Scrappy Little Thing by Anna Kendrick

Firstly, Anna Kendrick does not look thirty one years old; even then, I think she has a while to go before writing her memoir.

That being said, she has been acting since she was a child and her first major role was in the Broadway musical, High Society.  Interestingly enough, her parents played little to no part in encouraging her to act, they were just supportive of their diminutive daughter.

It seems like she reluctantly made the move from theatre to the big screen. Her writing reflects her excitable nature and one could almost hear her voice as the words leap off the pages.
She comes across as a humble, down to earth woman.

However, I felt boredom set in towards the end of the book and quickly skimmed through. It was an ok read and I suppose perfect for her  fans.

DI Kim Stone Series by Angela Marsons

We are introduced to Detective Inspector Kim stone in Angela Marson’s thriller, Silent Scream. The death of a headmistress leads DI Stone and her charges to a dead body found buried near an abandoned children’s home. Another burial site and a few murder scenes later, DI stone uncovers the connection between recent events.  She must now hunt down a vicious murderer trying to cover his original tracks!

 

In Evil Games, DI Kim Stone is called to the murder scene of a convicted rapist. She is soon called to other murder scenes where her gut tells her that something isn’t adding up. Once the link has been established between these murders, a hunch leads her to a formidable enemy, an enemy that Kim may not be equipped to handle.

Best friends, Charlie and Amy, are kidnapped in Lost Girls. DI Kim is brought into the case at the request of an old acquaintance. The kidnapper struck previously but with a tragic outcome. The stakes are raised when each family is asked to bid for their child with a twisted ransom demand. To get the girls back Kim has to manoeuvre between paranoid superiors, a tenacious reporter, grief stricken parents, an outside negotiator and nervous kidnappers.

 

When asked to visit a body farm to help close cold cases, DI Kim Stone does not expect to find a murder victim amongst the bodies used for research.  Not long after their first discovery, they find a second body and a third victim, barely alive. In Playing Dead, Di Kim has to race against time to save a fourth victim from a serial killer with an agenda.

These books can be read as stand alones but the progression and growth of Kim Stone will be missed, so I highly recommend reading the series from the beginning. Subtle nuances in her character  and her relationships are drawn out by the expert hand of Angela Marsons. I thoroughly enjoyed this series and look forward to the next instalment, Blood Lines.

Born a Crime by Trevor Noah

To say that I am a huge fan of Trevor Noah is an understatement!

I thoroughly enjoyed this; part memoir, part history - his story, the story of his youth. He writes about his birth, childhood, teen years, and early adulthood from the point of view of a mixed race child born during apartheid right through the first democratic election hence the title, Born A Crime.
Everything we see of Noah is a product of his colourful and somewhat painful childhood. Do not be mistaken, he doesn’t see it as painful. He has a unique quality; where he embraces’ every situation to see its humour.

He had me rolling in hysterics; some of the stories will be familiar to reader if you have enjoyed his early stand up career. It is quite something when strangers try not to stare too hard at the crazy woman sitting alone and laughing out loud to herself.

There is a truly heart-warming relationship between himself and his mum which transcends the regular.  This book is a tribute to her strength and influence on his life. It is a well written, sometimes thoughtful and mostly humorous insight into one of South Africa’s famous children.

My favourite excerpts from Born A Crime are; when his mother & grandmother try to exorcise a “demon” from his home and his visit with his dance crew to perform at a Jewish school for a cultural exhibition.

Had he not followed the path that took him to where he is today, I have no doubt that Trevor Noah would have been a notorious pyro-maniac!

The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo by Amy Schumer

It seemed to me like Amy Schumer suddenly burst onto the comedy scene a few years ago. To my surprise, she had been working on her craft from a young age.

Her memoir, if you could call it that at her age (she’s thirty five years old) has shed light on her family life and her youth.  It documents her obsession with comedy and her rise on the comedy scene. She is proof that nothing happens without hard work.

She’s frank and open and discusses her sexuality, women in her industry, an abusive relationship and most importantly how young women view themselves.

She is vociferous, emotional and passionate on gun control.

