of the narrow road. In grass kept short by sheep, the white scuts of rabbits flashed as they scuttled to their burrows at the noise of the door opening behind me.‘Best come in then. Bruce’ll not harm you as long as you behave yoursen’I followed the tall figure down the dark, narrow corridor and into what was obviously the front room of the cottage. The large, black Labrador followed me, his nose prodding the back of my leg, and sat just inside the door as we entered the room. The room was too warm and smelt of sickness and dog. The window framed the scene I’d been observing. A bed took up much of the space, a single armchair between it and the window. A man who was dying, and had reluctantly come to terms with the fact, occupied the chair. He held out a hand and I approached to shake bones wrapped in parchment.‘David Lengdon.’‘Leighton Longshaw, but I prefer Leigh.’He surveyed me frankly for a moment before indicating the bed. I sat as invited.‘You’ll take some tea?’‘Thank you, though I’m on my way to the deep south so I’ll not stop long if you don’t mind.’The thin old man grunted but left.‘Don’t mind Eric, he has a need to protect me.’‘Kind of him.’‘Yes. Is Faith with you?’‘She’s at Longhouse.’‘Is she your lover, Leigh?’‘Would that she were. Faith is… you’ve read her letter, I haven’t, so I don’t know what she’s told you.’He handed the single sheet to me. ‘So, I find myself wondering what motivates your visit. The Bluebeard of Wardledale brings me a letter from a daughter I had no idea existed. She is not, he claims, his lover, though not for lack of trying. I have to conclude therefore that my daughter is extremely attractive but either chaste or lesbian or inaccessible for some other reason.’‘Beautiful, virgin, modest and morally puritan.’‘Chaste, then. So, to impress her, you offer to discover my whereabouts and determine my character, maybe my personal wealth, to test the waters prior to her own visit.’‘Faith found you and she hasn’t the foggiest idea I’m here. You’ll note the stamp on the envelope. She asked me to post it before she changed her mind yet again about the words. Also, Faith hasn’t an acquisitive bone in her body. I doubt she’s even considered your financial position. I came to test the waters, as you put it, because she’s been very badly treated by the man she thought was her father until a few months ago. Until, in fact, she met up again with her mother, Matilda, at my house.’His face, a controlled mask of pain the entire time I’d been with him, cleared at the mention of her name. ‘Matilda is well?’‘Matilda is lovely and extraordinary. I’ve grown to respect her, become fond of her since we met.’‘So, she shares your bed…’‘Wrong again. If it’s of any consequence at all to you, Matilda’s youngest daughter, Netta, shares my bed at Longhouse, at the moment.’For a while, the sick man was silent. Eric brought in the tea on a tray. I stood but he waved me back down. Even if he didn’t like me, I was a guest in his house.‘Don’t tire him, now. I’ll not have him bothered.’‘It’s okay, Eric.’ He passed the letter to the old man. ‘It seems I have a daughter.’Eric frowned but read the note. ‘Nice steady hand. Skilful and creative?’I nodded. ‘Very. Beautiful and intelligent, to boot.’‘So, you have designs on my financial situation. You want her to meet me, get her hands on my money and then marry her, no doubt. Business in trouble like so many others?’‘My house, which I own without a mortgage, would swallow this place half a dozen times. I choose the jobs I do. My business is flourishing. I have independent means, Mr. Lengdon. I have no need of your money. Neither does Faith. Her needs are few and she buys what she wants with the wages I pay for her honest and efficient work in the office and, lately the darkroom. I’m glad I came. Your obsession with your money would be harmful to her. I’ll tell her I discovered you’d died and we’ll leave it at that, shall we?’He maintained eye contact with me for a long time.‘Good. I’m sorry I was rude and difficult, Leigh. Everything I’ve learned leads me to believe I should meet my daughter. What you’ve told me and what you’ve revealed of your own character and your own feelings for the young woman suggest she’s someone for whom I might risk what little time and energy I have. My money, such as it is, was a ruse and pales into insignificance. Time, you see, becomes a rather precious commodity when you know its limits. And energy, when you’ve resigned yourself to the prospect of death and recently given up forcing yourself to live, is a difficult quality to recapture. Forgive my unpleasantness. It was a necessary test.’On balance, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’d played a strange and risky game but it seemed likely his motives were the best. I sipped at the dark, sweet tea Eric had handed me and considered for a moment. ‘I’ll be frank. Faith’s suffered far more than she should have at the hands of others. I don’t intend to expose her to additional hurt by introducing her to you only to find you’re out of her life within moments of the meeting.’Eric looked outraged. Lengdon smiled a secret smile and shook his head. ‘You’re not as wicked as rumour would have it, are you, Leigh? I have, at best, a year and a half, at worst, a few weeks. From what I’ve learned, I’d guess Faith would want to take the risk.’‘I’m away for the week. I’ll bring her at the weekend.’‘I leave it to you to decide how much of the truth you tell her.’‘You’ll discover that Faith and the truth are inseparable. You’ll also have to put up with me on her visits. She can’t drive and it’s a long way to leave her for a couple of hours.’‘We’ve a shed out back if it’s raining.’ Eric offered this in a deadpan voice and only his eyes gave him away with their twinkle.‘I’ll not bother with my umbrella, then. Until the weekend, gentlemen.’

