#Every design decision I STAY WITH from the NOVEL is a MERCY

[adhdo5]

NMJ design (+3zun height comparison (ft. NHS a little bit)) btw if you care

[faewhump]

Unseelie Pet: 22. Chapter

Everything seems to be going perfectly, until Alex’s soft heart disrupts the outcome of a game Malachi wanted. 

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Content warnings: referenced dubcon, captor bonding, mention of weight loss, forced stripping, forced nudity, humiliation, whipping, dehumanisation

Tagging: @ariirenn @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @galaxywhump @slaintetowhump @whumpsideblog @thewhiteraven73 @ohmywhump @deluxewhump @frnkieroismydaddy @u-n-o-f-f-i-c-i-a-l @swordkallya @insanitywishes

Alex had to beg for a week until Malachi took him to bed. He had teased him again relentlessly, driving him almost to desperation before he finally gave in to his colourful pleas. Only afterwards, when he was lying exhausted and satisfied in Malachi’s arms, did he realise that this was exactly what the Fae had prophesised months ago – and what he had insisted would never happen. He hid his face against Malachi’s neck thinking of how stupid he’d been back then, but then again, he hadn’t known how incredibly good it would feel.

Unfortunately, Malachi coaxed him out of the bed and into the bathroom way too soon. A novel thing about the following bath, however, was that instead of kneeling next to it Malachi simply joined him in the tub. It was exhilarating to be so close to him while they were both naked, and although there really was no place for shame after what they’d done shortly before, Alex couldn’t help adverting his eyes bashfully. It wasn’t helped by the fact that he found Malachi’s physique very appealing. Of course he didn’t know how much of it was just the glamour, but it did look and feel very real.

After washing Alex as usual Malachi allowed him to reciprocate, which he shyly did. In a way this felt even more intimate and forbidden than what they’d done before, but with Malachi’s generous praise and encouragement he slowly relaxed and just enjoyed the closeness. When the water began to cool Malachi dried them off, and Alex obediently sat at his feet while he combed first Alex’s and then his own hair. Afterwards Alex readily climbed onto the bed and was almost disappointed when Malachi didn’t join him but left to sleep in his own bedroom.

This pattern continued over the following weeks, whenever Alex initiated Malachi would tease him, sometimes for what felt like hours, until he finally allowed him release. He seemed to take great pleasure from the way Alex’s body reacted, all the little twitches, flinches and whimpers, the way he appeared utterly unable to hold himself back. Their play always left Alex feeling both sore and exhausted, but the satisfaction and pleasure from it was easily enough for him to keep seeking more.

Now that his general behaviour was more befitting to that of a pet, Malachi took him out on feasts and balls a lot more often. Especially memorable to him were the times when Malachi had danced with him, as well as the grandiose masquerade ball that had been held in celebration of the autumn equinox. Generally, he both dreaded and enjoyed the hours Malachi would spend preparing him beforehand, on the one hand they made him feel very cared for, but on the other having to sit still and quiet for so long was rather boring.

Tonight there was just a minor feast without cause, and Alex wore a more subtle but well-fitted outfit that accentuated his legs.  A little bored with the slow festivities Malachi decided to let Alex join a competition with several other pets, which included Lukas. Alex was taken aback when he saw him, if Cian’s pet had looked beaten down before, it wasn’t even comparable to the way he looked now. His already very thin frame had lost even more substance, and Cian must have punished him very recently, because there were fresh cuts and dark bruises littered all over his small body.

Alex didn’t dare to say anything to him and merely let Malachi lead him into position in front of a large porcelain vase. It was a rather uneventful game he’d played before with the objective to hold the heavy vase above the head as long as possible, which required strength, balance and stamina. Looking around Alex assessed the competition, concluding that with some luck he probably had a shot at winning. Then his eyes fell on Lukas. The small pet was already standing hunched over and trembled, how was he supposed to even lift the vase?

Over at the side Malachi exchanged a few coins with another Fae, most likely betting on Alex to win. Cian was among the crowd as well, and Alex couldn’t understand how he could force his pet into playing a game he knew it would lose. Alex didn’t really like competing in these games in general, but at least Malachi only entered him into the ones he was sure he wouldn’t lose. The Fae that had organised the competition announced the reward for the winner and the punishment the loser would receive. Concern flared up in Alex, there was no way Lukas could take the designated whipping.

There was no time to dwell on it, the Fae called for everyone to get ready, and Alex and the other pets more or less enthusiastically picked up their respective vases and lifted them above their heads. Lukas clearly struggled a lot, but surprisingly managed keep up. The fear of what would happen to him if he failed really seemed to motivate him. Once all pets had followed the order the organising Fae announced that the game had officially begun, and now the spectators watched like hawks, not wanting to miss the moment in which the losing pet would seal their fate.

The weight of the heavy vase was straining his muscles, but Alex knew that if he didn’t unluckily lose his balance, he would be able to continue holding it for a while. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for Lukas. He’s arms were already shaking, and the vase threatened to topple and fall any moment. Growing more and more concerned Alex glanced at him from time to time, dreading the moment when his weakened body would inevitably give in. How could Cian do this to his pet? A murmur went through the spectating faeries, Lukas was losing his grip on the vase, it slipped further and further from his fingers… Alex made a decision in the split of a second.

He deliberately dropped his vase.

It hit the ground and shattered only moments before Lukas’. Alex stared at the shards surrounding him, only now realising the finality of his decision. Looking up he saw the faeries’ excitement, none of them had expected this, and their evening had suddenly become a lot more interesting. He just caught the moment in which Malachi’s shocked expression transformed into one of disappointment, and his heart clenched painfully. Thinking of how upset Malachi would be with him now made him feel like crying, had this really been the right choice? Then his eyes met Lukas’.

Collapsed onto the ground where he’d stood, the other pet was looking at him with big eyes, surprise and disbelief etched plainly in his face. Alex’s heart ached thinking how long it had probably been since anyone had done him a kindness, and he forced himself to offer him an encouraging smile. If possible Lukas’ eyes widened even further, then he gave him a shaky one back. Thank you, he mouthed silently, Thank you so much. The clear gratefulness in every line of his body almost overwhelmed Alex, and he decided firmly that yes, it had been the right choice.

They had to stay on their positions until the last pet had dropped their vase and was pronounced the winner, then everyone was allowed to return to their owner’s sides. But before Alex had even stepped off the game ground the organising Fae held him back by the shoulder.

“The loser will now receive its punishment!” they announced, and a couple of faeries cheered in anticipation.

Terrified Alex froze and turned his gaze towards Malachi, silently pleading him to not let them go through with this. It were the game rules, yes, but Malachi loved him, surely he wouldn’t let them do this to him… However, Malachi didn’t react. Not when the Fae lead Alex to one of the pillars, which had a pair of manacles attached to them, nor when a second faerie brought a mean looking single tail whip. Only when they roughly forced Alex out of his clothes did he speak up.

“Do be careful with the clothes, please,” Malachi said dispassionately. “And take care with the beautiful mark on my pet’s shoulder, I do not want a single welt crossing it, understood?”

The faeries gave an affirmative, and Alex could only do so much to hold back his tears while he was forcefully stripped in front of the excited onlookers. He could barely believe that this was really happening, everything felt so surreal, he didn’t want to accept it. Mortified he tried to cover himself as well as possible, but then one of the Fae grabbed his wrists and pulled them up, shackling them to above his head. Now he stood facing the pillar, stretched up on the tips of his toes, completely at the mercy of the faeries.

His head felt like it was spinning, he found it hard to focus on what was going on, and so the first lash caught him entirely off guard.

“One!” the spectating faeries called out while Alex struggled to absorb the sudden pain. It felt as if a burning rod had been pressed against his back, and he was certain that it had drawn blood. How was he supposed to suffer through any more like that?

When the second lash fell across his back he was unable to hold back a whimper, and the fourth one had him screaming in pain. After that he threw all composure out of the window and sobbed openly, crying out at every strike and trashing helplessly in his bonds. The faeries kept counting out loud, but Alex was unable to make sense of the numbers as every space of his existence was filled with nothing but agony. Blood ran over his back and down his legs in what felt like streams when it finally was over.

Someone unlocked his hands from the manacles, and he collapsed to the ground, sobbing and unable to form a clear thought. Faeries were moving and talking around him, but none of it made any sense before he suddenly felt Malachi’s hand tightening in his hair.

“Ma – master,” he whimpered and weakly lifted his head. His heart dropped further when he saw the cold expression on Malachi’s face.

“Get up, pet,” Malachi ordered, clicked the leash into his collar and tugged.

Shakily Alex picked himself up, his back screamed in pain, but he forced himself to limp behind Malachi. He didn’t know where his clothes had gone, but there was no time to look for them as the Fae didn’t seem to care and merely pulled him out of the ballroom. Both the flaring pain in his back and Malachi’s coldness brought new tears to his eyes, but there was nothing he could do apart from steadily putting one foot in front of the other.

It felt like eternity until they finally reached Alex’s room. Malachi unclipped the leash, and without waiting for permission Alex collapsed face first onto the bed.

��Why?” Malachi hissed in a low voice behind him. “Why would you embarrass me like this? And don’t you dare try to deny it, I know what I saw, you dropped that vase on purpose.”

“I’m – I’m sorry, please, I didn’t – “ Alex stammered, the suppressed anger in Malachi’s voice cut across his skin almost as viciously as the whip had done.

Malachi tsked. “Please, don’t be ridiculous. I know you could have gone much further.”

“I could have,” Alex admitted. “But Lukas didn’t.”

First there was silence, then Malachi laughed quietly.  

“Tell me, pet, did you lose on purpose to spare Lord Cian’s pet the punishment?”

“Yes, master.” Alex swallowed. “I – I know I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, I promise. But – but I just, I just couldn’t –“

“Shhh, darling,” Malachi cooed, and Alex heard him stepping closer. “You really did this to save another pet?” He sat down next to Alex’s head and gently patted his hair. “You took all this pain upon yourself, just to spare someone else?”

“Yes, master.”

Malachi laughed again and lovingly ruffled his hair. “I won't lie, I was disappointed in you, but you did take the punishment very well and for such a sweet reason that I truly cannot be mad at you anymore.”

“Re-really?” Alex glanced upwards. “I’m – I’m very sorry I lost, master.”

“As you should be,” Malachi said sternly, then smiled. “But for now all is well, my dear – and for the future I will simply make sure to never let you join a game when Cian’s pet participates too.”

“Thank you, master,” Alex said, overwhelmed that Malachi had actually forgiven him. “I love you.” 

Malachi chuckled. “I love you too, my soft-hearted darling.”

[sowhatisthisfor]

Movies 2019

List of films I watched in 2019 from best to worst.

Updated soon after I’ve seen them.

