Lost in a Good Book

Last night I just could NOT go to sleep and this time it wasn’t due to the infernal stress of existence during the Orange Asshat Regime or health worries or even the annoying vicissitudes of aging. Nope, I was lost in a good book. I’m reading Dreadful Company by Vivian Shaw.

When Greta Helsing, doctor to the undead, is unexpectedly called to Paris to present at a medical conference, she expects nothing more exciting than professional discourse on zombie reconstructive surgery and skin disease in bogeymen — and hopefully at least one uneventful night at the Opera.

Unfortunately for Greta, Paris happens to be infested with a coven of vampires — and not the civilized kind. If she hopes to survive, Greta must navigate the darkest corners of the City of Lights, the maze of ancient catacombs and mine-tunnels underneath the streets, where there is more to find than simply dead men’s bones.

This is the second in a trilogy and, naturally (because I’m a doofus), when I was in the bookstore, reading the first couple pages, deciding “this one’s comin’ home with me,” I took no notice of it being the further adventures of – DOH! Luckily, Dreadful Company can stand alone – beautifully too. It is a fat hook though! I must go pick up book one, Strange Practice, today. The third installment’s not out yet – dammitall.

One great bit (demi spoiler alert) Helsing manages to escape her diabolical but not-so-swift captor and meets her would-be rescuers just as they’re about to dash into the underworld to dramatically deliver her from evil. Helsing’s beau tells her that they were coming for her but she seems to be the self-rescuing sort

AWESOME!

After spending a lifetime reading about male heroes saving the day, it’s molto satisfying to meet a champion who:

• Has a vagina and this doesn’t make her some weak sister, a damsel in distress.
• Has a big, creative, risk-taking brain. She's not a jiu-jitsu-ing, gun toting mass of muscles and doesn’t need brawn to snatch victory from the jaws of…well…narcissistic, assholian vampires and the like.
• She's three dimensional – intelligent, warm, brave, human. She's scared (but that doesn't stop her), funny and fond of little animal-type monsters. Yeah, I’m relating and shit.

Meanwhile, I’m now in love with the author, Ms. Vivian Shaw. It’s not just because she’s penned the fabulously smart, canny, kind, capable hero, Doctor Greta Helsing either. Check out Shaw’s website.

She’s got a page entitled Art Books That Need to Happen. On it I found fully, beautifully illustrated, imagined book covers such as:

• I Am the Man Who Arranges the Blocks: Piet Mondrian and the rise of Neoplasticism 
• Grimshaw’s Moonlight: Suck it Kinkade 
• They See Me Paintin They Hatin, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio: A Portrait of the Artist as Iconoclast 

 and more.

Jokes about art AND books – OH SWOON!

She’s also got a page named Miscellany & Disasters, one for design, another for short fiction (FREE reading matter!) and a blog. Vivian’s got an enviously nimble, creative bean.

Her "about" page notes that:

Vivian Shaw wears way too many earrings and likes edged weapons and expensive ink. She was born in Kenya and spent her early childhood in the UK before relocating to America at the age of seven. She has a BA in art history, an MFA in creative writing and publishing arts, wants to be a lawyer when she grows up, and has worked in academic publishing and development while researching everything from the history of spaceflight to reactor design to mountaineering disasters to supernatural physiology. In her spare time she draws, sews, makes jewelry, collects vintage cookbooks and fountain pens, and writes fanfiction (pen name: Coldhope). She lives in Baltimore with her wife, the author Arkady Martine.

There are author's whose fresh offerings I desperately, crankily even, await. Writers I'll splurge and buy in hardcover. They include Sherman Alexie, John Scalzi and Martin Millar. Vivian Shaw has joined the queue.