Monday, January 21, 2019

Blog Tour: Interview With A Wolf by Ethan Radcliff

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New Release
Interview with a Wolf
Ethan Radcliff
Paranormal Romance
122 pages
#IWAWWTMO

Hosted by Words Turn Me On





For over three hundred years, Ward C. Wolf has hidden his true nature, that of a werewolf. Bitten in a frenzy of sexual excitement, he’s cursed for an eternity.

It’s 2018. Wolf is rich. He’s successful and has finally come to terms with his inner beast. He’s decided to reveal to the world that monsters do exist. He’s chosen his interviewer carefully, Theresa Cappiato, a smart, sassy, and attractive young woman. She’s the perfect candidate because she harbors an inner power that might even match his own.



Amazon Universal Link: http://geni.us/T942rb
Books 2 Read: http://bit.ly/2H6Ypr1





“An exceptional read that delves into the past and the beginning of the werewolf Ward C. Wolf…..Remarkable work, as always from this author and I thoroughly enjoyed this well written story that will captivate you and hold you in it's spell until you reach the very end. The characters are wonderfully written and very well defined, and a bit complex...I loved this book and I cannot recommend it highly enough!” ~ Kathy Rouchelle

“HOLY MOLY… I am not sure what I was expecting when I read the title of the book but I must admit this was a totally wonderful erotic surprise. The book is very well written to the point if you’re a non-believer of the shifter world or they really aren’t your reading thing, you just might change your mind. Mr. Radcliff’s unique flare for words and his amazing imagination will have you glued to the pages, not to mention his erotic style of writing will have your toes curling and wanting a Ward C. Wolf of your very own….Kudo’s Mr. Radcliff for a phenomenal read. It’s a quick sexy read that I highly recommend readers grab up ASAP. 2 Thumbs Up and 5 Howling stars for Interview with a Wolf.”
~ Barbara










About the Author:

Ethan Radcliff grew up in New York. Writing has always been a pastime of his, along with sports.

He enjoys writing all genres, including erotic poetry.




Follow the Author:













Saturday, January 19, 2019

Blog Tour: Dark Paradise by Gene Desrochers

Dark Paradise by Gene Desrochers Banner

Dark Paradise

by Gene Desrochers

on Tour January 1-31, 2019

Synopsis:

Dark Paradise by Gene Desrochers
Boise Montague’s life in Los Angeles has fallen apart. After his wife dies, he returns to the tiny island where he grew up. Unfortunately, coming home doesn’t bring him the peace he’s looking for. Things have changed drastically since his last visit. The island has moved on and so have the people he once knew. When Boise tries to find the one friend he thinks he can count on to be there for him, he’s confronted with another death. A murder. A murder that the police did not think important enough to investigate thoroughly. Boise wants answers. He enlists a local reporter named Dana, who has theories of her own, to help him dig deeper. With not much left to lose, a bone to pick with the justice system, and a relentless partner, Boise sets out to do what the police would not: solve the murder of Roger Black. The island of St. Thomas is a gleaming tropical paradise. Welcome to the Caribbean, where murder is as common as sunshine.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery (Caribbean Noir)
Published by: Acorn Publishing
Publication Date: June 25, 2018
Number of Pages: 336
ISBN: 1947392166 (ISBN13: 9781947392168)
Series: Boise #1
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Goodreads
 

Read an excerpt:

Behind me, the door I’d entered through opened. A very tan redhead showing signs of aging from many days spent in the sun entered carrying a laptop bag and shouldering a camera. A red Carnegie Mellon University baseball cap that looked like it had been run over by a garbage truck covered part of her tough, but beautiful face. She looked me over like I was a mongrel who’d wandered in begging for table scraps.
“You need something?” She dropped her stuff down on the cushioned chair next to the counter.
“Uh, yes, I wondered if I could get some clippings or microfilm or copies or whatever it is newspapers give for issues two to eight years old. Are they digitized yet?” I stammered.
“Seriously, what do you want?” She pulled her Ray-Bans off and the gray-blue of her eyes stunned me for a moment. Using her sunglasses, she tapped my shoulder. “Hello?”
The faint odor of cigarette smoke assaulted me when she got close.
“Clippings, you know, news from the past,” I said.
As she slipped the glasses into a case from her purse she said, “Yes, but you implied that something here was digitized.” She pursed her thin lips. “This newspaper went online three years ago, so, the last three years are available online in the archives section if you buy a subscription. You a subscriber?”
“I don’t have a subscription,” I said defensively.
“Figures. This is why my job is constantly in danger. Everyone expects news for free.” Her fine hair moved in a blur as she shook her head derisively while she rummaged for something in her bag.
“Hey, I’m happy to buy a subscription. I support journalism,” I said. It sounded lame.
We both flinched as a thunderous banging rang through the room as something or someone hit the other side of a door to my left.
She threw her hands up, exclaiming, “Not again!”
“What? What’s that?” I said.
“Calling the cops,” she sang out. “They said they’re gonna start charging us if this happened again,” she whispered.
Another, more urgent banging erupted through the room. The reporter had her cell out.
“Wait,” I said. “Is it really that dangerous?”
“No, just annoying.” She pressed a button on her phone. “You believe this? Now I’m on hold. I could probably walk over to the police station faster. He’ll probably take a dump on the floor by the time we get back.”
***
Excerpt from Dark Paradise by Gene Desrochers. Copyright © 2018 by Gene Desrochers. Reproduced with permission from Gene Desrochers. All rights reserved.
  Gene Desrochers

Author Bio:

Gene Desrochers hails from a dot in the Caribbean Sea called St. Thomas. He grew up with minimal supervision and free-roaming animals in a guesthouse that also served as a hospital during wartime. He has spent his life steadily migrating west, and now finds himself in Los Angeles with a beautiful wife, cats, and kids. After a lifetime of writing and telling short stories, he ventured into the deep end, publishing his first novel, Dark Paradise in 2018. If you ask, he will regale you with his Caribbean accent and tennis prowess.



Catch Up With Gene Desrochers On: genedesrochers.com

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and giveaways!  

Enter To Win!:

This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Gene Desrochers. There will be 2 winners of one (1) Amazon.com Gift Card each. The giveaway begins on January 1, 2019 and runs through February 1, 2019. Void where prohibited.

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours

 


Thursday, January 17, 2019

Blog Tour: The Company Files: 1. The Good Man by Gabriel Valjan

The Company Files: The Good Man by Gabriel Valjan Banner

The Company Files

The Good Man

by Gabriel Valjan

on Tour January 14-26, 2019

Synopsis:

The Company Files: The Good Man by Gabriel Valjan
Jack Marshall had served with Walker during the war, and now they work for The Company in postwar Vienna. With the help of Leslie, an analyst who worked undercover gathering intelligence from Hitler’s inner circle, they are tasked to do the inconceivable: recruit former Nazis with knowledge that can help the U.S. in the atomic race. But someone else is looking for these men. And when he finds them, he does not leave them alive.
In this tale of historical noir, of corruption and deceit, no one is who they say they are. Who is The Good Man in a world where an enemy may be a friend, an ally the enemy, and governments deny everything?

Book Details:

Genre: International Mystery, Crime Fiction Published by: Winter Goose Publishing Publication Date: December 15 2017 Number of Pages: 251 ISBN: 1941058736 (ISBN13: 9781941058732) Series: The Company Files: 1 Purchase Links: Amazon | Goodreads
 

Read an excerpt:

At 0300 his little black beauty warbled from the nightstand, and stirred Walker from his semi-erotic embrace of the pillow. Grable, his .45, was sleeping next to the receiver. She could sleep through anything. He was jealous. “Awake?” Jack’s distinctive voice came over the wire. “I am now.” Eyes focused on becoming alert. “Meet me at the Narrenturm, ninth district.” “Why?” “The IP are here already.” Walker washed a hand over his face, still in the fog. “What is it, Jack?” “Dead body in the Fruitcake House.” The informative sentence ended with a click. The IP, the International Police, presence was a guarantee that the crime scene would not be kept contained. Walker got out of bed. His room was square, clean, and impersonal. The room measured 50 square meters and served as living room where the nice, upholstered chair was and bedroom where stood the bed. A modest walnut armoire rested against the wall space next to the bathroom door. There was a set of doors out to the balcony so small that it was an insult to a poor man’s suicide. There was no pretension to domesticity or habit, like paintings, books, or luxurious furniture. His mirror in the bathroom was his daily reminder of what he presented to the world, and on the nightstand rested his Leich desk phone with its felt-covered base, curled cord, and petite Bakelite body that he answered when the outside world called him. Each night before bed Walker draped a towel over the upholstered chair, and he placed a pail of water on the balcony. Then he inventoried the room. He knew that if something changed in the room he would wake up. Out of habit he slept without socks, his feet in the open air, so he could respond to anything that moved uninvited in the room. The AKH is the General Hospital in Vienna, the Allgemeines Krankenhaus, the largest in the country, and the Narrenturm was the second mental hospital in Europe after Bedlam in London. The German word for the place was Gugelhupf because of its architecture. The asylum housed the mentally ill, the criminally insane, and political prisoners. The AKH boasted the first lightning rods in Vienna on its roof and breakthroughs in hygienic practices. Walker wondered whether the lightning rods had anything to do with the electroconvulsive therapy he had read about back home, as he walked over to the chair, grabbed the towel, and tossed it onto the floor by the balcony door. Blood groups had first been typed in thorough Teutonic style at the AKH, while patients were chained to lattice doors at the Narrenturm, screaming like the forgotten poor and unrepentant heretics in medieval dungeons well into the nineteenth century. He took off his shorts, went out onto the balcony naked in the cold air, picked up the pail of now freezing water and poured it over his head. He had learned this trick from a Russian POW. Cold water forces the body to discharge negativity and disease. The POW, he was told through a translator, did this ritual every single day without fail regardless of season. The water made his skin scream. Walker never got used to the shock. The heaviness went out of him through his heels and his mind focused. He toweled off, dressed, and coaxed Grable out of her sleep and under his arm. Any time of night the Narrenturm is a nightmare. The building had a corkscrew circular corridor that spun off twenty-eight patient rooms on each of its five floors. Dessert cake. Each room had slit windows that only a starving bird could contemplate for roosting. Escaping the place was as formidable as finding it. After Walker had given a brief flash of his papers and had inquired after directions, the MP told him in factual German that Courtyard 6 was accessible from one of several entrances. ‘Take Alserstrasse, Garnisongasse, or Spitalgasse, and then consult any one of the gateway maps.’ It was just the right number of precise German details to confuse him. In darkness and frustration Walker found the wrought-iron gate with a nice curvy snake that he thought was the caduceus. He looked at the serpent. Was it the caduceus of Hermes or the rod of Asclepius? He touched the single snake, ran his fingers across the diamond-shaped iron fixtures. Old man Hermes must have stolen back his staff and had just enough time to get away from the crazies with only one of his snakes. The caduceus, he remembered, had two. Above him, darkness; ahead of him, in the curving hall as he climbed, voices. He saw Jack, who, intuitively turning his head to his shoulder, saw him before turning his head back to face forward, as International Police and some suits swarmed around, the air charged in a Babel of languages. Even in a crowd Jack Marshall stood out as a man not to crowd. Walker went to stand next to Jack. Standing at ease – hands behind his back – out of habit. Jack uttered his words just audibly enough for Walker to hear. “The German word for magician is Der Zauberer. Our friend is a magician. He sets the stage, does his trick, and then poof he’s gone. No clues. Nothing.” Approaching them were the four-to-a-jeep policemen, one representative for each of the national flags that controlled the city. They were reporting to the Inspector in their respective languages. Walker knew the Inspector would summarize the scene for him and Jack in English. The Frenchman who wore a long haggard face from smoking too many cigarettes, spoke with a phlegmatic bass. The Brit recounted events in his reedy voice with an affected posh accent; no doubt picked up from the BBC back in Birmingham. The Russian, after he had spoken, stood at attention with winter in his face, whereas the American, a young kid, gave a smiling report, about as graceful as a southpaw in a room of righties. Walker’s ears listened for any German, keen for the second verb at the end of the sentence so he could understand what was being said. The Inspector scribbled notes with a very short pencil that took brevity to an art form. Finally. In his lilting Austrian-inflected English: “Gentlemen, it appears we have an unfortunate scenario here. The victim was discovered this evening, two hours ago to be precise. The police arrived at the scene after hearing a tip from an informant that this facility was being used for black-market trading. Thinking that they might discover black-market penicillin or other commodities popular these days, they made this discovery. Our medical examiner is making an assessment as I speak.” Jack and Walker remained silent. The man continued as the four