historical-fiction

From the front row of the balcony, I look out over the Uptown Cinema. The red velvet seats are emptying, the credits scrolling up the screen. Ginger Rogers married a Nazi, but Cary Grant got her out of it. Their ship is sailing to America; sun burns away the fog and the wind blows free. Now they are gone and I am coming back to reality, breathing a harsher air. It is how I always feel when a movie ends.

It happened so quickly. One minute I was plucking the flower, and the next I was in his chariot immersed in darkness. I struggled to wrench myself free from his grasp and run away. I twisted as far as I could, hoping to see mother chasing after me. But ahead of me, behind me, on either side of me, everywhere I looked, all I could see was darkness.

Margaret looked at the ring on her finger. "Gran gave me this before we boarded the ship. It's the most special thing in the world to me. I'll never take it off, Hanna. No matter how hungry I am.

Of this fickle temper he gave a memorable example in Ireland, when sent thither by his father, Henry the Second, with the purpose of buying golden opinions of the inhabitants of that new and important acquisition to the English crown. Upon this occasion the Irish chieftains contended which should first offer to the young Prince their loyal homage and the kiss of peace. But, instead of receiving their salutations with courtesy, John and his petulant attendants could not resist the temptation of pulling the long beards of the Irish chieftains; a conduct which, as might have been expected, was highly resented by these insulted dignitaries, and produced fatal consequences to the English domination in Ireland. It is necessary to keep these inconsistencies of John__ character in view, that the reader may understand his conduct during the present evening.

I want you forever. I will always be with you. I will always love you. I will love, honor, and cherish you for all eternity.

Think ere you speak

Like every other creature on the face of the earth, Godfrey was, by birthright, a stupendous badass, albeit in the somewhat narrow technical sense that he could trace his ancestry back up a long line of slightly less highly evolved stupendous badasses to that first self-replicating gizmo---which, given the number and variety of its descendants, might justifiably be described as the most stupendous badass of all time. Everyone and everything that wasn't a stupendous badass was dead.

Very different from other middle grade of YA stories I've read about slaves running during the 1800s. _ Wandering Librarian

He could never be anything more than what he was: the inheritor of weakness and unbridled emotion, a creature possessed by the past, and carrying its curse forever into the future--

Down in the cellar the Gestapo were licensed to practice was the Ministry of Justice called __eightened interrogation_. The rules had been drawn up by civilised men in warm offices and they stipulated the presence of a doctor.

Lush, detailed, total-immersion storytelling.__irkus Review

There is not a lost piece of yourself that can't be found in a good novel.

Fairy tales only happen in movies." -George Meliesfrom The Invention of Hugo Cabret

The reader may ask how to tell fact from fiction. A rough guide: anything that seems particularly unlikely is probably true.

Leave the gun, take the cannoli--Clemenza to Rocco in the Godfather (1972)

If I had two breaths left inme, one first one I would use to tell you I miss you, and the second that I love you.

I decided to write the book I wanted to read

Mortmain is an old French word that should be tattooed on the inside of any historical novelist's skull. This wonderful and terrible word means __ead hand._ Its definition is: __he influence of the past regarded as controlling the present._ (It is also used as a legal term with the same basic meaning.