New Release! PICA, by Jeff Gardiner
Hello, dears! Today it's my pleasure to host Jeff Gardiner, author of the new YA fantasy novel Pica, which explores a world of ancient magic, when people and nature shared secret powers.
~*~ NOW AVAILABLE AT ~*~
Accent PressWHSmithBarnes & NobleAmazon UKAmazon USAmazon Australia
Let's take a closer look, shall we?
SUMMARY
Luke hates nature, preferring the excitement of computer games to dull walks in the countryside, but his view of the world around him drastically begins to change when enigmatic loner, Guy, for whom Luke is reluctantly made to feel responsible, shows him some of the secrets that the very planet itself appears to be hiding from modern society.
Set in a very recognisable world of school and the realities of family-life, Luke tumbles into a fascinating world of magic and fantasy where transformations and shifting identities become an escape from the world. Luke gets caught up in an inescapable path that affects his very existence, as the view of the world around him drastically begins to change.
EXCERPT
It got to 4.15am when I realised my mind had become far too active so I gave up closing my eyes and sat up. I hoicked my pillow up horizontally behind me and leaned back into its softness. Just as I wondered if I might be able to sleep after all in that position I heard a tapping sound. It was a deliberate rhythm as opposed to, say, a regular dripping sound. The taps got louder and more urgent. They were clear and crisp. The window. The noise definitely came from that direction and it sounded like something hard on a pane of glass. Someone was knocking on my window.
The thought of looking out the window and seeing someone there spooked me out – a lot. I couldn’t imagine My fear was that if I pulled back the curtain and saw a face grinning back at me, I would go apoplectic. My stupid imagination conjured up a swinging corpse, hanged upside down and swaying in the breeze.
Steeling myself for a fright I whipped back the near corner of the curtain and glanced at the window pane. No face. No person hung outside. Something stood there leering at me, but not a human face. On the window ledge stood a magpie. I was being haunted by a black and white bird. I dramatically pulled back both curtains hoping to scare it off with larger movements, but it stood its ground and continued pecking at the glass. Did it hope to be let in?
I put my face directly opposite the bird so my nose touched the cold window. Its beak tapped a few centimetres away making me glad about the double glazing separating us. I made a few faces, leaving fogged imprints and condensation on my side. The bird watched me with definite curiosity – its sideways stare like a camera trying to autofocus on me. I got the impression of it processing still-images in its tiny brain - as if it possessed a photographic memory.
Then I tried to scare it by making sudden movements and pulling faces. It hopped around impatiently trying to get its beak in the tiny gaps of the frame as if it would be strong enough to prize the hinge open. I smiled, shook my head and stuck two fingers up at it. The magpie flicked its tail with great agitation, and looked at me first with its right eye and then with its left. With a harsh ‘chack-chack-chack’ it returned to its tapping on the window, and this time it did so with surprising vigour until I feared the glass might crack.
I lunged towards the latch and in one swift movement of the wrist I unhooked it and swung the casement outwards, knocking the stupid bird from the ledge. It flapped off angrily chattering, its wings long and white-tipped, its tail with iridescent greens and blues stuck out like a rudder steering its flight. To my amazement it wheeled round, beating its wings a few times before gliding around until it faced the house once more. I hastily pulled the window closed and twisted the latch.
And yet the damn bird was still shaping to dive bomb my window. Surely it couldn’t smash through double-glazing? I watched aghast as it propelled itself at speed in my direction. I ducked away at the last second and heard a terrific thump.
I looked up wondering what I’d see. When I saw a messy splat on the glass, I initially thought it to be the exploded innards of the bird. But closer inspection revealed the goo to be merely bird-poo: a palette of white, black and green. Just above the guano I could discern the outline of the magpie, where its head and wings had impacted on the glass. I even found a tiny imprint of the eye socket. I felt like it was still watching me, so I closed the curtains. Had my parents been woken up by the terrific thump? I waited for someone to investigate but no more sounds interrupted the quiet of the rest of that early morning.
I lay awake puzzled until my alarm clock buzzed at 6.30. I got dressed before daring to open the curtains. Maybe I’d imagined it all or dreamed of waking up.
Finally drawing the curtains slowly, I smiled wryly on seeing the bird-poo and then looked closer at the ghost-image of the magpie, still clearly there. Wingtips held out questioningly; head turned sideways to show the beak in profile; and that eye boring through me and seeing inside me – delving into my very soul.
ABOUT JEFF
Jeff Gardiner is the author of four novels (Pica, Igboland, Myopia and Treading On Dreams), a collection of short stories, and a work of non-fiction. Many of his short stories have appeared in anthologies, magazines and websites.
Pica is the first in the Gaia trilogy – a fantasy of transformation and ancient magic, which Michael Moorcock described as “An engrossing and original story, beautifully told. Wonderful!”
