Movie Review: Gunless

So after I watched The Warrior’s Way, Netflix streaming throws a couple other Western type flicks my way like it does when you give a movie you like a high rating. One of them was the movie Gunless, a Canadian flick I’d never heard of. This is the description from the Netflix site:

Fleeing the law, infamous bandit Montana Kid (Paul Gross) heads north to hide out in Barclay's Brush, Canada (population 17), where nobody seems to understand the code of the Old West. For starters, the gunfighter is amazed to find that nobody even owns a pistol. The Kid slowly warms to the town, and especially to the sassy and outspoken Jane (Sienna Guillory), but is forced to strap on his six-gun when the posse comes looking for him.

I shrugged and went, “Well, it’s not like it costs me anything if I end up not liking it and turning it off. Whatever. I still have clothes to iron.”

See, that’s when I get the bulk of my movie watching done. When I’m ironing clothes. Betcha didn’t know I was all that domestic, eh?

Anyhoo, I thought I’d give it a try. The opening scene features Paul Gross, sat backwards on a horse, his hands bound, a noose around his neck, a limb dragging behind, and covered (and I do mean covered) in pigshit. Dramatic, spaghetti-type western music plays over the open.  I’m here to tell you a movie starts out like that, you know that no matter what happens next, it’s probably going to be a lot of fun.

The town the Montana Kid’s horse has taken him to happens to be over the Canadian border. It’s a tiny little town with a handful of quirky, colorful folk living there, none of whom own any sort of firearm. The Montana Kid is a quick tempered gunslinger and a notorious outlaw, and demands to be taken seriously.

I won’t spoil it for you. Suffice it to say he isn’t.

The humor in this movie is quiet and quick, and in typical Canadian fashion, charmingly self-deprecating. There’s a scene where what starts out as a serious conversation devolves into a bunch of people bickering about semantics. What I so love about that is that that really happens in real conversations. It’s stupid and annoying and oh-so-very true to life. And the Montana Kid, having lost control of a situation in which he (once again) attempts to play the part of the scary badass gunslinger, ends up being completely unable to assume the role he’s used to because he’s basically being ignored by a roomful of bickering nerds.

It’s sort of like watching The Man With No Name sitting on the can reading a newspaper, if that makes any sense at all.

So, having said that, I don’t want to give the impression the movie’s all comedy. It’s not. The characters are very well thought out. Their motives are realistic and their emotions are very real, very human, and in some cases, downright heartbreaking. The characters (and this is very important to me) grow and change and evolve. They bounce off each other with such a familial ease that you absolutely believe this little town existed long before the Montana Kid’s horse carried him here. One of the things I liked best about it was the this: you know how there's always that trope where someone is "wanted for a crime he didn't commit?" Well, Montana Kid makes his first appearance as someone who narrowly escaped a botched hanging and there is a very good reason someone tried to hang him. And that reason is that he's actually guilty of being a dangerous criminal. He doesn't even try to deny it. The gaggle of not-too-bright local screw-ups think having an outlaw in town is cool and exciting, and mention how many men he's said to have killed. He corrects their count...they've stated too few. The best thing about that scene? The fact that he wasn't bragging when he said it. It was more of a confession, although he's not seeking repentance. And the look on his face when he says it speaks far more than the words coming out of his mouth. The Montana Kid might be in a humorous situation, but he's a far bit worse than a lovable scallywag. He's an unrepentant killer, and I applaud the movie for having the guts to portray him as such in a movie with so much humor in it.

Paul Gross is brilliant in the lead role. It’s a bold choice for a film to have its main character and leading man spend the first twenty five minutes of the movie covered in shit and offending the other characters with his stench. And also with his big mouth; he's frankly an ass. That's kind of risky, isn't it? I mean, who does that? Most of the time, movies go out of the way to convince you to root for the main character. But then, this movie is not like other movies. The way this movie tells the story is a bit different than your normal formula, and the characters are unusual and quirky. I really love that.  If you’re reading this blog, I’m going to guess you do, too. 