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You're obviously here for the long haul. But, in case you're impatient for the next chapter, you know where you can buy the book. If you do, please write a review and post it wherever you can - Amazon, Goodreads, Smashwords, or any other bookish site. Reviews get indie published books noticed, you see.
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Related articles Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 25 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 24 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 23 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 22

Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 25

If you haven’t been reading this, it might be worth looking at the reviews on the 'My Books' tab. They may persuade you to give it a try.
On the other hand, if you're continuing the journey, I assume you’re still enjoying this story.
I posted Chapter 1 way back on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have appeared here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search for the chapter you want to read.
Missed the start? Find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Read, enjoy, invite your friends to join us.
Chapter 25
Tuesday 18th May
‘Really gives you the willies, doesn’t he?’‘Doesn’t he bother you?’‘Merv’s just a sad perv who’s scared to death of women in the flesh. You told me, yourself, how he wanks over pictures of me and the others.’‘I don’t know what you mean.’She made a gesture I had seen all too often from Mervyn. ‘Tosses himself off, you told me.’I hadn’t realized what he was doing and discovered I was both disgusted and curious about his behaviour.‘If I stripped off and told him he could shag me, he’d wet himself. Terrified, he is.’I wasn’t so sure. I’d worked with him in the confines of the darkroom and he’d shown no fear of touching me but I couldn’t explain that to Netta. ‘I wish I could believe you. I never feel safe with him. And those horrible piggy eyes that undress you. He makes me feel dirty, defiled. I really wish Leigh could get shot of him. I’m always looking over my shoulder when he’s around. I can’t relax. And the way he looks at you, Netta… I’d be really scared if he looked at me like that.’‘How?’‘I can’t describe it. As if… it’s like hunger, but more than that. As if he wants to devour you.’‘Lots of men look at me like that.‘Not like Merv. There’s horror and danger lurking behind those eyes. He’s evil. I know he is.’She shrugged, but I’d made her think. My dislike of Mervyn had increased greatly during the past two weeks whist he’d been teaching me to print. I’d managed the photograph of myself, using the studio late on the night of Leigh’s party, when everyone else had gone to bed. I’d used a new film and exposed the whole roll, imagining Leigh behind the camera and desperately shoving the image of the leering Mervyn to the back of my mind. That pretence hadn’t prevented my stomach churning throughout. I felt ashamed and degraded even before I’d started the lessons.Mervyn had shown me how to load the film into the steel spiral, demonstrating with some old film first. He’d taught me how to develop the film and hang it to dry in the cabinet without getting dust on it. We’d spent many hours in the darkroom making prints from the negatives.He’d been beside himself with the pictures and ogled me even more when he knew what lay beneath my clothes. When he was showing me how to enlarge the image, and how to mask parts with my hands, he concentrated on certain parts of my body.I didn’t dwell on my feelings as I made prints of those negatives of my own explicitly naked body for Mervyn to leer at as he stood too close to me in the dark. But my ploy had worked. He was so keen to produce pictures of the best quality possible that he passed on as much knowledge of technique as he could. And I was so eager to learn as much from him in as short a time as possible that I soon understood enough of the rules to learn the rest on my own.The experience had cost me enormous amounts of nervous energy and after each session, I’d rushed to the shower. His hands had touched me, accidentally, he claimed, at least twice during each session and always on the sexual parts of my body. Just once, he’d pressed his erect penis against me, lifting my skirt and prodding at my bottom as I bent to examine the image in the masking frame under the enlarger. I’d managed not to strike him but my threats to tell Leigh stopped him going any further.Amazingly, he kept his word and said nothing to Leigh. My growing cynicism put his silence down to his fear that Leigh would curtail our sessions if he knew about them.My problem now was how to tell Mervyn I no longer needed him. I’d removed the incriminating negatives from the darkroom and made sure there were no prints of me lying about up there. I’d destroyed all the prints we’d made together during my training sessions. I didn’t want Mervyn passing pictures to his brothers and other people so they could snigger at me in the street.‘Leigh gone?’Netta’s question brought me back to the present. She had one of Leigh’s tee shirts on and was barely decent. Leaning against his desk, she was skimming the morning paper as if she had nothing better to do.‘Left an hour ago. He’s due back around three. If you’re bored, I’m sure I can…’‘No thanks. I’ll work on my suntan.’‘You’ll give Old Hodge a heart attack if you lie out there in that.’‘Don’t worry, sis. I’ll take it off as soon as I’m in the sunshine.’‘You’ll kill him.’‘He loves it. At least he doesn’t have to tax his imagination with me. You’re the one who gives him all the hard work. Still guessing about you, you know. Time you gave him the treat he deserves.’I hadn’t considered Old Hodge in those terms.Netta went, but toward the studio rather than the garden. I assumed she’d left something in there after her last session with Leigh.The morning was growing warmer, the sun brighter, as it had for the past few days. It was unseasonably warm. I opened the office door to let in some air as I started the last few letters.My work would soon be done. Then, I would take a book into the garden and sit on the shaded seat under the arbour; read as the scent of clematis and roses surrounded me and Old Hodge’s quiet work in the garden came to me on the soft breeze. It was an inviting picture and I hurried through the correspondence, eager to be in my sundress and outside.Then came the scream.At first, I was unable to accept I’d heard such a disturbing sound. But it came again, more urgently. From the studio. I ran into the large sunlit room and froze as I took in the scene.Netta was on the floor with her shirt up over her face. Mervyn was kneeling between her thighs, his trousers round his ankles and his penis erect. He had one hand over Netta’s face, the other between her legs. As I entered and called out, she began to lash out at him with her fists.