Review: Kirby Puckernut and the Christmas Surprise

It’s mixed season in our house.  Looking around, I see a stuffed paper pumpkin, colorful autumn leaves, a handprint turkey… a skiing penguin in a snowstorm.  We returned most of our Thanksgiving books to the library today (Junie B. is still waiting to be read by our 5yo), and checked out 20 Christmas classics.Yep, Christmas is beginning its takeover, and I love it!

When given the opportunity to review Kirby Puckernut and the Christmas Surprise, I was in the mood for a lighthearted, festive look at the season.  And that is what we’ve enjoyed…  This book is the perfect intro for families who enjoy a “where’s the elf” Christmas tradition.

Synopsis:

Kirby Puckernut is Santa’s cleverest little elf. While dreaming up marvelous toys for good girls and boys, Kirby has his best idea yet – a real elf in every home, all through the holidays, spreading Christmas Magic! Santa finds the perfect family and allows Kirby to serve as the test elf for the first momentous visit.

From December 1st through Christmas Eve, Kirby travels each night to Els Mere to make toys and bring news to Santa, and returns to the family each morning with notes from Santa and other surprises. 

Fun and adventure are at every turn, but not everything goes as planned… Will Kirby’s idea be a success?

About the Author:

Author Alicia Richardson has created a new Christmas classic with her children’s book, Kirby Puckernut and the Christmas Surprise. 

Alicia Richardson resides in Salt Lake City, Utah, with her husband and four children. She has always had a flair for storytelling, and has given life to a special little elf named Kirby Puckernut.

Illustrator:  Don Seegmiller
Physical Description:  Hardcover, 40 pages
Recommended Age: Children of all ages…
Price:  $17.95 for the book; Elf with book is $39.95
For More Info: http://www.kirbypuckernut.com/
On Facebook:  http://www.facebook.com/#!/puckernut?fref=ts

5yo Esmé’s Review:

• The book is about a little elf that changed the lives of one family.  It is great!  My favorite part is where Mr. Harborsen said that they could see if Izzie had a good day or not just by looking at her nails [after receiving a gift of Mood Polish from Kirby].

What Mom Liked:

• Tradition builder.  As previously mentioned, this is the perfect book to start a “where’s the elf” tradition.  It gives a magical background and provides some fun ideas to include in such a tradition.  And fun traditions are one of our kids’ favorite parts of Christmas!
• Quality appearance. This hardback book is colorfully and attractively illustrated, nicely laid out to appeal all book lovers.  It’s got the sparkle that appeals to girls like Esmé without being feminine.
• Interesting storyline.  The book is a nice read-aloud:  long enough for substance and fast-moving enough to read through in one sitting.  Humor is appropriately interspersed throughout.
• Variety of characters. The kids in the family include a 13yo girl, a 10yo boy, a preschooler, and a lovable Mocha dog:  a nice mix that most children will be able to relate to. 
• Family values.  I also appreciate the solid family structure the book portrays.  And the ultimate elf magic is not so much the tiny tree that turns into a huge, beautiful, white-flocked Christmas tree, as it is the sense of forgiveness, love, family ties that emerge in spite of adversity – dad’s broken leg, kids sick with flu and all.

While most Christmas favorites in our house have a nativity theme rather than a Santa theme, Esmé and I have enjoyed the fun and magic in this book and are thrilled to include it in our Christmas collection.

Those who’ve followed this blog know we have a special interest in parts of Africa, most recently having worked in Mozambique for an organization that is building churches and schools.  We sponsor a child in Kenya, and I love the fact that for every book sold, $1 will be donated to Kenya Keys, an organization that provides educational and leadership opportunities for youth in Kenya.  There is a craving, a desperate self-sacrificing of even food, by many Africans for learning and education that we take for granted over here.  One of author Alicia Richardson’s family traditions is supporting Kenya Keys – and I’d love to see more of us make a holiday tradition of giving…


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Disclaimer: Thanks to the author and MediaGuests for providing a copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review. All opinions are our own.
More stops on the review tour:

November 27th, 2012 - Winning Readings
November 28th, 2012 - Must Read Faster
November 29th, 2012 - Simply Stacie
December 1st, 2012 - The Friendly Book Nook
December 1st, 2012 - Callista's Ramblings
December 3rd, 2012 - Readathon
December 4th, 2012 - 4 The Love of Books

Review/Giveaway: Hope Underground

A WINNING READINGS GIVEAWAY!

Title: Hope Underground:  The 34 Chilean Miners: A Story of Faith and Miracles
Author: Carlos Parra Diaz, as told to Mario Veloso and Jeanette Windle
Genre: Christian nonfiction
How to enter: Leave a comment on THIS post right here! If you're a subscriber or a follower, leave a second comment for a second entry.

Entry deadline: December 25, 2011

Restrictions: Open internationally!

That's right, enter right here for this giveaway.  This is my review copy, so it has been gently read.

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It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Carlos Parra Diaz

and the book:

Hope Underground

Africa Publishing Company (September 28, 2011)

***Special thanks to Audra Jennings, Senior Media Specialist, The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

After serving as chaplain at Camp Hope during the 2010 mine collapse that trapped 33 miners a half-mile underground for 69 days, minister Carlos Parra Diaz believes he is now living the answer to a prayer. Today he finds himself exactly where he asked to be placed several months before the collapse when he climbed atop a hill near his home and prayed God would use him to bring awareness of Jesus to all nations.

Believing it was God’s hand that placed him in Camp Hope and gratified to be given the privilege of participating, Parra admits his life will never be the same because of the experience. He further acknowledges that what happened at the San José Mine “offers unequivocal testimony that, in this 21st century, faith still does move mountains.”

Today, Pastor Parra, his wife Gloria and their two children live in Asunción, Paraguay, where he serves as regional pastor and missionary. In addition, he continues to share his experience with others throughout the world, diligently seeking every opportunity to spread the message of the San José Mine: that our God is a God of Love.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

For several suspenseful hours on October 13, 2010, the attention of the entire world lay centered on a solitary spot in the Chilean desert. It was there that 33 trapped miners emerged to fresh air and freedom and the eager embrace of jubilant family and friends, after having spent ten weeks entombed one-half mile underground. Their emergence brought an end to the greatest mine rescue of all time.

As told to writers Mario Veloso and Jeanette Windle, Hope Underground: The 34 Chilean Miners—A Story of Faith and Miracles (Imago Dei Books) records the personal journey and spiritual involvement of a local, unassuming minister with the miners and their families. In a series of circumstances that would change his life forever, Pastor Carlos Parra Diaz rose to prominence as he became the influential chaplain of Camp Hope—a makeshift tent community established not far from the site of the mine collapse.

Yet Hope Underground is clearly more than just Pastor Parra’s story. Rather, it is the story of all who came together at Camp Hope focused on asking God to do a mighty work on behalf of the miners and the overwhelming evidence of His response that followed. Told simply and from the heart, Pastor Parra describes not only his own involvement with the families at Camp Hope but also introduces the reader to those miners, family members and officials who extracted nuggets of hope from the situation and then used them to instill faith in others.