policemen lingered solemnly and choir-like behind him. “The victim in question was, according to our preliminary findings, a man of the medical profession with questionable ethics.” “You mean a Nazi doctor,” Jack said in his tone of an officer weary of formality and needing facts. The Frenchman murmured “Bosch” and covered his racist word with a cough. The Inspector’s eyes looked behind him without turning his head. “Yes, a doctor. The deceased is said to have performed unseemly medical experiments on prisoners in the camps. He did horrible things to children, women, and particularly, Russian prisoners of war. Unconscionable.” The Russian, a silent Boris, stared ahead without a flinch or thaw. The Inspector with a modest bow of the head and genteel click of his heels handed Jack a piece of paper. It was a preliminary. Jack said nothing. His eyes took in the paper with a downward glance and he began the short walk to the scene. Walker and Marshall entered the patient’s cell. The room smelled of something tarry. Some other men who had just been there left in whispers, leaving them alone with the doctor and the body. When the doctor, who was dressed in the all-black priestly garb of his profession, saw his helpers leave and these new men arrive, he switched from his native language to English the way an owl with fourteen neck bones moves his head in ways not humanly possible. “How’s the patient?” Marshall asked the little man near the body. “Dead a day or two by his liver temperature. Rigor has set, as you well can see from the positioning.” The doctor was making his own notes while he talked. “Any thoughts to cause of death, Herr Doktor?” Walker asked, knowing that coroners had looked at enough mortality to be either humble or inhumanly arrogant. The doctor used his fingers to show an invisible syringe and did the motion of pressing the plunger. Abgespritzt. Lethal injection. I would say, carbolic acid.” “Sounds to me that would be a fast way to go, Doctor,” Jack said with his hands in his topcoat’s pockets. “Not necessarily. Ten to fifteen millimeters of the liquid, if injected directly into the heart, should induce ventricular tachycardia in, say, fifteen seconds. Our man here was not so lucky. First, I found no such puncture in the chest. I did find, however, a puncture in one of the extremities. I would say this man took an hour to die. Look at him.” With this pronouncement, the small birdlike man clicked his little black bag shut and left Jack and Walker inside the cell. Walker’s eyes took in the history of the room. He estimated that the room was tall enough, walls thick enough, that a man could scream all he wanted and nobody would know he existed. He imagined centuries of such screams within this room and maybe some claw marks on the walls, too. “How did he get in here?” “And what does the staging job mean?” Jack said. The dead man was propped on a stool, naked. A metal T, evidentially meant for chaining prisoners, was behind him with one part of the cross bar holding his left arm secure while his right hand, bent in rigor, rested over his heart. The corpse’s left arm had received the injection, the head was cocked back, the throat muscles taut but the mouth closed shut in typical Germanic reticence. The eyes were clouded over, the light gone from them when the heart had stopped. The legs were neutral, the back straight in a way that any mother would be proud of such perfect posture. Walker and Jack walked around the body without saying a word. In front of the corpse was an SS uniform, folded neatly in a stack. The shirt’s right collar patch bore the runic double lightning bolts, the left patch and matching right shoulder board said, with its three diamonds and two double bars, Hauptsturmführer, Captain. His .32 was holstered and accounted for at his feet, next to his shined-to-a-sheen boots. Jack said nothing. His mind had already processed the scene. They descended the stairway towards the exit. Both stopped to look at the display of the hydrocephalic baby inside a formaldehyde jar. Walker and Marshall stopped, looked at it, and said nothing, because there was nothing to say. “What do you think, Walker?” was the question once they were outside. “The Inspector said that this dead man was a medico but there was no serpent badge on the uniform. That tells me he wasn’t in the Medical Corps. He had to be a straight-up SS man, maybe with some medical knowledge or simply passing through the camp. But he’s no doctor, so I don’t know how the Inspector could say he was doing medical experiments, unless that report of his says something I’m missing.” Jack answered, “It doesn’t. Anything else?” “Those slacks,” Walker replied. “They had cat hair on them.” “So the dead guy either had a cat…” “Or the killer has one, because there are no cats here that I can see. Another thing: those clothes were pressed and regulation-folded. He wasn’t wearing them when he was killed. Besides, nobody would walk through Vienna these days with that uniform. They either were placed in front of him as he was dying, or after he was dead. It’s all staged to make some kind of statement. Question is, where did his street clothes go.” Jack touched his breast pocket, where the Inspector’s report rested privately. “We have another problem, Walker.” “And what might that be?” Walker thought he knew what Jack was thinking but he waited. Jack was quiet. “What? You want me to go chase down an orange tabby?” “Relax, Walker. That Inspector’s report is in German. That’s why I didn’t show it to you.” “So my German isn’t perfect, but I can manage. What does it say?” “It gives us the man’s name.” They stood outside together as the sun was arriving. “That man…” Jack pointed with his eyes upward to the stone turret from hell “was on our list. Either way we’ll never be able to talk to the Captain.” “So what’s your recommendation?” asked Walker, afraid of the answer. They walked to the curb together. Jack had hailed a cab, opened up the suicide door, got in, but delayed the driver with a few words in German, and from the car window said to Walker, “Talk to Leslie later to see what she thinks after I get tonight’s details to her. I’ll get a report on your desk that might interest you.” He banged on the side door as a signal to the driver to take off. *** Excerpt from The Company Files: 1. The Good Man by Gabriel Valjan. Copyright © 2018 by Gabriel Valjan. Reproduced with permission from Gabriel Valjan. All rights reserved.
  Gabriel Valjan