‘Mervyn!’There was a heavy tripod folded against the wall and I hit him hard across the back with it. He fell on top of Netta and I hit him again, then pulled, pushed and kicked him away from her. He rolled onto his back, protesting loudly and with vile language, as I helped Netta to her feet. She stepped forward and kicked him hard between his legs. He yelled and buckled up. She grabbed his hair and punched his face very hard, several times, with her other hand.‘Bastard! Wait till I tell Leigh!’I had to drag her away from him, but he made no effort to follow us. He just sat on the floor, holding himself, shouting abuse and accusations and threats and looking confused and very angry.‘Little prick!’ Netta turned in the doorway and sneered at him. ‘As if I’d want that little worm inside me!’I would have needed a shower and then kept to my room. I would have taken ages to get over it. But Netta shrugged and asked for a coffee, since I’d offered.‘When Leigh gets back, you’ll have no more to fear from that pervert. I’ll make fucking sure of that.’She was sunbathing in the back garden, as if nothing had happened, when Leigh returned. I was reading, keeping an eye on her. As he strode across the lawn, I called him over to warn him what had happened before he did anything that might alarm her.‘You’re sure Netta wasn’t up to her usual tricks?’‘Leigh! Why can’t you see him for what he is? He was going to rape her! She was terrified. Her screams alerted me. If I hadn’t got there when I did, Heaven knows what might’ve happened. He was all ready to…’‘Okay, love.’ He gave me a hug of reassurance and went to Netta. As he knelt beside her, she rolled onto her back. He spoke and she sat up, clutching him close to her.I thought she must be crying then, explaining what had happened. But she looked at me over Leigh’s shoulder and made a thumbs-up sign. Leigh stood and said something, which made her get up and stand with her hands on her hips as if she was cross. He looked at her for a moment and then hugged her close. She crossed her fingers behind his back.Mervyn was back in the darkroom and Leigh went straight there. I could hear him from the garden. It wasn’t long before I heard them at the front of the house, voices raised but the words unintelligible. Netta slipped her feet into flip-flops and took my hand.When we reached the front of the house, Leigh was kicking Mervyn’s backside as he pushed him to his old car. ‘If I ever see your ugly arse near here again, I’ll rip your fucking balls off and ram them down your filthy throat!’Of course, Leigh had no idea we were there.Mervyn turned to say something as he started his car and he saw Netta and me watching. ‘That cunt said I could! And that other little twat’s ‘ad its knickers off for me every day for three weeks!’Leigh wrenched the car door open and hit Mervyn on his head. He tried to drag him out of the car but Mervyn drove off, churning the gravel with his spinning tyres. As soon as he’d driven through the gate, which Old Hodge had already opened, he stopped and raised his fist. ‘You fuckin’ cunts. I’ll fuck you both up your tight arses till you scream for mercy! Cunts!’Leigh dashed out of the gate but Mervyn set off quickly down to the end of the lane, still ranting and raving through the open car window. Leigh waited until he was out if sight before he turned.‘That’s the end of that prat, Fay. Remember, you owe me one.’I was going to ask her what she meant but Leigh came up to us and he was still very angry. I offered to make him a cup of tea.‘Scotch. A large one. I’m going to shower away the touch of that filthy pervert. Bring it up to me.’I’d never known him so terse. He gave me a brief questioning scrutiny before he shook his head to clear it of some impossible thought. He never even looked at Netta before spinning on his heel and going through the office door.‘I’d best take him his drink, Fay. He’ll need some special treatment to calm him down. And I don’t think you’re in my league.’I was happy to agree. He was frightening in that mood.‘What was all that about?’ Ma had seen Mervyn leaving as she stepped off the bus at the end of the lane. I explained what had happened.‘He actually attacked her?’‘She was on the floor and he had his fingers in her vagina.’She gave me a curious look. ‘Never thought he had it in him, nasty little pervert. Is Netta all right?’‘She seems fine. I’d’ve been hysterical.’‘Mmm. Look, I’m sorry, Faith; seems you were right all along. Leigh’ll be doubly angry. Not just the attack and the betrayal of his trust, but now he’s got no printer.’‘I’ve learnt a bit, but I’ve a long way to go before I’ll be as good as Mervyn…’‘Does Leigh know?’‘Know what?’‘You’ve been learning to print. He said nowt to me.’‘Mervyn was teaching me. I wanted to surprise Leigh…’‘You’ve been working in the darkroom with Merv? I thought you were terrified of the pervert?’‘I can’t let my fears stop me doing what I want to do. I hoped I might help Leigh if Mervyn was ever sick or there was too much work for him on his own.’‘You’re a dark horse. You amaze me, Faith. How did you get him to teach you and not take advantage?’I told her.‘You did all that for Leigh?’‘I love him.’‘I know, but, well, I’m flabbergasted, Faith. I’m not convinced he deserves you.’‘I still love him.’‘You might just’ve opened the door to getting him to notice you more. Give it a couple of days and then join him in the darkroom. Show him what you can do, mebbie even let him know how you learnt.’‘I couldn’t do that.’‘Perhaps not. Say you’re anxious to learn more, with him as your teacher. He’ll not be able to resist you. That’ll be one in the eye for that scheming little sister of yours. We’ll be hearing those wedding bells sooner than I thought.’‘You’re sure I should, Ma?’‘Absolutely.’I wasn’t as certain as Ma that it would lead to that conclusion but it seemed worth a try. That, I reminded myself, was the reason I’d taken the risk in the first place.

