Farah Cook's Blog

Watch my latest review of The Kite Runner here:

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Hi lovely readers and friends! I've just posted my latest blog post.

"Hi, my name is Farah, and I’m a bookaholic. Forgive me. It’s been a while since my last confession. My addiction to books started when..."

Want to read the rest? Check it out here.
http://shadowislands.com/ya-fiction-b...

Lots of love

Farah

Vikings were pagans, which means they believed in many different gods. Odin, the chief god. Thor, the god of thunder and Loki was a mischievous god who played tricks on the gods and people. Sagas about the Norse gods were full of drama — the gods married, had children, had affairs and sometimes separated and swapped partners. Sagas also involved mythical monsters and beasts. Norse gods would often fight and try to prove their own powers. Thor tried to lift a giant cat in an effort to show his strength, bur failed. He was only able to lift one of the cat’s paws. Norse gods lived in Asgard, a world bound to earth by a rainbow bridge.

Do you know what powerful weapon Thor carried?

Article from the Odyssey

Some people hold the belief that as we get older, our tastes and interest should mature along with us. With this in mind, these people believe that if we do not "grow up" and change our interests, that we are immature and not worthy of their time.

However, it is not our tastes that define our maturity level. Our interests do not explicitly define who we are or what we are like. Some people prefer to read more "sophisticated" texts, such as "Crime and Punishment," or casually read the works of Shakespeare. Others, like myself, prefer taking a step into worlds of fantasy, where anything and everything is possible.

Fantasy books open doors to realms beyond what we know and accept as reality. Some stories take the world that we live in, along knowledge that we already hold and incorporate fantastic elements into it, while others build entirely new worlds, settings, and ideals for their characters. Each new novel and series introduces the reader to a new world, and strives to not only build the characters, but establish the world that they live in as well. When a reader adventures into a new world with all new rules from those that they know, the reader comes to rely on the protagonist of the story to lead them through the world, which creates a bond that is impossible to replicate in most other media. These bonds, along with the adventures that take place in these novels, are nearly timeless and can be returned to at any time. It is this timelessness that makes fantasy books irreplaceable in the heart of any book reader, and it plays a large role in having readers explore even more fantasy novels.

Well-written fantasy books are capable of bringing the readers to worlds beyond the realm of their imaginations, and showing them things that they would not believe. Some of the best fantasy books have been able to permeate the very fabric of our society, where there are very few people who haven't heard of them. The epitome of this kind of fantasy novel is, of course, the "Harry Potter" series. First published in 1997, "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" (or "Philosopher's Stone" in other parts of the world) began a worldwide sensation that helped to define a generation. Nineteen years later, the phenomenon continues with the release of the book "Harry Potter and the Cursed Child" on July 31. Many people who grew up as the books (and movies) came out found refuge in the adventures of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and learned lessons about life, friendship, and love that they would not have learned otherwise. These people also return to the series at various points in their lives, during high points, low points, and any points in between. No matter when they go back, they always hold this message from author J. K. Rowling in their hearts: "Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home."

Source: https://www.theodysseyonline.com/peop...

My favourite book opening:
"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much."
— J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone


I just love this opening!!!!

What's your favourite book opening?

Fact about Vikings:

They did not want to die in bed, because they were afraid to end up in a foggy underworld called Niflheim. Vikings preferred to die in battle and go to Valhalla - a place for Viking warriors.

I've always loved books. My mom bought me my first story collection when I was six. A thick blue book with goodnight stories she'd read to me before bedtime. It was the highlight of my day. When I started reading, I spent time in our school library reading all the spooky books about witches magic and some scary stories for kids.... I guess that's why I love Stephen King! I wrote my first novella when I was 12. It was about a monster that lived in the canal outside our house.... it was a terrible story:-)
Why do you love books and what's your story?

