Liam James > Recent Status Updates

All I gotta say is Orlando is now in the twentieth century, I'm guess roaring 20's ish. And our humble narrator describes it as overwhelming, as having too many contradictory ideas, as accelerating too quickly... Well, I'd avoid the 21st century like the plague Orlando, or the pandemic as it were...

Welp, the battle was fought and the battle was won and Buck, the beast is champion. Man, he wasn't even scared, didn't blink an eye, but felt so right, so alive, for the first time perhaps. Sorry Spitz, sorry Sol-lecks—though you're smart and want no part of it, contesting the victor, the rightful successor, the new lead dog... Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Can't you just hear Michael Buffer!

It was too much for Buck. Of course it was; he's a champ, and even his perfect prudence wouldn't stand for stupid Spitz standing in the way of his bed, the very one he had but learned to make something like twenty-four hours prior when the snow gave way under him and so he fell upon placating Billee licking away with his wet toungue. How dare you Spitz! Only for those skulking forms! You would've been mince meet!

Wow. Jackie doesn't waste a page, does he? After page one, he's off and running and poor Buck's already a kidnapped king and getting the sh#t kicked out of him by the man in the red sweater. Oof. How'd those dogs do it? Then, poor Curly! The Law of Club and Fang! Zounds! Don't fall down! And Spitz is laughing his ass off! But Buck's adjusting; I like so much that he's not placating, obeying yes, conciliating never!

I don’t care that he’s a kid; Willard is a son-of-a-bitch

So, Dora with her suavity, suggests Mack and the boys throw Doc another party… What could go wrong?

Wow. What he sees in the ocean.

I just found out Mack is forty-seven and somehow this makes me very happy—it’s hard not to like Mack.

“For, Heaven knows why, just as we have lost faith in human intercourse some random collocation of barns and trees or a haystack and a waggon presents us with so perfect a symbol of what is unattainable that we begin the search again.” I’ll be sure to add this, next time I’m on a desktop.

Man, I like the professor. See the way he pushes our protagonist up the tower: "Are you indeed, a coward?" Classic.

Whoa, even cousin Gretchen is in agreement with the professor. Seems our protagonist's in a pickle: be considered a coward and let down the one you love or go down to dread, to the dead-center of the earth...

That ornery uncle sounds difficult, but his house or rather castle by the ocean, sounds soo nice.

I know, I said I'd finish and I only read like ten pages but I swear I like it. Kinda crazy; the whole dawn at Delmonico's, what with Dean and Peter flipping out and flippin off waiters and knockin over innocent coffee cups. Good heavens, was I ever that bad as a collegiate? I plead the fifth.

Okay I'm finishing this sucker tonight. It's actually quite good; time's just been rather illusive of late.

Okay, Jewel is straight up scary.

Edit’s treatment of Gordon, after all her excitement to see him, certainly proves no one loves you when you’re down and out.

Lip-lip is a literal pain in the neck.

I was a boy when I first read this and it feels like a different book. How awful are the "man-animals" when they first find White Fang! Ferocious.

Mama Weasel, kickin' lil' cub's ass. Poor lil cub. But here comes Mama Cub, the aforesaid She-Wolf, and Mama Weasel's toast. Go Mama Cub!

Poor One-Eye. Man he was tough. Experienced too. And what's more than all these boasts can be, he was a good father. Went for that lynx with guts and conviction. Long live One-Eye, the honorable.

“A guy goes nuts if he ain't got nobody.  Don't make no difference who the guy is , long's he's with you.  I tell ya,” he cried, “I tell ya a guy gets too lonely an’ he gets sick.”
Well, ain’t that the truth. Look at our sorry societies today with our lonely losers in their parents’ basements glazing at ai poison on their grimy devices. Only a set of eyes and one can see what’s wrong.

"There is no exquisite beauty," says Bacon, Lord Verulam, speaking truly of all the forms and genera of beauty, "without some strangeness in the proportion."

“The "strangeness," however, which I found in the eyes, was of a nature distinct from the formation, or the color, or the brilliancy of the features, and must, after all, be referred to the expression. Ah, word of no meaning!” -Ol’ Edgar

So, I have a new book coming out in the next few months. I’m kinda bummed about what’s happening because I would’ve loved to get arcs out for it. Anyway please follow on instagram or facebook if you’d like an arc when I’m finished.

"...he sometimes came out with his guess quite loud, and very often guessed quite right, too; for the sharpest needle, best Whitechapel, warranted not to cut in the eye, was not sharper than Scrooge; blunt as he took it in his head to be." Who knew Scrooge had low self-esteem.

But how hot of a blind man's buff game is this! "She often cried out that it wasn’t fair; and it really was not. But when at last, he caught her; when, in spite of all her silken rustlings, and her rapid flutterings past him, he got her into a corner whence there was no escape; then his conduct was the most execrable. For his pretending not to know her; his pretending
that it was necessary to touch her head-dress..."

"When Scrooge’s nephew laughed in this way: holding his sides, rolling his head, and twisting his face into the most extravagant contortions: Scrooge’s niece, by marriage, laughed as heartily as he. And their assembled friends being not a bit behindhand, roared out lustily." All I gotta say is I gotta hang out with these guys!

"If you should happen, by any unlikely chance, to know a man more
blest in a laugh than Scrooge’s nephew, all I can say is, I should like to
know him too. Introduce him to me, and I’ll cultivate his acquaintance." I just love how the narrator talks so personably to you!

"He sat very close to his father's side upon his little stool. Bob held his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child and wished to keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him." If this doesn't break you up into little tremulous bits, you're not human.

Who would've thought Scrooge a reader! Look at his little self there in the schoolhouse, all enamored with Ali Baba: "Suddenly a man, in foreign garments: wonderfully real and distinct to look at: stood outside the window, with an ax stuck in his belt, and leading by the bridle an ass laden with wood. 'Why, it’s Ali Baba!' Scrooge exclaimed in ecstasy." I tell you, no film can capture that.