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“It’s bedtime and Crow is searching high and low for the perfect place to sleep. He finds a comfy looking perch . . . But a scowling owl sends him on his way! He sees a cosy pile of hay . . . But a trumpeting elephant won’t let him stay! Will poor old Crow ever find somewhere to rest his weary head?
Opening
“The night was icy and the sky was dark
When Crow flew high
over Regent Park.
His wings were tired and his legs were old,
So he looked for a place
to get out of the cold.”
Review
Poor Crow, he was tired and cold. He flew the London sky looking for a comfortable and safe place to sleep. He tried a nice looking branch, but a mean owl threatened Crow as he told him to scat. That owl looks terrifying. I am surprised Crow even landed, yet he did land, and that grouchy old owl took a swing at Crow. Not a dumb bird, Crow left for safer accommodations. (Oddly, the next illustration has Crow back on a branch, from which he then flew off.)
Crow being a pretty smart bird, decided the London Zoo would be a safe place to find a spot to sleep. The London Zoo is nothing more than, according to Crow,
“A place for animals . . . a great, big farm!”
Zoos are fun and safe places, but maybe not for crows. Crow tried several warm, cozy spots, but each time another animal claimed the spot and Crow had to leave. In fact, two animals look like they might want Crow to stay, as long as he is their midnight snack. Ouch!
The bright illustrations give Crow bold coat of blue feathers and a nice light yellow beak. As the story progresses, Crow’s eyes close with sleepiness, until they are almost shut. At last, Crow is so tired his wings barely hold him up. It is easy to empathize with Crow. It should not be that hard to find a place to sleep. The characters all look a tad cartoonish, except for their eyes, which carry a great deal of emotion. The baby elephant, a cute little guy, shows expresses himself with his huge, bright smile. Crow left, thinking the little guy’s trumpet was a warning. The baby elephant looks like he wants to play with Crow, not get rid of him.
Written in rhyme, the story is an easy read. The rhythm is not completely smooth, with some lines having extra beats. My tongue tangled a couple of times trying to maintain the rhythm. Overall, Stillabower did a pretty good job writing the story in rhyming poetry. Poetry is very difficult to write correctly. It involves much more than simply finding words that rhyme.
The nicely produced hardback contains a great looking credit page. Many non-traditionally produced books forget this page, so it is nice to find one that has nearly all the needed information—for librarians (and fussy reviewers). The illustrator’s name is missing. Having both names on the cover is best, yet it is understandable why the author wants only their name after spending so much for the illustrations. Still, credit the illustrator else, it looks like the author was also the artist.
Crow finally sees an empty nest high up in a tree. I don’t think Crow should land. It could be another owl ready to show him the fictitious door with a reality swing of his wing. Crow is very tired at this point and lies down in that empty nest. His eyes are barely open. Will Crow sleep the night away, or be shooed away once more?
The Lonely Crow tells a nice bedtime tale. Crow becomes more tired as he travels from place to place. All he wants to do is sleep. The same message parents try to tell their children. “Sleep, please go to sleep.” By the time Crow does find a place to sleep, the listening child should be ready to close their eyes as well. Young children will like Crow’s story. He is a likable character. The illustrations do a great job enhancing the lovely story. The Lonely Crow may well help many young children find sweet dreams.
Arthur Rackham illustration from Some British Ballads, 1919.
Image source: Wikimedia Commons.
Our poetry selections for today, as we move out of Chaucer and into some medieval ballads: “The Twa Corbies” and its English cousin, “The Three Ravens.” Just a little something light and cheerful for a chilly November day. You know, light like sunbleached bones.
The Twa Corbies
As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies makin a mane;
The tane unto the ither say,
“Whar sall we gang and dine the-day?”
“In ahint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And nane do ken that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound an his lady fair.”
“His hound is tae the huntin gane,
His hawk tae fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady’s tain anither mate,
So we may mak oor dinner swate.”
“Ye’ll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I’ll pike oot his bonny blue een;
Wi ae lock o his gowden hair
We’ll theek oor nest whan it grows bare.”
“Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken whar he is gane;
Oer his white banes, whan they are bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair.”
(spoken)
(sung)
This week’s Poetry Friday roundup can be found at Teacher Dance.
