There’s always a story behind writing a book. But sometimes there’s a story behind reading one as well, and in many cases it has something to do with timing.
“Low on words today
want to rest flat in the sun
watch birds rise and play”
In case you’re looking for an unconventional summer read or if you enjoyed the Frames fragments I’ve shared with you so far, then you should take advantage of the Amazon giveaway and download it for free or offer it as a gift to someone who might like it. Happy reading!
Am I the only one who sees a stylized Christmas tree there? Hmm… might be the excessive heat this week making me hallucinate while craving slightly cooler temperatures, even if not exactly the winter chill. 😀
“You mean you never loved me?”
He interrupted her again, resorting to his old ways. Or maybe those were still his ways… Whatever the truth was, his old behaviour triggered something in her, the standard response, her own typical old and destructive behaviour in response to his. But she knew better now. She acknowledged the impulse and extinguished it, the way she wished she could have done so many times in what seemed a different lifetime. Closing her eyes, she could envision the children they used to be and wished she could take away their pain. Now, however, they were individually responsible for what they were; and while she felt sorry for the boy he’d been, she lacked any sort of empathy for the man he was.
I crave a nice cold Gin&Tonic served to me on a terrace by the sea, one lazy summer evening… I crave it so badly, that I can almost feel the cold sweaty glass in my hands and I can definitely smell the salty breeze. Well, the salty breeze part is easy really, since I do live in a town by the sea. The G&T part could be equally easy, it would take next to nothing to make it come true since terraces are open and swarming with people. Continue reading “The Nature of Summer”
A glowing review is a delight for any author. But receiving such a review from a writer you admire is a priceless treat. Thank you for your beautiful words, Carol!
I’ve always liked Ana Linden’s books. She’s very good at getting inside her characters’ heads.
Frames consists of four short character driven stories. These are not ordinary characters and through their flaws Ana Linden gives us insight into relationships and human nature.
The subjects of her stories range from the damaged educational system, the cruelty of abuse, loneliness, losers and guilt.
Linden’s writing is not ordinary. She is unafraid to show the rawness of human nature in a unique literary voice. She is an artist using words as her medium. It is reflective writing. The stories in Frames are the kind that you want to savor and allow the beauty of the writing sink in. There is no sermonizing in these stories and we understand what is not being said. This makes for quite satisfying reading.
Visit Carol Balawyder’s site for the full review of Frames and if you have a moment to spare, check out her books as well. She is such a gifted writer!
It’s a matter of attitude, his brother told him. They can sense losers and they’ll eventually dump you, so you might as well treat them like shit from the beginning, he continued his lecture on seduction. As far as treating women like shit, his brother did live by that rule. He usually empathized with the girls his brother dated –even now that he was forty, the girls he dated were rarely over twenty.
He empathized, because he saw those girls being treated the same way he was treated by everyone, less then, somehow handicapped, inferior human beings. Then he got angry with all of them, the ones he met, those he’d never know, but who flocked around his brother and other men who behaved the same way. Most of these girls were beautiful, educated, sophisticated, yet they allowed to be treated like dirt… They allowed to be lied to, ignored, used, and when they were cast away, they kept coming back for more abuse.
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Yes, he was lonely and he was jealous with his wife… and it was not that trivial mundane kind of jealousy afflicting so many other men. He took off his glasses and started to slowly and thoroughly clean them… nervous behaviour, or rather, behaviour meant to disguise his nervousness and buy him time to calm down. But she wasn’t there to ask him why he was nervous. No, he didn’t feel like going home, just like he didn’t feel like walking through her uncared-for vegetable garden, just like…
The door flung open, quick heavy footsteps accompanied by a young self-absorbed boy invading his reflective solitude.
He found her intriguing from the very beginning, but he didn’t expect this, he didn’t expect to find her irresistible… In fact, this is the kind of reaction he doesn’t expect to have in general, guarded and jaded as he is. Not that he’s refusing himself the joys of a profound relationship, he simply isn’t able to experience them… or so he thought. He’s met other interesting, intelligent, beautiful women, and yet… He only felt this sort of connection once before, equally unexpected, undeniable and strong. So why the fuck does it have to be this one? Why her, of all women? There is no logical explanation to be found, that much he knows, and what he does with these feelings is hardly his decision.
A part of me breathed a sigh of relief when June came to an end. Normally the most uplifting, positive, “anything’s-possible” time of year for me didn’t feel quite that way this summer. Melancholy replaced positivity and a strange sort of anxiety reared its ugly head instead of usual excitement.