Graham Greene is also awesome as the deadpan native scout quietly humoring the uptight and harried Canadian Mountie with whom he travels. Who is also awesome in his own right. Hell, the entire cast does a great job.  

So after I watched it, the very first thing I did (after giving it five stars) was to call up Pam Slice and say, “Okay. I got one for you now.” 

Just watch it. Let me know what you thought of it. 

Hard Heads (prequel)

Howdy, folks. 

Been a crazy week over here. I have to say, this book thing has been very exciting, very fun, and also very stressful. So many details to attend to. My "to do" list is very, very long. 

I'm going to ask you all to do me a favor. Two favors, really, if you don't mind. 

One is to give FDM a vote over at Top Web Fiction when you think about it. The votes go away after a week, so in order to stay on the top list, one has to have votes coming in fairly frequently. The link is there if you scroll down on the right sidebar. 

The other is if you enjoy reading FDM...even if you aren't interested in buying the book but you still like to read it on the site...would you consider writing me a few words of review over at Amazon? Granted, the reviews do carry a bit more weight if you are a buyer at Amazon, but even if you're not, people vetting the story are only going to help me out. I don't care if you're a buyer or a blog visitor, what I need more than anything are a few words here and there from folks who enjoy the story, regardless of how they read it. I'd be much obliged for that. 

Thanks for your support!
-gina

“Aunt Gennie! Where are you? Aunt Gennie!”

Genevieve Lynch hurried down the stairs, sudden worry quickening her steps when she heard the shrill quality of Fiona’s voice from down below. The boys and men that worked at her husband’s mail station could be a bit of a handful at times, and Gennie instantly knew something bad had sent her niece dashing frantically into the house calling for her.  “Fiona? What’s...?”

“It’s Saint.” Fiona stood at the bottom of the stairwell, gripping the curved monkey tail of the bannister with white knuckles. Her face was flushed, worried. “He’s unconscious in the parlor!”

“What? Good heavens!” A surge of fear went through her and she grabbed the younger woman’s shoulder with a palsied hand. “What happened? Is Mr. Hungerford still here?”

Fiona nodded, hurrying after her as she headed down the hallway. “He’s in the parlor with him. Luis says his horse head-butted him.”

Gennie turned into the parlor and strode as quickly as she could manage to the sofa, where her young stagecoach driver sprawled out cold, a ruddy and darkening lump on his forehead. “Oh, Peter.” She bit her lip, turning to the circuit farrier who knelt beside him. “Mr. Hungerford...what happned?” Her heart surged in her chest as she swept Peter’s disheveled forelock back, her hand shaking more than usual. Of all the crew, she supposed Peter Bari might have been her favorite. There was a fire in him that reminded her of when she was young, when Erastus was a swaggering, handsome, southern rake. She considered all of the crew “her boys”, and she loved each of them, but Peter was a young Erastus born on the other side of the Mason-Dixon line. She realized she was probably far fonder of him than was seemly. And if Erastus ever finds out I think that, he’d be apoplectic. “How long has he been like this?”

“A few minutes.” Mr. Hungerford lifted one of Peter’s eyelids with his thumb. “Longer than I would like, and that’s the dinkum oil.” He briskly slapped Saint’s stubbled cheek with his fingers. “C’mon, mate, rise and shine. Jersey was acting up and tossed her head right into his face. Knocked him cold and sent him into the dirt. He fell off his horse and landed hard. I sent Luis for the Doc and some ice.” He was arranging throw pillows underneath Saint’s shoulders and neck and loosening his clothing. “Bari...you really need to open your eyes, mate. This isn’t good.”

Fiona was bringing in a basin of cool water. “You two were quarreling again.” She said, her tone accusing. “I could hear you from the kitchen.”

Mr. Hungerford did a double take. “Now, Miss Fee, I didn’t do this, love.”

She raised an eyebrow and her gaze met Gennie’s. Gennie frowned and looked expectantly at the farrier.

“ Struth, Missus Lynch...I didn't’ lay a hand on him.”