Rose caught this rather wonderful shot yesterday, just down the street from our house. I missed it—I’d been out there gawping at the hawk (ID, anyone? its coloring is throwing me off—could it possibly be a white-tailed kite?)* and had snapped a few wobbly pix, using Beanie’s head as a tripod, but then I ran back to the house to take over stirring the marshmallows Jane was melting for Rice Krispie treats, so she could have a turn. The mobbing crow came along just after I left. Well done, Rose.
The marshmallow treats were this year’s double-birthday feast, in lieu of a cake. My guys had a great day. At Scott’s request, we had a family reading of The Tempest (Act 1; we’ll continue on future Sundays). Rilla did us proud; she gave a splendid cold reading of the role of Ariel (with some vocab coaching from Rose, who prefers to stage manage). Scott was Prospero, Beanie read Miranda, and Jane and I split the other parts between us. I got to ham it up as the old boatswain, so I was happy.
From inside jacket: Little Crow loves to sing, and Papa Crow loves his song. But when Little Crow shares his crow songs with the other birds at the big old tree, they laugh and scatter. Maybe the Amazing Mockingbird can teach him to sing songs with the finches, flycatchers, and cardinals—and help him make some friends. But Little Crow should be careful what he wishes for . . .
Using Mockingbird’s tip, Little Crow becomes the most popular bird on the block. But, in a moment of danger, he learns that singing someone else’s song can have terrible consequences and that his own voice—and his father’s love—is of the greatest value.
Little Crow so desperately wants a friend he will do most anything to get one, even if that means fitting in to the point of losing his own identity. When he begins to sing like the other birds, he is welcomed, becomes part of the group. What Little Crow does not realize is the cost one incurs when making a major change to fit in with the crowd.
For Little Crow, singing the other bird’s songs to fit in and have friends could cost him his life when a hawk appears overhead. Little Crow is in danger and sings out, Papa Crow does not understand it is his son singing out—he no longer recognizes Little Crow’s singing.
Little Crow said, “Per-CHIC-o-ree!”—Heelllllp!
“Poor Finch,” said Papa Crow.
Little Crow sings out, “Fee-beeee!”—Help me!
“Poor Phoebe Flycatcher!” said Papa Crow.
Like Little Crow, kids do not like being different, they want to fit in with the crowd and be accepted. Those that do not dress as the others dress, speak as the others speak, or act as the other act are often shunned and ridiculed by those that do meld into one. But the group looks, speech, and actions often do not have room for individuality, originality, or creativity. That can be hard for a kid to understand when all they want to do is fit in, have friends, and not be teased.
Little Crow had lost his identity. His Papa no longer connected Little Crow’s singing to Little Crow. In a time of need, Papa Crow could not reach out. As a social worker, I love these types of books. Kids need to know it is okay to be themselves; to act, speak, dress like themselves and not anyone else. Fitting in with the crowd is not always the best idea. I have seen smart kids trade their intelligence to fit in and lose much more than they ever gained. Kids who are different for any reason will lose what may be the best part of themselves simply to fit in.
I like Song for Papa Crow because it can open up a dialogue between parent and kids. The story can help kids understand that fitting in may not always be the best thing to do.
The illustrations, also created by the author, are beautiful collages. There are many birds, depicted in their wonderfully layered shades of color, on every page. On Papa Crow’s head, the feathers are short and look soft. The feathers making up his tail are long and smooth. You can see the strength in the hawk and the sudden fear in Little Crow.
In addition to a good story about preserving one’s identity, there is a short primer on North American birds. I really like this book. Song for Papa Crow is a beautiful book, with thick pages for the younger kids, interesting bird facts, and a good story that can teach kids to stay true to themselves.
Teachers, school social workers, and others who regularly work with kids will find this book immensely helpful. Parents can use the story to open a dialogue about fitting in and being true to one’s self. Kids will like the illustrations of the birds and can use the book as a guide to the birds in their neighborhood.
Song for Papa Crow is a good story for any time or reason. For collectors, the illustrations are beautiful and this is the first complete book by now author and illustrator Marit Menzin.
Since I changed my mind about perusing this story right now I thought I'd post what I have done so far. The idea was to do a fun fantasy story drawn quickly. I was really inspired by Trondheim's art for Dungeon, expressive and loose. I've decided instead to work in my free time on a series of ghost stories, rendered in my more detailed style. Although I learned a lot doing this and may return to this style at some point.
