Book stories

I just read a blog at B&N about lines that book lovers get that annoy them. It reminded me of a story that happened to me that I’m still flabbergasted about, so I thought I’d share.

Many years ago, I read Ken Follet’s Pillars of the Earth. Loved it. In fact I liked it so much I thought it would be a great gift for my brother-in-law who enjoyed the middle ages and even did some creative anachronism stuff. For his birthday I tracked down a hardcover first edition of the book and sent it to him. He read it and enjoyed it.

The next time I saw him, he proudly told me that he had wanted to share the book with his fourteen-year old daughter, so he had painstakingly went through and whited out the lines he thought were inappropriate.

Now it was his book, and I totally believe in loving books to death, i.e. breaking the spines, re-reading until pages fall out, writing in the margins, etc., but censorship, not so much. I also understand wanting to protect a young lady from certain content, but if that’s the case, she was too young to read the book.

The incident has remained with me as something I  shake my head at.

Do you have any book horror stories?


Books I’m reading now:

Actually I’m revising my own work right now, a straight fantasy, and enjoying the heck out of it.


I haven’t blogged in a while because I feel as if I have nothing to say. Nothing thrilling has happened to me (other than a sprained finger from which my wedding ring had to be cut–and yes, I’ve seen the video about taking a ring off without cutting it and tried it; didn’t work–and I wouldn’t call a sprained finger thrilling); I have no words of wisdom to impart; my every day life isn’t interesting (and I prefer it that way–remember that old supposed Chinese curse, which has no verifiable Chinese origin: May you live in interesting times)–you don’t really want to hear about my calling the plumber for a leak; and I have foot surgery tomorrow (no big deal; no, really; the doc said the surgery itself takes about fifteen minutes) but I don’t like to share such personal inform here ( see what I did there?). The only other going on in my life right now are my allergies.

So I got nothing. I’m working on a straight fantasy– I guess you’d call it an urban fantasy, but it isn’t as gritty as expect urban fantasies, and I’ve got a collection of stories that are creepy, definitely NOT romance, coming out in May under a different name, and I will tell you about those, but not now (Really; if you’re expecting romance from these stories you will be sadly disappointed. My husband read them and now he’s afraid of me).

Oh, and buy my books (snicker).

Sometimes nothing is nice–for me. It’s relaxing. But sorry if you had to read this post about nothing. Maybe I should let Pixie blog for me again.

Books I’m reading now:
He Drank and Saw the Spider by Alex Bledsoe