“Need I remind you, Mister Hungerford...” she said, giving him a stern look. “That I had to step in and defend you both to Mister Lynch after that last row you had that left you both injured in Sheriff Holt’s jail? That it was necessary does not please me.”

“I realize that.” Embarrassed color bloomed in Mr. Hungerford’s cheeks. “And I swear to you Bari and I weren’t fighting.”

Gennie sat down on the edge of the sofa beside Peter, fighting her worry down where she could control it. She wrung out a rag and pressed it tenderly to his bruised forehead.

His lips moved, his voice whispered and slurred. “Testa di cazzo...”

Gennie’s shoulders sagged and she shot Fiona a hopeless look.

Fiona’s mouth dropped open. “Did he just say...”

“Mister Bari.” Gennie said quickly, giving his shoulder a barely-perceptible shake. He’s lying here insensible and the first thing out of his mouth is a vulgar insult aimed at Mister Hungerford. Charming.  “Peter. Wake up, dear.” How very like my husband. “Why was his horse...’acting up’, Mister Hungerford?”

The farrier leaned back on his heels and roached his hand through his unruly hair. “Jersey’s got a habit of tossing her head, mum, you know that.”

“I do know that. I also know Mr. Bari’s extremely good with her and she hardly does it anymore.”

“He was distracted.”

Fiona handed Gennie another cool rag. “I suppose he was, what with all the quarreling going on out there,” she quipped dryly.

Mr. Hungerford scowled, shaking his head. Clearly, he recognized a no-win situation when he encountered one. “Swagman was agitated as well. Any anyways, I’m not responsible for his carelessness or his horse’s habits.” He grumbled, peeking under Saint’s eyelids again.

Saint groaned and turned his head away from Mr. Hungerford’s prodding hands. “Vaffancu...” the words died on his lips as his eyelids fluttered open and he saw her. “Missus Lynch?” His brown eyes focused on her face and he had the good sense to look embarrassed. “Sorry...I...what happened?”

Gennie deflated with relief at seeing him open his eyes and speak. She gave him a tight, exasperated smile, exhaling hard. “Miss Jersey apparently decided she didn’t want to hear you and Mr. Hungerford quarreling any more than the rest of us do.”

Book News Heads Up

Just a few quick bits of news:

1. If you have a Kindle copy that starts out with the first chapter being "Welcome to Green River Station", an update is going to be available soon if you want to update to the final edition that starts out "Poker Game (prologue). I will let you know (and probably so will Amazon)and it should not cost anything.

 2. The paperback is now available directly from Amazon. It is also now eligible for Prime.



3. I am trying to get hold of Jenna Reid. Don't contact me via Facebook, because nobody over there will shut up about Game of Thrones and I'm trying to avoid spoilers. Contact me here or via email.

See you Thursday night,

 -gina

PS. Since so many of you like the original cover so much, I've made it available as a small poster in the Cafe Press storefront. A couple of you suggested it. It does not have the graphic (so you can see that gorgeous sky Diego painted.).  However, if you want it with the graphic, or any other thing, tell me and I'll make it for you.

Finally! Book's Up!

Howdy all!

Kindle version of book up and ready to go! The print version, which is a nice, robust brick of a book, will be available in a week (or sooner. As soon as Amazon sends word it's ready, I'll tell you.). It spans from Chapter 1 to Chapter 103. Both versions contain ten new pieces of  artwork by Melissa Zayas, as well as ten more that you've already seen by Diego Candia and Liezl Buenaventura. Some of the chapters have been reordered and shuffled around a bit to where they make more sense, and the Poker Game chapter is now the prologue.

Those of you who've already read it, be aware I fattened up chapter 1 just a little, so it's a bit longer than the original.

I know a lot of folks really dug Diego's cover, so I plan on making it available as a print soon. Don't worry, it's not getting shelved; I love that cover, too.

It's been a real battle getting this thing done, and honestly, I don't think it's really sunk in yet that we're finished with Book 1. It seemed like such a monumental task, and I suppose it was. But we finally did it and I can't tell you have relieved and happy I am to finally hit this goal.