4 Comments on Mist Harbour Part One, last added: 2/13/2011
Augustine’s brilliant emphasis on language as a means of passage between our interior selves and the external world, a bandwidth for the expression of desires, introduces a theme which resurfaces again and again, almost uncannily, in the consideration of communication or information technologies. What is striking is not the truism that media of communication provide a link between internal selves and the world around them; what is striking is the anxiety that surrounds that linkage. We find that anxiety even in Augustine’s conclusion, that language acquisition propelled him “into the stormy life of human society.”
• mitali’s fire escape: Amazon as Publisher? An Insider’s View From YA Author Zetta Elliott—Excellent post. Zetta Elliott talks about her experience with AmazonEncore, a “program whereby Amazon will use information such as customer reviews on Amazon.com to identify exceptional, overlooked books and authors with more potential than their sales may indicate.”
After Jack had yelled at Rue to run out from beneath the forsythia, Rue crouched in the grass. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Jack had leapt onto a stone wall and then disappeared.
A brown blur flashed by the corner of Rue’s eye, so he swiveled his ears. The blur made a lot of noise — panting, thumping, swishing. The blur flashed by again, so he turned his head.
A big brown animal sniffed at the ground as it ran. The animal charged right up to Rue. It had a large mouth with long pointed teeth and it smelled dangerous. Its slobber hung in strings from its chocolate-colored lips and when it whipped its head around, the strings slapped Rue and left wet streaks on his fur.
And that was when Rue remembered some of what Jack had said. He remembered, “Run as fast as you can and don’t play dead. Or the dog will get you.”
Rue ran but he did not run straight to the stone wall. He could not let anyone see his ugly splotch, so he kept his tail tucked down. Rue zigzagged this way and that way all over the yard. And the big brown dog zigzagged right behind him. Her warm, stinky breath poofing his fur and her teeth snapping at his tail.
The stone wall wasn’t anywhere anymore. Every bush and tree looked exactly alike and looked like the bush or tree he had just run past.
So Rue crashed under a pokey bush near a white picket fence. The dog ran to the bush but could only stick her nose under it. Every time she snorted, droplets of nose water sprayed all over Rue. He shook them off. He backed himself against the fence and as far away from her sharp teeth as he could.
“Bark, bark, bark!” the dog shouted. She dug in front of the bush, dirt flying between her back legs and into the air. When the hole was big enough, she stuck her entire head under the bush and snapped her teeth at Rue.
Rue flattened himself against the fence and kept just out of her reach. Grrr!
He closed his eyes and stayed very still for what seemed a very long time. If he moved even the tiniest little bit, the dog could bite him. Then he heard someone call his name.
It was Jack! Running down the driveway. Jack scurried straight up the corner of the picket fence, leapt across the top then slid down it and behind the bush. The dog pulled her head out, raced around to the right side of the bush and stuck her nose against his tail. Jack swatted her.
“Back off, Sugar!” he yelled.
Sugar yelped, pulled her nose back and barked again. She moved in front of the bush and planted all four of her paws in the grass. She cocked her head and whined.
“Rue,” Jack said. “When I say so, follow me this time. You must stay right behind me. An old friend of mine is going to help us, but I need your help too. Do you understand?”
Rue nodded. “I think so.”
Jack smiled. “We can’t let this devil be the end of us. Ready?”
Rue nodded again.
Jack raised his paws, circled them around his mouth then shouted, “Poe! Fly
0 Comments on Chapter Five — Rue Rescue as of 1/1/1900
Jack had never rescued a baby bunny from a big brown dog before, so he wasn’t very good at it, at first. He scampered through the grass, his tail straight out behind him and across the Wilder’s blacktop driveway. He bounded up the stone wall that circled the flower garden in the center of the driveway then dropped down inside his hole. He never checked to see if Rue was right behind him.
Safe inside his burrow, Jack tried to slow his heartbeat with easy breaths of air. He rubbed each of his shoulders against the black, fertile dirt wall of his den then shook off and began grooming himself. “Well, that was a close call, little fellow.”
Only Rue didn’t answer. Rue didn’t make any noise at all. Jack whipped around.
Rue wasn’t there!
“Oh, no!” said Jack.
He scurried out of his burrow and onto the stone wall. Rue wasn’t in the yard, but Sugar was near the picket fence, in front of a bush. She had her nose and front legs flat against the ground and her tail wagged high in the air.