For most people, this spectacular rescue is already yesterday’s news. However, for the millions who prayed for a miracle, this event has become a spiritual heritage for the whole world, a stirring reminder that God listens to the pleas of His children.

Readers are introduced to women like Maria Segovia, the “mayor” of Camp Hope, whose quiet strength and steadfast faith daily encouraged others. We meet the miner whose wife gave birth to their first child during the ten-week ordeal—a daughter they named Esperanza (which means Hope). And no reader will soon forget the youngest miner who boldly insisted there were 34 in the mine instead of 33 because, as he explained, “God never abandoned us.”

Though on its own, the story of his involvement would provide fascinating reading, what Pastor Parra gives us in Hope Underground is so much more. With humility and reverence, he leads us through the story of Camp Hope to a new realization that God remains a never failing presence to everyone willing to call upon His name.

Product Details:

List Price: $14.99

Paperback: 208 pages

Publisher: Africa Publishing Company (September 28, 2011)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 0986979953

ISBN-13: 978-0986979958

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

The Journey Begins

My own journey of faith did not begin August 5, 2010, on the dusty slopes of San José Mine, but almost forty-three years earlier and far to the south. I was born Carlos Roberto Parra Díaz on September 15, 1967, in the small, rural community of Coelemu, located 500 kilometers south of Chile’s capital city, Santiago. In complete contrast to the Atacama Desert where I would one day find myself, Coelemu is a richly fertile region of rolling hills, eucalyptus forests, green pastures and cultivated fields, fruit orchards, and grape vineyards. Nearby winds the placid waterway of the Itata River.

The family into which I was born was of modest means. My father, Luis Parra, worked at many types of manual labor within the lumber industry, the region’s primary export. My mother, Ester, stayed busy running our household and rearing nine children, of whom I was one of the youngest. We lived in a small house built of wood that faced onto an unpaved dirt lane. If cramped for such a large family, we could always retreat outside to a sizable patio filled with fruit trees and a grape arbor. There my siblings and I played, climbing trees, running among the grapevines, driving tiny model cars in the dirt.

My parents were devout Christians, and from my earliest childhood I attended a local evangelical church where I grew up hearing Bible stories and singing hymns and choruses. Our small town was privileged to have both a primary and a secondary school, where my siblings and I attended. The flow of life in Coelemu was unhurried and serene.

Yet I was not always happy. As one of the youngest in a large family, I constantly battled low self-esteem. I had been taught the good news of salvation through Jesus Christ. I believed in the existence and power of a Creator God. But I had never placed my own faith in Jesus Christ or made any personal commitment to follow my Creator.

When I graduated from secondary school at age seventeen, there were no funds available for further education. In fact, no one in my family had ever gone on to university. I had done well in school and dreamed of a higher education. But without the necessary funds, I headed instead to the nearest city to look for work.

Seventy kilometers south of Coelemu, Concepción is Chile’s second largest metropolitan center with a population of almost a million people. One of my older brothers, Claudio, had already moved there. Boarding in his home, I quickly found a job. I worked hard, sending part of my earnings home to help my parents, saving what I could in hopes I might be able to study again someday. I made friends.

But I soon also turned my back on the Christian upbringing my parents had provided for me. The big city was filled with temptations for a young man out on his own for the first time. When I was not working, my days soon became a round of parties, dances, and other entertainments of which my parents would certainly not have approved. Church attendance was something of the past.

Once a month or so, I would travel home. My parents had no idea how my life had changed. They were simply happy their son had found work and was building a future for himself. In contrast, despite all the excitement of city life, I was not happy at all. By age nineteen, I had fallen into a deep depression. While I could point to nothing specifically wrong, my life seemed to be spiraling out of my control. I began to question whether God even existed. My self-esteem had hit rock bottom. I had a job, friends, and all my needs supplied. But there seemed no purpose to my existence, no reason to keep living.

By a certain evening when I was nineteen years old, I had come to a drastic decision: I would take my own life. I’d gone out that evening to party with one of my friends. But I could not make myself enjoy the festivities. Offering an excuse to leave my friend, I headed toward the railroad tracks cutting through that part of the city, thinking to throw myself in front of a passing train.

That particular night was clear of clouds, the stars bright against a black sky. It had been a long time since I’d thought of the God in whom my parents had raised me to believe, the Almighty Creator of the Universe. But as I lifted my eyes to that star-strewn sky, it was as though I glimpsed in the soft glitter of the constellations far above me a peace that I had not been able to find anywhere below on earth—a peace so vast and breathtaking, it brought sharply to my mind the presence of the God I’d learned of as a child, His pardon, His peace.

In desperation, I cried out in the direction of those stars, “God, if you are really there, please forgive my sins, and give me another chance to live.”
The answer that came was not thunder from heaven, but I heard its words as audibly as though spoken aloud. “Carlos, I will give you another opportunity to live. But you must live that life for me.”

I dropped my gaze from the glittering expanse of the night sky. But the moment I started looking at the darkness all around, despair once again overwhelmed me. I now know that this was a direct attack from Satan. You are worthless, he was murmuring in my mind. You would be better off taking your own life.
But the God who had created those constellations and spoken to me from heaven did not abandon me now. Before I could make any rash move, the friend I’d walked out on came rushing up. Somehow he’d sensed my earlier desperation. Worried, he’d been looking for me in all the places we usually hung out. He insisted on escorting me home to my brother’s house.
By now it was late at night. My brother Claudio let me in and told me to go to bed. We’d talk in the morning. Still battling despair, I went to my room. There I spotted a New Testament lying on a shelf. I couldn’t sleep, so I picked up the New Testament and began leafing through its pages. I don’t even remember what passages I read. But in those pages, I caught a glimpse of the same supernatural peace that I’d sensed in the stars. It was as though God was speaking to me again, giving me a direct confirmation that the earlier conversation we’d had was real and that He had forgiven all the wrong things I’d done over those last two years.
Going to bed at last, I slept like a small child, without stirring. When I awoke the next morning, I knew I was a new person, born again. From that day, I committed myself to follow God with all my heart.

“Almighty God, as I asked, You have given me a new chance to live,” I prayed. “Now I surrender my life to do Your will. Guide me wherever it is that You want me to serve. Let me live to exalt Your name among all nations.”
My next step was to find a local church where I could once again hear and study God’s Word. Locating one some distance away within the city of Concepción, I attended there for the next year or so. Then new neighbors moved next door to my brother Claudio’s house where I was still living. They were Seventh-day Adventist missionaries, a denomination I had never heard of at that time. They were friendly and kind. Within a short time, they’d volunteered to teach a Bible study in our neighborhood, which I began attending with my sister-in-law, Claudio’s wife. After three months of intensive Bible study, both of us made the decision to be baptized as a witness of our faith. On June 24, 1989, I surrendered my life in baptism. I was twenty-one years old.