When you set out to do something like this, you really have no idea of just how much you don't know. It's not easy. But we've learned so much, and now I feel confident that Book 2 will (hopefully) be a lot less painful.

I know I've said it before, but it bears repeating: I would not have come anywhere near being able to do this if it was not for your support. I absolutely mean that. I know myself. I would have found a million reasons to stop writing if not for you all. 

So thank you. Thank you for giving my words wings and a place to fly. Here's the first part of the book series you helped will into being. Enjoy it.

Love,
gina

Red Haired Boy 4 (prequel)

Howdy, all. quick book update: right now, looks like the release is set for this weekend. There’s gonna be a bit of a site overhaul (hopefully making it a little less cumbersome and a bit more professional looking) the day we announce it, which if all goes as scheduled, should be Saturday evening.

I’m not in love with what the printer did to the bottom margin. It looks like crap on this second proof. I’m not sure I can remedy that. I don’t know. We shall see. I wouldn’t call it a deal breaker, but it irks me.

I guess it’s entirely possible (probable) I’m obsessing.

Stay tuned,

-gina

Dorcas hoped he didn’t notice that she was following him. Maybe ‘following’ wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t that she was following him home per se. It was more that they both lived in the same building and she was simply keeping pace with him at a distance, keeping him within sight.

Staying close enough that he was within earshot in case she called out.

She always felt foolish doing this. It wasn’t the first time she’d kept pace behind Jargie Feckin’ Monahan as he made his way back to the “ Ald Brew’ry”, as he called it in his lilting Irish accent. In fact, it had become a habit of hers. If her brothers were unable to be there when it was time to head home, she’d wait until the gunman left the dance hall, let him get a bit of a head start, then slip out behind him and keep pace with him all the way home.

She’d die of embarrassment if he ever found out. But the truth of it was that even though he was a criminal, even though she knew he probably had blood on his hands, even though he represented everything that made living here awful, she knew that he wouldn’t hurt her and he’d help her if she ran into trouble on the street. That if she called out to him, he’d defend her.

You know your life has taken a strange turn when the presence of a Roach Guard makes you feel safer. She hugged her violin case under her arm and quickened her pace to keep up with his long legs. The compromises we have to make in this life...

She watched him make his way up the dark street ahead of her, a tall, lanky silhouette in the pre-dawn mist. He’s an annoying bastard...she thought, an involuntary smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. But he sure can dance. Her mind went back to the evening at Almack’s where she’d played with the band, and they’d played faster and faster as dancers dropped out, exhausted and laughing and shaking their heads. Monahan hadn’t, though. He never even faltered,  his feet stomping and sliding across the sanded floor, scuffing out syncopated rhythms to the music. He was beautiful to watch, his face alight with pure joy. Clearly, he’s not the disgusting animal I originally thought he was. She thought back to when they’d first met, and remembered how terrified she’d been he would attack her. She had no doubt that his horrible brother would have done exactly that, before Monahan had diffused the situation and had managed to send his brother away before the situation had escalated. It had been her experience that men wearing gang colors were to be avoided at all costs. Still, life is hard around here. Hard and cheap, and you either figure out a way to get by or you die quick and end up in a dustbin like a dead cockroach. She didn’t have to think too hard to imagine the kind of desperation that might drive a man to become hired muscle for criminals. Even if that man has a brave, gentle heart and a love of music and dance.

She frowned, shaking her head. Did I just think that about an armed thug?

She realized he’d stopped and she nearly stumbled trying to stop as quickly as he had. She shrank back as he stood there, his head turning as he surveyed the street before him. He looked to the side, but didn’t turn around. His hand strayed to the pistol strapped to his hip. Sudden fear sharpened her senses, crawled up her throat.

“Come here to me now, Miss Smith.” He said softly.

She gasped in surprise, hesitating.