A Ghost Story [David Lowery, 2017, United States] No film has made me feel this melancholic ever. This is a film so profound, it examines existence in the simplest yet most esoteric way possible. It surely goes straight to the top of my all-time favourite list. 10/10

Portrait of a Lady on Fire [Celine Sciamma, 2019, France] a film of magnificent visuals, intoxicating sound design, and a screenplay of jawdropping surprises -- definitely on top of my 2019 movie list. 10/10

The Heiresses [Marcelo Martinessi, 2019, Paraguay] compellingly melancholic in its silence and uncertainty. It's a blossoming, a self-discovery, a thorny journey towards maturity. 10/10

Parasite [Bong Joon-ho, 2019, South Korea] You can watch it in many different ways, perspective, and angle, and everything is just as clever. 10/10

Kanarie [Christiaan Olwagen, 2018, South Africa] Has one of the most poignant and critically-observed approach to self-awareness and acceptance. 10/10

Shéhérazade [Jean-Bernard Marlin, 2018, France] a gritty narrative of an unusual young love with such depressing yet charming emotional pull. 10/10

Capernaum [Nadine Labaki, 2018, Lebanon] it’s not just about a boy in an unjust world, it is more about an implausibly unjust world where everyone is a victim and no one is an actual villain. 10/10

John Denver Trending [Arden Rod Condez, 2019, Philippines] Aside from its central theme of mental health awareness, it also has an excellent juxtaposition of the culture of bullying and cyberbullying and its correlation with how the nature of superstitions and religions shapes a country’s humanity. 10/10

The Third Wife [Ash Mayfair, 2019, Vietnam] possibly has one of the best visual stories this year with a contrast of hauntingly sensual tension and dreamlike composition, it’s strangely beautiful. 10/10

Atlantique [Mati Diop, 2019, Senegal] Such a bewitching tale of love, lost, and longing. A film told with such raw elegance, it’s enchanting. 10/10

Metamorphosis [JE Tiglao, 2019, Philippines] Not your ordinary coming-of-age movie. This one comes with such importance and inclusivity, everyone needs to see. 10/10

The Favourite [Yorgos Lanthimos, 2019, Greece, Ireland, United Kingdom, United States] a dark period comedy oddly fused with sophisticated costume and production design for a strange yet striking visual treat. 10/10

Edward [Thop Nazareno, 2019, Philippines] I am so amazed at how this film shows struggles after struggles after struggles without spoonfeeding emotions. It’s a movie so simple yet so despairing. Everything of it is in the right place, it’s sublime. 10/10

I Lost My Body [Jeremy Clapin, 2019, France] gives an absolute strange reason to cry, it's extraordinarily cathartic. 10/10

Marriage Story [Noah Baumbach, 2019, United States] My favourite performance of the year belong to these two leads whose portrayal of lovers going through divorce is rock solid heartbreaking. 10/10

Ulan [Irene Villamor, 2019, Philippines] Is a fuck you to societal norms, so profound, it is a love story that involves only one. 10/10

Avengers: Endgame [Russo brothers, 2019, United States] Raises the bar so high, is probably the most entertaining superhero movie to date. 10/10

The Wife [Bjorn Runge, 2018, Belgium] Glenn Close is mesmerizing. There is no need to say more. 10/10

Heneral Luna [Jerrold Tarog, 2015, Philippines] Jerrold Tarog is as brave as General Luna. He clearly is the Luna of film making. 9.5/10

Infinity War

Incendies [Dennis Villanueve, 2011, Canada] With such expert direction, it's elementally strong in more aspect than one. 9.5/10

Us [Jordan Peele, 2019, United States] It is as if every element in this film is smartly placed there to serve a deeper purpose, it's a movie in search of greater meaning. 9.5/10

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

BuyBust [Erik Matti, 2018, Philippines] a spectacular display of astounding filmmaking where every element is designed and choreographed fittingly well. Entertaining yet harrowing from start to finish, it’s the kind of film that stays. It gets better on second watch. 9.5/10

The White Helmets [Orlando Von Eisiedel, 2016, United Kingdom, Syria] A heartrending glimpse at the life of true heroes in violence-stricken Syria. 9/10

PK [Rajkumar Hirani, 2014, India] a courageous film that wittingly pokes fun of religious beliefs. 9/10

Mamu and a Mother Too [Rod Singh, 2018, Philippines] Why it scared me, I don’t know. It could be because it’s unpredictable, it’s non-cliche, and it’s gentle in ways you don’t expect. I love it. 9/10

Liway [Kip Oebanda, 2018, Philippines] Is at most powerful when it exposes the correlation of facts and fiction. Doesn’t hit you right away but when it does, it hits hard. It hits still. 9/10

Paris is Burning [Jennie Livingston, 1991, United States] is a little documentary that stays. 9/10

Paglisan [Carl Papa, 2018, Philippines] Heartbreaking. It is a test of sympathy. 9/10

Widows [Steve McQueen, 2018, United States] How can something so traditionally formal feel so modern at the same time? Steve McQueen knows. 9/10

Eerie [Mikhail Red, 2018, Philippines] More than its excellent scare tactics, what I love about it most is its clever storytelling and use of metaphors. 9/10

La Luciernaga (The Firefly) [Ana Maria Hermida, 2015, Colombia] is about finding love in grief, beauty in ugly. And though there are some directorial decisions I don’t necessarily agree with, the chemistry its leads bring onscreen is too tangible for me to care about its flaws. 9/10

First Reformed [Paul Schrader, 2019, United States] an astounding character study that questions the politics of religion. 9/10

Bad Bananas sa Puting Tabing

Fuccbois [Eduardo Roy Jr, 2019, Philippines] Amazing storytelling and editing of a narrative so strange yet so eclectic. 8.5/10

Margarita with a Straw [Nilesh Maniyar, Shonali Bose, India, 2016] An unusual take on sexual exploration and self discovery. It somehow lost its focus towards the end but still a delightful watch overall. 8.5/10

Berlin Calling [Hannes Stohr, 2008, Germany] a movie that lives in the present paced in such rhythmic beat, it is dazzling from start to end. 8.5/10

Kuwaresma [Erik Matti, 2019, Philippines] Is a multilayer of social commentaries which were good before they too contradict themselves. 8.5/10

Brother of the Year [Witthaya Thongyooyong, 2018, Thailand] For all its simplicity and bleak storyline, it still offers an abundance of emotion and a sense of realism. 8/10

Ek Ladki Ko Dekha To Aisa Laga [Shelly Dhar, 2019, India] Not a first in world cinema, but is still a groundbreaking moviemaking in the context of India. 8/10

If Beale Street Could Talk [Barry Jenkins, 2019, United States] The kind that even though you are hopeful, you know from the start that it's going to be tough. 8/10

Sovdargari (The Trader) [Tamta Gabrichidze, 2018, Georgia] Emotionally intense depiction of rural poverty. 7.5/10

The Two Popes [Fernando Mereilles, 2019, UK, US, Italy, Argentina] Features two outstanding performances that redeemed it from all its dragging moments. 7.5/10

Black Panther [Ryan Coogler, 2018, United States] Oozing with unusual but likable characters. 7.5/10

A Land Imagined [Chris Yeo, 2018, Singapore, France, Netherlands] An unsettling noir mystery that questions people's notion of truth. 

My Days of Mercy [Tali Shalom Ezer, 2019, United States] There is a bewitching chemistry between the two leads despite the coldness of it all. 7.5/10

Contratiempo (The Invisible Guest) [Oriol Paulo, 2017, Spain] offers an outstanding and enjoyable thrilling ride. 7.5/10

Giant Little Ones [Keith Berhman, 2019, United States] An honest road to knowing your own self in the eyes of a boy transitioning to adolescence. 7.5/10

Never Not Love You [Antoinette Jadaone, 2018, Philippines] Beautifully and realistically written. It’s just really hard for me to like Reid’s character. 7.5/10 

Kaptn Oskar [Tom Lass, 2013, Germany] Only basic virtue - it is a beautiful film. Not only for its comfort. But for the old poetry of dust emotions. 7.5/10

Furie [Le Van Kiet, 2019, Vietnam] With great performance and thrilling choreography, Furie is one of the best action films of 2019. 7.5/10

The Awakening of Motti Wolkenbrunch [Michael Steiner, 2019, Switzerland, Germany] A funny glimpse at a life of an Orthodox Jewish man with a chemistry that gives you a hopeful ending. 7.5/10

Gerald's Game [Mike Flanagan, 2017, United States] Meticulously-directed, it is an outstanding adaptation of Stephen King's novel. 7.5/10

UnTrue [Sigrid Andrea Bernardo, 2019, Philippines] to put it simply, UnTrue is a thrilling rollercoaster ride. 7/10

Pailalim [Daniel Palacio, 2017, Philippines] 

Dear Ex [Chih-Yen Hsu, 2018, Taiwan] Features odd but genuine kind of love. It is funny, heartfelt, and charming all at the same time. 7/10

First They Killed my Father [Angelina Jolie, 2017, United States, Cambodia] sincerely and sensitively paints a portrait of a country's tragic history. 7/10

4 Latas [Gerardo Olivares, 2019, Spain] For all its nonsense, I enjoyed it. 7/10

Green Book [Peter Farrelly, 2018, United States] Flawed yet entertaining -- not sure if it's good or bad though. 6.5/10

Pihu [Kapri Vinod, 2018, India] Heartbreaking torture. Although I feel like it could have ended better. 6.5/10

Lionheart [Genevieve Nnaji, 2018, Nigeria] Although everything here felt familiar, there's charm that makes this film an enjoyable one. 6.5/10

Unbreakable

Triple Frontier [JC Chandor, 2019, United States] I have a problem with its exploitation of violence. I have a bigger problem for liking it. 6.5/10

28 Weeks Later

Iska [Theodore Boborol, 2019, Philippines] I find a lot of things problematic and some choices uncharacteristic but it is worth a watch. 7/10

Searching

Period. End of Sentence

Battle

Oversized Cops

Floating [Julia Kaiser, 2015, Germany] 

The Bar

Ang Babae sa Septic Tank 3

Mga Mister ni Rosario [Alpha Habon, 2018, Philippines]

Misteryo dela Noche

Of Love and Other Demons

Tanabata’s Wife

26 Years [Geun Hyeon-Jo, 2012, South Korea] Yet another thrilling revenge story from the country who does it best. 7/10

Mga Batang Poz

Aurora

Becks

Mowgli: Legends of the Jungle

Cargo

Neomanila

47 Metres Down

The Feels

Dead Kids [Mikhail Red, 2019, Philippines] Is probably my least favourite Mikhail Red movie. Overrated in every sense. 7/10

Fyre: The Greatest Party that Never Happened

Svaha: The Sixth Finger

Flavors of Youth

Miss Granny

Unicorn Store

Captain Marvel

Polar

Black Mirror: Bandersnatch [David Slade, 2018, Untied States] Liking a film is always about the experience and while Bandersnatch offers another take on the medium, it is somewhat a less impactful experience as expected. 7/10 

Open [Andoy Ranay, 2019, Philippines]

Psychokinesis [Yeon Sang-ho, 2018, South Korea] Nothing much to offer but a good Sunday watch with the family. 6.5/10

Elise [John Ferrer, 2019, Philippines] I’m sorry, I don’t understand the hype. 6/10 fpihu

Novitiate 

A Tiger in Winter

Suddenly 20

Eli [Ciaran Foy, 2019, United States] 

Remastered: Devil at the Crossroads’

Alipato: Ka Luis Taruc Story

The Tenants Downstairs

Hotel Mumbai

Muerte en Buenos Aires

How to Get Over a Break Up

Buried

Never Tear Us Apart

A Simple Favor

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before

Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral

Rainbow’s Sunset

Malamaya

Boy Erased

Still Human

Coach Carter

The Perfect Date

In the Tall Grass [Vincenzo Natali, 2019, United States] Fun at first until it gets dragging. Really dragging. 5/10

Bohemian Rhapsody

Metro Manila [Sean Ellis, 2014, United Kingdom] I know it's not right to say I've seen better, but yes, I've seen better. 6.5/10

Mr and Mrs Cruz

Pet Semetary

When Angels Sleep

Belle Douleur

Children of the River

Maria

The First Purge

Liberated: New Sexual Revolution

Toc Toc

Four Minutes

Mama

7 [Nizar Shafi, 2019, India] 

Vine Country

Isn't it Romantic?

The Nun

Pandanggo sa Hukay

The Silence

KL Zombi [MJ Woo, 2013, Malaysia] A "horror" for a good laugh.

