A Deadly Arrangement
by Denise Osborne

Sprinkled liberally with tidbits about life energy and feng shui, the art of placement, this book suffers from only two things: poor proofreading and poor editing. Or should I blame it on the author, who perhaps wrote flowing pithy prose that was butchered by an editor? Can't see it. But she wrote a lot that a good editor would have cut.

The storytelling gets in the way of the story. I’m aware of the writer as I read. At this point, I don’t much care about any of the characters or what is happening to them. I just want to find out more about feng shui so I can do more than close my bathroom door and toilet lid for financial stability.

But as I read last night, I debated whether even that was worth slogging through this pedestrian novel when I have more than a half-dozen unread treasures on my gateleg table in the office.

Now I do, that is. The picture above was taken on the first day I set it up, before I covered it with books and tarot cards and more books.

Note the mysterious white box. It has been filled with Hawkins Cheezies, Macintosh Toffee, Saskatoon Tea, and a set of my friend Ray's beeswax candles, and mailed to a kind benefactor.

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How about some real writing?

We all come and go unknown
Each so deep and superficial
Between the forceps and the stone

Well I looked at the granite markers
Those tributes to finality - to eternity
And then I looked at myself here
Chicken scratching for my immortality

- Joni Mitchell, the song Hejira