This book is a triumph, in that she is funny, sensitive and forthright on issues and people important to her. It is a quick read into the psyche of Amy Schumer.

Blood & Bone (Alison Madison #3) by VM Giambanco

Detective Alison Madison has been given the lead on her first case, the murder of Seattleite Matt Duncan, who was brutally murdered during a robbery at his home.

Following the discovery of trace DNA matching a case closed seven years previously, detectives Alison and her partner, Kevin Brown, soon discover other cases with similar elements. After these cases are revisited they realise they have uncovered the “work” of a serial killer.

Matt Duncan’s wife, Kate, believes she is being stalked by her husband’s killer. Between keeping Kate safe and mounting pressure from her superiors and the media, Alison and her team slowly inch closer to the identity of this sadistic killer.
Interspersed with snippets of her past, her personal relationships and pressure from the DEA for her involvement in a previous case, this book will surprise you with a few unexpected twists as Alison’s case reaches its climax and finally its denouement.

This was my first read of a Valentina Giambanco novel and I thoroughly enjoyed it.  It can be read as a stand-alone. She smartly gave small snippets of information giving you an idea of who, what, when and how past events affected Alice Madison in this novel without compromising the previous novels if you haven’t read them.

I look forward to reading the first two novels in the Alice Madison series.

The Butterfly Garden by Dot Hutchison

"Near an isolated mansion lies a beautiful garden. In this garden grow luscious flowers, shady trees…and a collection of precious “butterflies”—young women who have been kidnapped and intricately tattooed to resemble their namesakes. Overseeing it all is the Gardener, a brutal, twisted man obsessed with capturing and preserving his lovely specimens. When the garden is discovered, a survivor is brought in for questioning. FBI agents Victor Hanoverian and Brandon Eddison are tasked with piecing together one of the most stomach-churning cases of their careers. But the girl, known only as Maya, proves to be a puzzle herself, the more she shares, the more the agents have to wonder what she’s still hiding..."




This is an edge of your seat suspense thriller by a fairly new author (to me!), Dot Hutchison. She writes a compelling story about a group of survivors. Survivors of a serial rapist and killer, called the Gardener. Their story is told by Maya, to the lead investigators after they have been rescued.

Hutchison draws you in by slowly releasing information, both to the investigating agents and you, the reader. You are held spellbound by Maya's account, from the moment of her kidnapping to the climax of their rescue. You continue to question her own motives during the investigation as she reveals more of her own complex character.  However, you will be well satisfied with the conclusion of the interview as all falls into place!

Read no further if you do not want a SPOILER!

But be warned. Dot does lose me for a short bit: Sophia should not have featured as the "escaped butterfly". After drawing me in using Maya's clever dialogue, I thought that was a clumsy attempt at a plot twist. The novel stands tall without that addition and would have been just as successful!

Peppered with passages and quotes that fans will Tweet and Instagram, you'll soon wonder if anyone will buy the movie rights from Dot.  A well written, enjoyable read!

Bestowel by Kashna Dass

It happened so fast, like a scene straight out of a movie. We rolled to a stop as the traffic lights turned red. One second we were reminiscing about our recent holiday and the next, out of nowhere, two masked gunmen appeared, one at Ross’s window and one in front of the car.

‘Get out! Get out!” Screamed the man in front, gesturing wildly with his gun, while the other tried repeatedly to open the door.

“Do as he says Lane!” Ross said in a tense voice. He reached across, unclipped my seatbelt and then reached for his. It spurred me into action. I released the handle and was about to get out when I noticed that he struggled with his belt, his haste making him clumsy. Frantically, I tried to help him release the jammed clip but it was stuck. 

“Go” he said, helplessly pleading with me. I shook my head when his hand covered mine. We heard the door open, but didn’t acknowledge the intrusion. Blinding pain tore across my scalp as I was yanked out of the car and thrown to the ground.

“Leave my wife alone!”

Scrambling on my hands and knees I tried to get back into the car. I could feel the grit of the tar digging into the skin of my knees. Ross still struggled with the damn seatbelt clip while the other man still tried to get the driver’s door open. 