An1 (The Harvest)

Girls With Balls [Olivier Afonso, 2019, France] I don't have the balls to sit through this movie. 2/10

The Roommate [Christian Christeansen, 2011, United States] BLAH 1/10

Tabon [Xian Lim, 2019, Philippines] is one of the worst movies of the year. Nuf said. 0/10

[gadgetgirl71]

Amazon First Reads May 2021

Did you chosen your Amazon First Reads book for May? I only got around to choosing my Amazon First Reads book a few days ago. So her were last months choices and you can find out which book I chose.

Suspense

The Secrets of Us by Lucinda Berry, Pages: 271, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: Dangerously addictive, The Secrets of Us is a pulse-pounding exploration of a disturbed psyche and the bond between two sisters desperate to escape a troubled past.

Foster sisters Krystal and Nichole have always been there for each other, so when Nichole is committed to a psychiatric hospital after trying to kill her husband, Krystal drops everything to defend her.

Scarred by a hard upbringing, Nichole and Krystal managed to construct comfortable lives for themselves. Krystal became a respected lawyer, and Nichole was happily married to an architect—until Nichole starts raving that her husband isn’t her husband, believing that he’s an imposter.

Driven by fierce loyalty, Krystal starts asking questions, but she’s not sure she can bear the answers. Her investigation leads to the sisters’ dark shared past…to a horrible tragedy and a well-guarded lie that cemented their sisterly bond.

But that lie can’t kill the truth—the battered, gasping, clawing truth that’s coming for them both. Now Krystal and Nichole must both fight for the lives they’ve built before they’re consumed by the one they left behind.

Historical Fiction

The Girls in the Attic by Marius Gabriel, Pages: 351, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: The bestselling author of The Designer presents a sweeping story of blind faith, family allegiance and how love makes one man question everything he thought he knew.

Max Wolff is a committed soldier of the Reich. So when he is sent home wounded, only to discover that his mother is sheltering two young Jewish women in their home, he is outraged.

His mother’s act of mercy is a gross betrayal of everything Max stands for. He has dedicated his life to Nazism, fighting to atone for the shame of his anti-Hitler father’s imprisonment. It’s his duty to turn the sisters over to the Gestapo. But he hesitates, and the longer Max fails to do his duty, the harder it becomes.

When Allied bombers fill the skies of Germany, Max is forced to abandon all dogma and face the brutality of war in order to defend precious lives. But what will it cost him?

Mystery

Beneath Devil’s Bridge by Loreth Ann White, Pages: 344, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: A true crime podcast yields new revelations about a shocking murder in a riveting novel of suspense by Washington Post and Amazon Charts bestselling author Loreth Anne White.

True crime podcaster Trinity Scott is chasing breakout success, and her brand-new serial may get her there. Her subject is Clayton Jay Pelley. More than two decades ago, the respected family man and guidance counsellor confessed to the brutal murder of teenage student Leena Rai. But why he killed her has always been a mystery.

In a series of exclusive interviews from prison, Clayton discloses to Trinity the truth about what happened that night beneath Devil’s Bridge. It’s not what anyone in the Pacific Northwest town of Twin Falls expects. Clayton says he didn’t do it. Was he lying then? Or now?

As her listeners increase and ratings skyrocket, Trinity is missing a key player in the story: Rachel Walczak, the retired detective who exposed Pelley’s twisted urges and put him behind bars. She’s not interested in playing Clayton’s game—until Trinity digs deeper and the podcast’s reverb widens. Then Rachel begins to question everything she thinks she knows about the past.

With each of Clayton’s teasing reveals, one thing is clear: he’s not the only one in Twin Falls with a secret.

Contemporary Fiction

These Tangled Vines by Julianne MacLean, Pages: 302, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: From the USA Today bestselling author of A Curve in the Road comes a sweeping and captivating tale of one woman’s journey to the lush vineyards of Tuscany—and into the mysteries of a tragic family secret.

If Fiona has learned anything in life, it’s how to keep a secret—even from the father who raised her. She is the only person who knows about her late mother’s affair in Tuscany thirty years earlier, and she intends to keep it that way…until a lawyer calls with shocking news: her biological father has died and left her an incredible inheritance—along with two half siblings.

Fiona travels to Italy, where the family is shocked to learn of her existence and desperate to contest her share of the will. While the mystery of her mother’s affair is slowly unravelled, Fiona must navigate through tricky family relationships and tense sibling rivalries. Fiona both fears and embraces her new destiny as she searches for the truth about the fateful summer her mother spent in Italy and the father she never knew.

Spilling over with the sumptuous flavours and romance of Tuscany, These Tangled Vines takes readers on a breath taking journey of love, secrets, sacrifice, courage—and most importantly, the true meaning of family.

Domestic Thriller

The Darkest Flower by Kristin Wright, Pages: 296, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: You’ll never believe the terrible things being said about the perfect president of the PTA.

Attempted murder? Inexplicable accident? Either way, a PTA mom struggled for her life in an elementary school cafeteria, poisoned by a wolfsbane-laced smoothie at the fifth-grade graduation party. Now all eyes are on the accused, the victim, and a woman hired to look deeper.

Ambitious defence attorney and single mother Allison Barton is anxious to escape the shadow of the low-down dog of a marquee partner carrying their renowned Virginia law firm. A win for her high-profile new client will give Allison the career she deserves. And PTA president Kira Grant certainly appears innocent—except for the toxic bloom in her backyard and perhaps a bit of a malicious streak. But no one said the innocent had to be likable—or entirely honest. Besides, with an image as carefully cultivated as her garden, Kira would be insane to risk everything on something as outrageous as the attempted murder of one of her closest friends.

What about those in Kira’s orbit, a sunny suburb of moms behaving badly? What do they really know about Kira? What does Kira know about them? For Allison, the answers are getting darker every day.

Family Drama

Like Wind Against Rock by Nancy Kim, Pages: 217, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: A novel of explosive family secrets, regret, and all the little decisions that shape our lives and make us who we are.

At the age of thirty-nine, Alice Chang suddenly finds herself living in the last place she expected: her mother’s house. But in the face of divorce, eviction, and the recent death of her father, she doesn’t have a choice.

Watching as her mother thrives in a new job and meets younger men at the local gym, Alice struggles, reflecting on her parents’ marriage, her relationship with each of them, as she adjusts to being single again for the first time in twenty years. Then she finds her father’s old journal…and uncovers a shocking family secret that forces her to question everything she thought she knew about love, regret, family, and her own path forward.

As Alice comes to terms with the man her father really was, she must finally decide who she wants to be and what it will take to get there.

Contemporary Romance

The Checklist by Addie Woolridge, Pages: 347, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: In an energetic debut novel about personal and professional chaos, author Addie Woolridge introduces a multicultural cast whose exploits are redefining the modern rom-com.

Killing it at work? Check. Gorgeous boyfriend? Check. Ambitions derailed by an insecure boss? Sigh—check.

Things were going a little too well for Dylan Delacroix. After upstaging her boss on a big account, she gets dispatched to the last place she wants to be: her hometown, Seattle. There, she must use her superstar corporate-consulting skills to curb the worst impulses of an impossibly eccentric tech CEO—if she doesn’t, she’s fired.

The fun doesn’t stop there: Dylan must also negotiate a ceasefire in the endless war between her bohemian parents and the straitlaced neighbours’. Adding to the chaos is a wilting relationship with her boyfriend and a blossoming attraction to the neighbours’ smoking-hot son.

Suddenly Dylan has a million checklists, each a mile long. As personal and professional pressures mount, she finds it harder and harder to stay on track. Having always relied on her ability to manage the world around her, Dylan’s going to need a new plan. She may be down, but she’s definitely not out.

Fantasy

Bacchanal by Veronica G Henry, Pages: 347, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: Evil lives in a traveling carnival roaming the Depression-era South. But the carnival’s newest act, a peculiar young woman with latent magical powers, may hold the key to defeating it. Her time has come.

Abandoned by her family, alone on the wrong side of the colour line with little to call her own, Eliza Meeks is coming to terms with what she does have. It’s a gift for communicating with animals. To some, she’s a magical tender. To others, a she-devil. To a talent prospector, she’s a crowd-drawing oddity. And the Bacchanal Carnival is Eliza’s ticket out of the swamp trap of Baton Rouge.

Among fortune-tellers, carnies, barkers, and folks even stranger than herself, Eliza finds a new home. But the Bacchanal is no ordinary carnival. An ancient demon has a home there too. She hides behind an iridescent disguise. She feeds on innocent souls. And she’s met her match in Eliza, who’s only beginning to understand the purpose of her own burgeoning powers.

Only then can Eliza save her friends, find her family, and fight the sway of a primordial demon preying upon the human world. Rolling across a consuming dust bowl landscape, Eliza may have found her destiny.

Memoir

The Puma Years by Laura Coleman, Pages: 298, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: In this rapturous memoir, writer and activist Laura Coleman shares the story of her liberating journey in the Amazon jungle, where she fell in love with a magnificent cat who changed her life.

Laura was in her early twenties and directionless when she quit her job to backpack in Bolivia. Fate landed her at a wildlife sanctuary on the edge of the Amazon jungle where she was assigned to a beautiful and complex puma named Wayra. Wide-eyed, inexperienced, and comically terrified, Laura made the scrappy, make-do camp her home. And in Wayra, she made a friend for life.

They weren’t alone, not with over a hundred quirky animals to care for, each lost and hurt in their own way: a pair of suicidal, bra-stealing monkeys, a frustrated parrot desperate to fly, and a pig with a wicked sense of humour. The humans too were cause for laughter and tears. There were animal whisperers, committed staff, wildly devoted volunteers, handsome heartbreakers, and a machete-wielding prom queen who carried Laura through. Most of all, there was the jungle—lyrical and alive—and there was Wayra, who would ultimately teach Laura so much about love, healing, and the person she was capable of becoming.

Set against a turbulent and poignant backdrop of deforestation, the illegal pet trade, and forest fires, The Puma Years explores what happens when two desperate creatures in need of rescue find one another.

So my choice for May was: The Girls in the Attic.

[cynthiadshaw]

What’s the Most Important Lesson You’ve Learned Along Your Journey?

Every twist in our story, challenge we face, and obstacle we overcome is an important part of our story.  These difficulties make us stronger and wiser and prepare us for what’s ahead.  As we grow and succeed we may imagine that soon the challenges will fade away, but in our conversations with business owners, artists, creatives, academics, and others we have learned that the most common experience is that challenges never go away – instead they get more complex as we grow and succeed.  Our ability to to thrive therefore depends heavily on our ability to learn from our experiences and so we are asking some of the city’s best and brightest: What’s the most important lesson you’ve learned along your journey?

Lacy Studdard | Salon Owner and Hairstylist

The most important lesson to learn for me being a stylist and salon owner is that you have to create boundaries. I’ve been doing this for almost 15 years, and being self employed, you have to hustle at first if you want to make it. Success can sometimes come at the expense of time with family and friends that you can’t get back. You’ve got to switch gears at some point. For me, that looks like working less late nights and weekends so I can spend time with my family. I still accommodate those clients I love and have built relationships, I love my job!

thebungalowsalon.com @lacystuddard_hair

SARAH BRIGGS | Entrepeneur | Jewelry Designer

I’ve learned countless lessons in my journey and one prevails no matter how much I pursue others. I had a mentor who passed away. I was talking to her in my mind one day, wondering what my next step in trying to scale should be. It was as if she spoke to me and her answer was clear as day, “it doesn’t matter darling, just enjoy your life”. Let go right now of what you think success is supposed to be. Decide for yourself and don’t forget to add in family, balance + giving to that equation.

