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Dance Your Way to Psychic Sex

Dance Your Way to Psychic Sex by Alice Turing

Every now and then I end up reading a book that takes me by surprise. It’s not always a huge surprise, sometimes that surprise sneaks up on me part way through the book with the realisation that I’m really enjoying it, and sometimes that surprise waits until the end to reveal itself as I realise I’m disappointed that the book has ended.

Dance Your Way to Psychic Sex is one of those books.

I’m lucky enough to know the author who very kindly sent me a copy of this, her second book. She’s had no joy in finding a publisher for it in the UK (it’s been published in Germany already) and has taken on the not inconsiderable task of self-publishing it. But enough of that, the question is, is it worth buying?

Well, that depends.

If you want a book that delights in simple narrative, which has a well paced story to keep you intrigued and turning the pages, a book that dabbles in drugs and sex and sexuality, and above all if you want a book that presumes you are able to follow along without signposts at every turn, then you should buy this book.

If you want a book that doles our the same descriptive prose and spells out each and every plot twist to make sure you are following along (you know, because you are an idiot), then you probably shouldn’t.

It is a book about magic and trickery, emotions and desires, and the kind of everyday people we all know. A single mother and her son, a failing magician and his frustrated wife, all of whom end up tangled together in a day to day existence which hints at whimsy from the off. The story taps into our basic human needs of connection and hope, and that an underlying need to have something to believe in, no matter what it, or how ridiculous, it is.

It’s loaded with sharp dialogue, some gorgeous imagery, and is punctuated with a down to earth wit which has you laughing and smiling, before yanking you back to the story which invariably manages to keep you guessing as the quirks of main characters are explored. It would be wrong to say that this is a lightweight book, as the plot cleverly weaves events together, each mirroring the last as you tumble to the conclusion.

I think it’s telling the story closes with two of the characters having books published, a bittersweet reminder that so many talented writers, such as Alice, remain unpublished, which is a shame because this is easily one of the more original stories I’ve read all year.

Enough from me though, go get your own copy: http://www.danceyourway.co.uk/




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And then… nothing

All quiet on the house front unfortunately.

But I have been able to crack on with some website work and as always it’s great when the client is accomodating, helpful and all round just a nice guy. Say hi to www.davidbelbin.com (then go buy one of his books!).

I’m also adding some functionality for a previous client, so I’ve got plenty to keep me busy AND I’ve found time to gently kick start my reading habit. Tackling the last of the Larsson trilogy which is a fun read in a Dan Brown kinda way. Mind you, I did read half of From Russia With Love before realising I’d already read it, oops.

The only other moment of excitement has been paying £4 for the privilege of receiving 4 rather shady looking photos of my fizzog. I need to renew my driving license and, amazingly, the photos actually look like me! (and no, I’m not showing you them).

Right, time to mark off another day in the “Hurry up I want an iPhone 4!” calendar.

Oh yeah, and football. World Cup and all that. If you need me, I’ll be in front of the TV.




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Words and books

I’m blaming Stephen Fry.

I tried, I really did try and read his autobiography but it just didn’t flow for me. As wonderful a wordsmith as he is, it just didn’t read well, the flow and cadence was wrong and I found myself slowing down to read things in his voice. Whilst I like Stephen Fry, taking him to bed every night got a bit taxing.

So I gave up. I stopped. I admitted defeat and stopped reading which isn’t something I’ve done before.

Actually that’s a lie, I’ve given up a several books after faltering in the first few pages but that’s different. That’s like taking the first bite of a meal before realising it’s not what you wanted, or isn’t sitting kindly on the palate, and so you call over the chef (cook, wife, whatever), send the meal back and ask for something else.

No, this was different and it took me a while to realise that, although I’d read over half of the damn thing, I just wasn’t enjoying it.

That got me thinking about things I do enjoy, things I don’t enjoy, and which things I would have to change in my life to get more of the former and less of the latter.

And before my mother pitches up, yes I know life includes things you don’t enjoy but need to do but gosh darnit I’m all grown up now and if I can’t sway things more in the favour of enjoyableness then… well… that’s just not fair! Or some other slightly more reasoned argument that I can’t quite think of at this time of the morning.

With that in mind, one of my New Year resolutions (and I’m very aware of such things, setting yourself up for failure and all that) is to read more. Like my resolutions of last year, I’ve written it (and two others) on a piece of paper and wedged it in the frame of the mirror I use everyday, so I have a constant reminder of such things.

I am now reading, and enjoying, Empress Orchid. A tale of the last Empress of China, a story with characters, intrigue, passion and no small amount of gorgeous imagery. It’s nice to find myself enjoying the act of reading again, and perhaps I’ve dwelt too long on “professional” books in the past couple of years. I need to make more time for the novel.

Which means my rather quiet Goodreads account should start seeing a few more regular updates. It also tells me I have 34 books in my ‘to-read’ pile but don’t let that stop you recommending me more.




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