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You've come halfway, so you’re obviously in for the long haul. However, in case you're impatient for the next chapter, you know where you can buy the book. If you do, please write a review and post it wherever you can - Amazon, Goodreads, Smashwords, or any other bookish site. Reviews get indie published books noticed, you see.
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Like my author page on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/StuartAkenMy website has links to 100s of other sites of interest: http://stuartaken.co.ukRead on Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4234877.Stuart_AkenStumble with me: http://www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/stuartakenCome Digg with me: http://digg.com/stuartakenPin with me here: http://pinterest.com/stuartaken/Buy my ebooks via Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/stuartakenUSA readers, see my author page on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/stuartaken(for some odd reason, this type of link isn't yet available on Amazon for UK)         
Related articles Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 24 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 23 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 22 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 21

Losing You, by Nicci French, Reviewed

In Losing You , Nicci French has woven a tale bursting with emotional impact. The book reads like a personal experience, such is the depth of detail and intensity of feeling in the writing. And, for the reader, this is not so much a read as a personal trip taken with the extraordinary mother on her search for her missing daughter. I will say no more about the plot, as I have no wish to inflict spoilers on potential readers.
In common with many of today’s writers, I have a day job. Because I share the family car with my daughter, I sometimes travel to work by bus. I’m willing to put up with the inconvenience because it’s better for the environment and it gives me time to read. I tell you this only because this particular book made me miss my stop; twice! I was so absorbed by the characters and the tale that I was past my normal disembarkation point before I realised it. It was one of those books that, had I had the practical opportunity, I would’ve read from cover to cover without pause. Unputdownable.
The narrator, Nina, is so well drawn that the first person account propels the reader through the roller-coaster emotional ride with consummate ease. Every other character, no matter how insignificant, is drawn with care and attention, so that each is a believable person; rounded and complete. The story builds slowly at first, with subtle hints pointing at a potential disaster on the far horizon. But, as the various elements of the drama are revealed, the tension builds and builds, making the pages turn with increasing speed as the reader lives through the growing terror with Nina: a woman who sees herself as ordinary but who demonstrates that we all, in the necessary circumstances, have the potential to be extraordinary.
All the barriers placed before the lead character are utterly credible and Nina’s response to them illustrates our mix of frustration with authority and our incomprehension of the need for seemingly pointless protocols when these prevent us acting in ways that seem obvious to us. The urgency of the need for action instead of talk slowly increases as time passes and all the possible outcomes flood Nina’s mind with their horror and dread.
I think you’ll glean from the above that I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It carried me with it on the breathless ride, involving me emotionally in every step and misstep along the road to the tortuous conclusion. The denouement is brilliantly written and constructed with such detail that the reader feels the author must have suffered something similar to bring such feelings and actions to the page.
I’ve read only one other novel by Nicci French but I shall be reading more. Just as soon as I’ve completed my self-imposed trawl through the 180 odd titles still on my ‘to read’ list. I have no hesitation in recommending this piece of superb writing to all and sundry.
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Savings of 50% Through Smashwords Sale