@sarahbriggsjewelry  sarahbriggs.com

D.H. Jonathan | Author and Art Model

The biggest lesson I’ve learned is to not just sit back and wait for something to happen. Take control of what you want. Go after the big job, write and publish that novel, take that trip you’ve always wanted to take.

dhjonathan.com

John Wannamaker | Co-Founder & Chef at WannaEat Seafood

We all eat in order to live and food is an universal connector of people. I’ve learned we must continually find a new way to reach the people we want to feed. Starting out, we made many mistakes and found every platform doesn’t need your money or attention. Good food and good service will make a way for you.

WannaEat Seafood is a fusion of Caribbean and Southern cooking. We are catering leading up to the opening of our quick serve brick and mortar location.

wannaeatseafood.com

Jacilyn Tucker | Wedding Planner

The most important lesson I’ve learned so far as a wedding planner is that building and maintaining vendor relationships are key! They are a must! Of course it’s good to have your preferred vendor’s list together, but to know more than your “dream team” is crucial. I enjoy having a variety of vendors to priovide my clients with, depending on their budget and style preference. How I build these relationships are attending networking events, making a presence on social media marketing groups and coordinating styled shoots! When planning styled shoots, I often reach out to vendors that I look up to, that I’ve yet to work with, to jump start our relationship. From there I try to refer business to one another to maintain that rapport. In this industry, referrals really go a long way, and while I get some from friends, family and past clients – majority of them come from those friend-ors!

@NothingButLoveWeddingAndEvents @NothingButLoveWeddingsAndEvents

Zach Woodie | World Wanderer & Techie

@jamesdeangonzales

The most important lesson I have learned is to never stop exploring. There is always something new to see out there.

@zwoodie @zwoodie

Truitt Rogers | Photographer | Owner of Truitt Photographics

So much has changed in the field of photography since I started in 1976 (that’s really weird to realize because I don’t often think of how long I’ve been a photographer I just enjoy it so much) so much has changed. I’ve had to adapt to the new digital way of doing things. Most of which I’m really grateful for. I love not having to mess with chemicals in the darkroom, the better image quality and the total control I have over every detail of the my images. I’ve had to embrace the changes and adapt to a whole new way of creating and I’ve had new ways of creating images opened to me that I never dreamed of. So the lesson learned is embrace changes because they are going to come and seize the opportunities they offer.

truittphoto.com @truittphotographics

Conni Redding | Management consulting recruiter & soon to be full-time Minnesotan

Conni Redding

The most important lesson I’ve learned in my journey so far is to find your niche. I combined my love for food and hip hop / rap music (all of my captions come from music lyrics), and I turned it into an instagram that offers unique content.

@forkwithme_

Kacee Anderson | Portrait and Lifestyle Photographer

Photography has taught me how to read people quickly and win them over. Sometimes kids (or even adults) come into pictures tired, nervous, or stressed out. I’ve learned the art of diffusing those situations. I want families to walk away with photos that stay true to who they are while bringing out their absolute best.

Seniors and couples often come to me with little experience in front of the camera aside from a quick smile. I find these groups can be especially nervous. Putting people at ease is important so I can get them the fun, silly, romantic, or timeless photos they’re looking for. It starts with helping them select a location and style that will best represent them. But even if meet a dozen different clients at the same location, every single one of them will have a unique experience. My job is to learn who you are and capture that through lens.

KaceeAndersonPhotography.com @KaceeAndersonPhotography @KaceeAndersonPhotography

David Kozlowski | Freelance Photographer

The biggest lesson that I have learned, came early in my career. Shoot for myself and don’t base my photography on online comments about the images. I rarely shoot from a shot list and most of my sales come from requests for use of existing photos.

@texas.photographer

Tam Nguyen | President of Nfinitech Solutions Corp.

Endure and adapt to the changes in the industry in which you are associated with. CBD laws and regulations change and being able to adapt to keep up with the demand for our clients is what keeps us ahead of our competition and help the CBD industry thrive.

nfinitechsc.com

Nicholas Kanakis | ecologist and nature photographer

Wildlife photography is a challenging field. You can spend hours or even days searching for a specific species or particular behavior. When that animal appears, you have to be mentally and physically prepared to make the most of a fleeting moment and get the shot you had in mind. To do this I’ve learned you must take in as much as you can about species that interest you (something greatly assisted by my academic background in ecology and evolutionary biology), letting you envision shots that tell the story of a species’ biology and conservation. Free time needs to be split between pouring over scientific papers as well as experimenting with gear and lighting.

nickkanakis.com @nick_kanakis

Calles De Mexico Taco Shop | Authentic traditional Mexican Food, Tex or Mex

cdmextacoshop@gmail.com

Dedication, patience and never be afraid to new challenges, always trust in yourself.

@callesdemexicotacoshop  @cdmextacoshop bit.ly/Callesdemexicotacoshop  (214) 494-2707

Leah Gilligan Littenberg | Home Buyer Specialist/Realtor with the Todd Tramonte Home Selling Team

I think the most important lesson that I’ve learned is to be true to yourself and always do right by your clients. Unfortunately I’ve seen some horror story sides of real estate and it truly breaks my heart.

Buying a home is one of the biggest decisions people make- financially, emotionally, etc and I take my role very seriously. I’ve always been honest, open and genuinely care for my clients- something that’s just natural for me.

You can’t build a successful brand and business unless you’re honest and truly care for the people that you serve!

@fortworthhomehunter @leahlittenberg @leah.gilligan @FortWorthHomeHunter

Naveen Kongara | Happiness framer

Photography doesn’t limit to just capture some images, it involves capturing emotions, feelings, important, meaningful moments that become a big part of the person or a family. when people look back at the pictures they might not remember who took those, but they sure remember the aromas, sensations, and feelings. Photography is being a complete stranger invited to share some deep and special moments in someone’s life. It is knowing that you might never be remembered but that your work will take people back to those precious moments and be as joyful as they were that day.

Steven Hector Gonzalez | Multidisciplinary Artist

The most important lessons I’ve learned so far is to have trust and patience in ones self and in the process of making.

stevenhectorgonzalez.net @stevenhectorgonzalez

Mercy Ebuetse | Entrepreneur | Writer & Engineer

In my journey as an entrepreneur and writer, I have had the privilege of learning a few precious life lessons. The most important of which is, ‘you are not in competition with anyone but yourself. As such, strive to be a better version of yourself daily.’ With this in mind, my favorite quote by Thomas Edison, ‘if we did all the things we are capable of, we would literally astound ourselves’ reminds me daily that I am capable of so much more and each day I strive to push that limit. There is always room for everyone at the top and knowing this reminds me that I am not in competition with anyone but myself. I find it more fulfilling to be invested in being a better version of myself, rather than being in constant competition with others. This does not negate the importance of benchmarking. However, the intentions behind benchmarking as an entrepreneur shouldn’t be with the aim of competing but to discover the gaps and areas of improvement within one’s business. I strongly believe that in order to be a better version of one’s self, seeking collaboration and personal development over competing, is key.

briellemag.com info@briellemag.com @briellemagazine @mercyebuetse @briellemag

Corey Breedlove | Singer/Musician

To trust yourself, and visualize achieving your dreams daily.

coreybreedlove.com @coreybreedlove @coreybreedlove @coreybreedlove

Gina Roberts | Food Manufacturer and owner and founder of Miss Gina Cooks

I’m tempted to say it’s learning how much there is to learn! And…that mobile cc readers are incredibly convenient and incredibly frustrating.

@miss_gina_cooks

Magali Castañeda | Real Estate Agent | Artist

Andres Duran @dresduran

I’d say that the most important lesson is to understand that there is no final destination. We get so wrapped up in arriving and you forget that the fun part is happening right now. If you’re single, enjoy it. If you have kids, take in all the moments. If you’re married, keep falling in love. We get lost in the journey because we constantly want to arrive, and the lesson is… the destination is now.

@txrealestatesisters @magpiesdiy

Burette and Gabrielle Douglas of The Cush | musicians

John Erwin

Gabrielle: To have integrity with work and relationships because I feel it is important to know your intentions for doing things, and I want what I’m doing to come from an authentic place of caring about what I create. It’s important to show appreciation to everyone that contributes to getting a job done. We can’t do what we do as well without the musicians that choose to play music with us, the sound engineers running sound at the venue, all of the folks working in the venue you’re playing at, the tech getting a studio set up so we can go in and record, all of our families, friends and fans that help us to keep doing what we do. Extending kindness and compassion creates for longevity in relationships, and I want others to know how much I am grateful for them.

Burette: If you follow your artistic vision and stick with it through the ups and downs, there’s no telling where it will take you. I have had the opportunity to share stages with some of my musical heroes and visit countries that I never imagined I’d get to visit, and it was music that opened those doors. You have to do your own thing and keep doing it.

thecush.com @thecushband @thecushmusic

Abby Butts | Law Student | Owner, & Baker

Though I recently started this venture, I have already learned so much! For years I dreamed of owning a bakery, though ultimately decided to go to law school. I realized that this did not have to be the end of my dream, and as a student, I can earn money from my love of baking! The biggest lesson I have had to learn so far is to hope for the best, but plan for the worst! Sometimes with baking, especially macarons, little problems, even with the weather, can ruin a whole batch. It is so important to honor commitments though, and I have found myself having to bake well into the hours of the night perfecting batches of macarons!

@bloomsmacarons bloomsmacarons.com bloomsmacaronsdfw@gmail.com

Alex Gongora | Photographer

The most important lesson I’ve learned along my journey is you cannot let fear hold you back from anything. Instead I’ve learned to use that nervous feeling to push myself out of my comfort zone and take on some big opportunities that I never dreamed I would be apart of.

@visualmemoriesstudio

Gerardo Davila | Actor

Here’s a brief summary of my acting journey. I started acting as an adult at the age of 29. Before that as a teenager i was in the Garland High School Mighty Owl marching band and part of a rap duo called Latin Royalty. Having experienced this early on in my life was vital for my creativity and a strong work ethic. When i signed with my first agent, he told me to do 3 things to be successful in this business. 1. Always Be Training 2. Always attend every audition possible and 3. Always update your headshots every 2 years. So i immediately joined an acting class where i’ve been training every week for the last 15 years. This year i was accepted to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London where i enrolled and trained in the Fall. I plan to return to London in March and August of 2020. My acting instructor also said if i wanted to be one of the greats it would take 10-15 years of hard work aka paying dues. I believe there is no such thing as an overnight success. There’s a saying that goes “the more you learn the more you earn”. I will say that i have been rewarded for my hard work. I think i became an actor by accident or maybe it was my destiny, but i also believe that if you love what you do you’ll never work a day in your life. So the most important lesson I’ve learned in my journey so far is that patience is necessary, persistence is crucial and belief in myself is key in order to survive and achieve success in the entertainment business.

gerardodavila.net @gerardodavila.actor @gerardodavilaactor @gerardotheactor Snapchat: gerardotheactor LinkedIn: gerardodavila Reel: vimeo.com/373048772

Britta Ward | Luxury Travel Advisor

Networking truly makes the difference between you and someone else, but what truly makes you shine is going the extra mile for people. Giving people that WOW factor weather it is getting someone a bottle of champagne when they check into their hotel that you booked or inviting someone to your family thanksgiving because they can’t get home for the holidays. I live by making people feel included and special to the best of my abilities.

strongtravel.com @whereisbrittanow @WhereisBrittaNow

Jerikah Scurlark | Mua & Aspiring Model

The most important lesson I’ve learned so far on my journey is to be yourself. Follow your heart and work hard for your respect and perfecting your craft. A good thing comes to those who wait, but a greater thing comes to those who go after it.