From the moment I’d placed my faith in God, I’d committed my life to serve God. But I had no thoughts at that time of ever becoming a pastor or missionary. By then I’d found a good job as an administrative aide in a bank. But I still dreamed of one day getting a higher education. Then our neighbors told me about the Adventist University in nearby Chillán, a city about a hundred kilometers east of Coelemu.
“But I have no funds for university study,” I immediately responded.
That didn’t matter, the missionaries informed me. Then they explained to me the Adventist University’s unique system of self financing. Students could work one year for the university and then attend free the next year, alternating work and study years until they’d achieved their chosen degree. With great excitement, I enrolled, planning to study accounting, a career that would allow me not only to provide for myself, but to help my family. But by the end of my first year working for the university, God had made it clear that He was calling me into full-time ministry. When I finally started my university studies in 1991, it was in the field of theology rather than accounting.

For the next seven years, I alternated between working and studying. My employment for the university was as a colporteur, distributing and selling Christian literature door to door all over the city as well as in surrounding towns and villages. God had now made clear His calling on my life. But I did not want to follow that calling alone. I began to pray that God would bring into my life the marriage partner He had for me. For five years I prayed, not only that God would prepare the right wife for me, but that He would prepare me as a godly husband for that wife.

Then in my third year of studies, I found myself in Santiago, the capital city of Chile. Part of the course requirements for third year theology students was to conduct an evangelistic campaign. Among the volunteers helping at the church where I’d been assigned to preach was an attractive young woman named Gloria Angélica Montoya. From a third-generation Christian home, Gloria was a committed Christian herself, deeply involved in children’s and youth ministry within her church. She also worked full-time as a nursing assistant at a local psychiatric clinic.

The following year was one of those in which I was not studying. I stayed on in Santiago, working in the literature ministry and also getting to know Gloria better. It was not long before we both recognized how much we’d come to love each other. Both of us had complete peace that God was calling us together as life partners.

Gloria and I were married in the summer of 1996. We returned from Santiago to Chillán for my last year of theological studies. I graduated in 1998 and spent the next year doing a ministry apprenticeship in Concepción. Then Gloria and I returned to Santiago, where for the next five years I served as pastor and missionary overseeing a group of churches in the Santiago metropolitan area. By this time God had given Gloria and me two beautiful children: my son Carlos Malaquías (Malachi), who at the time of this book’s writing is thirteen years old, and my daughter Belén, who is now ten.

In 2003, we moved again as a family to Chile’s beautiful Viña del Mar region, famous for its vineyards and beaches. Once again, I served as pastor and missionary to a group of churches scattered around the area. Traveling from one to another, I would preach God’s Word, teach and counsel church members, and spearhead evangelistic outreach into each community.
It was 2009 when I was asked if I would move from the Viña del Mar region to serve as an area coordinator in the northern city of Copiapó. Moving from the lush vegetation that I’d known all my life in southern Chile to the barren wastelands of the Atacama Desert would be a shock, I knew. But I also knew God was calling me to accept this new ministry challenge. In Copiapó I would have under my supervision nine churches, including a Gypsy kangiri, as this Romany people group called their church assemblies, in the small community of Paipote eight kilometers from Copiapó.
The regional capital of Copiapó is a community of about 130,000 inhabitants just beyond where Chile’s southern “green zone” gives way to the Atacama Desert. Its main industrial base is the copper, silver, and gold ore dug out of numerous mines in the surrounding area. A large copper smelter in nearby Paipote employs many local residents. Unexpectedly in such an arid zone, the second main source of employment is agricultural production. From my first visit to Copiapó, I was pleasantly surprised to find the town a green oasis, with irrigation for citrus and olive trees, vineyards, and vegetable crops coming from subterranean water sources deep beneath the thirsty surface.

Beyond the irrigated zones, the barrenness of a region that does not receive a single drop of rain is immediately evident. Since my childhood in Coelemu, surrounded by forest-cloaked hills, climbing has been one of my favorite pastimes. Once I’d begun my ministry, I’d made a practice in each new place to which God moved us of finding a nearby hill to climb where I be alone with God and pray. I was encouraged in doing so by the recognition that I was following Jesus’s own example of retreating in solitude to the mountains to spend time with His heavenly Father.
Shortly after arriving in Copiapó, I climbed to the top of a high hill overlooking the city, a peak dubbed by local residents Cerro de la Cruz, or Mountaintop of the Cross. The reason for its name was clear as I climbed. At the very summit of the hill, a large white cross rose against the cloudless blue backdrop of the sky.

As I reached the foot of the cross, a Bible verse rose to my thoughts that God had placed in my heart and mind since the very beginning of my ministry. The words were Jesus’s own as He foretold how He would soon die upon a cross: “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself” (John 12:32).

Ever since God had called me to serve Him in full-time ministry, my greatest desire had been to see the eyes of everyone drawn to Jesus Christ, to see my Savior exalted among all nations. As I stood there praying over the city of Copiapó and the new ministry to which God had called me, I added a very specific and bold prayer request. I prayed that God would open the door for me to preach His good news of redemption through Jesus Christ, not just in the city of Copiapó, but across the entire region of Atacama, throughout all Chile, and—if in God’s sovereign will I was given opportunity—one day even to the rest of the world beyond Chile’s borders.
Over the next months I was very busy in my new ministry responsibilities, visiting each of the nine churches assigned to my administration, working and praying with both adults and youth for revival in the church. Together as a united body of believers, we prayed that God would show us how we could make a difference in this city and region for Christ.
Meanwhile, my family had settled in well, my children quickly making new friends at a local Adventist school they attended. When we had free time, we enjoyed hiking the hills around Copiapó as a family. But whenever I could find time, I would climb alone to the white cross on the top of Cerro de la Cruz. Each time I would pray again the prayer I’d offered up on that first day.
Never did I dream that within eighteen months of the first time I climbed that hillside, God would provide a wonderful answer to that bold prayer I’d made, opening the doors for me to speak His gospel, not just throughout the Atacama region and all of Chile, but across the entire world.

What I Liked: 

Sometimes nonfiction books can be a little dry - simply a retelling of facts.  And in a way, this book is just that - a retelling of facts.  However, the actual events that transpired, though simply told, left me in awe of an amazing God, compelling me to keep reading page after page.

This isn't the story of Seventh-day Adventist pastor Carols Parra Diaz, chaplain of the miner family camp, though it says a lot about him.  It is the story of the 34th Miner - who, like the 4th man in the furnace (one of my daughter's favorite stories), walked through the blaze with not just the miners, but also their families on the outside.  His presence was evident, time and again.

The book ends with thoughts on why God would allow an event like this to happen.  The parallels to the fiery furnace story are evident - God intervened in a way that spoke loudly to the leaders of the country, and ultimately to the world, about His presence and power.

The first-person account and the pictures make it a personable read.

If you're looking for a simply-written book that allows God Himself to shine through the pages, this is it.

Review/Giveaway: Christmas in Sugarcreek

A WINNING READINGS GIVEAWAY!

Title: Christmas in Sugarcreek

Author: Shelley Shepard Gray

Genre: Amish Christmas fiction

How to enter: Leave a comment on THIS post right here! If you're a subscriber or a follower, leave a second comment for a second entry.

Entry deadline: December 10, 2011

Restrictions: Open internationally!