“Hurry Ross!” I looked at him trying to twist out of the seat belt. The sound of a car horn blaring, made us both turn to the sound, grateful for the interruption.The driver of the car looked at me, then behind me into the car and his eyes widened. I whipped my head around to see the second gunman aiming his gun at Ross’s head while Ross looked at me, a look of resignation on his face. I opened my mouth to scream but the loud, violent retorts from the gun drowned out my warning.

I saw his body move like a rag doll with each shot, violently throwing him forward. I scrambled inside crying. I grabbed Ross, pulling him toward me. Desperately, I searched for a pulse.

There. A faint beat, like a whisper in the wind. 

Shaking with relief and adrenaline I tried to stop the bleeding from the wounds, desperately pressing his head into my chest while simultaneously trying to stem the bleeding from his neck.

“Help me! He’s alive! Help me get him to a hospital!” I screamed to the driver.

“Oh Shit, he said, when he looked into the car.

Just like the hijacker, he pulled on the handle trying to get the door open. I pressed the central locking but it slipped from the blood on my fingers. I wiped my hands down my pants and tried again, it disengaged. He reached in to release the seat belt, “It’s stuck. It’s stuck.” I repeated expecting him to understand.He tried anyway. To my incredulity it released on his first try. He pulled Ross out and we carried him to the man’s car.

*          *          *

I look down at the small bandages covering my knees where a nurse had picked out bits of tar and stone before dressing it. She had done the same to my palms but didn’t dress the scrapes. I winced at the memory of the stinging sensation, thinking that it was nothing compared to Ross’s injuries. They had taken him into emergency theatre and it seemed like hours had passed since I’d arrived here.

“You can use the restroom down the hall to clean up.? If I hear anything I’ll come and get you.” promised the same nurse as she recognised my hesitation to leave the waiting area.

The restroom was like every other hospital restroom. Cold and clinical, it smelled of industrial detergents. The reflection that stared back from the mirror was me but not me. I had blood everywhere, on my arms, on my clothes, in my hair and on my face. Ross’s blood. After scrubbing my face and hands almost raw I walked back to the waiting area to sit.

As I passed the nurses station, she gestured to a police officer. He said that they had recovered our car and wanted to give me my purse in case I needed it. They would speak to me tomorrow, at a more convenient time. He wished me good luck for Ross and left to get a statement from the gentleman who helped us.

What must have been minutes later, I was approached by an attractive woman in scrubs. She looked to be in her forties, and I assumed she must be Ross’s surgeon.

“Please can you tell me how my husband is doing? “I pleaded.

“Hi Mrs. Neil, I’m Nira Sharma, I have just operated on your husband. Can we sit down?” she asked calmly after taking both my hands in hers.

“Why? Why must I sit? Tell me, does he need more blood?” I demanded, looking down at my stained clothes, as if to explain where all his blood was.

“Let’s sit.” And she pulled me down into the chair next to the one she just occupied. “Is there someone I can call? Family? Friend?” she asked. Her consoling tone sent shivers down my spine. 

“No no no no no no…” I repeated, covering my ears. Instantly I knew what she was about to tell me. I couldn’t breathe. It felt as if someone had sucker punched me. 

“Mrs Neil, I’m so sorry for your loss. We tried everything we could but there was too much trauma to the brain and the brain stem itself. By the time your husband came in, there was significant bleeding and swelling of the brain.”

I held my sides and rocked back and forth. I couldn’t understand. “B-b-but he had a pulse! I felt it. I want to see him!” I demanded, needing proof. Thinking... this must be a cruel lie.

“There was very little we could do.” She pressed on. “When someone is declared brain dead, it means that the brain is no longer functioning and won’t ever again. His heart, kidneys and liver, will work for a very short time. You can see him now. Is there someone you would like us to call?” she asked again. 

I mumbled that we only had each other. She held onto me as my knees buckled and led me to his room.