@woo.onthebeat_ youtube.com/channel/UCBxlQr6OMSOXIZffSjLjavg

Irene Kun | Fashion and Lifestyle Blogger

The most important lesson I’ve learned in my journey so far is that it takes a lot of courage to take the first step towards your goals but every step after gets easier. Stay true to yourself and never be afraid to march to the beat of your own drum.

IreneLately.com @Irenelately

Michael Austin | Spiritual advisor and Life coach

The biggest lesson I’ve learned so far in all of my years is that if you want to succeed you need to really put your time in something and have patience with it. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a relationship, a job, or building a house!! Do something right the first time and then you don’t have to do it again!

mapsychic.com

Connie Chantilis | Two Sisters Catering President and Founder and Connie Chantilis Design Organic Sculpture and Art

Self care is part of my work. Resting and recharging used to seem lazy to me. With two jobs and many obligations, I’ve realized it’s important and essential.

conniechantilsdesign.com @conniechantilis twosisterscatering.com @cateringtwosisters

The post What’s the Most Important Lesson You’ve Learned Along Your Journey? appeared first on Voyage Dallas Magazine | Dallas City Guide.

source http://voyagedallas.com/2020/01/24/whats-important-lesson-youve-learned-along-journey/

[dinafbrownil]

The Air Ambulance Billed More Than His Surgeon Did For A Lung Transplant

THOUSAND OAKS, Calif. — Before his double lung transplant, Tom Saputo thought he had anticipated every possible outcome.

But after the surgery, he wasn’t prepared for the price of the 27-mile air ambulance flight to UCLA Medical Center — which cost more than the lifesaving operation itself.

“When you look at the bills side by side, and you see that the helicopter costs more than the surgeon who does the lung transplant, it’s ridiculous,” said Dana Saputo, Tom’s wife. “I don’t think anybody would believe me if I said that and didn’t show them the evidence.”

“Balance billing,” better known as surprise billing, occurs when a patient receives care from a medical provider outside of his insurance plan’s network, and then the provider bills the patient for the amount insurance didn’t cover. These bills can soar into the tens of thousands of dollars.

Surprise bills hit an estimated 1 in 6 insured Americans after a stay in the hospital. And the air ambulance industry, with its private equity backing, high upfront costs and tendency to remain out-of-network, is among the worst offenders.

Congress is considering legislation aimed at addressing surprise bills and air ambulance charges. And some states, including Wyoming and California, are trying to address the problem even though there are limits to what they can do, since air ambulances are primarily regulated by federal aviation authorities.

That leaves patients vulnerable.

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Saputo, 63, was diagnosed in 2016 with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis, a progressive disease that scars lung tissue and makes it increasingly difficult to breathe.

The retired Thousand Oaks graphic designer got on the list for a double lung transplant at UCLA and started the preapproval process with his insurance company, Anthem Blue Cross, should organs become available.

Tom and Dana Saputo used to wheel out a bar cart for parties. Now the table is a permanent fixture in their kitchen, where Tom keeps more than a dozen bottles of supplements and anti-rejection medications. (Anna Almendrala/KHN)

But before that happened, he suddenly stopped breathing on the evening of July 7, 2018. His wife called 911.

A ground ambulance drove the couple to Los Robles Regional Medical Center, 15 minutes from their house, where Saputo spent four days in the intensive care unit before his doctors sent him to UCLA via air ambulance.

He was on the brink of death, but just in time, the hospital received a pair of donor lungs. They were a perfect match, and two days after arriving at UCLA, Saputo was breathing normally again.

“It was a miracle,” he said.

Saputo’s recovery was difficult, and problems like infections put him back in the hospital for observation. But the most unexpected setback was financial.

When Saputo opened a letter from Anthem, he discovered the helicopter company, which was out of his network, had charged the insurance company $51,282 for the flight, and Saputo was responsible for the portion his insurance didn’t cover: $11,524.79.

By contrast, the charges from the day of his transplant surgery totaled $40,575 — including $31,605 for his surgeon — and were fully covered by Anthem.

Saputo appealed to Anthem twice about the ambulance charges. Meanwhile, the helicopter company, Mercy Air, kept calling him after he left the hospital, asking him to negotiate with his insurance company. It even called his adult daughter in San Francisco to ask how the Saputos planned to pay the bill.

“I have no idea how they even got her name or her number,” Saputo said.

Mercy Air is a subsidiary of Air Methods, which operates in 48 states and is owned by the private equity firm American Securities.

Air Methods acknowledged via email that it had put Saputo through a “long and arduous process.” The company contacted his daughter because it tried every phone number associated with him, said company spokesman Doug Flanders. But Air Methods laid the blame at the feet of his insurer.

Anthem spokeswoman Leslie Porras said the blame doesn’t lie with insurers, but with air ambulance companies that remain out of network so they can charge patients “whatever they choose.”

“The ability to bill the consumer for the balance provides little incentive for some air ambulance providers to contract with us,” Porras said.

(In January, six months after Saputo’s surgery, Anthem entered into a contract with the air ambulance company to make it an in-network provider, she said.)

Air Methods forgave Saputo’s bill in August after ABC’s “Good Morning America,” working with Kaiser Health News, inquired about his case. Air Methods said it was an internal decision to zero out his bill.

The Saputos sit in their backyard with their three dogs, Lindsey, Owen and Beatrice. (Anna Almendrala/KHN)

Other patients usually aren’t as lucky.

The median cost of a helicopter air ambulance flight was $36,400 in 2017, an increase of more than 60% from the median price in 2012, according to a Government Accountability Office analysis. Two-thirds of the flights in 2017 were out-of-network, the report found.

The air ambulance industry justifies these charges by pointing out that the bulk of its business — transporting patients covered by the public insurance programs Medicare and Medicaid — is severely underfunded by the government.

The median cost to transport a Medicare patient by air ambulance is about $10,200, according to an industry study. However, air ambulance companies are reimbursed a median rate of $6,500 per flight.

“The remaining 30% of patients with private health insurance end up paying over 70% of the costs,” said Flanders of Air Methods.

But critics argue the real problem is market saturation. While the number of air ambulance helicopters in the U.S. has increased — rising more than 10% from 2010 to 2014 — the number of flights hasn’t, which means air ambulance companies seek to raise prices on each ride.

“This is a great opportunity to make money because patients don’t ask for the price before they receive the service,” said Ge Bai, an associate professor of accounting and health policy at Johns Hopkins University.

That’s what frustrated the Saputos the most about their air ambulance charge: There was no way they could have shopped around to compare costs beforehand.

“There’s just no possible way that a customer of insurance can navigate that process,” Dana Saputo said.

Bai also criticized the practice of charging privately insured patients exorbitant amounts to make up for losses from Medicaid and Medicare patients and keep the air ambulance industry afloat.

“If they feel that Medicare and Medicaid is paying too little, they should lobby the government to get a higher reimbursement,” Bai said.

In California, Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom signed a bill in early October that will limit how much some privately insured patients will pay for air ambulance rides. Effective next year, AB-651, by state Assemblyman Tim Grayson (D-Concord), will cap out-of-pocket costs at patients’ in-network amounts, even if the air ambulance company is out of network.

A more novel scheme in Wyoming would treat the industry like a public utility, allowing the state’s Medicaid program to cover all of its residents’ air ambulance trips and then bill patients’ health insurance plans. The state would then cap out-of-pocket costs at 2% of the patient’s income or $5,000, whichever is less. Wyoming needs permission from the federal government to proceed.

Ultimately, though, state authority is limited because the federal Airline Deregulation Act of 1978 prohibits states from enacting price laws on air carriers.

Congress is considering several bipartisan bills on surprise billing. One measure by Sens. Lamar Alexander (R-Tenn.) and Patty Murray (D-Wash.) would ban balance bills from air ambulance companies. The bill passed committee and is now headed to the Senate floor for a vote, pending approval from Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell.

Air Methods said that, in general, it would support federal legislation that would calculate new rates for Medicare reimbursement, as long as they are based on cost data the industry provides.

But there is intense industry opposition to the bill. Combined with the complexity of the legislation (it also includes prescription drug price reform) and competing Senate leadership priorities, the measure faces a rocky path to the president’s desk, said Melissa Lorenzo Williams, manager of health care policy and advocacy at the National Patient Advocate Foundation.

“Despite having bipartisan and bicameral support, I can’t confidently say that this is something that will pass,” Williams said.

from Updates By Dina https://khn.org/news/the-air-ambulance-billed-more-than-his-surgeon-did-for-a-lung-transplant/

[fvisualvomits]

No Man Is An Island: Navigating the Female Colonist 

“No man is an island entire of itself; every man

is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;

if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe

is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as

well as any manner of thy friends or of thine

own were; any man's death diminishes me,

because I am involved in mankind.

And therefore never send to know for whom

the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” (Donne 98)

Does woman not have the potential to be an island ‘entire of itself’? In reading Donne’s poem literally, it appears to encapsulate the flaws of men and suggests the man is ‘involved’ within ‘death’, engaging with a conventional reading of colonialism. However, a feminist reading of the poem, similar to Coetzee’s refashioning of Robinson Crusoe, allows a transcendence into liberal modernity. Herein I infer that deconstructing Donne’s text through a feminist lens designates that the female may surpass the male: capable of individualism. The female form ultimately provides, sustains and nourishes human life; it is the basis upon which the very existence of creation is possible. However, Coetzee’s decision to transfigure a male colonist into a female subverts the very notion of the stereotypical subservient, maternal and kind female when she develops the detrimental qualities of a colonist. For western colonialism surpassed the liminality of space, to invade metaphysical and psychological spaces of degradation such as causing epidermalization complexes across variances of skin colour. Foe aims the blur the metaphysical notions of gender through the trajectory of identity. Initially a strong and independent feminist character, Susan Barton rejects Cruso’s patriarchal overtones such as “while you live under my roof you will do as I instruct!” (Coetzee 20). Such utterings are highly both childish and controlling, and perhaps we despair for Barton as she transgresses this strange and impossible land. Yet this phrase simultaneously injects bleak humour, as the sexist narrative extends even to desolate islands where ‘roofs’ are fictitious. However, indoctrinated by England’s imperialistic views, Susan’s morality is undermined by her immediate reference to Friday as her “porter” (Coetzee 8) as an offhanded remark. This language is contemptible and dismissive, yet how can we blame a woman embroiled in a regime conceived by the patriarchy? Despite her initial strength to rebel against Cruso’s authority, Susan acclimatises and conforms to become “his second subject” (Coetzee 11) - no longer colonist, but colonised within Cruso’s phallocentric fairyland. It is important to observe she remains authoritarian to Friday. She is, after all, the middle ground between the two. Hindered by her gender, she is ameliorated from a position of despair by her whiteness. Subsequent to Cruso’s demise, Susan importantly internalises his narrative and identity to become Friday’s new master. She becomes a hybrid form as a female possessing a male narrative.  This is Coetzee’s plaything, his game, as he challenges his readers to conceptualise new reactions to imperialistic custom.

