Writer Wednesday: Book Spotlight on WHITE CHALK by Pavarti K Tyler

Welcome to a White Chalk Spotlight from Novel Publicity! This posts includes and excerpt, book blurb, and information about the author, Pavarti K Tyler. I just got my copy today and can't wait to read it. Look for a review coming soon.

An Excerpt

Too cold for me to be out, drenched in a thin sweatshirt, I trudged home after school. November had betrayed me with its promises of clear skies, and I’d skipped the bus.

Mr. Harris pulled up, his oversized body squished into the too small car. When the window rolled down, warm air tinged with the scent of coffee invited me in.

“It’s a little cold for you to be walking, isn’t it, honey?” He peered out the window, brows pulled high to his forehead, appraising my appearance.

“Can you drive me home, Mr. Harris?” My teeth chattered as I spoke.

“Come on, get in. But you know teachers aren’t supposed to pick up students on the side of the road.” He chuckled softly to himself.

“I know. I won’t tell anyone. Please? I’m just so cold.”

In the car, I kicked my soaked backpack out of the way of the heating vent and slid my feet out of my shoes. My toes had gotten so cold I half wondered if they’d be tinged with black—gangrene setting up shop. I leaned back and closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the car envelop me. When I opened them, I realized Mr. Harris hadn’t started driving again.

Instead, he sat staring at me. Parked in the middle of the road, his eyes roamed my body as I shivered.

Cold? Lust? I didn’t know, but the feeling of power spreading through my chest as he took in the curve of my hips made me bold. I sat up and pulled the wet sweatshirt over my head, revealing the T-Shirt beneath.

Mr. Harris shifted in his seat. His gaze fell upon my breasts and the sound of his breath sped up.

“Mr. Harris?” I asked, the temptation of seducing a teacher thrilling me.

“Yeah?” His voice was hoarse.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“What?” His body snapped to attention as he remembered where he was. “Oh, right… um….” He shifted position again.

“Really, I appreciate it.” I laid a hand on his arm and rose up in my seat, leaning forward so I could kiss him on the cheek—innocently, like kissing an uncle or cousin. But I knew it wasn’t, and when I pulled away, the dark intensity of his eyes told of desire I’d only been hoping to find.

About the Book

[caption id="attachment_3210" align="alignleft" width="200"] Click to buy on Amazon[/caption]

Evolved Publishing presents an intimate glance inside teenage angst and confusion, and one talented but troubled girl's attempt to make sense of life, in the coming-of-age tale, "White Chalk," by award-winning author Pavarti K. Tyler. [Literary, New Adult, Women's Fiction]

Chelle isn’t a typical 13-year-old girl—she doesn’t laugh with friends, play sports, or hang out at the mall after school. Instead, she navigates a world well beyond her years.

Life in Dawson, ND spins on as she grasps at people, pleading for someone to save her—to return her to the simple childhood of unicorns on her bedroom wall and stories on her father’s knee.

When Troy Christiansen walks into her life, Chelle is desperate to believe his arrival will be her salvation. So much so, she forgets to save herself. After experiencing a tragedy at school, her world begins to crack, causing a deeper scar in her already fragile psyche.

Follow Chelle’s twisted tale of modern adolescence, as she travels down the rabbit hole into a reality none of us wants to admit actually exists.

About the Author

Award winning author of multi-cultural and transgressive literature, Pavarti K Tyler is an artist, wife, mother and number cruncher. She graduated Smith College in 1999 with a degree in Theatre. After graduation, she moved to New York, where she worked as a Dramaturge, Assistant Director and Production Manager on productions both on and off Broadway. Later, Pavarti went to work in the finance industry several international law firms. She now lives with her husband, two daughters and one very large, very terrible dog. She keeps busy working with fabulous authors as the Director of Marketing at Novel Publicity and penning her next genre bending novel.

White Chalk (Evolved Publishing) marks Tyler’s third full length novel and promises readers familiar with her work the same mind bending experience. Her other projects include: Shadow on the Wall (Fighting Monkey Press) and Two Moons of Sera (Fighting Monkey Press). Shadow on the Wall has received many awards: Winner of the General Fiction/Novel Category of the 2012 Next Generation Indie Book Awards, Winner in the Fiction: Multicultural category for The 2012 USA Best Book Awards, and Finalist in the Multicultural Fiction category for the 2012 International Book Awards.

White Chalk has been hailed as “brave”, “raw”, and “destroyingly beautiful”. In line with novels such as White Oleander, Thirteen Reasons Why and Gemma, White Chalk invites you to witness one girl’s heartrending story of confusion and desperation.

You can find out more about Pavarti K Tyler here:

Website: http://www.pavarti.com

Twitter: PavartiDevi

Facebook: Facebook profile

Blog: http://www.pavarti.com

This is the way that love ends.