That's right, enter right here for this giveaway.  This is my review copy, so it has been gently read.

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This week, theChristian Fiction Blog Allianceis introducingChristmas In SugarcreekAvon Inspire (October 25, 2011)byShelley Shepard Gray

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Since 2000, Shelley Sabga has sold over thirty novels to numerous publishers, including HarperCollins, Harlequin, and Abingdon Press. She has been interviewed by NPR, and her books have been highlighted in numerous publications, including USA Today and The Wall Street Journal.

Under the name Shelley Shepard Gray, Shelley writes Amish romances for HarperCollins’ inspirational line, Avon Inspire. Her recent novel, The Protector, the final book in her “Families of Honor” series, hit the New York Times List, and her previous novel in the same series, The Survivor, appeared on the USA Today bestseller list. Shelley has won the prestigious Holt Medallion for her books, Forgiven and Grace, and her novels have been chosen as Alternate Selections for the Doubleday/Literary Guild Book Club. Her first novel with Avon Inspire, Hidden, was an Inspirational Reader’s Choice finalist.

Before writing romances, Shelley lived in Texas and Colorado, where she taught school and earned both her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in education. She now lives in southern Ohio and writes full time. Shelley is married, the mother of two children in college, and is an active member of her church. She serves on committees, volunteers in the church office, and currently leads a Bible study group, and she looks forward to the opportunity to continue to write novels that showcase her Christian ideals.

When she’s not writing, Shelley often attends conferences and reader retreats in order to give workshops and publicize her work. She’s attended RWA’s national conference six times, the ACFW conference and Romantic Times Magazine’s annual conference as well as traveled to New Jersey, Birmingham, and Tennessee to attend local conferences.

Check out Shelley's Facebook Fan page

ABOUT THE BOOK


Judith Graber has always been the obedient daughter. When her older brother Josh struggled with his love life, she offered wise counsel. When her younger brother Caleb flirted with the idea of leaving their order, she firmly told him he was wrong. Over the years, she’s watched her younger siblings, helped around the house, and worked in her family’s store during her spare time. Judith feels overworked, overlooked, and underappreciated this holiday season.

But everything changes when her father hires Ben Knox.

Ben Knox is the “bad boy” of Sugarcreek. Though he’s never considered jumping the fence, he’s certainly never tried to be anything close to dutiful. Two years ago he left Sugarcreek under a cloud of shame. Rumors circulated that his rumspringa had been filled with more than the usual harmless explorations.

Now he’s back and working side by side with Judith.

As the chaos of the holiday season threatens to sap all joy, sparks fly between Ben and Judith. But Judith steels herself to ignore her infatuation. The last thing she wants to be is just one more girl who falls under Ben’s spell. Ben, on the other hand, wants Judith to realize there’s more to him than his bad reputation. When he fled Sugarcreek, he was running from a disruptive home life. Now that he’s back, he wants a fresh beginning.

Could this Christmas season bring love and a new life for the unlikeliest pair in Sugarcreek?

If you would like to read the first chapter of Christmas In Sugarcreek, go HERE.

What I Liked: 

It's been a while since I've read Amish fiction, and this was a sweet segue back into the genre as it incorporates the meeting of English and Amish worlds.  Romance is the heart of the story, though it also emphasizes family values, Christ as the meaning of Christmas, and God as the bestower of blessings.

There are several storylines woven throughout the book, each having its own feel-good, lesson-learned finale.  Though not the main romance, my favorite storyline had to be a variation on the Gift of the Magi story, a classic that never fails to move me. 

What I Didn't Like: 

This book is part of a series, and while I was able to follow the storyline easily enough, I did find myself wishing I had read the previous books of the series to better understand the backgrounds.

Review: A Dog's Way Home

A WINNING READINGS REVIEW!

Title: A Dog's Way Home
Author: Bobbie Pyron
Genre: Children's book age 9-12

Publisher: Katherine Tegen/HarperCollins

Physical Description: 336-page hardcover
List Price: $16.99
ISBN: 978-0061986741
For More Info: http://www.bobbiepyron.com/

Synopsis:

One late fall afternoon, a tragic highway accident leaves eleven-year-old Abby and her beloved Shetland sheepdog, Tam, stranded at opposite ends of the Blue Ridge Parkway. Though each is determined to be reunited with the other, the days separating them turn to weeks, then months, and dangers and changes fill up Abby's and Tam's lives. Will they ever find their way back home to one another?

Classic in its themes and contemporary in its telling, Bobbie Pyron's A Dog's Way Home is the unforgettable tale of the many miles, months, and mountains that separate two loyal friends—but that can't possibly keep them apart.

About the Author:

Bobbie Pyron calls A Dog's Way Home "my own personal love letter to all the great, classic dog books I've read and loved—and to all the dogs I've loved too." As a part-time librarian, Bobbie enjoys sharing dog stories and books of all kinds with readers. Bobbie is also the author of The Ring, a teen novel about the world of competitive boxing.

When she's not writing, working as a librarian, or volunteering with animal rescue organizations, Bobbie and her dogs Boo, Teddy, and Sherlock can often be found walking in the woods of Park City, Utah, with her husband,  Todd.

What I Liked: 

• The awesome dog.  Even if you're not a huge dog fan, little Tam will tug at your heartstrings.  His intelligence, perseverance, and loyalty had me rooting for him from the get-go.
• Family values.  I appreciated Abby's relationship with her parents and her Meemaw.  Very real, complete with misunderstandings and conflict, but also full of love.  I could so relate to the mom's comment about Abby being her northern star.
• Abby's rock-her-world character.  Abby didn't allow herself to be classified as a misfit, but rather changed the world of those around her for the better.  She stayed upbeat and action-oriented in spite of personal disappointments.  A great role-model of a character for middle-schoolers.
• The dog's perspective.  I've never thought much about all the challenges, human and wild, a dog might face on his own.  The author did a great job entwining a range of characters into the dog's story.
• Easy readability.  This was an easy page-turner, with enough action to keep the reader engaged throughout as Tam's rescue seemed just within reach, only to be thwarted again and again.

Overall, this is a terrific kid-friendly book that I look forward to introducing to my animal-loving daughter when she is just a bit older.  The book included references to "the Sight" that, as a Christian reader, I initially questioned, but it left plenty of room for interpretation depending on the reader's paradigm.  Thanks to the author for an uplifting, positive children's book to add to my library!

Thanks to the author for the review copy of this book and to Premier Virtual Author Book Tours for coordinating this tour.

Comment on our giveaway post of The Ring, also authored by Bobbie Pyron, by 10/25 for a chance to win!

Review/Giveaway: Ancient

A WINNING READINGS GIVEAWAY!

Title: Ancient
Authors: K. T. Kimbrough
Genre: Christian fiction
How to enter: Leave a comment on THIS post right here! If you're a subscriber or a follower, leave a second comment for a second entry.

Entry deadline: September 10, 2011

Restrictions: Open internationally!

That's right, enter right here for this giveaway.  This is my review copy, so it has been gently read.

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It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!