He looked so calm and peaceful. His head was wrapped in bandages and he was hooked up to a respirator. I took his hand and was surprised by its warmth. How could he be dead?
“This is going to be hard for you to process. There are no brain waves and no response to all the other tests to confirm brain death. He is on life support. His heart will continue to pump with aid and the respirator will, in essence, perform his breathing. Once we disconnect him he will no longer be able to function on his own. He can feel no pain. I can tell you that he didn’t suffer, on being shot he lost consciousness.  I’ll be back soon.” Her words landed like poison arrows, each slowly robbing me of my own sanity.

 I looked at his perfect hands, I traced the veins. I put my face into his palm for a minute and his smell, tormented me.  I wished I could bottle it. The pain seeping into my heart was debilitating.

 He looked like he was asleep. I searched his face for any movement, the flutter of his eyes or a glimpse of his dimples. I used to marvel at how he woke, slowly, always with a smile playing across his lips before his eyes would open. I’m willing, with every cell in my body, that his lips pull apart in that familiar smile. Nothing. 

Loss, fear and anxiety well up in me, it has no place to go. For the first time in years, I have no hope.  I put his face in my grazed palm, feeling his dark stubble tickle. I will never see that beard grow grey.

A hundred ‘what ifs’ were going through my mind, but I couldn’t catch a hold on single one.

A light knock scattered my thoughts.

 “Excuse me Mrs Neil, I would like to introduce you to Dr Coutts.” Said Dr Sharma. A tall thin man with a kind face stepped forward and offered me his hand.
“I’m sorry to meet you under these sad circumstances, please accept my condolences. As I understand, neither of you have siblings or other family members. Children?” He asked.

“We thought we had time…” Dr Sharma squeezed my shoulder in comfort.

“I know this may hardly seem like the right time, but the hospital is aware that Ross was a registered organ donor. He was a healthy young man with no history of any chronic illness. He is a definite heart donor match and a potential donor to several other people. We would not like to rush you into any decisions, however the longer we wait the less viable the transplant becomes. He could save up to seven people on the organ donor list. We want you to really think about this, if you have any questions please ask me or Dr Sharma and we will try our best to answer them.”

“Is that the reason he’s still on the ventilator?” I looked between them feeling betrayed.

“Yes. Whenever the patient has given consent the hospital will keep them on a ventilator after the time of death has been established. The blood pumps through as well as certain hormones to ensure that the organs are at the optimum level for transplant. We are a heart, lung and kidney transplant centre.”

“I haven’t even thought of a funeral. What will happen to him?” I asked needing clarity.

Dr Sharma stood next to me while Dr Coutts explained everything. That they would treat Ross with the utmost respect and dignity.  The transplant team would carry out the recovery of his organs with great care. There will be no disfigurement and his body would be ready for a funeral soon after the operation. If I wanted I could have an open casket. Before leaving, their last plea was for me to consider helping others, just as Ross had intended.

They left us alone. The warmth of his hands gave me strength and courage. I know that in my heart I would follow Ross’s every wish. It didn’t come as a surprise that my dear husband would have signed himself up to be an organ donor. He had obviously done it long before we met. He was kind and generous to a fault. This would be his most generous gift, helping others stay alive.

I rose from my chair and sought out doctors Coutts and Sharma. Both had treated me with such compassion, I could see the relief in their faces as I began to speak. I was introduced to the doctor from the transplant team. He too was respectful and put my mind at ease immediately. I was asked to sign various forms.

Reaching into my handbag for my ID, my hand brushed against a box. Shock froze me.

“Are you okay mam?” asked the transplant doctor.

 “I’m fine. There, all signed.” I said while handing him my ID. I couldn’t get to the bathroom fast enough.  

With shaky hands, I withdrew the unopened box that had been sitting at the bottom of my bag for the last four days. There wasn’t a better time than now. Nerves rattled, it took me several tries to open the packaging. I quickly did the deed and waited. Slowly like a mini magic show, two very distinct blue lines appeared on the tiny window of the pregnancy test. I couldn’t breathe I was so elated.

I was wrong earlier, this would be Ross’s last and most precious gift.