"This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper."--TS Eliot, The Hollow Men

Though T.S. Eliot had bigger ideas than love, thanks to Valentines Day, that is the topic on many minds today. And though the poem is not a love poem, it aptly describes the end of love. For most of us, this is how love ends. Not with a bang, not with heart-rending wails of loss, but with a quiet fading of affection, with the proverbial whimper. It's not as dramatic as the movies would have us believe. It's more mundane than our romantic hearts want to admit. Although some may point to the end of love as the moment immediately preceded by affairs, betrayals, and other drama, that is usually not the case. Those events cause the heart-rending wails. By the time love is gone, there is no more wailing. That requires an intensity of passion that we no longer possess.

This is the way love ends. With the realization that you no longer care what she's saying. With the realization that you would rather stay at the office a few more hours than go home to him. With the realization that your friends are more interesting than your lover. That you are more interesting.

This is the way love ends. Quietly, so gradually we hardly notice. Bit by bit, day by day, we have lost the will to put in the effort, to expend the energy needed to make a relationship thrive. We have lost the desire to please our partners, and more tellingly, the desire for them to find us pleasing. He no longer wears the sweater she bought him that he never liked but wore to make her smile. He no longer compliments her, not because he no longer appreciates her, but because he no longer notices her. She no longer wears his favorite perfume, no longer dresses up for him. She's given up on being noticed, perhaps no longer wants to be noticed.

This is the way love ends. With two people sitting on opposite ends of the couch without speaking. With two people sitting at the dinner table without speaking. With two people shutting off the lights and climbing into bed together and turning to face opposite walls. Not out of anger, but because they have nothing to say to each other, because they can't be bothered to start a conversation. Not because they are avoiding touch but because they have forgotten that the urge to reach for each other was ever present.

This is the way love ends.
This is the way love ends.
This is the way love ends.
Not with an irate lover throwing the contents of the closet out the window,
But with an obligated sigh as we dutifully trudge onwards.

For some, Valentines Day is all about chocolate and roses and sappy Hallmark cards. For others, it has a darker side. This year, some authors invited me to join their blog hop celebrating the grisly, dark side of love. Find a list of their posts by clicking on the link below.
http://afstewartblog.blogspot.ca/?m=1

    The Bloody Valentine Blog Hop

Review Wednesday: The Paris Wife, by Paula McLain

The Paris Wife by Paula McLain
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The Paris Wife made me remember why I love historical fiction so much. McLain not only captures the atmosphere, but she does it with striking prose. I was not surprised to learn she'd published a book of poetry prior to this.

I just finished this book and I'm a little overwhelmed by it, but I'll do my best to form coherent thoughts. First of all, I cannot stress enough what an amazing job the author did of capturing the atmosphere of post-war Paris. Not that I was there to experience it, but after reading this book, I feel like I was. Like I walked the streets, participated in the extravagance, the decadence, the debauchery, the fashions and fads of the time, the whiskey and wine, the cigarettes and smoke, the poverty and claustrophobia. The atmosphere of the book itself is enough to make me love it. And the fact that it's about a writer only made me adore it more. It made me want to be there, to throw myself into their world, to smoke and drink and ski and go fishing and fall in love and write a novel. The only thing it did not make me want to do was go to a bullfight, but that's only because I did not enjoy that experience myself. If I'd never been to one, I certainly would want to after reading McLain's novel.

Aside from the atmosphere, McLain also captures the personalities of her characters so well. I felt like I was Hadley while I read it. Her parts were so alive, so aching and beautiful. Hemingway's few sections were also wonderful, confused and tortured and with a quite distinct voice from his wife's. Even though I knew what was coming, I still held on with Hadley and ached for her, cried for her a few times, loved with her. Because who hasn't loved that man who is so wrong for you, but so swooningly right?

There were a few parts where it went so far I just cringed, too horrified to look but unable to stop. Like the part where the other woman gets in bed with them and Hadley just lies there while her husband makes love to his mistress. Also, the part where Hadley loses Ernest's manuscripts. Being a writer myself, it just knocked the breath out of me. That must be every writer's worst nightmare. I was literally gasping to breathe at how terrible it would be, and McLain does a wonderful job showing that, even through the eyes of the wife instead of the writer himself.

Hemingway is captured well, too. I understood his artist mentality very well. McLain takes an age old story (the struggling artist, a nobody, falls in love with another nobody, they get married, she stays in love while he gets famous and becomes somebody, and suddenly, his nobody wife isn't enough for him) and makes it stand out in all its tragedy and romance. This isn't a romance novel, but possibly the most romantic book I've ever read--not only in Hadley and Ernest's love, but in Paris, and the sweeping scope of the novel, the lavishness, the beauty of language and description and location, of each event, each chapter of their love affair. Even their demise is poignant and heartbreaking and messy, but rings with absolute truth.

In the epilogue, when it goes into the history of Ernest's family, I got a bit of a shock. Of course I knew of Hemingway's death, but when I didn't know about the rest of his family. It was so morbid, and tragic, and sad. I'm glad that Hadley lived a long and full life, despite the wild years of drinking and smoking and cavorting around Paris with her artist husband. And glad to learn that she went on to happiness, even if she couldn't help Ernest. Like so many tragic figures, you find that the ones who need help are the ones who refuse it the most vehemently. This novel does paint Hemingway in a very sympathetic light, despite his flaws and shortcomings.


Recommended for: anyone who's ever been in love, been betrayed, or been to Paris.




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