You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

K. T. Kimbrough

and the book:

Ancient

iUniverse (October 6, 2009)

***Special thanks to Kyle Kimbrough for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Author, artist, woodworker, and world traveler currently thrives in Austin, Texas with his beautiful wife Mandy and daughter Zoё Isabel who has recently joined us in this world. His plethora of numinous literary inspirations are often stirred by being in nature – hiking, camping, fishing, spelunking, rock climbing, and, of course, reveling in the unadulterated, wall-less freedom of riding his motorcycle through the hill country.





Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Every legend, good or evil, is birthed from truth.



In the ancient, mystic times before the great flood, entities from the spirit realm called Watchers were sent into the world of mortals to help and teach mankind. But falling prey to the lures of Earth’s lusts and greed, they forsook their edict. The Watcher’s half-angel offspring mature to be giants - warriors, tyrannically oppressing the free people of the epoch.



Young, free-spirited Noah ventures to save a group of women abducted during a raid on a peaceful Freeland village. What is meant to be a simple rescue cascades into a bloody incident, which in turn launches Noah into an epic adventure of peril, love, and spiritual intrigue.



Meanwhile, the turbulent paths of a rogue Watcher, young outcast, unpredictable loner, begrudged hunter, and beautiful escapee tumultuously entwine. Unified destinies clash into a perilous journey and struggle against time. Can they stop the powerful Watchers, conspiring with the aged and eccentric Lord Cain, from grasping the coveted key to eternal power?



Join one of the greatest legends in history in this epic tale - a fight for freedom against the tyranny of a seemingly unstoppable darkness in book one of the Ancient Trilogy.



Product Details:



List Price: $31.95

Hardcover: 384 pages

Publisher: iUniverse (October 6, 2009)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1440160074

ISBN-13: 978-1440160073



AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

PROLOGUE



The thoughts of those who dwell on the earth shall transgress within them; and they shall be perverted in all their ways. They shall transgress, and think themselves gods; while evil shall be multiplied among them. Enoch 79: 8-9 Apocrypha



When the human race began to grow rapidly on the earth, the sons of God saw the beautiful women of the human race and took any they wanted as their wives. In those days and for some time after, giants lived on the earth; for when the sons of God had intercourse with women, they gave birth to children who became the heroes and famous warriors of ancient times. Gen. 6:1, 2, 4, NLT



First light would be the perfect time for any other hunt.



Soft, white mist drifted, swirling slowly past tall, lush green ferns, as two figures, mere shadows, stole silently through the forest. The early morning light, barely penetrating the thick foliage canopy high above, gave the waist-high mist an anomalous, pearlescent hue. The ground was invisible below the mist. Tips of shade grass, ferns, and mushrooms peeked out from the top of the listless fog.



The two human shadows stopped behind a huge, mossy tree trunk. The larger of the two leaned in and whispered to the other, and then slowly moved away stalking, hiding. The smaller one stayed by the tree, blending into the dark, hazy shadows of the massive trunk.



With a longbow in one hand and a leather quiver filled with arrows on his back, the stalker crouched behind a morel mushroom still in line of sight from the tree. The massive mushroom, textured like a sea sponge was conveniently just the right size to hide a full-grown man.



The hunter remained motionless: listening, watching.



He could hear the bubbling sound of a stream coming from the misty unknown, the periodic creaks and moans from lofty cypress trees … his own heartbeat. But what he could not hear told him that something was awry. No birds singing, no squirrels chirping, no animals of any kind could be heard. This was not normal, especially for these particular woods. And he could not ignore that feeling … or was it a knowing? A feeling that something was out there … that sense deep in his spirit that something ill-intentioned was watching him, possibly even stalking him, could not be ignored. Typically this would be a bad omen, but this morning it was a good one.



The crisp sound of a breaking stick echoed through the mist.



The man froze, and hoped that his son did the same. Chances were that it was just a deer or an ox just like all the other times when he had tried to hunt this particular murdering beast. But his spirit senses were screaming otherwise this time. And … what was this second sense that gripped his spirit so strongly?



He felt his heartbeat accelerate. There was another presence … a second one. There were two evils out there in the morning mist, hunting as much as they were being hunted.



Suddenly, he regretted bringing his son along. Mother did say that it was a bad idea and he should leave him at home along with the younger.



The morning light had grown brighter, piercing through the thick canopy of treetops, giving the mist a golden hue.



Crack. This time the sound was louder and closer. He tightened his grip on the bow as he scanned the forest for movement. It was as quiet as a tomb.



This is it. His spirit would not be screaming so loudly if it were not.



He made sure his arrow was in place. Remember the plan, son …



Movement caught his attention. The hunter’s eyes fixed on a thicket of ferns, bushes, and low-hanging branches. He caught a swift, passing glimpse of orange through the hazy green. The hunter watched, waited … steadied his breathing.



Then he saw it. A long, slender, orange-and-black striped tail swaying and twitching just above the mist. Four or five steps in front of the tail he saw a flash of striped, rippling, muscular shoulders. The beast’s head was still buried in the mist, heading straight for the huge, mossy tree that was hiding his son.



The hunter slowly swiveled so he could see from the other side of the morel, then raised his bow into position but did not draw. He had to wait for a closer shot. The first shot is the only one that counts and, due to this tiger’s reputation, anything but an instantly fatal first shot would just dangerously fuel his bloodthirsty wrath.



His heartbeat accelerated even more. He was tempted to think about all the people in his village this damned beast had killed … and how it didn’t eat them … just killed them … often tearing limbs from the body and leaving them there to bleed to death.



The hunter’s instincts kicked back in at the sound of another stick cracking under pressure. The beast was now so close that the man could hear the faint sound of its fur brushing against the wet ferns and dangling vines. Still heading his son’s direction, he could see it clearly now: crouching, almost slithering like a serpent through the undergrowth, nothing but evil intent in his wild, blackish-green eyes. Those eyes … those black eyes … they seemed to emit a spiritual darkness that he could almost see. Then he saw the teeth … twin entities of death. They jutted out of the huge tiger’s upper jaw: large, sharp ivory spears ready to draw blood … craving to draw blood.



Suddenly, with intensity that formed bumps on his skin, the hunter sensed that unseen mysterious second presence drawing closer. It was not the tiger … it was something unseen.



The beast was close enough. He drew the bow.



The saber-tooth tiger kept stalking toward the mossy tree, huge muscles rippling, and tail maliciously twitching.



The hunter heard a slight movement from his son’s tree a split second before releasing the arrow.



As the arrow sliced through the damp air, he heard his son release, then the whistle of his son’s arrow. Two arrows soared through the air at the same target. The timing was perfect.



Time seemed to slow down, almost pause, as the unimaginable happened … the tiger dropped below the mist with lightning speed reflexes and a large dark shadow appeared from nowhere and stood between the tiger and the mossy tree.



The moment of silence was broken by a quiet, yet chilling, growl from the tiger. The growl was not one of pain as the hunter expected, but one of malice … one of spite.