Along with other authors, I've joined Smashwords' Summer Sale. This means you can buy two of my books for half their usual price. Breaking Faith, my romantic thriller (see My Books tab for reviews) is now avail;able for $1.50, £0.95, or Euro 1.18. Similarly, my anthology of 8 hot erotic stories, Sensuous Touches, has also been reduced to $1.50, £0.95, or Euro 1.18. You will need to use the links shown and enter the promotional code of SSW50 to obtain your discount. And please take advantage sooner rather than later. This is a limited time offer.




My other books, Ten Tales for Tomorrow, The Methuselah Strain and Ten Love Tales are already priced only at $0.99, £0.63 or Euro 0.78, so they can't be included in this special offer.


And, of course, But Baby it's Cold Outside, the seasonal short story, is already free anyway.




If you have a look at the tab above, labelled 'My Books', you can get a 
flavour of all the books before you plunge in and spend these huge sums; this way, the risk will be singularly reduced. 


These are all ebooks, of course. Though Breaking Faith can also be read as a paperback edition, available through Amazon and other retail outlets. Because of the publishing arrangements, I'm unable to alter the price on the paperback, but it represents very good value at $14.95 or £7.99 for 340 pages of tense, exciting and emotionally packed romance.


The ebooks can be downloaded to be read on any ereader platform through Smashwords. If you don't have an ereader, you can read them as PDFs using the link for the free Adobe software to the right or using any one of the many free ereader software packages available online.


Related articles Article - Summer/Winter Sale At Smashwords

Bad Luck and Trouble, by Lee Child, Reviewed.

Bad Luck and Trouble is one of a series of thrillers starring the heroic loner, Reacher. I have never read anything by Lee Child before and only came across this as it was part of a compilation of 4 novels in a free book I received via a book club as part of the introductory offer. Sometimes, such gifts prove more serendipitous than expected. This was one such occasion.
I thoroughly enjoyed the story and found it difficult to put down. I’ve never lived in the USA, have no experience of the US military, don’t gamble in casinos, and I live a happily married life with a wonderful wife and daughter. So, on the face of it, I have no points of contact with the protagonist. But Child has a way of making his hero into a well-rounded human, almost in spite of his rough tough exterior. This isn’t the formulaic easiness of the soft-centred giant. Reacher is considerably more complex. He’s a man with principles and, although he can act with necessary brutality and kill in ways that seem almost casual, beneath this toughness lies a moral mind and heart that takes a no-nonsense approach to the realities of life. He is an honest hero, honest even with himself most of the time, an unusual human trait.
I won’t attempt to give a synopsis of the novel, though the plot could be outlined in a page. The whole point of a thriller is the way the plot takes the reader through the various barriers to success, or failure, and pits the hero against odds most would find impossible. It’s a piece of fun escapism. But, in common with many of the better written thrillers, this one has an underlying theme of morality, a concern with right and wrong. Child avoids those excesses so prevalent in the genre; the easy solutions to complex problems, the ready subjugation of moral considerations in the name of expediency or plot development. He eschews such lazy routes to denouement and instead employs real dilemmas and proper human concerns in resolving the issues raised by the story.
His characters, the protagonists, are well drawn and we know enough about them to understand their motives and actions. The villains could be seen as a little stereotypical, a little lacking in depth of development. But, hell, we’re reading this to root for the good guys, aren’t we? So bad villains are acceptable. I don’t read thrillers for detailed explanation of character; like most readers, I pick up a thriller to be entertained, to be taken on a wild ride of escapism. And Child delivers.
Would I recommend the book? Without doubt. And I’ll be reading more of this author’s work, once I’ve read the 180 titles in my ‘to read’ list!
Related articles The Affair, by Lee Child Bad Luck and Trouble Review Lee Child leads library hit-list FIRST LOOK: Tom Cruise makes a stand in crime thriller 'Jack Reacher'