We observe a cataclysm of feminist discourse present within the text. While Barton possesses a female form, her ideological processes are inherently male-driven following her experience upon Cruso’s island. Are male and female psyches under colonist circumstances disparate? Or is gender negligible under the circumstances of white imperialism? In deconstructing a male author’s text, a reader must probe into whether Coetzee is capable of writing a female character adequately without prejudice or imbuing her narrative with masculine characteristics. This parallels a convoluted past, with a wide-ranging report of critique of his previous work. After all, in an interview, Coetzee revealed that his “sympathies in the novel were clearly with “Foe’s foe, the unsuccessful author – worse, authoress, Susan Barton" (Atwell 112). Coetzee posits himself as an ally of Susan Barton, yet his writing does not enhance her character, she is somewhat repugnant. Placing a female ‘authoress as ‘worse’ similarly sparks large implications. Coetzee participating in the sexist commentary, denouncing his position of female authors is an immediate flag that perhaps this is not a narrative that can be trusted. Given this, the novel begins shipwrecked between quotation marks.  To quote something is to be given agency over it, to alter titbits of narrative similarly as Barton does unto Cruso. Yet while we resultantly expect the narrative of part 1 to be from Barton’s perspective, it is not until part 3 of the novel that we manage to escape the quotation marks. To truly access Barton. The quotation marks could either represent what Barton has retold of her story, or they could be a sign of something incessantly sinister. The words may be elusive, as her narrative, through the lens of Foe has been adapted to his ideal narrative. There is no incertitude that he wishes to inject Susan’s tale with flair, as he wishes for “cannibals and pirates” (Coetzee 121) to enter the story and monetize the narrative. Susan, in contention, breaks the 4th wall within literature. She recognises that “Friday has no command of words and therefore no defence against being re-shaped day to day in conformity with the desires of others. I say he is a cannibal and he becomes a cannibal” (Coetzee 121) This is a binary of self-awareness. Susan’s quote summarises the entire systematic approach of novelisation. She, as a character, is at mercy to the expedient influence of both Foe and Coetzee in having the necessitated power to modify her tale. It is furthermore a fantastic if not forlorn reflection upon the state of slavery. In reality, let alone literature, as soon as someone is allowed to alter your narrative, it is almost as if they own you. The power of self-agency is the only modem that prevents non-fiction from transgressing into fiction. As soon as this is destroyed, or colonised upon, individualism is defunct. In lieu of this, Coetzee’s quote could be read as pragmatically sensible, in the recognition that literature is a male-dominated field, and that a female author would be more harshly critiqued. Examples of this are not localised to postcolonial literature such as Foe, the reality of this statement is widespread within literature. Charlotte Bronte poignantly surmises the problem of the ‘authoress’:

“We did not like to declare ourselves women, because – without at the time suspecting that our mode of writing and thinking was not what is called ‘feminine’ – we had a vague impression that authoresses are liable to be looked on with prejudice” (Gaskell 265)

The death of female agency within literature is a terrifying concept. This event is witnessed through the Bronte sister’s lamentations, through Daniel Foe publishing Susan’s story, through the twenty-first century as novelists continue to produce stunning literary works under the pseudonym of a male. To declare oneself as ‘woman’ is difficult because, through divergence from the ‘feminine’ path, there is ‘prejudice’. Clearly, to posit oneself as an ‘authoress’ is problematic, as Coetzee places Barton in opposition to Foe as his literal foe. Wherein is the source of such antagonism? While they collide on a multitude of points, the repetitive copulation, and eventually marriage of Barton to Foe implies a subversion of a foe. Yet, perhaps, this is a verification of the lack of agency permitted to a female. In order to achieve her goal of having her novel published, Barton’s only option is to marry Foe and allow him to inscribe upon her his masculinity. Perhaps Barton’s character cannot possess the slightest modem of femininity, as her genesis is inherently patriarchal, proving Spivak’s point that gender consistently fortifies the male as the dominant figure. To navigate the female colonist is to ultimately shipwreck one’s feminist integrity: as long as the patriarchy is enforced, the woman cannot ever truly be colonist – an eternal subaltern to the reign of man.

Women are cogs in the imperialistic murder machine – they remain subjugated to the male, as “the ideological construction of gender keeps the male dominant.” (Gillen 185). Women exist behind the scenes, staying at home, caring for the children and conducting a variety of sexist practices that exist, even within our present century. This is proof in itself that this ideological ‘construction’ is incredibly effective. Backdating the patriarchy, its conception is pre-history. However, even looking at the original narrative of the hunter/gatherer duality as men/female respectively, there is a clear deviance in power. Perhaps we can almost declare any spatiality, even the Eastern world, before colonisation to be abjectly fortunate compared to a woman trapped in the western topography. These societies, before their dissolution by imperialistic notions, had the potential to be free of wrongdoing. If any problem is to keep arising throughout history, it is that the male figure within itself is inherently problematic. Spivak states: “If in the context of colonial production, the subaltern has no history and cannot speak, the subaltern as female is even more deeply in shadow” (Spivak 82). Dovey’s argument eloquently supplements Spivak’s idea:

“From a political perspective, there are interesting parallels between the feminist problem of a women's language and the recurring 'language issue' in the general history of decolonization", she goes on to say that despite its unifying appeal, the concept of a women's language is riddled with difficulties. Unlike Welsh, Breton, Swahili, or Amharic, that is, languages of minority or colonized groups, there is no mother tongue, no genderlect spoken by the female population in a society, which differs significantly from the dominant language.” (Dovey 82)

A woman’s language is nondescript: it does not exist. Even languages, despite the fact we refer to basal languages as ‘mother tongues’, are rife with the effect of male influence. To follow on from Spivak’s point, with the exemption of Friday as he is mute, even the colonised subalterns retain a position above the female within linguistics. Females are appropriated to a linguistic liminality that demotes our position within society not by the colour of our skin, or our ethnicity, but by the genitalia we are prescribed from birth. One could argue with Dovey that women do have a shared language – of certain movements, or of the stereotypically private girly chats that have existed for years outside of the male eye due to their necessity. We must inhibit a sacred place of femininity if not only for our sanity.

However, I think it is important to question as to why, as a largely hegemonized group for centuries, women have not banded to form a language. In relation to colonisation, I believe it is the motivational force of fear. To rebel against the male narrative in a world such as our own is a betrayal. To deny a man is to betray. To stray into a space that cannot be occupied by the cis heteronormative sphere is to inhabit a place in which a female, due to breaking the ‘rules’ of heteronormativity, must be afraid. As a result of this, perhaps we can never blame Susan Barton for all her injustices – even within the languages she uses within her internal monologue, she is constantly voicing the language taught to her by men. One must resultantly decipher the white imperialist through the dialogue of Franz Fanon’s Black Skin, White Masks and his critique of euro centralised imperialism and epidermalization. Yet even such a concise and fluent condemnation is vitiated, marred by Fanon’s cultural stereotype of the white female.

Fanon proactively points out that “the white man is the predestined master of his world” (Fanon XVI). While Fanon’s statement is honest in the perception of the necessitation of power within a male sphere, the use of ‘predestined’ is alarming as a word imbued with power, and involving the idea of predestination almost absolves the white male of the blame. After all, if it is predestined, it is meant to be. And how, then, is a woman meant to possess tract, be the ‘master’ of her own existence? While sexist in disallowing female agency, one must acquiesce the reality of the chauvinist narrative of society. It is interesting to note that the direct opposition of this society is the black female, posited against a racist and sexist regime. A figure who is directly and most severely affected by the conditions imposed within such a political sphere. What if Susan Barton was black, and perhaps it was Friday who had washed ashore upon Cruso’s isle as a white man? The narrative would be vastly different and abjectly more violent, no audience can negate this. However, Fanon goes further to claim that “A given society is racist or it is not (Fanon 63)”. This statement is true, yet more complex than Fanon proposes. While a society is or is not racist, it is necessary to provide rationality for this notion. A society is not ‘predestined’ to be racist. Rather, it is racist because of how it is taught, similarly as a child may be raised aggressively. Racism, alongside sexism, homophobia and all matters of evil are not passed through the centuries via blood, they sparked by the internalised systematic oppression that infiltrates society: these behaviours are taught. The predominant sociological structure since the conception of the known order has been patriarchal. Our blame for a racist society can subsequently be ‘predestined’ then upon the ‘master’. I do not mean to absolve the female gender for their applications of oppression, merely to imply that their racism is a secondary effect of what has been taught down by society.

Dovey states that Susan Barton's story “is the story of a woman seeking to authorise her own representation: she challenges the authority of existing representations, and wishes to be recognised as the author of her own speech’” (Dovey 122). However, Barton cannot authorise her own representation, as it is not her own. She steals Cruso’s story, identity, and slave, she inhabits his narrative to the point where she begins to falsify and invent narratives. She creates an ‘old’ Friday, who is ‘a savage among savages’ (Coetzee 95). Friday’s body language, his eating habits, his entire practice of never one insinuating cannibalistic behaviour. However, in colonising over his own narrative as he lacks linguistic agency, Barton can propel herself into mystique with her colourful tale. Despite her repetition of her ‘love’ of Cruso, she seems to continuously berate him once he is unable to argue with her forthcoming. Instead of slavers, Cruso is suddenly at blame for the removal of Friday’s oral appendage. Why? For her own selfish imperialistic value. Her rare opportunity to propel herself without limitation. While it is not her own representation, she is certainly the author. This is the juncture where Barton is not only provided with speech but moreover free speech and artistic reign. The narrative she provides is not limited by patriarchal values, but society is multifariously flawed. Capitalism and vanity thus anchor and provoke Susan towards a narrative in which she is inherently and irrevocably flawed and the ‘truth’ of narrative to profit such apparatus. It is when Barton recognises a threat to this modem of representation that her behaviour becomes incredibly erratic. As ‘master’ of Friday, she is unable to allow him to begin to create his own fate.

“Give! Give me the slate, Friday!’ I commanded. Whereupon, instead of obeying me, Friday put three fingers into his mouth and wet them with spittle and rubbed the slate clean. I drew back in disgust. ‘Me Foe, I must have my freedom!’ I cried. ‘It is becoming more than I can bear! It is worse than the island! He is like the old man of the river” (Coetzee 147)

Friday is not regaining language within this scene, but rather drawing ‘row upon row of eyes upon feet: walking eyes’ (Coetzee 147). The imagery of walking feet is difficult to decipher, but there is a multitude of possibilities. Perhaps these are not eyes, but rather manacles that encircle the illustrated feet. This would undoubtedly unsettle Susan who enjoys pretending that she a glorified, sinless leader of Friday. Referring to an earlier scene she states, ‘I have written a deed granting Friday his freedom…’ yet she immediately refers to their scenario, she is “the barefoot woman in breeches… [with] her black slave” (Coetzee 99). Susan argues that she does not own Friday, yet the inflexion of ‘her black slave’ demystifies this notion. He is ‘hers’, and more important, he is a ‘slave’. The subversion of this, playing Barton as the slave to Friday, throws the narrative off course. “I am wasting my life on you, Friday, on you and your foolish story…a great waste of time” (Coetzee 70)  She informs the reader that her “principal words” for Friday are “watch” and “do” (Coetzee 56). These are not words of leniency but words of direct commandment. The idea of Barton ‘wasting her life’ upon Friday resultantly lacks all coherency. She does not offer him any great favours, exemplified within the laughable scene in which she offers him to ‘return’ to his native land. She notes “all was not as it seemed” (Coetzee 110) between two men are who presumably slave traders. Even if they were not, this is Susan naively offering free merchandise. If Friday did manage to navigate the sea, his presumptive fate would be a replication of events, minus a shipwreck and an island in which he is cared for.

The ‘scheme’ of slavery is so rife that upon denial, the captain merely ‘shrugged’ upon the denial of Friday’s body. When one can capitalise upon an entire race, who cares about a ‘piece of the continent’.