The hunter promptly reached back and slid another arrow from his quiver never taking his vigilant eyes off the tall, dark, hooded figure standing in the mist. As the mist rolled back from the quick movements, he could see the figure’s left arm stretched out, and a large fist poking out of a black, long-sleeved robe. The fist was holding his son’s arrow. The haunting figure turned its head slightly and looked directly at the hunter, though no eyes or face could be seen under the shadowed hood.



The mystifying figure then clenched his fist. With a snap that eerily echoed through the misty forest, the arrow fell in three pieces into the mist.



Instantly, the tiger reappeared from below the mist. The hunter looked a little closer. He could see the red fletching of his arrow poking out of a mushroom a few steps behind the tiger.



Unbelievable! The beast had dodged his arrow! And the mysterious dark figure caught his son’s arrow in mid-flight with his bare hand. Impossible …



Unmoving, bow drawn, he never took his focus off his two enemies.



What man can catch an arrow with his bare hands? He was still not entirely sure he saw what he thought he saw. No matter what or who this mysterious shadow was, if he so much as twitched toward his son, he would unleash all he had, sending him into the afterlife.



The tall, dark form, only a step away from the tiger, bent down slightly, and seemingly whispered in the beast’s ear. Instantly, the tiger’s crazed gaze locked onto the hunter as the hooded form lifted his long arm and pointed at him with a bony finger.



A chill of fear crawled up the hunter’s tensed spine.



The tiger lurched toward him with nothing but evil intent in his blackish-green eyes. Every muscle under that orange-and-black coat moved in unity toward murder.



The hunter released the arrow, aiming low so the beast could not duck it.



Just as anticipated, the tiger dropped down again, trying to duck the arrow.



The tiger roared.



He heard the thud of his arrow hit flesh just below the golden mist. Then the tiger jumped up with a guttural wheeze, and proceeded with his attack on the hunter.



It will take more than one arrow to bring this beast down. He saw the arrow’s red fletching sticking out of the tiger’s side. Frothy blood oozed and bubbled from the wound. The shot was too high. It hit a lung.



The hunter nocked another arrow as he called out, “Hithia!”



Another arrow flew level with the top of the mist. The tiger twisted to the side and with its huge paw, claws extended, swatted the arrow to the ground. He jerked his head to the side and let out an angry roar, then stealthily dropped down, disappearing again into the misty foliage.



Silence. The hunter turned his head side-to-side looking for the creature and its hooded master. Both had vanished.



“Hithia, are you alright?” The hunter called out.



A voice from the mist responded, “Yes … did you get him?”



He knew that his son could not see the entirety of what was happening from his position. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to you.”



With yet another arrow ready to fly, the hunter moved toward the big, mossy cedar, watching, listening, sensing. He knew the demonic tiger was close. But he no longer sensed that second evil presence. Spinning around he heard a shuffle in the mist entirely too close to him.



Fear is something he trained himself not to feel … or rather … if he did feel it, he would take charge over it. It would be in subordination to him, not the other way around. A man in his position could not afford to let it control his mind. Far too many responsibilities rest on his shoulders to be paralyzed by such a trivial thing as fear. But right now, in this not-so-typical hunt with his twelve-year-old son in danger, he was powerless to resist … fear gripped his heart in its cold, strong fist.



The hunter heard the twang of an arrow release just as he exited some bushes and saw the entire body of the crazed wounded beast leap off a mossy fallen tree toward Hithia landing a few steps in front of him as the arrow soared over the tiger’s back, disappearing into the forest.



Hithia dove to the side of the tree and fell down. The tiger, wheezing, with blood dripping from its mouth, crouched ready to pounce on his prey for the kill.



The hunter released another arrow. With a dull thud, it penetrated the beast’s side not far from the other arrow.



The hunter, in a protective violent rage, threw his bow down into the ferns, drew his long dagger from the sheath on his belt, and charged the tiger.



The raging beast spun around angrily and faced the brave hunter.



“Aahh!” the hunter attacked the tiger head on, blade swinging.



“Father!” Hithia yelled. On the ground next to the large tree trunk, he scrambled back to his feet.



No more than a stone’s throw away, another pair of eyes watched the violent scene unfold: the innocent, hazel eyes of a child. Hiding behind a large cluster of orange fungus on the side of a rotting log, which lay on the moist forest floor, a young boy was watching, not moving.



He had to do something … anything. His brother and father were in danger … the very danger he knew would happen.



He had to do something … this is why he had followed them. He already saw this happen and he had to stop it.



But, his body was solidly in place, paralyzed by fear.

Before the hunter could even get within striking distance, the saber-tooth swatted him. He took the powerful claw blow in the right shoulder, stumbled backwards, and landed in the bushes several steps back.



Dazed, he stood back up. Blood oozed from four jagged rips in his leather tunic.



“No!” Hithia charged the tiger from behind, stabbing him in the side with an arrow.



The hunter grabbed his bow from the ground not too far from where he had landed and swiftly nocked an arrow … but he was too late.



Ferociously, the beast spun around and slashed Hithia with his sharp claws three times before the boy hit the ground.



The hunter’s arrow penetrated the beast’s neck. The sharp, bloodied flint head poked out one side, and the feather fletching out the other. The tiger instantly dropped to the ground, his two spear-like teeth stabbing into the soft forest soil.



The hunter noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, but ignored it as he ran over to the twitching beast and his wounded son.



“Hithia,” the father said as he knelt beside his boy. The sight of his lethally wounded son made him cringe. He felt his very life force weaken as if he had drunk poison. Instantly, he turned the pain and grief off. It’s not time to grieve … not yet.



Hithia tried to say something but could not due to the deep tear across his bloodied, shredded neck. The hunter drew his son’s knife out of the leather sheath on his belt. Eyes hard and cold as the north mountain stone, he spun around and looked at the murdering beast lying on the ground. The malicious eyes shifted around, even now, with ill intent as if he were looking for one last victim before the end. Its tail twitched irately as a low guttural hiss escaped its bloody mouth.



Controlled by pure vengeance, the hunter grabbed the tiger’s long tooth in one hand and with the other, ended the beast’s life with a slash to its throat. Blood sprayed out, soaking the tiger’s pelt and the forest soil.



The hunter looked up toward a sound in the forest. A million feelings raced through his soul, grabbing and pulling in every direction as he saw a small ten-year-old boy standing over the other side of the dead tiger.



The innocent hazel eyes were grimly fixed on his brother.



“Noah …” The hunter turned around and saw that Hithia’s spirit had left his broken body. He then lunged for his younger son, wrapping his arms around the boy. Embracing him, he turned him away from the horror.



“Papa …” Noah muttered in a soft, trembling voice, “I … I’m sorry … I dreamed this. I came to stop it … I’m sorry …”



Still holding Noah tight, the father whispered, fighting back tears, “It’s alright. We killed the beast, my son.”



“Is Hithia …?” Noah’s voice quivered, staring at all the blood.



“His spirit has passed into the afterlife.” Noah’s father held him tightly for a few painful moments. Then he gripped his son’s head in-between his blood-stained hands and looked him in the eye. “Son, do not fear. Grieve if you must, but only for a time, then you must live, love, and fear nothing.”



