Sign in with Facebook
Gil Liane’s Followers (5)
2,050 books
|
311 friends
68 books
|
1 friend
19 books
|
42 friends
89 books
|
94 friends
1 book
|
6 friends
0 books
|
60 friends
Gil Liane
Goodreads Author
Born
Australia
Website
Twitter
Genre
Member Since
January 2015
To ask
Gil Liane
questions,
please sign up.
|
Sound
—
published
2014
—
2 editions
|
|
|
This Connect: Short Story Collection
|
|
|
Optimate
—
published
2011
—
2 editions
|
|
|
Otherplace (The Place Series Book 1)
—
published
2016
|
|
|
Map Boy
—
published
2022
|
|
Gil’s Recent Updates
|
Gil Liane
is now following
|
|
|
Gil Liane
rated a book it was amazing
|
|
|
This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it,
click here.
|
|
"Sigh... Another disappointment. You'd think that drugging a girl, taking advantage of her and then posting pictures online of that abuse would be an unforgivable act. But nooo, these guys are hot, so who cares right?
The guys in this book are disgusti" Read more of this review » |
|
|
Gil Liane
rated a book it was ok
|
|
|
dnf (and then I went back and managed to). Never have I read a book with so many plot holes. |
|
|
Gil Liane
and
3 other people
liked
Jay's review
of
Bloodshed Academy: Year One (Bloodshed Academy, #1):
"I generally try to be kind when reviewing books because I know the author put a lot of effort into it. However, this book might be the worst book I have ever read. The writing style, the character development, the plot (or should I say lack of plot),"
Read more of this review »
|
|
"I loved this series, but the ending was horrible. The characters somehow totally changed who they were and what they were like to choose a life they never would have chosen or been happy with. The ending is so artificial and so completely ruined any "
Read more of this review »
|
|
|
Gil Liane
rated a book it was amazing
|
|
| The prose feels crafted in a way you rarely see these days, in an era where so much fiction is rushed. The book was a pleasure to read, in the sense the author presented a beautifully woven tale to the reader. | |
|
Gil Liane
rated a book did not like it
|
|
|
This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it,
click here.
|
|
|
Gil Liane
rated a book it was ok
|
|
|
Gil Liane
rated a book it was amazing
|
|
|
The best urban fantasy I've read in a long while, and it amazes me this doesn't have thousands of 5 star reviews. Am so glad I took a chance on this novel! Basically, it shows what happens when you stop an apocalypse as a teen. You feel for these wome ...more |
|
“That was diverse.” Poppy looks surprised as she slides down the wall like a bird that’s forgotten how to fly, landing in a crumpled heap on the curb.
“Positively Dionysian,” I manage to slur. The world is a crazed kaleidoscope. Colors fight for space, desperate to steal each other’s names. “They’re just labels!” I yell at the untidy bundle of shades and bones near my foot.
“Are you talking to me?” Patterns birthed by multiple reflections coalesce into Poppy’s face.
“Maybe. I think other people’s musical chi has saturated my cells.” Myriad venues and tonal flavors are scattered through my memory, like broken harmonies. “Why did I feed on so many tunes?”
“You wanted filtered sounds to rain down and seep clean through, beyond blood, to the soul.” A lone streetlight flickers behind her and for a few alienating seconds she shimmers in and out of existence.
“Too much.” My stomach turns over, but I manage to keep everything down. If I throw up now, nothing will come out but music.
“Tonight’s orgy of sound has left us in a pure, concentrated haze of other people’s emotions,” Poppy announces proudly, unperturbed by the fact I’m squatting in a gutter. She holds out her arms to me, palms turned up. “Look, I’m full of music.”
I stare at the small woman, posed like a crazed Messiah. The cat mask is still caught in her hair. A cracking sound fills the air and her face starts to fracture into pieces, like shards of a broken mirror. Closing my eyes, I take deep breaths till my head calms down. When I open them again, Poppy is gone.”
―
“Positively Dionysian,” I manage to slur. The world is a crazed kaleidoscope. Colors fight for space, desperate to steal each other’s names. “They’re just labels!” I yell at the untidy bundle of shades and bones near my foot.
“Are you talking to me?” Patterns birthed by multiple reflections coalesce into Poppy’s face.
“Maybe. I think other people’s musical chi has saturated my cells.” Myriad venues and tonal flavors are scattered through my memory, like broken harmonies. “Why did I feed on so many tunes?”