It was a rainy afternoon in Copenhagen. Gertrud sat by the window sill. Toes curled under her blanket she stared into the wet streets of Kristianiagade in Vesterbro, which was a cozy little Danish neighborhood where nothing unusual would ever happen. Nothing unusual in particular. Gertrud would like to think she was familiar with strange incidents. She’d wait most days for bizarre events to take place, and whenever she thought anything appeared out of the ordinary – her parents would simply respond by saying, “sludder & vrøvl” – meaning, nonsense in plain Danish.
Gertrud’s mom, Mrs Jespersen was a secretary at the ministry to a very important minister indeed. Henrik Mads Nielsen. A very common Danish name. Nothing unusual about that. Mrs Jespersen was slender and very tall, yes, but only a little taller than Gertrud’s dad. Her hair was honey blonde wispy and thin on her big head. Every morning she cycled to the ministry, while Gertrud’s dad stayed home and prepared smørbrød – Danish sandwiches for Gertrud and her younger brother Asger.
Mr Jespersen was a skinny man with sandy blond glossy hair and electric blue eyes. He worked as a chef in a very famous restaurant, where food was an ornament. They served beetles and bugs on bedded flowers and grass. No chicken nuggets. No fries, no pasta. No, thank you very much this is a Danish restaurant where we serve fine Danish food. The best of its kind and the best in the world.
Mr Jespersen loved to decorate Asger and Gertrud’s school lunch. Of course, Gertrud would never eat such disgustingly decorated sandwiches. Most of the time, her teacher would, and in exchange give Gertrud good marks for being an inattentive student.
Asger on the other hand, a chubby little boy would chunk in anything he could get his fat little fingers on. He was eight and short for his age. His hair was also sandy blond and glossy. Brown little freckles crowded his pig shaped nose, and his eyes were big and round like saucers and sunny blue.
Gertrud looked a lot like Pippi Longstocking. Red fiery hair, moss green eyes and dark freckles. Gertrud was also superhumanly strong. Very unusual for a ten-year-old girl and very strange. Mrs and Mr Jespersen didn’t like to speak about Gertrud’s superhuman strength. Instead they colored her room baby pink and enrolled her for ballet dressed like a white swan. But Gertrud just didn’t fit in. She was tall, clumsy and a tomboy.
It did occur to Mr and Mrs Jespersen that their daughter did not have a hipster name like Emma, Anna or Anja. Nor did she look anything like them or Asger. Slightly odd perhaps, but there’s a secret to that and they simply refused to speak about it.
Denmark was a mysterious place because it had the happiest people in the world, and the Jespersen family was an average happy Danish family. Well almost, because it was perhaps only Gertrud who wasn’t very happy. She hated her lunches, and always felt like she didn’t fit in anywhere. She wasn’t a girly girl, and if the boys bothered her, she’d punch them to the floor giving them unstoppable nosebleeds.
After two hours of staring at the rain Gertrud noticed something odd. It was not that it was odd, it just didn’t seem to fit in to the cozy little neighborhood of Kristianiagade in Vesterbro. She widened her eyes and jerked her head around. At the corner of the street giant of a man marching like a lion was walking in the direction of their apartment block. He was sturdy, wore very little clothes and had deep red hair. He nearly straggled crossing the pavement. When he looked up his green eyes met Gertrud’s.
Instantly she flung toward the door, nearly breaking her mom’s favorite vase.
“Gertrud what on earth is going on?” said Mr Jespersen. Gertrud threw on her wellies and yellow submarine jacket and reached her hand to the door handle.
“There’s a strange looking man. He’s on his way in here.” Gertrud could hardly catch her breath out of excitement.
“Sludder & vr… - wait what strange looking man?” said Mr Jespersen furrowing his eyebrows. His entire face creased forming layers of intense suspicion.
“He looks just like me!” screamed Gertrud. She was bouncing up and down shaking the entire floor. The glassware in the kitchen was making clingy sounds.
Mr Jespersen’s face blew up like a red balloon. He fetched Gertrud’s arm hard and twitched her around so she slid across the oak floors and landed in a pile clothes in the entrance.
“Gertrud! Go to your room right now! And stay there!” Mr Jespersen was usually a very gentle man that never rose his voice. He’d never grabbed his children or ordered them around to do anything. This particular incident suddenly seemed very peculiar to Gertrud. This time she was certain she was on to something that wasn’t sludder & vrøvl.

Today was Mother's Day in the UK, which I enjoyed blissfully with my two sweet boys. We had a lovely ☀️ sunny day here in London. How was your day?

Love is still in the air, and I'd like to go into detail about Nicola Yoon's books I spoke about last time. Did anyone have a chance to read these yet? If so then what did you think?

**BE AWARE OF SPOILERS AHEAD**

Everything, Everything

Maddy’s mom appears to be a bit like the evil mom in Rapunzel who locks her into a tower. What I don’t understand is why Maddy doesn’t stand up to her mom? She’s like the perfect daughter and then BOOM she escapes to Hawaii with Olly. Is that normal and why Hawaii?