“Bark, bark, bark!” she said.
Sugar had Rue trapped against the fence! It was all a big game to that rascal, that devil of a dog, chasing the little animals and scaring them to death.
There was no telling when Mrs. Wilder would call Sugar back in. There was no telling what would happen if Sugar got her mouth on Rue.
“I must think quickly,” Jack said. “And act even quicker.” He scratched the fur between his ears. “Think quickly. Think quickly.” His entire body told him to run back inside his hole. “No, I’ve got to help the little bunny.”
A very shiny black crow was perched in an old oak tree — Jack’s old friend, Poe.
A long time ago, Jack had helped Poe get out of a very bad situation. It had happened in late summer when the August heat was so heavy most of the animals slept all day. Jack was searching the side of the dirt road for the perfect piece of gravel to aid his digestion.
From the tops of the trees that lined the road, a group of crows cawed. Caw! Caw! Caw! Four crows were perched together on a branch across from a smaller, very shiny crow.
“If you want to be in our gang, you got to kill one,” said the biggest crow to the smaller, shiny crow. “We got to know you’re tough inside.”
“But crows don’t kill. They scavenge,” whined the shiny crow. “It isn’t natural.”
“You’re a looser, Poe!” the other crow said. “You ain’t joining our gang if you can�
0 Comments on Chapter Four — An Enormous Favor as of 1/1/1900
Have you seen Letters to Anyone and Everyone by Toon Tellegen? We are just working our way through, and last night we read the letter from the Crow to the sparrow. All the letters are delightful, but so far, this is my favorite.
(Click her name to read her full comment, which includes a quote.)
Pam recalls Those Calculating Crows by Ali Wakefield, a picture book about crows who count, adding:
“It doesn’t get a good review and I remember not really enjoying reading it aloud but my boys liked it and it was worth a look in the library.”
(It’s like that sometimes, isn’t it? Not all books make good read-alouds.)
Su gives props to good old Slow Joe Crow from Fox in Socks;Penny in Vermont reminded me that Tasha Tudor had pet crows who served as models for drawings in several of her books; and Beth of Bookworm Journal gives a shout-out to Kaw, the pet crow of Taran in the Prydain books by Lloyd Alexander.
Do you know Maxine Kumin’s story “Mittens in May” about a boy named Peter Day and the baby crow he saves and raises? It’s a sweet book.
I’m a fan of Kumin’s poetry (especially Our Ground Time Here Will Be Brief) but I had no idea she had written any children’s stories. Very excited about this.
(Warning: the close-up squirrel photo at the end may not be for the sensitive.)
A few people have written in asking whether yesterday's post was a joke. No, I looked out of the window, saw what I thought for a moment was a huge owl then realised was an eagle grabbing for a squirrel who had been dining on the snow beneath the birdfeeders.
The bird looked like it had meant to grab the squirrel by the middle, but its talons were actually around the squirrel's head -- it lifted it up off the ground, the squirrel wriggled, fell out of the bird's clutches into the snow, and shot off, while the bird went to the nearest tree and glared balefully around -- which was the point I got a clear look at it, and it looked exactly like Golden Eagles I've seen in Scotland and in Zoos.
("Could it have been a red-tailed hawk?" asked the birdchick, when we called her and I took the phone from Bill and told her what I'd seen. I didn't want to say it was a golden eagle for fear of being thought odd.
"Only if it was the biggest one in the world," I said. They don't look alike.)
I grabbed a camera with a telephoto lens, and Cabal and Bill Stiteler and I headed out. We took a few pictures of me pointing, and the marks in the snow. Took a picture of a distant squirrel on a tree. Then went further into the woods. Crows were harrying something bigger than they were, but it was always hidden by treetops.
We discovered that, although the temperature was minus 2 F (minus 19 C), the purplish-coloured beehive had bees out sunning themselves. Some adventurous bees were even flying around, although they didn't fly for long before dropping in the snow and not moving any longer. I went back to a safe distance (so they didn't need to come and fly out and investigate me) and took a couple of telephoto shots of sunning bees.
Weary of his circumstances as third crow on the fence, Friedrich decided to hitch a ride with the first eighteen wheeler and accommodating driver that came along with the hopes of gaining advantage by getting some windshield time while sitting on a dashboard, warm, refreshed and perhaps being the first on the scene for any squirrel mishap that he knew was common to such conveyances…….