“Reading is a form of escapism, and in Gardiner’s fiction, we escape to places we’d never imagine journeying to.” (A.J. Kirby, ‘The New Short Review’)
For more information, please see his website at www.jeffgardiner.com and his blog: http://jeffgardiner.wordpress.com/
~*~ NOW AVAILABLE AT ~*~
Accent PressWHSmithBarnes & NobleAmazon UKAmazon USAmazon Australia
Let's take a closer look, shall we?
SUMMARY
Luke hates nature, preferring the excitement of computer games to dull walks in the countryside, but his view of the world around him drastically begins to change when enigmatic loner, Guy, for whom Luke is reluctantly made to feel responsible, shows him some of the secrets that the very planet itself appears to be hiding from modern society.
Set in a very recognisable world of school and the realities of family-life, Luke tumbles into a fascinating world of magic and fantasy where transformations and shifting identities become an escape from the world. Luke gets caught up in an inescapable path that affects his very existence, as the view of the world around him drastically begins to change.
EXCERPT
It got to 4.15am when I realised my mind had become far too active so I gave up closing my eyes and sat up. I hoicked my pillow up horizontally behind me and leaned back into its softness. Just as I wondered if I might be able to sleep after all in that position I heard a tapping sound. It was a deliberate rhythm as opposed to, say, a regular dripping sound. The taps got louder and more urgent. They were clear and crisp. The window. The noise definitely came from that direction and it sounded like something hard on a pane of glass. Someone was knocking on my window. The thought of looking out the window and seeing someone there spooked me out – a lot. I couldn’t imagine My fear was that if I pulled back the curtain and saw a face grinning back at me, I would go apoplectic. My stupid imagination conjured up a swinging corpse, hanged upside down and swaying in the breeze.
Steeling myself for a fright I whipped back the near corner of the curtain and glanced at the window pane. No face. No person hung outside. Something stood there leering at me, but not a human face. On the window ledge stood a magpie. I was being haunted by a black and white bird. I dramatically pulled back both curtains hoping to scare it off with larger movements, but it stood its ground and continued pecking at the glass. Did it hope to be let in?
I put my face directly opposite the bird so my nose touched the cold window. Its beak tapped a few centimetres away making me glad about the double glazing separating us. I made a few faces, leaving fogged imprints and condensation on my side. The bird watched me with definite curiosity – its sideways stare like a camera trying to autofocus on me. I got the impression of it processing still-images in its tiny brain - as if it possessed a photographic memory.
Then I tried to scare it by making sudden movements and pulling faces. It hopped around impatiently trying to get its beak in the tiny gaps of the frame as if it would be strong enough to prize the hinge open. I smiled, shook my head and stuck two fingers up at it. The magpie flicked its tail with great agitation, and looked at me first with its right eye and then with its left. With a harsh ‘chack-chack-chack’ it returned to its tapping on the window, and this time it did so with surprising vigour until I feared the glass might crack.
I lunged towards the latch and in one swift movement of the wrist I unhooked it and swung the casement outwards, knocking the stupid bird from the ledge. It flapped off angrily chattering, its wings long and white-tipped, its tail with iridescent greens and blues stuck out like a rudder steering its flight. To my amazement it wheeled round, beating its wings a few times before gliding around until it faced the house once more. I hastily pulled the window closed and twisted the latch.
And yet the damn bird was still shaping to dive bomb my window. Surely it couldn’t smash through double-glazing? I watched aghast as it propelled itself at speed in my direction. I ducked away at the last second and heard a terrific thump.
I looked up wondering what I’d see. When I saw a messy splat on the glass, I initially thought it to be the exploded innards of the bird. But closer inspection revealed the goo to be merely bird-poo: a palette of white, black and green. Just above the guano I could discern the outline of the magpie, where its head and wings had impacted on the glass. I even found a tiny imprint of the eye socket. I felt like it was still watching me, so I closed the curtains. Had my parents been woken up by the terrific thump? I waited for someone to investigate but no more sounds interrupted the quiet of the rest of that early morning.
I lay awake puzzled until my alarm clock buzzed at 6.30. I got dressed before daring to open the curtains. Maybe I’d imagined it all or dreamed of waking up.
Finally drawing the curtains slowly, I smiled wryly on seeing the bird-poo and then looked closer at the ghost-image of the magpie, still clearly there. Wingtips held out questioningly; head turned sideways to show the beak in profile; and that eye boring through me and seeing inside me – delving into my very soul.
ABOUT JEFF
Jeff Gardiner is the author of four novels (Pica, Igboland, Myopia and Treading On Dreams), a collection of short stories, and a work of non-fiction. Many of his short stories have appeared in anthologies, magazines and websites.
Pica is the first in the Gaia trilogy – a fantasy of transformation and ancient magic, which Michael Moorcock described as “An engrossing and original story, beautifully told. Wonderful!”“Reading is a form of escapism, and in Gardiner’s fiction, we escape to places we’d never imagine journeying to.” (A.J. Kirby, ‘The New Short Review’)
For more information, please see his website at www.jeffgardiner.com and his blog: http://jeffgardiner.wordpress.com/
No comments have been added yet.