The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron, Reviewed

Subtitled A Course in Discovering and Recovering Your Creative Self and A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, this is not merely a book, but an instruction manual about how to become the artist you truly are.
Okay, so I may already have alienated the pragmatists and those for whom the idea of artistic creativity is anathema. But stay with me. You, too, will benefit.
The book is the culmination of a number of years of work Julia has undertaken first to release her own creativity and then that of friends, and, ultimately, paying students. She is, of course, a well-known film director, amongst other talents. She lives in a world populated by people who use their creative talent to earn their living and to produce many of those things we take for granted in our daily lives. Creativity is not the sole preserve of the isolated artist living in a dream, after all. It is an element in the everyday experience of most of us, if we’re willing to discover it. So, there’s something here for everyone. And I do mean everyone, regardless of the type of life and the nature of the work undertaken.
The book guides the reader through a series of exercises and explorations of self over a period that is suggested to be 12 weeks. I took a little longer, as I had 2 weeks of holiday already planned and those weeks interrupted the flow. The exercises, or tasks as she calls them, are essential to the course.
Before you make a decision to experience this book - it is more an experience than a reading exercise - I should warn you that you’ll need to approach it with commitment. A partial, casual approach will not work. You must be willing to immerse yourself in all that it entails, if you’re to gain from it the lasting and increasing benefits it promises.
As you proceed, you’ll find all sorts of excuses not to do certain things, all manner of reasons why you, in particular, shouldn’t bother with some aspects. You’re too experienced, you’re too creative already, you’re simply too busy, you’re above such considerations, you don’t have that sort of problem, etc, etc. But allowing yourself to fail, permitting yourself to face those fears you have buried, will, if my experience is any guide, free you from self-destructive influences you’re unaware you have acquired.
I learned a good deal about myself during the course of the weeks. Not all of it was good. But most of what I learned was positive in its influence on my development. There were painful recollections, shameful admissions, abortive attempts at justification and some unexpected unpleasant revelations. But these are all part of the healing process that permits the inner artist to develop and flourish in the materialistic age we live in. To compensate for the unpleasant, there were many unexpected plusses along the way. I discovered really good things about myself, came to understand why I have held certain beliefs, why I have been unable to take full advantage of my gifts and talents, why I have rejected certain helping hands, why I have wasted so much time and effort; even, perhaps, why I became ill for so many years.
Sound a little over the top?
That’s what I thought when I started. But I grow daily more certain about what I’ve learned during these few, important, weeks of my life. I’ve discovered that I have true gifts, real talents, a fantastic imagination, a unique way of seeing and being. Sometimes the journey has been frightening, sometimes it’s been tedious, but often it’s been exhilarating, exciting, vital, and full of fun.
I never considered myself a ‘blocked’ artist. I seemed to be moving along with my creative life quite nicely, thank you. But the honesty this course forces upon its students woke me to the real reality (yes, I know, a tautology, but a deliberate one). We spend so much of our lives under the cloud of self-deception that escape is not only considered difficult, for many it is never considered at all, since these individuals have no consciousness of their self-imposed imprisonment.
I think it is clear that I would recommend this book to everybody.
There is a ‘but’; there is always a ‘but’.
One aspect of the narrative and underlying philosophy of the book threatened, from the start, to undermine the effectiveness of the course for me. I am a committed and self-defined, one might almost say passionate, agnostic. I’ll explain what I mean by that, since it’s important to your understanding of my position and argument. I believe that if there is a God, such a force, being, presence - call it what you will - is so far above our understanding as to be incomprehensible. I believe any attempt to define a God must, by definition, be an insult to such a concept and result in a counterfeit rather than the real thing. Since I understand the concept to be ineffable, I am left with the only logical alternative; i.e. I remain open to the possibility of a God but can make no description of such a power and, by logical extension, cannot accept any of the orthodox deities currently worshipped by the many religions that exist. These are, patently, constructs of man in a quest to answer the unanswerable questions and, no doubt, serve a useful, if often divisive, purpose in providing a sort of comfort for those who prefer not to think about such issues for themselves.
So, when Julia Cameron talks about accepting that there is an external creative being, that she calls God (using the ‘Good Orderly Direction’ tag to reduce the objections of the sceptics) I find myself resistant. Initially, this very insertion of the idea of faith into the course formed a barrier for me. But I persevered, putting that aspect on the back burner until I could examine it and find a replacement philosophy. And I’m glad I did that. Persevered, that is. Had I allowed my objection to stop me completing the course, I would have missed out on a very positive experience and failed to arrive at the new place I now find myself, creatively speaking.
As to what alternative philosophy I discovered along the way to replace the God aspect: this isn’t the place to detail it. Suffice to say that I found such a concept and am happy to employ that in place of the God facet.
So, again, would I recommend this book? Only to everybody on the planet. Go out and buy, borrow, or beg the volume. Make a commitment to do the tasks and exercises. Make a commitment to complete the course, however long it takes. If you follow it with the required open mind and the necessary effort you will come out on the other side a more creative, balanced and happier person. 
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Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 24