A tear ran down Noah’s cheek, creating a trail through the bloody handprint his father had left. He could not know how this one foreseen event would define his future identity.









PART 1





It happened after the sons of men had multiplied in those days that daughters were born to them, elegant and beautiful. And when the angels, the sons of heaven, beheld them, they became enamored of them, saying to each other, Come, let us select for ourselves wives from the progeny of men, and let us beget children. Enoch 7:1-3, Apocrypha





1







“Where are you?”



A streak of silvery moonlight eerily beamed through a single round opening in the center of the domed ceiling. Several smaller moonbeams softly streaked in from high circular windows in the huge flora-laden room.



The silvery light washed over numerous flowering plants and short trees in stone planters, streaking past towering pillars as the main moonbeam brightly shown on the surface of the far wall.



Painted onto the massive wall was a giant map mural. The moonlight washed over it, revealing the crooked contour of coastlines, many serpentine rivers, and the rough terrain of mountain regions. Even the names of the regions were painted in beautiful characters.



In front of the map wall, paced a man’s silhouette.



“Where are you?” The old man’s mumble softly echoed off the mural, drifting into the expansive plant-filled, moon-lit room.



The shadowy form was slightly slouched, leaning on a staff. Soft, silver light shone upon the nearly bald head.



“Where are you?” He paced, never turning from the map.



The butt of the staff tapped the marble floor with every step, echoing softly through the lunar haunted room.



“Where?”



The silhouette abruptly stopped and rapped the wall map with the top of his staff.



“Are you there?”





Unknown to the old man, another shadow covertly watched from behind a large white and red passion bloom, with keen eyes that hauntingly mirrored the silver of the moonlight.



____________________________________________________________________________





The last colorful sun rays of the day warmed the lush, green valleys and rolling hills of the Freelands. An elongated hill stood in the center of a wide valley, with its grassy dome stretching just over the treetops. The elevated hill of rye grass and brightly painted wildflowers was a colorful island in a green sea of forest.



Near the highest point of the grassy ridge, a solitary, old, twisted olive tree proudly stood. It was not very tall, compared to the giant cedars of the hills and the massive cypress of the valley, but it’s beautiful branches stretched out well over three times its height, giving it a unique flattened top. It was as if it was playfully reaching out to the other trees of the valley, beckoning them to come join it in this ever-peaceful, elevated home of splendor.



The trunk forked into two main branches about two men’s height off the ground, making a perfect seat where Noah could rest and peacefully enjoy the view: a place for him to relax and meditate, away from the noise and clamor of all the lively people and the drama they spawn. Of course, Noah loved the town folk, but sometimes one just has to get away from the drama that existence creates. And this twisted old tree atop the dome of color was his sanctum.



Two chirping blue birds landed on a high branch.



Noah enjoyed sharing the tree with the birds; although the tone of their song made it clear to him that they did not share the sentiment.



A light breeze gently blew Noah’s dark brown, shoulder-length hair as he looked over the landscape with his hazel eyes.



From his high perch on the hill, Noah could see the world … at least his world, the one he knew, and a small portion of the world beyond, the one he hoped to someday explore.



To the south, down the hill and past the tree-lined creek, he could see his home village of Cypress. The reason for the name was obvious; a forest comprising primarily of giant, cypress trees shadowed the village. Some of the more adventurous men built their houses in the trees far above the forest floor, but most dwellings scattered through the forestland were made of sun-dried clay bricks and local wood.



Through the gaps in the distant trees, the people looked smaller than ants. Noah could see them milling about town, shopping in the market, children kicking a ball in the streets. Noah wondered if the people were looking up at the tiny tree on the hill as he looked down at them.



He could see the smoke of the cooking fires and the single, large billow of white smoke pluming from Uriah’s blacksmith shop. He could hear the chopping and banging of the carpenter’s shop near the western edge of town. And of course there were the two watchtowers strategically located on the south and northwest edges of town.



On the side of the ridge just east of town he could see the tall oak tree in front of the house he had lived in for years. The house could not be seen through the thick canopy of leaves but it was there. Noah would never forget what that tree looked like. Every knob, every branch was permanently seared into his mind. He and his brother used to compete to see how high they could get before they would get too scared and come back down. He wished his brother could have been around to see him beat their old record.



Noah looked north, abandoning the memory.



North, the mysterious north, the forbidden north … scanning the horizon Noah could see rocky, wind-swept mountains. They stood like a mighty dam of jagged teeth keeping out the dark water of the Black Sea, the great sauri of the wilderness of Herrer beyond, and the rumored evils of the north.



Are they more than rumors?



Noah did not know exactly how far it was, but somewhere on the other side of the rugged, mountainous wilderness, along the southeast coast of the Black Sea, was the City of Cain.



Some call it great, others call it an abomination. It has been said of the city that it houses witches, sorcerers, and the most evil men; not just men, they say, but also those infamous, cursed, mighty giants, the Offspring. Even the fathers of the Offspring, the great teachers known as the Watchers, have been lured there by the evil. They are now the lords of the great city. Some even say that the Watchers are the source of the evil power that fills the north lands.



Cain himself, the cursed son of the great father, Adam, is the lord of the great city, as well as many other cities and towns scattered throughout the northern regions.



People say that once one enters the City of Cain, they rarely come back and if they do, they are different … they carry evil in their soul. Even a purely, innocent soul would come back incubating a rotting evil hidden deep inside … as if a poison was slowly killing the essence of their being.



That’s what they say, anyway. And who’s they?



All Noah actually knows of the city is what he has heard from townspeople and his own parents. But if no one ever returns, then how does anyone know what truly exists there? Yet, if what they say is true, then the answers to Noah’s multitude of nagging questions just might be found in the City of Cain or somewhere beyond.



Noah gazed longingly at the mountain-lined horizon. The mountain range started in the far northwest, where the mountains seem to fade away into the endless pink sky; they stretched as far to the east as his mortal eyes could see. A vast ocean of trees and rocks, valleys and hills, laid in-between him and the mountains: waiting, beckoning him to explore them. He had done some exploring, hunting, and gathering in those woods over the years, but nothing that had satisfied his relentlessly adventurous free spirit.



Noah wondered what lay beyond that mountain wall. What phenomenal lands and unseen beauty hid in the wilderness beyond? What would he find if he just started walking north until he reached land’s end? The answers are out there hiding, waiting to be found … dancing alone in the forest mist.



Noah rested his right hand on his left shoulder, and with two fingers touched the off-white, carved bone handle sticking out of the long, leather sheath strapped to his back.



Things were about to change on several fronts.



It was about time to revisit that dreaded place in the north woods that he had been avoiding for over a decade. And, it was well past time for Noah to take his Journey … the traditional venture that every young man takes into the wild: a long quest along unknown trails and unexplored country to find one’s own life path.



Why have I waited so long to take it?



He could feel it deep inside … now was the time.



Noah’s father often told him that it is only on that quest when you truly find yourself.



Find yourself? What does that even mean? It sounds foolish … like a waste of time.



