books

Red Hands by Christopher Golden

A new Christopher Golden book is here, and I can't wait to get my hands on it! Here's the jacket flap summary for Red Hands:

In bestselling author Christopher Golden's supernatural thriller Red Hands, sometimes a story is a warning. Sometimes the warning comes too late.

When a mysterious and devastating bioweapon causes its victims to develop Red Hands, the touch of death, weird science expert Ben Walker is called to investigate.

A car plows through the crowd at a July 4th parade. The driver climbs out, sick and stumbling, reaching out...and everyone he touches drops dead within seconds. Maeve Sinclair watches in horror as people she loves begin to die and she knows she must take action. But in the aftermath of this terror, it’s Maeve Sinclair who possessed that killing touch. Fleeing into the mountains around Jericho Falls, New Hampshire, pursued by police, her own loved ones, and private security employed by the secretive Garland Mountain Laboratories, Maeve is struggling with her own grief, confusion, and the dawning realization that she will never be able to touch another human being again.

Sidelined by his employers for breaking the rules, "weird s*** expert" Ben Walker is surprised to get a call from Alena Boudreau, director of the newly restructured Global Science Research Coalition. There's an upheaval in the organization and she needs to send someone she can trust to Jericho Falls. Whoever finds Maeve Sinclair first will unravel the mystery of her death touch, and many are willing to kill her for that secret. Walker’s assignment is to get her off the mountain alive. But as Maeve searches for a safe hiding place, hunted and growing sicker by the moments, she begins to hear an insidious voice in her head, and the yearning, the need...the hunger to touch another human being continues to grow. When Walker and Maeve meet at last, they will unravel a stunning legacy of death and betrayal, and a malignant secret as old as history.

Red Hands is connected to two of Golden's previous novels, Ararat and The Pandora Room, but each book may be read separately. I recommend reading all three!

Learn more: https://www.christophergolden.com/

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Poetry Friday: Wind Shear by Janice N. Harrington

Under the magnolia, a winter-starved hare stills
and pretends it is not there,

and wanting less of fearfulness
I pretend that I do not see my camouflage, the wild promises
in my gaze, and step carefully by.

Morning, bitter morning—
lack and awful patience wait at every compass point.
Mourning, mournful, the prairie seals wind-scored stems with snow.

Here inside a stalk of goldenrod
a gall wasp will ride hard winter out.

Here between my ribs, wasps of lonely, wasps of
not yet, not yet wait and ride hard winter out.

Such a slow season, laggard and mean.
I can’t explain the cardinals I’ve seen of late,

but the crows’ black fists, the way they bully
eave and air, stab the morning with the sharpest awe,

I understand it now. I see the reason and agree.

- Wind Shear by Janice N. Harrington

Listen to the poem read the poem.

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Poetry Friday: Stars by Marjorie Pickthall

Now in the West the slender moon lies low,
And now Orion glimmers through the trees,
Clearing the earth with even pace and slow,
And now the stately-moving Pleiades,
In that soft infinite darkness overhead
Hang jewel-wise upon a silver thread.

And all the lonelier stars that have their place,
Calm lamps within the distant southern sky,
And planet-dust upon the edge of space,
Look down upon the fretful world, and I
Look up to outer vastness unafraid
And see the stars which sang when earth was made.

- Stars by Marjorie Pickthall

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Poetry Friday: To fight aloud is very brave by Emily Dickinson

To fight aloud is very brave -
- Emily Dickinson

Yes, this is only the first line of a poem (which you may read in its entirety here), but I feel it is strong enough to stand on its own, especially for people who might need to hear it.

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Annual Book Fair for Ballou High School

It's that time again! Colleen Mondor has once again organized a book fair for the students of Ballou Senior High School. This time, the books are going directly to students since they are at home, rather than on campus, due to the pandemic. The fair officially starts on Monday, but the wish list is open now! All of the books on the list were requested by the students and will be distributed by librarian Melissa Jackson. Click here to help out!

If you're on Twitter, follow @chasingray and @BallouLibrary for updates.

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Poetry Friday: November by Alice Winifred Finnegan

The darkened pool showed autumn in its glass,
And now the trees endure the wind's vast words
In all their branches; scattered lines of birds
Let fall a doubtful music as they pass.

The nights are colder, and the last leaves die.
A murmur fills the acquiescent wood;
And where the star of drifting summer stood
A newer constellation holds the sky.

What grace exempts us, whose oblivious mood
Admits no change, grows docile to no reason?
What wind will tell the springing heart its season
Or bring a winter solstice to the blood?

- November by Alice Winifred Finnegan

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Poetry Friday: All Hallows By Louise Glück

Even now this landscape is assembling.
The hills darken. The oxen
sleep in their blue yoke,
the fields having been
picked clean, the sheaves
bound evenly and piled at the roadside
among cinquefoil, as the toothed moon rises:

This is the barrenness
of harvest or pestilence.
And the wife leaning out the window
with her hand extended, as in payment,
and the seeds
distinct, gold, calling
Come here
Come here, little one


And the soul creeps out of the tree.

- All Hallows by Louise Glück

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Poetry Friday: Now it is fall by Edith Södergran

when all the golden birds
fly home across the blue deep water;
On shore I sit rapt in its scattering
                                                    glitter;
departure rustles through the trees.
This farewell is vast and separation draws close,
but reunion, that also is certain.

My head on my arm I fall asleep easily.
On my eyes a mother's breath,
from her mouth to my heart:
sleep, child, and dream now the sun is gone.-

- Now it is fall by Edith Södergran
Translated from the Swedish by Averill Curdy

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