Not been reading this? Have a glance at the reviews on the 'My Books' tab. They may persuade you to give it a try.
On the other hand, if you're still with me, I assume you’re still enjoying this story.
I posted Chapter 1 way back on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have appeared here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search for the chapter you want to read.
Missed the start? Find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Read, enjoy, invite your friends to join us.
Chapter 24
Saturday 8th May
What a party!Ma outdid herself in the food department. Old Hodge set up lights and organized the cars on the gravel forecourt. And some of the girls arrived early to surprise me with an unexpected present.Faith led me blindfold into the studio and left me wondering; anticipating some wicked trick but totally unprepared for what they had planned. Female hands slowly caressed me and removed my clothes. I played along and let them strip me.Last to come off was my blindfold, to reveal nine naked women circling me with promise in their eyes. Amongst them Netta, Abby and Zizi. Standing by the wall, watching side by side, were Matilda and Faith. Their expressions couldn’t have been more different. Matilda looked on enviously, wanting to join in. Faith was shocked, perhaps even hurt. I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile and Matilda whispered to her. She left quickly. At my invitation, Matilda shed her clothes and joined the gang.They posed and played for me, each insisting on a separate photograph with me. All deliciously rude and saucy in their groups and pairs and trios. I had a brilliant idea for a satire on nudity; a pair of pictures I might publish. As soon as I’d outlined it, the girls agreed wholeheartedly.I dressed and we arranged the shot with the women, still nude, surrounding me and pretending to hide me from their gaze, their hands feigning censorship of their eyes. As a pair to this picture, I stripped again and the women dressed and took up the same positions around me but with their eyes uncovered and their body language expressing lust. Brilliant satire on society’s dual standards regarding nudity.Eventually, we made our way into the house. Faith was in the sitting room, playing hostess to the admiring men friends of the girls but utterly blind to her effect on them. The women joined their current partners and I crossed to Faith to hug her for her loyalty and patience. ‘Thanks for being hostess for me.’ I lowered my voice to a whisper. ‘I’d no idea they were going to do that, and I know you were innocent. Sorry it distressed you.’She looked as if something unbelievable had occurred and she was trying to find an explanation. I kissed her and fell to serving drinks and organising music and food for everyone.Ma’s buffet was superb. Faith astounded and delighted me with a present of a new record deck, amp and speakers and we played Abba, Santana, The Beatles, Donna Summer and all the favourites that were easy to dance to. Again, her resourcefulness impressed me as I compared her generous and appropriate gift with the inevitable bottles of Glenmorangie, Old Spice, Hai Karate, ties and socks.Faith watched the cavorting dancers with bewilderment and fascination. Netta let me share my time with all the other women who wanted to dance, talk and smooch with me.I forced Faith onto the dance floor at one point, only to regret embarrassing her, as she became the centre of attention. Her movements were naturally graceful and she had the good sense to dance minimally. But she couldn’t leave the arena quickly enough. Her simple lilac cotton dress, shorter than usual, emphasized her femininity without advertising her sex. She managed to look demure and attractive at the same time, in contrast to Netta’s blatant display of skin beneath a sheath of purple tie-dyed muslin.Zizi, Charlotte, Abby and her jazz freak pothead escaped into the garden a few times to indulge in both types of weed, poor fools. Netta and Matilda’s double-act lured a couple of the men away from the party, as the evening became late night. They were absent for long enough to cause dismay to the women who’d arrived with them.Well past midnight, Netta threw open the French windows and stuck her new forty-five on the turntable. Everyone watched her saunter to the place on the lawn where Old Hodge’s lights would best illuminate her. There, she peeled off her flimsy covering and danced to the Time Warp. I’d taken her to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show only a couple of weeks previously. Her pelvic thrusts were spectacular. Before long, most of the partygoers had joined her, in varying degrees of undress, and she played the track six times in a row. I, however, was absorbed in Zizi, who’d washed the ash from her mouth with some of my best malt and was giving me a guided tour of her lips and tongue in preparation for a bit of al fresco in the shadows.Later, when those who weren’t staying the night had departed, we all sat around listening to soft, low music, drinking wine, coffee and liqueurs and lazily chatting. Matilda and Netta had procured other partners for the night and Netta had taken hers to bed. Charlotte and Lucy had gone home alone by taxi, in tears. Inevitably, we discussed politics, religion, sex, the cold war and the bomb, setting everything to rights in that post party fashion that is so strangely satisfying.Faith, her social antennae still incompletely tuned, chose the occasion to ask Matilda a personal question.‘Tell me more about my father, Mum.’Alcohol had loosened Matilda’s tongue; otherwise, she would have been more circumspect. She spoke to Faith as though they were alone and I tried to leave them to it, but Zizi wanted to hear.‘David was a gentleman, a lecturer in my first year at uni; taught English literature. God, he’ll be coming up to sixty now, lovely man. His eyes were the colour of an English sky on a cloudless November day and his eyebrows met across the bridge of his nose so that he looked perpetually angry, which was funny because he was never, ever cross. He seduced me, saucy old bugger. He told me, as he undressed me the first time, he’d fallen in love with me as soon as I walked into the lecture hall. I believed him and he never gave me cause to doubt him. I loved David. Still do, wherever he is. He went to America, but you know that.‘I’m sure you were conceived on our very last day. We went to a bonfire party together… God, it’s hard to believe I only knew him for a few short weeks. He went out to replace another lecturer who’d fallen sick and it all happened really quickly. When we made love that night, I saw real fireworks amongst the imaginary ones he always fired for me. It must’ve been freezing under that cloudless sky but we didn’t notice.‘I think he might’ve become a great writer, given the chance. Brilliant mind, wonderful hands. Never known a man like him.’Anxiety clouded the face of her chosen partner for the night. ‘Don’t worry, love, I’m not into comparisons. You’ll do fine for tonight.’ She stood up and offered her hand. He took it cautiously. ‘Come on; let’s see what we can do for each other.’It was a timely departure and one that seemed to signal the end of the party. Faith caught my eye and I knew she’d do the honours around the house and gardens. I noticed again, how lovely she was in her lilac cotton; how it hugged her curves.Zizi took my hand and whispered in my ear. ‘Tonight, Leighton Longshaw, you’re mine. You can play with that little angel any time. She’s willing enough, even if she doesn’t know it. But not tonight. Come and show me again that you haven’t lost your touch.’It was an odd way to refer to my resident virgin, bastion of chastity. I put it down to her ignorance of Faith’s real personality and shrugged it off as I took Zizi upstairs to demonstrate how much I adored her body.

