Month: November 2005

SanFran review

Huzzah! New review — which I was actually exposed to on Sunday night, but forgot to mention. Things have been pretty hectic around here. You know how it is. But at any rate, the San Francisco Chronicle gave me a bang-up write-up, which you can find here. Text reproduced as follows:

    Four and Twenty Blackbirds (Tor; 285 pages; $13.95), a first novel by Southern writer Cherie Priest, breathes fresh life into the suddenly resurgent “I see dead people” subgenre of horror fiction. For most of her life, Eden Moore, an orphaned young woman of mixed ancestry, has been aware of three female spectral presences who seem to watch over her in times of trouble. After an encounter with a crazed gunman who turns out to be a long-lost relation, Eden begins to dig deeper into her convoluted family history. Her sleuthing takes her to the abandoned sanitarium where her mother was incarcerated and then to the home of a malevolent elderly relative. The more she discovers about her father’s side of the family, the more she puts herself and her loved ones in jeopardy — not just from a live assassin but also from a vindictive entity on the other side of the grave.

    Much has been made in the online community about how an early draft of “Four and Twenty Blackbirds” was published on Priest’s personal blog before being spotted by an interested editor. Whatever its genesis, this expanded version is a remarkably assured debut, a creepy modern-day Southern gothic that doesn’t rely on cliche but delivers an emotionally powerful tale of self-discovery and the supernatural.

So, yeah. Yet another mention of ye olde blog and the circumstances surrounding the book’s debut. If you’re new to me and/or 4&20bb, you can get the full scoop on the situation over here, if you’re curious.

Hey look … time for lunch …

Debil cat

Images from Thanksgiving at my dad’s place in Leitchfield, Kentucky: here’s my little brother, with the family cat, “Snickers.” This cat doesn’t know you, but she hates you already. There is no good reason for this, mind you. You personally have never done her any wrong. Neither has anyone else. She’s received nothing but love and snuggles her entire life.

Yet, she hates you.
And your little dog too.
And everything you stand for.
And the horse you rode in on.
And the little girl who fed it apples.


Yeah. Debil cat.

The quickie version

So in short — between now and June I plan to: get married, move across the country, complete the editorial back-and-forth on one book, and write the entirety of another book. I feel like I need the Blues Brothers to jump in right about now with a sardonic paragraph about sunglasses, cigarettes, gasoline and Chicago.

Hit it.