0 Comments on Opportunity comes knocking … as of 1/1/1900
It's out in English, but this version of it is it in Italian. Because everything sounds better in Italian.
A few of you have written in asking if I'd done an Alan Moore and taken my name off the film, or if I'd had a falling out with the studio, as my name isn't mentioned in this trailer, just Henry Selick's -- and no, not at all. Nobody's name except Henry's is mentioned in the trailer, and that has more to do with Focus wanting to make sure that if they invoked The Nightmare Before Xmas, people wouldn't then assume this was a Tim Burton film, and go and see it -- or stay away -- based on that. (On the international poster -- above -- you won't find my name or Henry's.) I suppose it's a marketing decision.
I chatted to Henry today, and am really looking forward to seeing a finished film -- the last twenty minutes of the thing weren't done the last time I was sent anything. And it has music...
Incidentally, the Coraline Movie edition is now out, with an essay by me in the back, and another by Henry Selick...
I've started playing with the T-mobile G1. First reactions -- I like it, mostly. It feels good in your hand. It's reasonably intuitive. (Bizarrely, when it isn't intuitive and I've had to head into manual land, the phone's software and the PDF of the manual do not always agree with each other.) I've had fun making ring tones, creating galleries. The way that your contacts list is also your Gmail contacts is mostly terrific (although it won't let me create entries that have the same email address as someone already on the list).
The things I don't like about it so far seem huge and obvious: no Blogger app (when there's a LiveJournal app and several others) seems a huge omission, seeing it's from Google; it can't read or open PDF files yet; you can send it pictures and watch them as a slideshow, but you can't save them; the built in Gmail app can't do anywhere near the things that the gmail program on my N73 can do; the camera is about the same standard as the iPhone's, which is to say, a bit meh. I like having a real keyboard but wish it was a tiny bit bigger -- I find myself typing with fingernails. Battery life is fine unless you've got Wifi on.
More reactions after it's been on the road with me and been used for a bit.
...
Hi Neil,
I just had a quick question on the Who Killed Amanda Palmer book. I have the album already (and have listened to it countless times. It's beautiful).
I was going to go and order the book, but when I went to the site, I found that the book seems to only be in packages. I was wondering if there are any plans to sell the book alone, or whether I should buy one of the packages. The extra CD could make a nice gift.
Thanks, Nate
Let's see... the book is being desgned right now, then it goes off to the printers. The people who bought the package version will get theirs first. Depending on where in the world it's printed, this could be a couple of months before anyone else. Then, when copies come in from the printer, they'll go on sale -- probably in the early Spring. I think.
Neil!
I'm re-reading American Gods, and I'm at the point where Shadow first meets Sam. At the diner, Shadow reads a newspaper story saying "local farmers wanted to hang dead crows around the town to frighten the others away; ornithologists said it wouldn't work, that the living crows would simply eat the dead ones. The locals were implacable. 'When they see the corpses of their friends,' said a spokesman, 'they'll know we don't want them here.'"
Neil, I don't have Time Enough for Love here at school, but wasn't there something very similar to that in that story? Was your dead crow story a little Heinlein homage?
And OMG - just realized that Sam's last name is Black Crow, and that story was about crows. Wow. Sneaky of you.
Chris
When I'm driving through small-town America I make a point of buying local papers in towns where I stop, and reading them, preferably in local coffee shops. I read that in a small town as I went, and thought "It belongs in my book". So I put it there.
Dear Mr Gaiman, I recently finished reading M is For Magic, and I have a question about the story Chivalry. Sir Galahad was considered the holiest of Arthur's knights; so, how coul he have obtained an apple from the garden of the Hespiredes? The Hespiredes were a part of greek mythology which was actually a religeon based on monotheism. So, how could he get something that his religeon said didn't exist? I am sorry to bother you with this question, but it has sparked my interest.
- a young and curious reader
He had to travel a long way.
I don't think it would have been a problem for early Christians, of whom Galaad would have been one: in The Golden Legend, which was the most popular book of stories about saints, collected in the thriteenth century, Saint Nicholas (the one who became Santa Claus) went up against the Goddess Diana. Then again, Narnia, a most monotheistic world, had more than its share of nymphs (just like the Hesperides) not to mention such gods as Bacchus and Silenus (and Santa Claus again) wandering around. So I would not worry about it, were I you.