Author Bio:

Gabriel Valjan is the author of the Roma Series and The Company Files from Winter GoosePublishing as well as numerous short stories. In 2018, he was shortlisted for the Bridport and Fish Prize Short Story Prizes.
Gabriel lives in Boston, Massachusetts, where he enjoys the local restaurants, and his two cats, Squeak and Squawk, keep him honest to the story on the screen.

Catch Up With Gabriel On: gabrielvaljan.com, Goodreads, Twitter, & Facebook!

   

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and giveaways!  

Giveaway:

This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Gabriel Valjan. There will be 1 winner of one (1) Amazon.com Gift Card. The giveaway begins on January 14, 2019 and runs through January 27, 2019. Void where prohibited.

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours

 


Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Author Interview: Ruchi Singh, Author of Guardian Angel






Winner of TOI WriteIndia Season 1, Ruchi Singh is a novelist, and writes in two genres; romance and romantic thriller. A voracious reader, she loves everything—from classics to memoirs to editorials to chick-lit, but her favourite genre is ‘romantic thriller’. Besides writing and reading, her other interests include dabbling with Indian classical dance forms.




When did you first realize that you wanted to be a writer/ a storyteller?
It happened by chance in 2013, when friends and family suggested I should write. It was like an epiphany that yes I can, and should write. Since I am very fond of novels, so I began with a novel. I immensely enjoyed writing Take 2, the joy in creating something new is quite potent. And when I won the Indireads Short Story competition in Oct 2014, I knew I will become a fiction novelist. Recently winning the TOI WriteIndia contest was an awesome experience and added motivation.

What motivates you to write and where does your inspiration come from?
I don’t have any unique muse per se. I think I can safely say that my muse changes with each book that I write because my characters become my muse(s). My characters inspire and take me forward as the story progresses.