A dramatic turn in the plot that one doesn’t see coming. But the end is AH-MAZING and took me by surprise. Her mom is not evil, just insane. That’s right a bit loco, crazy!

But the end is sweet, and true love conquers it all. AWWW! Loved this story and want to read it again.

The Sun Is Also a Star

“To be clear” I don’t believe in faith. But I am desperate.” The story switches narrative between two main characters, which makes it an easy flow and quick read – and that thing called love…. Daniel almost instantly falls in love with Tasha. She tries to act cold and ignore him, but still fancies him. It’s kind of sweet even though the dilemma she’s in, love is not what one has on the mind….

“Red Tie,” I say.
“Daniel,” he insists.
“Don’t fall in love with me, Daniel.”

What’s going to happen to Tasha’s deportations situation? Hopeless romantics and lovers this book will not disappoint you.:-)

To Benjamin
Because your heart is pure and you’re age innocent. Thank you for being my muse those days when it was just the two of us. Thank you, for believing in this.

CHAPTER ONE

WHEN I ENTER church Sunday morning with mom it’s cold inside. My eyes fall on the nearly empty seats in the back row, next to a girl that reminds me of an angel. Not that I’ve ever seen an angel, but mom always tells me angels are divine lights just like God. She doesn't speak much about angels and God anymore. Not since dad left us a while ago – or perhaps we left him.

The girl turns around and smiles. She beacons for me to take a seat next to her, but mom decides to sit at the back, where it’s empty. She’s hiding underneath her large hat and covering her swollen eyes behind her sunglasses. She’s been crying most nights. I know because her sobbing keeps me awake. I think she’s upset that dad is no longer with us. She misses him, and still keeps a picture of the three of us in her wallet, which she takes out during the day and just stares point blank at.

After the church service, mom mingles with some of the unfamiliar faces and speaks to the pastor. I summon up courage to approach the girl. She’s wearing a beautiful white dress with ruffles and carries angel dust in her fine soft locks. I don't say anything. I just stare. She stares back, though her looks are curious. Like she wants to ask me something, but is hesitating.
She opens her palms and shows me three glittering stones, while she smiles and makes an obvious gesture for me to pick one. I take a brown stone. It’s shiny and warm. Mom calls for me, but her sound muffles in the crowd of people chatting. I close my palm with the brown stone buried inside.

“Luke?” says mom. “Come here darling.”
I walk over to her and she introduces me to the pastor – a gentle looking man with a casual appearance and kind sky blue eyes. He talks to me like he knows me, maybe he does. But I don't know him and he smiles and keeps his eyes mainly pressed against mom. There’s something calm, and soothing about him that makes me want to get to know him in the kind of way that brings me closer to understanding angels – or even God.

We leave the church and among the crowd of people roaming around the steep steps, I see the girl again. Her dad is calling for her.

“Come on Kim, get into the car,” he says. She turns to look at me and takes a seat at the back of a black car. She doesn't turn her looks away, but keeps staring. Just before they drive off, she waves and smiles at me, which feels like sunshine, warm and uplifting. She then disappears becoming a tiny dot before vanishing completely.

Mom takes my hand, into hers. It’s warm and soft. She pads it gently with her other hand as we walk in the direction of our new home. After a while she sighs and takes off her sunglasses and looks at me with her dark brown eyes – deep, still sadness filled in them.

“It’s all going to be fine Luke. You and I, are going to be just fine in this new place, you’ll soon see,” she says and avoids the subject of dad that I’ve been harassing her with ever since we arrived in this new little town called Maple Quays, somewhere south of San Francisco.

She sounds optimistic and reassuring and not like the time we drove off in the middle of the night when she was upset and crying. That was also the last time I saw dad and my friends. The only real precious belonging mom took with us the night we left, aside from some of our personal things, is my dog Caramel. He’s an ugly little thing, but I love him. He’s loyal, warm and likes to cuddle.

Slowly I release the pressure from my fist. My fingernails leave a bite mark on my palm. The stone is still there. Glittery, shiny and bright.

“I know mom.” I say and clutch onto the stone. “I know everything is going to be fine.” I don’t tell her that I miss dad. I don’t want to upset her.