I loved the link to the Sandman Death 20th Anniversary Bookends you put up. When should they be coming out and how much of a dent will they put on my wallet, please?
According to a quick Google, http://www.toymania.com/news/messages/9960.shtml says they came out in September, and they will cost a wallet-twinging $295. (Ouch.) There are only a thousand of them.
This one has almost nothing to do with you Neil, but since his website is still in the makings I thought you could perhaps forward this to him. I was very sad (like a child whose told there won't be a Christmas this year) to learn that Dave McKean's appearance this weekend in Buenos Aires was canceled. In the event's blog they posted Dave's email in which he mentioned he couldn't make it because a date was changed (which sounds reasonable). But it remained unclear if it was the date of ANIMATE (the Buenos Aires event) which was changed, or if it was one of Dave's previous engagements.
Dave McKean said...
Hi Neil,
Please post this, as I certainly do feel very bad letting people down:
I agreed to go to Animate in the summer and had to organize a military operation of friends and family to take care of our son Liam during the proposed week, as he is appearing as Gavroche in Les Miserables in London and has to be accompanied to and from the theatre each day he's on, and also be available on 12 hours notice every day in case another actor drops out. We managed this, so both Clare and I could make the trip to Buenos Aires, a city we've always wanted to visit. Unfortunately, the date was changed by the organizers, and so we had to re-arrange. More importantly, it became obvious that the festival was now colliding with a variety of previous commitments falling in the latter half of November, so I decided with great sadness to withdraw this year. I hate letting people down, and I was really looking forward to the trip (though not the 24 hours travelling each way, I admit!).
Hopefully there will be another event, an animation or film festival, that will allow me to visit the city in the future. Or maybe we'll just go for a holiday, and do a signing in a bookstore.
Thanks, Dave
(I think it's worth pointing out that ten-year old Liam McKean -- owner of the original Pig Puppet -- is in Les Miserables in London. If you happen to go and see it, check if he's in your performance. Get his autograph. Mention pigs. Make his day.) And that reminds me...
Hi Neil,
I thought you might like to let people know that Dave McKean is on the BBC4 programme "Picture Book" talking about his illustations for David Almond's 'The Savage' and how he was inspired by Comic Book's art. The programme is airing (again) at 19.10 on Saturday and 3.30 on Sunday, and is also currently available on the BBC i-player. http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00fhnb6/comingup
Thank you again for all the stories,
Marjorie
You're welcome.
Hi,
Just read that you completed "the Dying Earth story." Huh? Is there a new collection of Dying Earth stories coming out? Is it an homage to Jack Vance's work, or what?
Did a search for "dying earth" on your website and saw no other mention of it.
Funny thing is, they are sailing past my window too, an ocean and a continent away! Funny? Spooky, that is, isn't it? And they seem to be "hooded crows", as one of my sweet visitors has pointed out to me.
For awhile in our town, the crows would pick a spot to stay and stay for a long time. There would be hundreds! It was very much like a Hitcock moment1 If nothing else, you didn't want to walk on the sidewalk!
One especially brutal winter I was walking through the local cemetery and I noticed a massive number of mangy vultures weighing down a tree. I went over to investigate. Beneath the tree was a partially consumed carcass . . . a deer. A thin layer of new snow covered the untouched parts like someone had pulled a sheet partly over the deceased. Two hours later I passed by again and the deer was gone. Consumed by nature.
Not so much Poe or Hitchcock, more Steven King I think.
Now would an artist take pictures of such a gruesome sight? I did.
PS: My wife got her middle name from "The Raven." Her parents liked Poe.
This was weird and a bit spooky...so much like Hitchcocks, 'The Birds.' Except these guys didn't attack us. However, I did take it through the window :)
3 Comments on Remind You of Anything?, last added: 10/31/2008
The wait is now over. The Door to Unger opened a few weeks ago, just before the end of October.
Lee Edward Fodi joins us for this ninth and final edition of the series to talk about his release party, early feedback on the book, an upcoming event in New York City and his plans for the next installments of the Kendra Kandlestar series.
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0 Comments on Eagle stones as of 1/10/2010 11:11:00 PM
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On March 3 we issued the first of a special series on Just One More Book. We called it 
Your work never ceases to amaze me!!!
Thanks so much, David!
This is fab, especially the narrating crow.
Thanks Fearless!