We must further delve, or swim towards the shipwreck of Susan Barton’s character as a perplexing anomaly. Despite having a daughter, a husband is never mentioned, elevating her to an idolatrous feminist figure. Assuming Foe is set directly within Robinson Crusoe’s 1700s narrative, Susan is a ground-breaking persona, a prototype for single mothers. Consequentially, she is the anti-thesis to Donne’s meditations. An anti-individualist, she is not wedlocked nor is she landlocked within her initial narrative form. She transverses between Bahia, ships, and islands obfuscated in the topography of time and spatiality. This allows her to adopt the anti-maternal trope of “British Victorian adventure heroes… [who are] objects of desire” (Phillips 116). Phillip’s quote glorifies the colonial hierarchy yet excludes feminine discourse, the term ‘desire’ is curious via the reality of sour abhorrence. Men raping scores of subordinate women in developing territories is neither ‘heroic’ nor ‘desirable’. The superfluous nature of the male ego, implying that the female sexual appetite is depraved to physical assault is deplorable, and Cruso is certainly not an object of desire within Foe. Barton’s inaugural relationship with Cruso is nongregarious, and she is moreover physically repulsed by Friday, treating him with “distaste” (Coetzee 24). The archetypal, lascivious allegory of the exotic male traveller is thus tousled by Coetzee’s narrative style which exudes a near asexual style. However, Coetzee plays with this trope, as Susan is certainly an ‘object of desire’. Besides the captain of the rescue ship, she fornicates with all straight characters beyond Friday. Given this, each of her sexual encounters transforms the bedroom narrative into an interesting mise-en-scène of dominance, as she insists on being on top of the male. Susan must ‘coax’ Foe in particular, which “he did not seem easy with, in a woman” (Coetzee 139). The deliberate inclusion of ‘woman’ is intentionally confusing. Is sexism so ingrained into the male psyche that any form of authority exercised by a female is uncomfortable? Or is the Victorian period perhaps so prude that any deviation from the missionary position is shocking? Or, ultimately, is Coetzee insinuating that it would be ‘easier’ for Mr Foe to stomach a man sexually dominating his body? After all, “Coetzee, rather than following the easy path of repetition and conformity, ran risks and ignored sensibilities” (Attridge X). In deliberate rejection of ‘conformity’, this postmodern text is certainly aiming to unsettle the reader. Coetzee does not wish for us to have an ‘easy path of repetition’ but rather to play games. The proof materialises as the reader can picture this exchange almost as Susan taking Foe’s virginity through her ‘coaxing’ in a (perhaps psychologically painful) ‘first-time’ experience for him. Herein Susan is sexually deviant, the strong imperialistic native from Cruso’s Island. The implications are confused for Foe: she is meant to be a subordinate female, a visually white equal, yet she is simultaneously an exotic and authoritarian figure, transfigured via her experience on Cruso’s island. From her experiences, away from sheltered Victorian England, she is a hybridity of male and female that is alarming to the sequestered Foe. Yet intercourse with Cruso is substantially different. There is no resistance, rather Susan strokes ‘his body with my thighs’ (Coetzee 44) in language that is tender yet still positions her as the leading force. Despite this, Cruso does not defy her, nor require ‘coaxing’. Cruso has already dominated Barton’s narrative. An example of this appears later in the novel, when Barton discovers a stillborn infant upon the side of the road and panics that Friday may consume the child. She recognises that this behaviour is inherently inappropriate, that she did Friday ‘wrong’ to think in such a manner, but ‘Cruso had planted the seed’ (Coetzee 106). From the point of Cruso’s demise, he has planted an entire gardens worth of seeds within Barton’s mind considering the frequency with which she refers back to him. She has subsumed his narrative into her own, developed his sexual appetite. Her first copulation with Cruso reads as a sexual assault. She pushes him away, yet ‘he held me’ and ‘I resisted no more’ and ‘sat down to collect myself’ (Coetzee 30). The language herein is not of a positive sexual experience but rather a regretful surrender. The implication that she resisted is a conventional rape narrative. While Cruso can and has no qualms in commandeering her body,

Susan is not a sexual threat due to her existence as a female. This is due to the fact Barton fails to possess a penis, with which to psychologically and physically berate her ‘subjects’ as a ‘master’. While a female is certainly capable of physical assault (whether first or second hand, such as through an accomplice) perhaps the female colonist is limited by physicality. Without the potential to sexually conquer through the invasive and demoralising act of penetrative rape, perhaps the complete dehumanisation of an intended subordinate is impossible without the phallus. The androcentric regime of domination will triumph in degradative consequences, and thus the woman colonist may never be as carnally tumultuous.

While Susan may colonise Friday in a multitude of ways, she does not sexually engage him. Barton is, however, certainly fascinated by Friday’s priapic distance. Dovey notes Friday’s “absent penis/tongue allows him to figure as the phallus for Susan Barton as woman writer; he becomes a fetishized phallus" (Dovey 127). Does Barton fetishize Friday? Her physical repulsion due to his muteness denies this theory. The conjecture of penis/tongue is covertly sexual as two objects of an erotic appendage, two ‘promontory’ parts ‘of the main’, yet what is the effect if Friday lacks both addendums? He is feminised, easier to control, and moreover becomes not an object of desire, but rather an object of apathy on which to project her own insecurities. Barton even reaffirms in a weirdly covertly sexual scene with Friday she ‘does not mean to court’ him. She speaks of kissing ‘cold statues of kings and queens’ and of “marble” and of the “dead” (Coetzee 79) – if this is the language of courtship, it is certainly a unique approach. This is a woman speaking to her slave, as she proffers a self-confessed ‘long, issueless colloquial’ (Coetzee 79). Her speech is patronising, demeaning, and moreover complete gibberish to Friday. ‘Marble’ immediately segregates Friday as it infers Susan’s preference for a white man. The conjunction of ‘cold/marble/dead’ moreover paints a morbid picture that suggests necrophilia tendencies. Perhaps, embroiled in a daydream and lost in her ‘issueless’ spiel of words, ‘she envisions her ‘dead’ Cruso. If Friday could understand Susan’s drivel, it would formulate an incredibly complicated sexual legacy for Friday. After all, “in every case, the language and the consciousness through which the servant’s world is mediated is the masters” (Attridge 17). While this would perhaps resonate if Friday listened to Barton, he seems entirely distant from her. He seems to do the bare minimum, not to please her, but merely in an act of self-preservation as he does not know where to go next. Friday is trapped on the English isle, only slave to Barton due to his lack of having elsewhere to go, subject to Barton’s will.

It is almost as if Susan externalises a maternal prowess over him. Perhaps it is less colonialism and more her desire to probe into Friday’s truth, to find some variable of language that will allow spatiality for his narrative. More so than her own narrative, she is near obsessive for Friday’s tale. She does not, thus, fetishize his phallus, but rather his tongue. I explain this by a regression to Cruso’s island. Throughout the narrative, the few words Friday has been taught are ‘as many as he needs’ (Coetzee 21). The words he knows are not complex, yet perhaps this is the language of colonisation: minimal linguistics. Short, commanding words that convey a direct message. This is experienced when Cruso teaches Friday to ‘open his mouth’ (Coetzee 22). This is a forceful and incredibly invasive procedure, especially when aware of Friday’s lack of tongue. The ‘dark’ (Coetzee 22) is a metaphor for the language of colonisation itself through the primary example of the colonised – Friday, as a slave, will never be able to vocalise his narrative. Instead, his rhetoric and his heirloom of colonisation is the language that Cruso bestowed upon him. Europeanism is thus implanted within Friday, governing his actions despite the fact he cannot comprehend it. Barton’s reaction to this intimate encounter is incredibly maternal. Knapman notes the discretions between the treatment of slaves across variations within gender.

“Instead, through their kindness, benevolence, and reliance on moral suasion rather than force, white women made racial tolerance, if not racial equality, the hallmark of their relations with non-Europeans. It was the European male who stood with whip in hand over his black labourers, not the European woman” (Knapman 107)

Barton, despite her flaws, could arguably be said to want Friday to be free. Although, perhaps this is for her own self-gain. Friday is nothing but help to Susan, yet she seems to consider him a burden upon her life.  Upon Cruso’s Island they stand within equality, yet being passed the baton of ownership divulges her towards a loss. Her ‘moral suasion rather than force’ invites an uneasy narrative wherein she simply berates Friday. There is no affection towards him, in fact, she only seems to truly care for Friday once in the lens of Foe. In a position where she is under scrutiny and there is the potential impact upon her narrative, she behaves as she wishes her ‘people’ to view her. Unfortunately, the narrative that Susan provides for herself is flawed. She treats Friday unjustly despite his lack of choice. He is a direct threat to the narrative she has stolen, adapted, metamorphosed into a wonderful and exotic tale when perhaps it is a great tragedy. She appropriates him in every way conceivable.

While this essay is about feminism and colonisation; their modalities are the same. Two systems of power oppressed by the same force: the heteronormativity of the white patriarch as ‘master’, ‘predestined’ to ‘shipwreck’ us forevermore. Society, nor gender, are staticised forms. A female colonist under the influence of a patriarchal society is, unfortunately, nearly as detrimental as a male herself in the metaphysical repetition of the narrative. However, the female form is limited within physicality, especially within a sexual context due to lack of phallic commandment. A woman’s morality and ethics, her attitude, within such a society are proscribed from the lessons learnt from birth. We discover retribution through forms of ‘moral suasion rather than force’ as a result, but what if a female genderlect was introduced? Through subscribing to rhetoric based upon ‘morality’ and of a ‘unifying appeal’, could this matriarchal sect not introduce intersection? To eliminate racism, to redefine the very definition of a ‘colonist’. Not as commander of another’s body, nor narrative, but to make advances towards inclusivity for all towards equality. Mr Foe states, ‘the island is not a story in itself’ (Coetzee 117). Not is the conception a colonist that of a colonist – shifting registries of meaning allows for change, to transcribe detriment into delight. Yet while such inscriptions and liminality upon reform exist, we can answer Spivak’s essay: Can the Subaltern Speak? The answer is fundamentally and eternally a resounding no. Female or black, tongue or not, to enact subordination is to eradicate a voice entirely. For perhaps one could argue there is nothing more subordinate than the female, as ‘the relationship between woman and silence can be plotted by women themselves; race and class differences are subsumed under that charge’ (Spivak 82). Barton is only obsessed with the narrative of Friday as male because she has no claim to a voice. In providing Friday’s voice, she validates her own, as she splutters, swimming toward the island, away from the shipwreck of her tragic noiselessness. The horror of the darkness in Friday’s throat, where the tongue should belong, is not her empathy for Friday: it is the self-realisation of her position of a woman, where the tongue shall never belong, lost in the devastation of the wreck.

Works cited

• Attridge, Derek. J.M. Coetzee and the Ethics of Reading: Literature in the Event. Scottsville: University of KwaZulu-Natal Press, 2005. Print.

• Attwell, David. J. M. Coetzee: South Africa and the Politics of Writing. California: University of California Press, 1993. Print.

• Coetzee, J. M. Foe. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1988. Print.  

• Donne, John, and John Sparrow. Devotions upon Emergent Occasions. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2015. Print.

• Dovey, Teresa. "The Intersection of Postmodern, Postcolonial and Feminist Discourse in J.M. Coetzee's Foe." Journal of Literary Studies 5.2 (1989): 119-33. Web. 23 Dec. 2017.

• Fanon, Frantz. Black skin, white masks. London: Pluto, 2008. Print.

• Gaskell, Elizabeth Cleghorn, and Linda H. Peterson. The Life of Charlotte Bronte. London: Pickering & Chatto, 2008. Print.

• Gillen, Paul Bates., and Devleena Ghosh. Colonialism & Modernity. Sydney: UNSW, 2007. Print.

• Haggis, Jane. "Gendering Colonialism or Colonising Gender?" Women's Studies International Forum 13.1-2 (1990): 105-15. Web. 10 Jan. 2018.

• Phillips, Richard. Mapping Men and Empire: A Geography of Adventure. London: Routledge, 1997. Print.

[daemonvols]

Chapter Six

Party Preparations

 Another five days passed without my noticing much of them. The news buddies returned to downtown shootings, tractor-trailer pile ups on 481 and more house fires. I burned every piece of meat I ate and contemplated going vegan.

