Next Monday we’ll do a drawing from the list of newsletter subscribers, giving away two copies of the ARC of Dreaming Spies. If you’re not signed up for the News, you can do so here.
And good luck!
Award-winning, bestselling, thought-provoking mysteries
Next Monday we’ll do a drawing from the list of newsletter subscribers, giving away two copies of the ARC of Dreaming Spies. If you’re not signed up for the News, you can do so here.
And good luck!
Today at BoucherCon, we’re having a launch party for In the Company of Sherlock Holmes.
There are thirteen prose stories in the collection–but there are also Gahan Wilson drawings, and one graphic story by Leah Moore and John Reppion:
In the Company of Sherlock Holmes publishes November 11. You can pre-order a copy from:
Poisoned Pen Books (signed by Laurie King, Les Klinger, and others)
Among the corners of the LRK web site, tucked in among the book excerpts and cover art, are some essays concerning the essence of what I do. Why, for example, do I write crime fiction?
So why the mystery? Because it is a strong form that nonetheless allows me to do what I wish with it, possessing both rigid structure and immense freedom. On its bones I can hang a story about things that matter, about death and pain and the dark side of the human mind, about fear and triumph and joy and the price we pay for justice. A story about the full gamut of human response.
Laurie King on: “Why the Mystery?“
There’s a Literary Fair tomorrow in Los Gatos, on the Civic Center lawn from noon to three: it’s fair, it’s literary, it’s waiting for you to join in.
Go Libraries! Go, Indie bookstores!
The first week’s Library Giveaway of a Book Club in a Box goes to the LA system’s Pacific Palisades Library–which has its very own Mysterious Book Club! The library will get a whole box of Russells, as soon as they choose which title they want to read
How about you–would your library like a box of Russells for their book club? Email me their name and we’ll do another drawing tomorrow, Friday: info@laurierking.com with the subject line of Library.
If you’ve already submitted a name, you don’t need to do so again, it’s a cumulative list. This is leading up to the publication of the 20th anniversary edition of The Beekeeper’s Apprentice on May 27.
Good luck–and my love to your library!
I like to mix things up a little for my liturgical celebrations, so I made a Chinese recipe that actually would be great for Halloween:
Then I deviled them, which interrupts the pretty surface a bit but made them quite tasty:
They’re not hard to make. Thoroughly hard boil your eggs (I have best luck by pouring boiling water over the cold eggs then simmering them gently) 15 or 20 minutes, then drain and cover with cold water for a few minutes. One at a time, gently tap the shells with the back of a spoon to crackle them, and arrange gently in a saucepan. Cover with water, and for each half dozen eggs, add one or two bags of black tea (or 1-2 teaspoons loose tea), 2 teaspoons of salt, and 2-3 Tablespoons of soy sauce, with any flavorings you like: star anise, or a mix of lemon peel, onion, peppercorns. Simmer this mix (add more water if you need, to keep the eggs completely covered) for 2-3 hours, then let cool. Sit for 8 hours in the refrigerator, then drain and carefully peel.
If you want to devil them, note that because of the long cooking time, the yolks will not be a bright yellow. Add a touch of turmeric if you like, along with dried mustard, salt, mayonnaise or sour cream (or a mix of both), a bit of finely chopped green onion, and a touch of Worcestershire sauce.
Maybe these are not the eggs to hide out in the shrubs
Albany is a very odd town, with nice buildings and handsome streets, but strangely lacking in population–so much so there are rumors that this is the initial site of the apocalypse. But despite an equally odd venue, the people are as fab as ever
in various forms, some of them made by my very cool readers and carried across many state lines to reach a gathering of LRKers:
(Please note the bones, and the Eiffel Tower, and if your screen is very good, my name Laurie Roi.) Oh yes, there are panels, some of which have me and some not, and there are thousands of books and tens of thousands of book discussions, and many glasses of substances washed down in many bars, and then BoucherCon will be over for another year.
And we all will be happy, full of chocolate and beer, and dragging suitcases stuffed full of new books.
Next year: Long Beach!
…the photos were left out of the previous post on Volubilis. Should be there now. Techno-whiz, that’s me.
Laurie
Leave a comment on today’s Mutterings post, and you have a chance at winning a copy of the Garment of Shadows ARC.
When a town’s streets are about as far apart as a tall man’s spread fingertips, there’s not much scope for wheeled traffic. Bits of Fez are open enough for cars, but for most of the city, if you have a load to carry—builder’s sand, hides headed for the tannery, refrigerators, wide-screen televisions—you do it on hooves. Susan Orlean wrote a lovely article about the Fez donkeys for Smithsonian a few years ago, here. Donkeys are impossible to avoid, in the town.
Russell comes across donkeys at several times during the story:
Two chattering children trotted in the other direction, one of them balancing on his head a tray bigger than he was, carrying loaves of unbaked bread. The children were followed by a donkey with a long wooden bench of fresh-cut cedar strapped to his back, a lad with a switch moving him along.
The soldiers eyed every person going in or out. Those with loads, on their heads or strapped to beasts, were examined more closely. A man with a donkey laden high with greenery from the fields—at least, I assumed there was a donkey beneath the green mountain, though all I could see were hooves and an ear—had to pull bits off before he was permitted to drive his beast onward.
The medina was tight and secretive and Mediaeval, but here, two women in frocks were looking at the banner of a cinema house, while a man wearing suit, necktie, turban, and sunglasses stepped into a bank. Not that those in foreign dress weren’t outnumbered by draped women and robed men, or that an approaching motorcar wasn’t forced to thread its way around a donkey onto which were roped six European chairs, being driven by a child wielding a willow switch, then another donkey laden with a family of five or perhaps six—hard to tell, since they were all intertwined.
To read more from Garment of Shadows, go here.
To order a copy—hardback, audio, e-book, or signed—go here.