But he has more questions now than ever before. And the older he gets, the more he feels a need growing in his soul, a need to go. Go where? It doesn’t matter.



Just go. Just leave. Go.



Noah needed to find the answers to his questions, and those answers are hidden somewhere beyond the borders of his small world.







A bright, fluffy cloud floated lazily through the red sky, slowly drifting toward Noah.



A stiff breeze suddenly picked up, bringing an ominous dark cloud from the horizon toward the small bright cloud. As the dark cloud grew closer, Noah could feel a deep forbearing evil presence. The cloud was constantly moving; its dark vapor seemed to be caving in on itself, and then cycling around to the sides of the cloud.



When it reached the bright cloud, it surrounded it. With dark vapor swirling about, it trapped the bright cloud as if locked in shackles. Then the wind shifted from the south, blowing the two clouds back to the north, from where the darkness had come.



The evil presence was strong; it was over powering. Noah was feeling weak at the knees. He felt as if he had just lost something he treasured, something familiar. As he watched the bright cloud float away, a feeling of urgency swept over him like a wave.



Something had to be done. He had to do the impossible and get that cloud back.



He took off after the clouds running along the ground not letting them leave his sight, but he could not keep up. With every step, the dark cloud carrying the bright cloud away, gained distance. The more he chased them, the further they got.



Elohim help me.



Noah stopped to catch his breath.



Suddenly, a thick white mist came up from behind and surrounded him. It was a cloud. As it began to pick him up, he could see himself getting further and further from the ground.



He felt a sensation deep in his core that he had never felt before … total weightlessness: freedom from the shackles of gravity.



There were now clouds all around him. The black sky above was filled with stars and a blood red moon. Below him, there was nothing. He had never seen “nothing” before … but there it was. No color, no light, no darkness, just emptiness … nothing.



Most of the clouds that surrounded him were dark, forbearing … even malicious. The few white clouds that were there were being engulfed by the dark mist. He looked behind him and saw that there was a dark cloud following and gaining on him.



Suddenly there was a voice. “We must leave now.” It sounded like it came from …



Did that cloud just talk?



“Now.”



A strong gust of wind blew, sending them north.





Noah opened his eyes, instantly wide awake.



Moonlight, beaming through the window of his loft, reflected off the glistening steel of his sword that stood, leaning against the wall.



The candle he had lit hours ago had melted down into a river of wax, and streamed off his small table like a solidified waterfall, creating a lake of wax on the floor.



A gust of cool night air blew light brown hair over his eyes. He brushed it aside and looked out the window. The half-moon and its halo of greenish-blue light swirling around it sent soft beams of light into the room.



He lay there for a while and gazed at the beautiful light trying to regain his coherency after his fitful sleep.



This moon isn’t red … was his first thought. His second was the words of the bright cloud echoing in his head: We must leave now.



Did his grandfather not tell him to heed his dreams?



Noah sighed and rubbed his eyes.



Why not?



Noah closed his eyes. Is this it? Is today the day?



Yes. It is.



Noah got up and quietly got ready. He put his favorite blue tunic on. He then wrapped a leather belt, with his dagger in its sheath dangling from it, around his waist. He knelt down, reached under the little table and pulled out a brown, ox leather satchel and his leather shoes. He slipped his shoes on and then opened the satchel and put in his other shirt, a candle, a sharpening stone, a rope and his new canteen. Finally, Noah grabbed his sword off his bed and strapped it on his back.



The floor creaked as he took a step toward the ladder … as did the ladder itself when he climbed down.



He could still see glowing red embers in the fireplace from supper. The aroma of roasted venison still lingered in the air, making his stomach growl. He searched the moonlit room for the leftovers. Noah found them next to the shell sink already wrapped in a cloth. He put the whole thing in the satchel as well as a small loaf of bread.



That should last a couple of days.



Noah silently stood in the dark moonlit room looking around. He had a feeling he would not be seeing this house for a while.



Noah opened the door and took a step outside … the first step of his journey.



The first violet and red colors of the morning were just starting to appear over the misty hills. But before he could lose himself into the unknown, he had a couple stops to make.

What I Liked: 

A fascinating portrayal of a fascinating time - lots of action and interesting characters.  I enjoyed a glimpse into what life could have been like in the time of Noah (pre-flood).  I think this would make a great Christian cross-over book for YA fans of the paranormal genre.

What I Didn't Like:

I've got some theological differences with the premises of the story, namely around the "sons of God" interpretation of Genesis 6:1-4 and the inclusion of Apocrypha quotes.  That is not to say I didn't enjoy the book; I just read it as a paranormal fiction of sorts, set against the grand backdrop of biblical history.

Review/Giveaway: Martha

A WINNING READINGS GIVEAWAY!

Title: Martha
Authors: Diana Wallis Taylor
Genre: Biblical fiction
How to enter: Leave a comment on THIS post right here! If you're a subscriber or a follower, leave a second comment for a second entry.

Entry deadline: August 25, 2011

Restrictions: Open internationally!

That's right, enter right here for this giveaway.  This is my review copy, so it has been gently read.

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Publisher: Revell
Physical Description: 256-page paperback
List Price: $14.99
ISBN: 978-0-8007-3465-7
For More Info: http://www.dianawallistaylor.com/

Synopsis:

She has spent her life caring for others--will she ever find someone who will cherish her?

Martha's entire life is marked by her responsibilities to her family. In the absence of her mother, she runs the household, makes the meals, cares for her father, and attempts to keep her absentminded younger sister on task. In the midst of her duties, will she ever find time to live her own life--or find her own love?

This touching, well-researched portrayal of Martha of Bethany, sister of Mary and Lazarus, unveils the woman within the Bible character. Through Diana Wallis Taylor's lush descriptions and inspired fusion of imagined and recorded dialogue, Martha's world--her trials, triumphs, and loves--vibrantly comes to life.

Follow Martha as she navigates the complicated worlds of family, faith, and love . . . and you'll never read her story the same way again.

About the Author:

Diana Wallis Taylor is a speaker for Stonecroft Ministries and is currently working toward her MA in biblical studies at Bethel Seminary. She is the author of Journey to the Well, has published many articles, and has contributed stories to several books. Taylor lives in California. Find out more at http://www.dianawallistaylor.com/.

What I Liked: 

For those who like romance, this was a sweet romantic read set in Biblical times.

As always, I enjoy Biblical fiction for the added insight and incentive to study the Bible stories in further depth.  While the characters and fictitious personal relationships kept this story flowing, my biggest appreciation was for the setting and context this book provided - into town life and customs, political issues, and religious traditions of the day.

Most inspiring, however, was Martha's story.  Her thoughts and concerns as she learned about this Man, Jesus.  The intrincate way He touched her complex life story through his ministry, death, and resurrection.  A credible background to her well-known comments regarding Mary's work and Lazarus' death.  The author has succeeded in replacing the "nagging shrew workaholic" stereotype with a sincere woman who is full of love for those around her, and most importantly, touched by the Master.

What I Didn't Like: 

Nothing...

Available June 2011 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.

Thanks to Baker Publishing Group for the review copy of this book.