He turned his head to glance at her, gesturing slightly with his free hand. “You don’t want to look alone right now.  Heed me, lass.” There was a quiet urgency in his voice. Heart in her throat, she covered the distance between them in brisk paces, her embarrassment replaced by fear  and uncertainty. Have I let my guard down too soon? Was my first impression of him the correct one?

“You need to walk close to me tonight, so you do.” He said, his eyes continuing to scan the dark street as she tentatively stepped up beside him.

She looked around wildly, seeing nothing. “Are there...”

“Aye.” He whispered. “Two of them. Boys, I think. Over there in that alley...see?”

He jerked his head towards the dark alleyway ahead. Indistinct shadows loomed, pooling around the rubbish and bins. “Petty thieves, I’m hoping. They noticed you, so they did. Don’t think they’ll come after the two of us together.”

She saw a dim gleam of movement on metal. Shivs. They're armed with knives. She felt the bottom fall out of her stomach and she turned to look at Monahan.

He unholstered his pistol and held his other arm out for her to take.

She smirked at him in spite of her fear, raising an eyebrow at his offered elbow. “Aren’t you worried about being seen with a colored girl on your arm?”

“Not unless you’re worried about being seen on the arm of a ‘filthy mick’.”

She winced, remembering the first time they’d met and she’d threatened to stab him, and then awkwardly grasped his bicep.

“You know, lass.” he said amiably, as if they were not walking past knife-wielding robbers and possibly worse. “I don’t mind if you walk with me. You don’t have to do all this sneaking around.  In fact...can I just stop pretending’ I don’t know you follow me home every night?”

Reader-Suggested Prequel: Boccioli di Rosa

“Piet!” Peter was dragged unwillingly out of his book by the sound of his grandmother’s voice.“Pietro!”

She was calling from the kitchen, where the smell of supper wafted forth, permeating the house with the scent of rosemary and bacon and garlic. 

He’d helped Es and Vee pick tomatoes all morning, and now he just wanted to rest and read a bit. “Si, Nonna?”

“Vieni qui. Come in here and finish pinning the hem of Esterina’s dress” She said in the tongue of her native Rome. Nonna knew precious little English, and spoke even less. Almost exclusively, she spoke Italian. Peter’s father didn’t allow his children to speak Italian, even among other immigrant families. Even at home among themselves. “We’re an American family now,” He’d say, his accent heavy and his language halting and hesitant. “We belong here. Don’t give anyone a reason to say you don’t.” For the most part, they all even went by American versions of their own names. There was one exception to this rule, and that exception was when Nonna was involved in the conversation.  Nonna wasn’t going to change, and nobody expected her to.

“Va bene, Nonna.” He got up from the leaning overstuffed chair, cringing and inspecting his hands. They looked filthy, but after the vigorous scrubbing he’d given them, the coal dust that remained blackening his nails and his knuckles was evidently there to stay. If it didn’t come off then, it ain’t gonna come off on Es’s dress. He grabbed the ragged, dust-blackened sheet that lay crumpled on the floor and hastily tossed it back over the chair, carefully arranging it so that it would protect the threadbare brocade from coal dust tracked into the house by his weary brothers returning home.

He stood, catching his breath, feeling the healing stitches in his hip and side pull and pinch. He couldn’t say he particularly missed being in the mine, but sitting at home with the women and children embarrassed him, made him feel weak and useless. The gasses and dust from the explosion had damaged his lungs, and he was short of breath and a little lightheaded. Still, he was alive in a warm house that smelled like red gravy and bread, with people he desperately loved. He’d get his wind and his strength back, and things would return to normal eventually, and he’d look for work. He headed for the kitchen.

Es stood on a chair, having carefully slipped into the pinned dress Ma was in the process of making her.  She’d grown into a pretty young woman, with long, nearly black hair and luminous brown eyes. Peter wondered if the new dress had anything to do with the Fazzone boy she’d been seeing. I hope not...but if I was bettin’...

Her face broke into a smile when she saw him. “How do you feel today?”