How did you come up with the idea for your current story?
‘Guardian Angel’ is a spin-off from ‘The Bodyguard’ and can be read as a standalone book. It features Nikhil Mahajan, who is an important character in ‘The Bodyguard’, as the main protagonist. He is injured in a bomb blast and lands up in the villain’s clutches in a case of mistaken identity.

What is your writing process? Do you follow a regular routine or do you have any weird, funny, or unusual habits while writing and what are they?
I write in the morning when people at home have gone to their respective school and office. The house is relatively quiet with essential daily chores out of the way, I love that time of the day. I love the corner near the window, which throws lots of natural light in the room.
There is no fixed pattern to the day. When I am writing the first draft I mostly write every day, but if the writing spree is interrupted it becomes difficult to start again. But it’s a good idea to write daily.
My weird habit: I can’t move ahead until all the colourful wriggly lines (the MS editor throws) are resolved in the paragraph/ line that I have written. My friends tell me to switch off the editor, but my conscious doesn’t allow me to.

Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? If so, what do you do about it?
Yes, I do. Though I object to the term ‘writer’s block’. It should be called something like else because block gives it a connotation of something external which is blocking the writer’s mind. But it’s not so. It’s our own mind and habits which lead to a break in writing. Creative people can’t be creative all the time, so they need a break. But be careful, too long a break leads to laziness and procrastination, then it becomes difficult to get into the groove again.
The ritual that I believe in, which I too find difficult to follow at times, is to write every day at the same time even if one writes only 200 - 300 words.

What are your current/future projects?
I am writing an emotional romance which is again set in Kasauli, the backdrop of my second novel Jugnu. I’m also planning and plotting a detective series, which is at a very nascent stage. There are lots of ideas floating in my mind, but very less time.

Do you read your reviews? Do you respond to them, good or bad? Do you have any advice on how to deal with the bad?
Yes, I do. I read all of them. The best way to approach the reviews is with a dispassionate mind and look for pointers where one can improve. Do not get swayed with a very positive one and do not get de-motivated with a bad one. Its okay, not everyone is going to like your book/work, so treat a bad review as a mismatch between the book and the reader.

What is the easiest/hardest scene for you to write, why? (Love, action, fight, death, racy, controversial, etc…)
Specialized scenes like fighting or love scenes, and scenes where the characters are in pain, are harder to write. Fighting ones because one needs to convey the action, love scenes have to be aesthetically appealing. I find writing dialogues the easiest.

Do you read? Who are your favourite authors and how have they influenced your writing style?
I have been a voracious reader since the time I can remember. It all started with Nancy Drew series and then to Mario Puzo, Frederick Forsyth, Robert Ludlum, and John Grisham. So all the foundation stones had thriller written on them. Romance came with teenage and college friends. If you notice most of the thrillers dwell a little on the emotional story of the protagonist, so romance adds that little spice to make the characters more realistic and the story more enjoyable.

What is the best piece of advice you have received, as a writer, till date?
Editing by the author is done in four ways;
While writing, one constantly edits - This is done by everyone.
Take a printout and edit - This is a very effective way to find out the errors
Speak out loud - This tells you awkward sentence structures.
Read it on a different format, e.g. if you are writing in MS Word, make a PDF file with large fonts and then read it.

What is the best piece of advice you would give to someone that wants to get into writing?
It is not a field for impatient. Be prepared for a long haul.





The Man 


Security expert Nikhil Mahajan is in mortal danger. Gravely injured and unable to see, he is in the midst of hostile strangers in an unknown place. Any hope of survival is fast fading away. 

The Angel 

Should an innocent man be left to die just because he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Someone has to intervene.






Thank you, Ruchi for this amazing interview! I wish you success for all your future works. Keep writing!






Thursday, January 3, 2019

Book Review: The Silent Witness by Anuradha


Title: The Silent Witness
Author: Anuradha
Publisher: Jaico Publishing House





The Silent Witness by Anuradha is set among large events: the fight between the Sammudris of Kozhikode and the Rajas of Kochi and their combined fight against the ever growing power of the Portuguese. In this mix is thrown the threat from the Dutch, who wanted to establish their trade centre and control the spice market under the banner of the Dutch East Indi Company. They tried to seize the opportunity to topple the Portuguese rule by joining hands with Kerala Varma and Samoothiri.
Translated by Nirmala Aravind from the Malayalam novel ‘Kottakochiyum Kadalum Sakshi,’ this is a tale of loyalty, deceit, love, and war.