We walk few blocks back to our new home. I still have to get used to this suburban neighbourhood, which has neat, quiet and coordinated streets. All the houses look the same – tall narrow closely clustered redbrick houses. I used to live in an apartment with mom and dad in the city. The apartment had yellow brick walls inside similar to those our new house has, except the bricks sit on the outside now and are red.

I miss that apartment – maybe because it reminds me of dad. Cosy, comfortable and calm. At least that’s how I remember him before he’d work long hours in the office and at home. But he’d always carve out time in the weekends to take me swimming.

“You’re a champion swimmer Luke.” He’d say and hired a coach to train me. But then swimming wasn't fun anymore. I started to lag and my time decreased. Dad would yell, like he does when he doesn't understand what’s truly going through inside my head. It used to frustrate me at first. I’d break out in tears and anger – and after a while, I just got used to the shouting and isolated the sound of his loud raised voice.

Whenever he’d say something I stopped responding and so he stopped asking. That’s when we barely spoke anymore. Before we knew it brick by brick we’d built a wall between us. But I still miss him – the way we used to be. When I turned eight he gave me Caramel for my birthday. Nasty little thing with a caramel colored fur, hence the name. I didn't like him at first. His sullen face, wide head and shoulders along with a distinct low grim jaw. But then he looked at me with his thick folded skin and round, black, wide-set innocent eyes. Something just changed and his short muzzle, droopy neck skin and lips didn't bother me anymore. Once I started to pat his flat sleek coat we instantly became friends.

We’ve lived for two years in Maple Quays. Dad stopped coming for a visit. Instead mom started leaving me at his place twice a month over the weekend. I like hanging out with dad, when he doesn’t shout. He talks a lot about mom –that he misses her, he even cries sometimes. Mom never speaks of him, and when he used to come around she’d change. The smile on her face would vanish and she’d wear this mask – to keep herself composed and serious.

Dad tells me she’s cold hearted. She always was. But I know she still loves him. She tells me she does, but she says she needs to heal. He hurt her, and she doesn’t want to be hurt. She says, Luke, one day you will understand. You will meet a wonderful girl and fall in love. I think that already happened the day I went to church. That’s the day I fell in love with Kim.

For my sixteenth birthday mom is helping me decorate the living room with red balloons. No clown – just red balloons, streamers, confetti and birthday banners. Dad moved in with us the third year of living here. Mom and him are finally happy. They stopped arguing too. I'm going to have a baby brother this summer.

One of the girls, Dorothy in my class just turned sixteen, and says that her parents say turning sixteen is the most difficult thing. Apparently, we transition into becoming teenagers. She gave me list of fifty things that happens to teenagers. I’ve read the fifty things, but nothing has happened to me from that list. Does that still mean I qualify in becoming teenager? Whatever that may be.

When I see Kim at the door I let in a mischievous smile. She’s my best friend and she still looks, just like an angel. Big ocean blue eyes, still angel dust in her golden locks. Kim always wears white. But not today. Today she's wearing a baby blue flower dress and flat ballerinas. I know because Dorothy, reads Cosmo. She also lives next door, and hangs out at my place most of the time. Dorthy's parents are divorced.

She started to come around when my parents were separated. I guess, I understood what she was going through. The shouting, and sometimes breaking of things. Dorothy knows I'm in love with Kim. I like to read books, and Dorothy likes to do girly things. She also gives me tons of advice about how to tell Kim what I truly feel. But I don't want to ruin our perfect friendship. Kim and I are like peas and carrots. Why change that?

"Happy birthday Luke." says Kim and hands me a small envelope. Her fingers are soft and pale, against my sun kissed skin.

"What did you get me?" I ask curiously. Kim always has these ideas sparkling out of her mind. I love her enthusiasm and creativity. She makes up funny stories and tells me one day, we'll fly away from earth to discover another earth. She truly believes there's another earth somewhere.

"Luke, you I know I can't tell you." She smiles and her smooth skin forms fine lines around her mouth. I observe her round face and pull out my Cheshire Cat smile.

"Ok Alice." I say, "another ones of your crazy surprises huh?"

"You're a mad hatter, Luke." she giggles loud, and her innocent happiness is contagious. She sinks into the couch, her dress flares around her. I hand her a bowl of popcorn.

"Luke?" Suddenly Kim pulls a serious face.

"Tell me everything is okay?" I say worried.

"It's not. I have something I need to tell you..."