Celine is a French blogger who writes some fictional reviews about the books she loves the most and they always make me laugh. I hope the humor even if translated is kept. Thanks for her reviews.
Synopsis: Lou Clark knows lots of things. She knows how many footsteps there are between the bus stop and home. She knows she likes working in The Buttered Bun tea shop and she knows she might not love her boyfriend Patrick.
What Lou doesn’t know is she’s about to lose her job or that knowing what’s coming is what keeps her sane.
Will Traynor knows his motorcycle accident took away his desire to live. He knows everything feels very small and rather joyless now and he knows exactly how he’s going to put a stop to that.
What Will doesn’t know is that Lou is about to burst into his world in a riot of colour. And neither of them knows they’re going to change the other for all time.
Disclaimer: « The characters and situations in this story are fictional, any resemblance to existing persons and situations can only be coincidental«
(Santa Claus City, Laponie. 12.25. 2014)
– Your theory sucks, completely sucks, Melliane grumbles, wrapped in her cloak. Her nose is red from the cold and a lock of her hair escaped from her cap, was frizzing.
I refrain from commenting and smile at her. My theory is very good, it is even super good. I am very proud of me. This is more than a theory, it’s a revelation.
– Thinking that Santa is also in the plot against books. Not possible… Santa Claus is the friend of children, adults…. Everybody knows that. Even of books … especially of books … she adds.
I take off in a hurry one of my mittens. The cold bites my skin but I don’t care. I thrust my hand into the pocket of my parka.
– Here, read it, I said seeking the answer from Santa.
She accepts it with a nod.
– Already read. But still. Santa, the black-list-of-banned-books… Do you realize that?
I know, I know …
I continue to move forward somehow. There is a lot of snow. The sign indicating Santa’s Village blinks frantically, we are approaching the goal. Through the flakes, I see the wall. A real wall, higher than the Great Wall of China. Melliane suggested to go through the tourist entrance and to mingle with the crowd come to visit the Santa Claus’ workshop, but I’ve refused. Actually, I do not really know why. A story of wave of surprise, I think. Perhaps it would have been better to go through the main entrance, especially since I have not taken any rackets. Melliane, took some and progresses with ease. This is a southern girl, and I from the north though. I wake up my knees and gently place my foot. Failed… I sink almost to the waist.
– And sh….
– We do not swear, it’s Christmas, Melliane rebukes me while looking at me.
A little contrite smile on my face. I get up again above the knees, and again I sink to the waist. I am tempted to test the progress called « breaststroke » which would basically be swimming in the snow. I’m not really convinced of its effectiveness, and I would venture to dip my beautiful fuchsia jacket. I suddenly agree. My theory sucks, completely sucks. I must be wrong. Santa can not be one of the minions of the gods-of-all-the-stuff-of-the-sea-and-the-land. I would have to reread the response of Father Christmas, I must have misunderstood. But my fingers are frozen, and I’m afraid that if I withdraw my blocks, I may not be able to put them back on. Or worse, to see one of my fingers falling. Anyway, I read it so many times that I know it by heart.
« Dear Livre-vie,
I acknowledge receipt of your letter, and I can only congratulate you for your efforts, even though I have some reservations for some of them. I do not hold account to them, that is not the subject of this letter. No, what worries me is what my elves have reported me.
You have again yielded to temptation with a novel called Me Before You by Jojo Moyes. You thought that « it is undeniably one of the books that touched you the most » and that « the author has perfectly shared the complexity of disability and human feelings. » All this is acceptable, we can only encourage the authors to talk about the differences for tolerance. By cons, saying that « you’ve been so transported that you cried all the tears in your body, » and that you’ve « rarely read a most beautiful story » is another matter. As that « love abolishes the difference and leads us into her beautiful spiral of feelings, perfectly rendered by an equally vibrant writing. »
Yes, we are worried. Even more when we hear that you think that « everyone should read this book, because it is much more than a love story. It’s a universal story, learning to see beyond differences, appearances. »
You have sinned again and again, so much so that we had to make an emergency meeting with the gods-of-all-the-things-from-earth-and-the-Sea. Mrs. Claus was even invited…
We have decided that you can not wait for the next meeting of the Anonymous Books Addicts, it will be too late for you.
For the salvation of your soul, we urge you to deposit the said book on the table in your living room on the 25th December at 00:00. I’ll take it and will find a place where he can not harm anyone. Also thank you to accompany it with a bottle of rum to help me get warm during my long night of work.
PS: We’re starting to monitor very closely Melliane, she has published a list of her favorite books of 2014, and there are many of them. Not to mention the cardboard of books she sent you. You should try to choose your friends better »
Yeah, sacred answer. My theory is not so smoky. Obviously it’s out of the question to leave Me before you on the table in my living room. No, I put it well protected. It is a gem, a gem of emotions. A life lesson that kept me awake until a late hour. No, I have not given it up on the table in my living room.
I advance bravely trying to ignore the snow that just slept into my pants. Melliane is now a good ten feet in front of me. Finally, taking the crooked paths is a good thing. We will be able to enter in silence in the Santa Claus cave, and free up thousands of banned books. So many treasures destined to disappear. Yes, we are heroes, but it’s cold, anyway. The snow burns my skin. I should have taken a sledge. Melliane would have towed me with her racket. She seems at ease, as if she had done it all her life.
Melliane suddenly clears her throat, and without realizing it, I struck. She falls forward, her head in the snow. I expect to receive the full brunt of her anger, and wait to absorb the shock, but nothing. She is scanning a point there, basically, and frowns with a preoccupied air.
– Uh, you know, you that reindeer have sharp teeth?
– Not possible… It’s the vampires that have sharp teeth, no reindeer. I told you not to drink too much eggnog!
She reaches out a hand, and I take a look. A row of reindeer stands a few meters ahead. They smile at us. Their teeth are actually very, very sharp …