By Kashna Dass

2016 SA Writers 2016 College Competition Entry

Home by Harlan Coben

"A decade ago, kidnappers grabbed two boys from wealthy families and demanded ransom, then went silent. No trace of the boys ever surfaced. For ten years their families have been left with nothing but painful memories and a quiet desperation for the day that has finally, miraculously arrived: Myron Bolitar and his friend Win believe they have located one of the boys, now a teenager. Where has he been for ten years, and what does he know about the day, more than half a life ago, when he was taken? And most critically: What can he tell Myron and Win about the fate of his missing friend?"

This gripping thriller manages to deal with the cold case of  missing boys with sensitivity. Win is back, with his lethal charm. The witty repertoire between our resident hero, Myron Bolitar and Win, does not disappoint. Mickey, Esperenza and Big Cyndi all make an appearance. With assistance from all quarters, he finally figures out what happened 10 years ago but true to Harlen Coben style, there is a twist in this tale - and it's a whopper!

Excellent read!

Grief by Kashna Dass

All sanity has disappeared now that hysteria has taken over,
Frothing and bubbling as it pulls me into its mire,
Pain is my only tangible thread to life,
The irony doesn’t escape me.

Memories of laughter and happiness bring endless pain
The gaping wound gets wider with every breath,
Bleeding slowly, its ragged edges raw.
My agony knows no bounds.
 
Will this loss echo further than me?
The death of the future,
An enquiring mind that will no longer question,
Will only I notice? 

Thoughts of missed milestones break me,
I’m shattered into a million pieces,
Pieces that will never fit as a whole again,
Now I am the one questioning.

Fear and despair have united like the old friends they are,
Sorrow has clenched this fragile heart,
My need to embrace the warmth of life lost,
This futility, is my undoing.

Helpless and hopeless the light inside me has perished
My time, measured only by my heartbeats.
The days and nights ahead are already lost into oblivion
Now I ache to be swallowed by blackness.

Best “New” African Poets 2016 Anthology Entry

When Time Collides by Kashna Dass

Sometimes,
Just sometimes,
I wish I could step back.
Not for long, not to be seen or heard,
Just to feel.

These memories

Time does not heal,
These memories
Full of innocence and wisdom,
These memories
Are most beautiful and tragic.
These memories
Have molded me.

I see you walking amongst angels,

For now my mind keeps me company
But one day
The past, present and future will collide
Then we’ll meet again.

Kashna Dass

Fire Damage by Kate Medina

A haunting and suspenseful thriller!

Psychologist, Dr Jessie Flynn has been given a case revolving around a troubled child, Sami. Battling her her own demons and tackling this sensitive case has hit her for a six and to make matters more stressful she is asked by former patient and army policeman, Callan, to assist in a case of his.

Coincidentally, both cases are related.

Kate Medina definitely knows her genre. Chilling, this book is a must read!

Ashley Bell by Dean Koontz

What a treat! Thank you Jonathan Ball Publishers for this review copy!

It has been years since I've read a Dean Kootz novel. They are take me back to my teen years where I devoured every Koontz and King novel I could lay my hands on!

It took me awhile to get into as I've been hooked on several non fiction reads. (See   A Mother's Reckoning and Black Flags). 

Enter Bibi Blair, young and talented with so much to offer life. Devastatingly she is suddenly diagnosed with a rare form brain cancer and is given a short while to live. 

Admirably, she insists she will beat it and miraculously, she does-in a day-and here is where this story begins.

With doses of standard Koontz ingredients: golden Labrador, mystery, mayhem and spookiness this novel is everything you expect as a fan. 

Do not read if you are expecting something different. 

A Mother's Reckoning by Sue Klebold

I don't often read non fiction. The publisher recommended this book and Black Flags, the book on ISIS (review to follow) and I was riveted from the introduction right till the last word.

It was a harrowing story told through the heartache, loss and love of a mother, which I believe to have been a cathartic  experience for Sue Klebold. 

Understandably, she questioned her parenting, her inability to see behind the facade her son, Dylan, constructed. 

She openly discusses mental health and it's possible forms of expression. 

Her account of the days and months after the shooting are accurately recaptured (with the aid of her constant journaling at that time."

A must read!