He smiled back, shrugging, and sat down in the chair besides the one she stood upon. “Oh, like I might want to do some pinning.”

She stuck out a foot and nudged his shoulder gently with her toe. “Yeah, you look like that’s what what you want.”

He chuckled, grabbing the pincushion and sizing up the unhemmed bottom of her dress. “Va bene, allora. Stand still so I can do this.”

“You want some bread with gravy, Piet?” Nonna asked him without turning around. She stood at the stove, stirring the enormous pot with a wooden spoon, releasing a cloud of fragrant steam.

Peter’s stomach rumbled. “After I’m done here, Nonna.” He said in Italian. “I don’t want to get Es’s dress messed up before Fazzone even sees her in it.”

“Maybe it’s not for him. Maybe it’s for me.”

He took hold of the gingham and deftly folded it to the outside, carefully leveling the crease with his fingers. He grinned to himself, not raising his head. “Right, Sweetheart. That you went out with him twice in the same week you bought this fabric was a complete coincidence.”

“It was!”

“Va bene, how’s this?” He pressed the crease he’d made against the top of her foot. That’s gonna fall right there.”

“Higher.”

Peter scowled, jerking his head up so he could look at her. He held the crease firmly against her foot. “Whadaya mean, ‘higher’?

She rolled her eyes at him as if he were being intentionally thick. “I want it shorter. Make the hem higher.”

His amused distrust of Joey Fazzone started flaring into mild dislike. On one hand, it annoyed Peter that the Fazzones were shop owners instead of miners. He knew it was stupid and unfair of him to feel that way, but he couldn’t help it. On some level, the scars and stains and callus marking his skin and that of his brethren were trophies of having paid their dues, as being part of a brotherhood. On the other hand, he thought ruefully, inhaling deeply and paying attention to the aches and twinges of healing trauma in his own body. If she married him, she wouldn’t have to worry every time he left in the morning if she’d be a widow by nightfall. And who knows what I’ll be doing myself later on. I sure as hell ain’t gonna be working for Whitehurst anymore. Not after breaking his nose...and....well, I don’t remember trying to strangle him, but everyone says I did. In any case, I ain’t sorry.  He shook his head, focusing on his sister Esterina’s face.

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at the crease he continued to hold to the top of her foot. “Well?”

Be nice if I don’t end up having to thrash Fazzone, wouldn’t it? Might work out if he minds himself around my sister.

He tweaked the crease with his fingers, dropping the hemline even lower over her shoes.  Grinning wickedly he jabbed the pin into the fabric, holding it fast. “Yeah, Sweetheart, I think this is just about perfect, too.”

Movie Review: The Warrior's Way

"This is the story of a sad flute, a laughing baby, a weeping sword. A long, long time ago, in a land far, far away, there lived a warrior. A warrior with empty eyes."

Some time back, a wonderful friend named Pam Slice called me on the phone. She said to me, “Look, you gotta watch this movie, The Warrior’s Way. You will think I am nuts and wonder why I told you to watch this movie for about ten minutes or so. So tough it out and just go with it a bit and you’ll get why I told you to do this.

Now, something I’ve learned in my life is this: Pam Slice knows what I like. So when she tells me to read a book or to watch something, it nearly always behooves me to do it.

Pam was wrong. No, not about me liking it, she got that part correct. She was wrong about me having to wait about ten minutes to like it. I liked it within about twenty seconds, if it even took that long. She knows how dearly I love westerns (particularly ones that bring something new and unusual to the table). But I think she forgot two other things I really like. One is comic books. The other is Kung Fu movies.

So if you saw this movie poster, you probably wouldn’t think it was for a western, would you?

It is. Like Pam says, give it a few minutes. Here’s another version of the poster. Yes, those are ninjas in the background.