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You've come all this way, so you’re clearly in for the long haul. However, in case you're impatient for the next chapter, you know where you can buy the book. If you do, please write a review and post it wherever you can - Amazon, Goodreads, Smashwords, or any other bookish site. Reviews are what get indie published books noticed, you see.
Tweet with me on Twitter: http://twitter.com/@stuartaken
Like my author page on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/StuartAkenMy website has links to 100s of other sites of interest: http://stuartaken.co.ukRead on Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4234877.Stuart_AkenStumble with me: http://www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/stuartakenCome Digg with me: http://digg.com/stuartakenPin with me here: http://pinterest.com/stuartaken/Buy my ebooks via Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/stuartakenUSA readers, see my author page on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/stuartaken(for some odd reason, this type of link isn't yet available on Amazon for UK)         
Related articles Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 23 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 22 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 21 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 20

Could You Use Some Free Graphics?

I received this email today and thought I'd place it here for those who might be interested in trying the free
trial offered. I haven't tried it myself, though I have had a gander at their website, which looks very interesting. At present, I have no need for such a service. But, if you're interested or curious, here's the email, along with the link:

 I wanted to reach out to you because of the influence you have via your writings, with an offer I think you might be interested in using or sharing on your blog.  The graphic design firm RipeConcepts is offering two hours of free graphic design work as a way to meet new potential clients.

Two hours is enough for them to design a new logo for a blog, put together a banner, template for a newsletter, create a customized business card, etc. There is no obligation to use them again, and they won't exceed the 2 hour time limit so you won't get hit with having to pay at the end.

Here is the link to reserve your spot - www.graphicdesignoffer.com - you can send your readers to this page as well and they can reserve theirs. There are a limited number of supplies each month, so you may want to sign up quickly if you are interested.

Thanks so much, I hope you and your readers will find this useful!
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