“You wanted filtered sounds to rain down and seep clean through, beyond blood, to the soul.” A lone streetlight flickers behind her and for a few alienating seconds she shimmers in and out of existence.
“Too much.” My stomach turns over, but I manage to keep everything down. If I throw up now, nothing will come out but music.
“Tonight’s orgy of sound has left us in a pure, concentrated haze of other people’s emotions,” Poppy announces proudly, unperturbed by the fact I’m squatting in a gutter. She holds out her arms to me, palms turned up. “Look, I’m full of music.”
I stare at the small woman, posed like a crazed Messiah. The cat mask is still caught in her hair. A cracking sound fills the air and her face starts to fracture into pieces, like shards of a broken mirror. Closing my eyes, I take deep breaths till my head calms down. When I open them again, Poppy is gone.”
―
“The girl in the doorway is tiny and ethereal. So thin, veins press against the surface of her body, like faint blue fairy lights buried under the skin. A wispy halo of white-blond hair frames her alabaster complexion. The effect would be disturbingly achromatic if it weren’t for an unsettling pale blue gaze, reminiscent of a tiger’s, or a snake’s.”
― Sound
― Sound
“The girl in the doorway is tiny and ethereal. So thin, veins press against the surface of her body, like faint blue fairy lights buried under the skin. A wispy halo of white-blond hair frames her alabaster complexion. The effect would be disturbingly achromatic if it weren’t for an unsettling pale blue gaze, reminiscent of a tiger’s, or a snake’s.”
― Sound
― Sound
“That was diverse.” Poppy looks surprised as she slides down the wall like a bird that’s forgotten how to fly, landing in a crumpled heap on the curb.
“Positively Dionysian,” I manage to slur. The world is a crazed kaleidoscope. Colors fight for space, desperate to steal each other’s names. “They’re just labels!” I yell at the untidy bundle of shades and bones near my foot.
“Are you talking to me?” Patterns birthed by multiple reflections coalesce into Poppy’s face.
“Maybe. I think other people’s musical chi has saturated my cells.” Myriad venues and tonal flavors are scattered through my memory, like broken harmonies. “Why did I feed on so many tunes?”
“You wanted filtered sounds to rain down and seep clean through, beyond blood, to the soul.” A lone streetlight flickers behind her and for a few alienating seconds she shimmers in and out of existence.
“Too much.” My stomach turns over, but I manage to keep everything down. If I throw up now, nothing will come out but music.
“Tonight’s orgy of sound has left us in a pure, concentrated haze of other people’s emotions,” Poppy announces proudly, unperturbed by the fact I’m squatting in a gutter. She holds out her arms to me, palms turned up. “Look, I’m full of music.”
I stare at the small woman, posed like a crazed Messiah. The cat mask is still caught in her hair. A cracking sound fills the air and her face starts to fracture into pieces, like shards of a broken mirror. Closing my eyes, I take deep breaths till my head calms down. When I open them again, Poppy is gone.”
―
“Positively Dionysian,” I manage to slur. The world is a crazed kaleidoscope. Colors fight for space, desperate to steal each other’s names. “They’re just labels!” I yell at the untidy bundle of shades and bones near my foot.
“Are you talking to me?” Patterns birthed by multiple reflections coalesce into Poppy’s face.
“Maybe. I think other people’s musical chi has saturated my cells.” Myriad venues and tonal flavors are scattered through my memory, like broken harmonies. “Why did I feed on so many tunes?”
“You wanted filtered sounds to rain down and seep clean through, beyond blood, to the soul.” A lone streetlight flickers behind her and for a few alienating seconds she shimmers in and out of existence.
“Too much.” My stomach turns over, but I manage to keep everything down. If I throw up now, nothing will come out but music.
“Tonight’s orgy of sound has left us in a pure, concentrated haze of other people’s emotions,” Poppy announces proudly, unperturbed by the fact I’m squatting in a gutter. She holds out her arms to me, palms turned up. “Look, I’m full of music.”
I stare at the small woman, posed like a crazed Messiah. The cat mask is still caught in her hair. A cracking sound fills the air and her face starts to fracture into pieces, like shards of a broken mirror. Closing my eyes, I take deep breaths till my head calms down. When I open them again, Poppy is gone.”
―
