Posts Tagged ‘beginnings’

Beginnings

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September 15th, 2019 Posted 8:16 am

On Sundays we do beginnings – the first paragraph or two from a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker. For one thing, this gives us a chance to trot out the word moniker! Last Sunday we did a beginning that was also a sneak peek. Paws vs. Claws, the second in the middle grade Queenie and Arthur series, comes out on Tuesday. Queenie’s a cat, Arthur a dog. They take care of the narration in alternating chapters. Since Queenie got chapter one, it’s only fair that today we present the beginning of chapter two.

I dreamed I was at a cookout. I love cookouts so this dream couldn’t have been any better. Bro was at the grill flipping burgers. Burgers flipped by Harmony stay flipped. Burgers flipped by Bro have a way of getting loose from time to time. That’s something I’ve noticed all by my very own self. You may hear that old Arthur doesn’t have a lot going on upstairs. Don’t you believe it! I’m upstairs every night, sleeping under Bro’s bed. That way I have two roofs over my head, one the bed and the other the actual roof. What could be snugger than that? So there I was caught up in a very snug dream, a burger in my near future, when from over in the meadow I heard the mooing of a cow. Was this mooing part of the dream? Or part of whatever happens in the world when I’m all caught up in a dream? Whoa! That was a deep thought. I prefer the other kind, not so deep. With all this confusion going on, my lovely cookout dream faded away until there was nothing left but the smell of grilling burgers. I came very close to waking up, settling into a nice doze at the very last moment. Arthur dodges a bullet! Which had actually sort of happened once with real gunfire, a big event for all of us at the inn, although the details grow sketchier every day. One thing I know how to do is keep a clear mind. A clear mind is ready for anything!

 

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Beginnings + Sneak Peek

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September 8th, 2019 Posted 10:02 am

On Sundays we do beginnings – the first paragraph or two from a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker. For one thing, this gives us a chance to trot out the word moniker, a strange one of uncertain derivation. Today’s beginning is also a sneak peek. Paws vs. Claws, the second in the middle grade Queenie and Arthur series, comes out Sept. 17. Here’s how it starts:

“Bad news, pussycat,” said Bertha. “No cream today.”

No cream today? Had I heard right? Well, that’s not a real question. Of course I’d heard right. My hearing is as good as it gets. Everything about me is as good as it gets. My looks, for example, are off the charts. I’m a thing of beauty from my gold-flecked button nose to the tip of my snowy tail. And my eyes! I’ll make this simple: When you gaze into them, you never want to stop. That’s happened to me so often—in fact, every time I come upon a mirror.

There are no mirrors in our kitchen, here at the Blackberry Hill Inn. I prefer rooms with mirrors but I make an exception for the kitchen. Every morning when I wake up I take an elegant little stretch—very different from the clumsy stretches of a certain other party who inhabits this place and whom you’ll probably meet later, nothing I can do about it—and I glide down off the top of the grandfather clock in the front hall and make my way here, where Bertha, the cook, is standing by to serve me fresh cream in a pretty china saucer, white with a gold border. This saucer is known to everyone as Queenie’s saucer. I’m Queenie, in case you haven’t guessed. I hope I’m not going too fast, although if I am, don’t expect me to do anything about it.

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Beginnings

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August 25th, 2019 Posted 8:18 am

On Sunday we do beginnings – the first paragraph or two or three of a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker (and it gives us a chance to use “moniker”!). How about today we look at Dog On It, first in the Chet and Bernie series (which can be read in any order!).

I could smell him – or rather the booze on his breath, before he even opened the door – but my sense of smell is pretty good, probably better than yours. The key scratched against the lock, finally found the slot. The door opened and in, with a little stumble, came Bernie Little, founder and part-owner (his ex-wife Leda walked off with the rest) of the Little Detective Agency. I’d seen him look worse, but not often.

He mustered a weak smile. “Hey, Chet.”

I raised my tail and let it thump down on the rug, just so, sending a message.

“I’m a little late, sorry. Need to go out?”

Why would that be? Just because my back teeth were floating? But then I thought, what the hell, the poor guy, and I went over and pressed my head against the side of his leg. He scratched between my ears, really digging his fingers in, the way I like. Bliss. How about a little more, down the back of the neck? I hunched my shoulders a bit, giving him the idea. Ah, nice. Very nice.

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Not Beginnings

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August 18th, 2019 Posted 7:56 am

Normally on Sundays we do beginnings, but yesterday we happened to run across a journalist we know, so why not take a look at the scene in Heart of Barkness with Chet, Bernie, and Myron Siegel, an old reporter put out to pasture?

Myron gave Bernie a look. It reminded me of the time – the one and only time – that I’d been in an art gallery. This was with Bernie and Suzie, and she’d gazed at a – what was the word? Sculpture, that was it. She’d gazed at sculpture of a cat, a cat which had turned out to be made of glass – an important detail then, but surely not now, after all this time – in the same way Myron was gazing at Bernie.

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The Books



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