The story begins in 19th century Asia. The protagonist, Yang (played deliciously by Dong-gun Jang) is an assassin who refuses to kill the last member of a rival gang, who happens to be a baby. This defection marks him for death, and he flees to America, searching for his old friend Smiley, who he believes is living in Lode, a broken down Old West town. There he meets an assortment of interesting townsfolk, including Lynne (Kate Bosworth), an intense, adventurous young woman who worked with Smiley in the local laundry, Ron (Geoffrey Rush), a gunslinger-turned-town-drunk, and Eight Ball (Tony Cox), the leader of the carnies from the now-defunct carnival that once dominated the town.

Yang and the now-orphaned baby girl have come to Lode to escape their enemies, but Lode has dangerous enemies all its own. Yang must now choose between the peace he desperately craves and defending the town he’s grown to love.  

The movie is a treat for the eyes. It very much has the feel of a beautifully rendered graphic novel. I felt as if I were watching artwork come to life frame by frame, and given that I suspect a huge amount of the scenery for this movie was done in CGI, I suppose I was. It has a dreamy, surreal, almost fantasy flavor to it. There is something about the giant derelict Ferris wheel rusting amidst the scouring, shifting desert around it that evokes something wistful and half-remembered deep in my subconscious. It, and the entire crumbling town seem like some weird American Ozymandias slowly being swallowed by sand and apathy and forgotten, taking their occupants with them.

I absolutely love the cast in this movie. I love that it doesn’t have the usual standard cast of characters you find in most westerns. I love the fact that the female lead spends most of the movie wearing men’s clothing and always has dirt on her face. I love that she is strong and capable and takes charge.  I love that she’s playing opposite an Asian actor (Dong-gun Jang is actually South Korean, but still.), because that’s not something you see very often. Thinking about it, you don’t see it pretty much ever. I’d go into more detail here, because I have quite a bit to say on this particular point, but I don’t want to include any spoilers if you decide to watch it (which I strongly recommend you do). I love that the movie’s cast is filled out with quirky carnival folk. And, of course, I love Geoffrey Rush. Is he ever in anything where he’s not great? And I love the fact that it contains one of those toe-curling love scenes that comes and goes in an instant and consists of a glance, a kiss, or a breathless quip about something else entirely (my favorite one of all time being the line in the movie The Last of the Mohicans where Hawkeye says "I'm looking at you, miss.").

And I think the number one thing I like about this flick is the fact that it is, above all else, a character movie. I’m one of those people who cannot get into a movie unless it is character driven. I don’t care about cast, special effects, or action. I don’t care about genre, although naturally I’m going to gravitate towards Westerns. I care about characters. That this movie is that in addition to being visually stunning makes a must-see.

If you give it a go, come back here and let me know what you thought of it.

BOOK UPDATE: I had hoped to have the book available for purchase this week, but there were a few technical problems and we just decided that rather than rush it and have all this stress and make hasty mistakes, we were just going to take our deadline off. In all honesty, it’s This Close. THIS CLOSE! And the little nit-picky crap we’re having to address is driving me nuts! Every time I think we’re done...we’re not. I just spent all morning having to tinker with a page spread issue in the first couple pages of the print version. I actually ended up going “screw it” and expanding Chapter 1 to make the left to right page spreads work better. So in addition to having a nice clean copy and extra artwork, the purchased versions (both print and electronic) will have little bit of extra material in what is now the Prologue (you all know this chapter as the poker game) and in Chapter 1.

I had NO IDEA of the maddening little details involved. This has been a learning experience, that’s for sure. Hopefully, we will learn enough doing Book 1 that Book 2 will be easier. I am hoping I won’t have to tear my hair out anymore.( I’ve already torn it all out, but you know...) It’s not as simple as just uploading stuff.

So, two weeks, tops. Keep your fingers crossed. You all will be the first to know.

I’m going to be gone and unavailable next week, so it’s unlikely I’ll be posting anything new until the week after. I will, however, be answering emails and other correspondence.

-gina

PS: I wasn't going to include the movie trailer, because frankly I think it includes too many spoilers if you want to see the movie for yourself. But I just noticed it was still tacked to the end of the post (I had it here while I was working on the post as a sort of "quick review" for my own use.). If you want to have a look, knock yourself out:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Z8xYMomsDc