The author does an excellent job delineating in detail the struggle of the South Indian kingdoms to maintain its independence at the face of foreign invasion. It’s interesting to note how the search for the lands of spice changed the face of the world and how the trade in spice affected places and people from Portugal to the native India s, who suffered under the brutal rule of both Dutch and Portuguese.
Anuradha has also included a sweet love story in this rivalry for power. It is the story of Veera Kerala Verma falling in love with Unnimaya. That the two come from opposing camps makes for an even beautiful read.

Aravind’s translation is smooth but it can’t be denied that much of the flavour gets lost when changing tongues. The book contains some illustrations by artist Namboodiri. These are line sketching and don’t add much to the story telling. That said, I was fascinated by this patently but beautifully told story.

A beautiful blend of factual and fictional narrative, The Silent Witness is a vigorous but restrained historical survey.




Anuradha is the pen name of Radha Narayana Menon, an eminent writer from Kochi, Kerala. She is the author of The Saga of Black Gold and has also published two short story collections and ten novels in Malayalam.





I'd like to thank the publisher for letting me review the book. I do hope you end up liking the book when you read it. Thank you so much for stopping by, and happy reading!




* I received a review copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

** Picture courtesy: Amazon.in






Monday, December 24, 2018

Book Review: Jahangir: An Intimate Portrait of a Great Mughal by Parvati Sharma

Title: Jahangir: An Intimate Portrait of a Great Mughal

Author: Parvati Sharma

Publisher: Juggernaut






In her latest book, “Jahangir: An Intimate Portrait of a Great Mughal,” Parvati Sharma shines a light on the fourth and least known Mughal ruler, Jahangir aka Salim.

Nuruddin Muhammad Salim started to call himself “Jahangir,” seizer of the world, long before his father Akbar died and unwillingly left him the throne. Shadowed by the greatness and grandeur of his father Akbar, son Shah Jahan, and wife Nur Jahan, whatever is known about Jahangir is further marred by his drug abuse. He had fallen victim to overindulgence in drink and opium, was mercurial, ill-tempered, and loved the signs of royal power. But behind all these, there lurked a canny ruler and conscientious administrator. In Sharma’s book, we get acquainted to this version of Jahangir.

Jahangir inherited none of his father’s empire-building drive, but he was a patron of the arts. He was an excellent hunter, a naturalist, a mystic, and a book lover. He loved statistics and traveled mainly to catalog the characteristics of his country through its myriad flora and fauna.

The author’s descriptions of the royal court and life are superb. Her detailed explorations of Jahangir’s life reflect her long study, deep understanding, and modern take on a little-explored subject. She forsakes the scholarly approach and examines her subject with a humanistic eye.

Sharma fares elegantly well using her skills as an acclaimed fiction writer. Through her book, she tells a compelling story about one of the most fascinating and perhaps the most undervalued rulers of India. Her writing is enriching in its historical sweep and context. It gives the readers a totally new perspective on the life and time of Jahangir. Her writing is crisp with a uniform flow of thoughts. There are no hiccups and I daresay, it is one of my finest reads of this year.

Jahangir is a page-turning, eye-opening biography of a man whom history remembers only through his relationships with others.





Parvati Sharma's debut, The Dead Camel and Other Stories of Love, earned her a cult following for its depictions of love and sexuality in urban India. Her novella, Close to Home, was acclaimed as 'tender, acute and pulsing with real Indian life'. She has also written a book for children, The Story of Babur. Sharma has worked as a travel writer, editor and journalist.




I'd like to thank the publisher for letting me review the book. I do hope you end up liking the book when you read it. Thank you so much for stopping by, and happy reading!





* I received a review copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

** Picture courtesy: Amazon.in, Juggernaut.in