Inferno Review

Pretty top notch things have been happening, which is why I have been the world's biggest slacker for the past month. But now that I am a college grad, started my dream job, and got home from a trip to Italy, things are looking up. So if you like reading my stuff (and you are the world's classiest champ if you do) then you should be hearing a lot more from me. 

I just started a job as an acquisitions editor for a publishing house. So now I'm getting paid to be judgmental (and to read all day which is better than great). So now I'll share some judgments here, too, about books I've read. I promise I'll never reveal any spoilers so they all will be safe to read.

Inferno by Dan Brown

4 Stars

Dan Brown is an incredible story-teller, which is why you can read his 400-500 page books in a few days. They play better in your mind than the movies do on the screen. This book was not his best. (The Da Vinci Code will probably always hold the title for that one.) The confusion and lack of purpose at the beginning makes it drag slightly more than I am used to with Brown, but once you start getting clues from events that happened before the narration started, it picks right back up again.

I loved this book, but I'm not sure if it was because the story rivaled that of Angles and Demons of if it was because I got to visit everywhere Langdon went in Italy a week later. (If you are going to Florence or Venice anytime soon, READ THIS BOOK.)

My biggest problem with Brown's books are his cliches. Aside from the cliche phrases that the characters use a bit too much, Robert Langdon being a tall, handsome, mature, and wise hero with one "fatal" flaw off being claustrophobic is too big of a cliche for a rounded protagonist.

However, this book was worth the read. Dan Brown is so good at throwing surprises at you at the very last minute, making you think that it could not possibly make sense by the time you get to the end, and then revealing all the turn of events in a whole new way. Well done, Brown. You did it again.

And here's a little trinket for your time:

Just laxing on the Ponte Vecchio in Florence.

Introducing, A Delicate Charade

My novel in progress, A Delicate Charade, is a work of contemporary fiction. This novel revolves around two characters, Jack and Ellie, along with their family and friends that surround them. Each character reveals their account of a specific illness, disorder, or issue from which they suffer and attempt to hide. Written as a tightly knit anthology of short stories, each disorder is given a personal and detailed account, and in most cases, the reader is left to discover the illness that is being described. This work revolves around the theme of people lives not always living as they seem.

Below is a tiny excerpt from this work in progress!:

“You’re kidding!” Jack finally halted his fork. His voice sounded horse and a little gargled from the food still making its way down his esophagus. He took a huge gulp of milk from the glass in front of him, leaving food debris on its rim, and brown gravy remained doodled around his lips and chin. This was no concern to him. His entire mind had just shifted from the juices running down his meat to the juicy information his mother just shared. The gossip filled his mind like a balloon being pumped with helium, and there was no room for thought about how ridiculous he looked at that moment and how easy it would have been to use the napkin sitting underneath his crusted, sticky right hand. “What did his parents say? What did he do?”

Beginning a Healthier Life: Making Habits

The link below is one of my nonfiction writing samples. If you have tried to get healthy at least five times and find it never sticks, check it out to learn how to keep healthy habits. Or if you already have fabulous healthy habits and motivation of steel, check it out for an ounce of entertainment. Click on my name and take a look at my other published articles if you want to read more.



Familius | Beginning a Healthier Life, Step Four: Making Habits

Who Eats Pasta with a Spoon?

“You have got to be kidding me.”

            “Every last bit of it.”

            She stared down at the thick, cheese-stuffed noodles, the dripping cream sauce, the long strips of vegetables, and the fat chicken chunks poking throughout. Her stomach churned at sight of the overflowing mound on her plate.

            “This is more than I can eat in a day.”

            “I’m eating just as much.”

            “You’re twice as big as me.”

            It wasn’t a pile of salmon, egg whites, or fruit. That she could manage. The vegetables were dosed in butter and salt. It wasn’t even healthy food.

            He had had enough of her only scooping herself two spoonfuls every meal, enough of her burning more calories than she ate, enough of her ribcage getting more prominent by the day.

            After conquering a fourth of the plate, her stomach was already feeling more than satisfied. Satisfied was not exactly the right word when she could feel its contents spinning. Occupied, maybe. Maybe worse.

            She tried to keep going, but her fork fell right back down. “I just don’t see the point of wasted calories.”

            “Nothing is wasted calories if it will bulk you up!”

She really wasn’t a picky eater. She had just seen food in a different way from most people. And it wasn’t as if she was a total health freak. She would never consider chocolate or sourdough bread as wasted calories. Not when they were so delightful. But food had to be better than average for her to eat with no second thoughts and limitations because every time she took a bite, it was a risk.

He put another scoop on her plate. “If you stop again, I am just going to keep scooping.”

She considered punching him in the face. More imagined than considered. He thought this was helping her. He thought she needed it. She loved him for that, even though it was ridiculous. It was really making everything worse.

            She didn’t understand how pleasant it was to lean back with a full belly after dinner, to rummage through his mom’s baked goods and try a little bit of everything, to sit at the dinner table for hours with his family and chatting all the while with his mouth half full.

            He didn’t understand how much she wished she could pick and taste any yummy-looking thing in her wake, grab another spoonful of his mom’s mashed potatoes, lounge around in full-stomached ecstasy after a long coursey meal.

            He also didn’t understand the burning through her throat, the headaches after big meals, the acid seeping up her esophagus, and the horrible gagging of dumping your insides out.

            What, then, was the point of putting anything in? 

Beginning a Healthier Life: Getting Active

The link below is another one of my nonfiction article samples. If you are looking to start a healthier life, check it out. I'll tell you what you need to know to begin because believe it or not, I'm a personal trainer, too! Click on my name, and scroll through my list of published articles if you fancy reading more. 


Familius | Beginning a Healthier Life, Step Two: Getting Active

12 Reasons You Need More Water

The link below is one of my nonfiction article samples. Check it out, and be aware! Click on my name and scroll through my list of published articles if you want to read more.

Familius | 12 Reasons You Need More Water

A Father’s Day Tribute

Happy Father’s Day, you half-swass of a dad. Your sperm was a huge contributing factor to my procreation, so despite your pathetic, absent nature, this day is yours. This card is more than you ever gave me, but I am trying to have an ounce of class you never did. I did get this from the dollar section; 99 cents even. And the joke on the front is terrible, so I knew you’d hate it. Something about another tie or lame. Read it your lazy self.

I’m going to see an Indians game with Phillip’s dad later because he actually makes himself present and available. I hate the Indians because you liked them, but I like hanging out with quality male figures. So I’m just going to vandalize all the bathrooms I can get to during the seventh inning stretch.


Anyway, thanks for your pathetic genes. Wish me luck in ever getting in to college with your IQ of a hedgehog and work ethic of rotting tree stump. I’ll leave this at the baseball field the same place you left me for good when I couldn't get a hit at my little league game. Because I don’t have a clue where you are. Come and get it when you have a chance.

*Note: This is fiction.