One day, and I cannot even now remember which day it was, Charlie left a voice message. It wasn’t as irritating as Derek’s Post-it. However, if I were keeping such a score, Charlie lost romance points when he chose the middle of the night as well to avoid direct conversation. The message didn’t earn him any points to offset the loss, either:

“Yeah, well, I left the old stiff alone, but you probably know that. I have next Thursday night off, so I thought I’d come by again and see your ghosts and vampires and whatever else you got to show me. Nine-thirty’s good for me, so I’ll see you then.”

To be honest, I would have lost romance points, too. I had forgotten all about him since Helen and Nestor. I had forgotten a lot of things, now that I’d seen how fragile even the undead’s existence can be. I rose worked, ate and slept on automatic. It was the routine that saved me: office calls, bookkeeping, and not much more.

I still had regular visits from Missy and Mischa and the other ghosts who thought it now safe to come out and resume their haunting and whining. Missy started to say something about the ending of Helen and Nestor that I knew would be meant as comfort and therefore wholly inappropriate. I stopped her with a raised index finger and a sharp “Don’t!” I did not want them thinking about it anymore than I wanted to think about it.

Fortunately, their spectral minds were easy enough to re-direct. I had only to tell them that Charlie had called and that the party was on. I cannot recommend listening to a ghost squeal in delight, let alone two. It grays the hair. But it got them off the subject of the “ending.” Got me off the memory of it, too, for a while.  Though when the memory came roaring back to me just before I fell asleep I supposed that I could pack my belongings, empty my bank account and see what Canada had to offer a bookkeeper/cemetery caretaker.

Two nights, four novels and little sleep later, I drank the musty bitter cup of reality in the form of a cup of tea, the bag for which was months past its expiration, and set to planning.

Not that I hadn’t considered the matter at all since inviting Charlie that night in Section B.  In the blissful moments right before falling asleep that first-meeting night, I thought a lot about the little “party” being held on my porch. But I hadn’t thought, said or done anything more about it.

Well, all right, I had compiled a mental “guest list” from the residents. After Charlie RSVP’d to my invitation, I made decisions. The first was that I would not invite any more of the undead into my home. We would stay on the porch.

As for the specific invitees: Derek, no question and no choice. I’d let him pick one or two other vampires to bring along, provided they had all fed before they came into my yard. Missy and Mischa I could not keep out with a banishing spell (presuming I could learn and master one in that amount of time). That made four, six if you counted the living ones: Charlie and me. And I thought about a same-day invitation two younger ghosts, Lallie and Rin.

About two years ago, these two twenty somethings fell victim ago to a double dose of D and D. One dose was driving home at three a.m. from a late-night game of Dungeons and Dragons. The second dose was a drunk driver. The families made such a fuss as to how sweet a couple they had been in life that they insisted on burying them side by side, but with separate headstones for modesty’s sake. The plots they chose in Section H lay near trees (the last of Polehouse’s crab apple trees) and “running water” (the drainage ditch, which could be a third dose of D and D, if you think about it). I’ve often thought Rin would have moved on without a care, but Lallie in death as in life ruled the relationship and she wanted to stay a while longer.

As I said, it’s been about two years. She’s still sticking around and so is he. They would probably disturb Charlie less than an old horror like Benjamin Sharpe. And Rin and Lallie might balance Derek’s pomposity.

And you have another question: Yes, there are special considerations to this sort of affair. Ghosts have no real sense of days or time. They know daylight and nighttime, but couldn’t tell you what day of the week. Also, for them, every year is still the year in which their bodies died. Technological advances are tricks and deceptions. Mischa still thinks I have the poorest design in typewriters because I have to have a separate machine to print out my work. I would have to work out a signal for these four “guests.”

Vampires, on the other hand, are keenly aware of time. I suspect they secretly pride themselves on living so long off the blood of others. Kind of like career politicians in that respect.

And like all socials of a close knit family, there are those you invite and those you don’t invite because you invited the first ones and those two parties aren’t speaking. I asked Missy and Mischa to talk to the youngsters. They had other suggestions, but I had the answers ready.

“No, we can’t invite Emma Wascher or Susan Kegg because their headstones would loosen the dirt for the whole row and then we’d have to let Old Man Sharpe loose.”

“Don’t you remember, Missy that Fred Marsberg had a crush on Mischa and passed on to the Next Life because she wouldn’t look at him even after death?”

“It simply isn’t the caliber of event to expect a Plutarch to attend, even if he or she had the bad taste to linger here.”

“A small family gathering, then,” Missy sighed.

I looked at them and pictured the rest of my “family.” Then I reconsidered moving to Canada.

I had yet to see, let alone speak or invite Derek plus one.

However, my word had to be kept, if I was to get anywhere with Charlie. Which assumed I still wanted to get somewhere. I did. Let’s be honest: romance novels can only take you so far and pillows warm up only when you hold them for hours. They never “hold” back.

 I waited for Derek beside the south arch the night before the “party”. He’d gone casual into a leather jacket and jeans that didn’t quite fit him there as well as Charlie’s, and the death’s head on the front of the T-shirt had to have looked more appropriate on the biker Derek had taken it off of than it did on him. The whole ensemble brought to mind the picture of a mama’s boy trying to look tough, but I could not laugh at him.

“Going a nighttime stroll?” he sneered. “I thought your grandfather had beaten that out of you when you were five.”

“My grandfather never laid a hand on me, thank you,” I said. “And you’re going for a new look. It doesn’t suit you.”

A good way to get a vampire’s full attention: first, make (excuse the expression) dead certain he has no intentions of feeding on you or allowing anyone else to feed on you. Then insult him, especially about his clothes.

“What do you want, Jewess?” Now he was snarling and showing his long, spiky canine teeth.

“I want you to bring one of your crew after feeding to my porch two nights from now. That’s Thursday night. Before you ask,” I interrupted a guttural laugh that Derek saved for occasions like this or a victim’s plea for mercy, “I have a new gravedigger who does not believe that you, your kind or the ghosts exist.”

“Most of your kind do not believe that we exist, either,” he countered. “And by ‘your kind,’ I mean humans, although I am stretching the point in your case.” Derek considered himself quite the charmer, but on this night, he wasn’t even trying.

I ignored the comment. “Look, a digger who doesn’t believe at best disrespects the cemetery and the graves; at worst, he becomes a grave robber.”

“I would kill him, if he tried.”

“I know you would. Trouble is, he’s union, and if you killed him, the union would want answers. They’d likely go to the news media. That would raise the Board’s hackles and get me fired. And who knows they could just as easily fire me and hire a religious nut that’d spend his days staking the lot of you in the ground and burning out the mausoleums.” He snorted. “You heard Treasurer Meecham last winter when the city wouldn’t plow up to our entrances and we had to postpone the Jarvis funeral. He said he has that Bible-thumper Frankfort waiting in the proverbial wings. Besides, you owe me.”

“I what?” The Dangerous Voice. He once scared a young artist with that voice; scared the teenager so badly, the kid peed all over the graffiti he’d spray-painted on Derek’s headstone. For myself, I’d heard that voice enough to hear a sort of blood-sucking version of, “As if!” I shrugged.

I took in a deep breath before I played what Grandpa Dov would call my trump card: “Helen and Nestor.” He took my meaning: word could not spread to other “families” that a human had witnessed one vampire destroy another. That leads to territorial disputes and a possible bloodsucking war. And I’d seen Derek behead two of his own. He understood me, but argued on in true lawyer fashion.

“You were not invited.”

“And yet you dragged me to watch it anyway.”

“You have heard the term ‘extortion’?” He grabbed one rod of the iron and yanked a bend into it. I had won. I folded my arms and waited. “I will have to bring Ian. With Helen and Nestor gone, he’s my responsibility.”

I thought for a moment of how many parents I’d heard say as much with as much regret when they came to bury their children. It’s heartbreaking to them and more than likely devastating to their children’s spirits. The CPF has very few cheerful child ghosts. Most wail through the night for their loving parents.

Not that all parents love their children. That’s a simple fact, of which I’ve had some experience. My mother left us before I was two months old. I’ve neither seen nor heard from her since.

“He’ll be a little hard to explain,” I agreed. “But I think I may have an idea for him.”

Derek looked at me hard. I am no expert on vampire brains, but I suspected from his darting eyes that he was desperate to find a way out of it. He found none. “Then we shall attend your porch soiree.” He started to leave.

“After you feed,” I said.

I won’t repeat what he said to that.

 Two phone calls the next day to our garden center served two purposes: to replace the frosted rainbow gravel my Grandma Rose used in the flower beds and to signal the ghosts that it was Party Day.

Thursday morning, the red garden center truck dumped a mountain of colored stone on my front lawn. Missy and Mischa saw the signal. They roused the youngster ghosts in the early evening. Then the “ladies” floated through the house, making verbal lists of all the places I needed to clean. When they got to my bedroom, I cried foul.

“Do I go into your coffins and critique your housekeeping?” I said.

“We don’t hold parties in our coffins, dear,” Missy reminded me. She laid the shadow of her hand on my shoulder. I shivered from the cold.

“Nobody’s going into my bedroom tonight.”

Missy tutted. “That’s too bad, dear. You need somebody sometime, you know. Birds and the bees.”

“Well, if I do, there will not be dead things in my bedroom!”

They both sniffed and floated outside through the front windows with the Cat Move.

“Not much help are they?” Rin offered with an opaque shrug.

Rin must have been a sweet, if erratic young man when he was alive. It was a pity his family saw fit to send him through Eternity in a black suit, black shirt and tightly-tied black tie. His spirit looked about six foot-two inches and he wore his blonde, straight hair samurai-style: the front locks pulled back into a mini-ponytail that sat atop the shoulder-length hair on the sides and back. He had dark eyes, a sad smile, a soft voice, and a huge desire to help me.

He’d not been dead long enough to learn how to move physical objects with any accuracy, but still he tried. And failed. Six times he tried to move dishes to from the dining room sideboard to the kitchen. Six times, they rattled and refused to budge. In high frustration, he thrust energy at one of Grandma Rose’s china cups and sent it crashing to the floor.

I ceased cutting up celery and bell peppers when I heard it and came out of the kitchen to insist that he stop ‘helping’ and park his non-corporeal behind on one of the four three-legged stools I had around the kitchen island.

He obeyed, and sank down through the stool’s wooden seat up to his nose. I pretended not to notice and kept cutting celery ribs. It doesn’t do to mock a young ghost. It spoils any other interactions they might have with the living. And ghosts, for all their blissful ignorance of time, have a long memory. Rin withdrew from the stool, gauged it in distance and height, and in a moment was hovering in a seated position two inches above the seat.

This might have resulted in a reasonably tranquil scene. However, Lallie had discovered that she could pass through ceilings as well as walls. Even as a ghost, she was a sight: her family had dressed her in a red, drop-waist dress with a white silk rose the size of a soccer ball at her hip, and black-and-white striped stockings. She dangled from the rose down from the load-bearing beam in the kitchen ceiling and then used it as her own gymnastic bar to do forward and backward flips. She may have expected Rin to applaud her efforts, but her path swung her through his head over and over, despite his efforts to avoid her. Once she realized where they intersected, she started making kissy noises. Rin looked (excuse the expression) mortified. I cut more celery.

I probably cut too much celery. There would be two to feed that night, as long as Derek kept his word. He and Ian wouldn’t care for vegetables anyway. Still, I had the celery and peppers, some crackers and a dip my Grandma Rose swore would bring a husband into the house.

Well, what she had

said

was that it would bring marriage partner. She also told me she’d made it with crackers and celery the first time my father brought my mother to the house at the CPF. In hindsight, I may well have been (excuse the expression) dead wrong to make and serve it to Charlie Tischler.