I’ve grown quite weary of the spunky heroines, brave rape victims, soul-searching fashionistas that stock so many books. I particularly mourn the lack of female villains — good, potent female villains. Not ill-tempered women who scheme about landing good men and better shoes (as if we had nothing more interesting to war over), not chilly WASP mothers (emotionally distant isn’t necessarily evil), not soapy vixens (merely bitchy doesn’t qualify either). I’m talking violent, wicked women. Scary women. Don’t tell me you don’t know some. The point is, women have spent so many years girl-powering ourselves — to the point of almost parodic encouragement — we’ve left no room to acknowledge our dark side. Dark sides are important. They should be nurtured like nasty black orchids.
—  Gillian Flynn, I Was Not a Nice Little Girl…

‘Dragonfish’ Offers A Noir Vision Of An 'American Dream Gone Rancid’

Fresh Air book critic Maureen Corrigan writes:

“In the dead of summer, with the sun beating down, what could be more refreshing than a straight shot of literary noir?  After all, noir is the stuff of shadowy landscapes and even shadier characters; it always seems to be raining in noir, even in California.  Pick up a copy of, say, Double Indemnity by James M. Cain or In A Lonely Place by Dorothy B. Hughes, which has reprinted by The Feminist Press–or watch the film masterpieces that were made from those and other noir classics—and you’re sure to feel a soothing darkness closing in.  But noir’s appeal isn’t just nostalgic; it’s a form that gets remixed by each new generation of fans and practitioners.  Which brings us to Dragonfish, a superb debut novel by Vu Tran that takes the noir basics and infuses them with the bitters of loss and isolation peculiar to the refugee and immigrant tale.”

Vanity Fair : Paper Towns Movie
Cara Delevingne & ‪#‎NatWolff‬
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For over 40 years, Jerry Jenkins has used the art of storytelling to carry life-shifting messages to millions. He’s written an astonishing 187 books, including co-authoring the bestselling Left Behind series. Twenty-one of his books have reached the New York Times bestseller list, and seven have debuted at number one. And Jerry has offered to respond personally to comments, so submit your best questions now!

CONTEST: Click on the image above and leave a comment on our blog article by August 5th, and you’ll be entered to win a copy of Jerry’s book Writing for the Soul! U.S. residents only.

When the moon was full last night did your veins turn yellow in its light?I hope so.

I’ve stopped checking my phone at red lights,looking to see if any of the sad boys I’ve kissed have come back. They don’t matter anymore. You matter. So I stare at the sky instead,drinking in the blue while I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, wondering what color eyes you have. I wonder what you do at red lights. If you think of the ocean or what you’re having for dinner. Do you like this song that I have set to 100?My sister always says I’m going to blow out my speakers.Maybe you have a sister who says the same thing.

When the light turns green, I smile and speed off,as if every forward motion is bringing me a little bit closer to you. I could meet you in 5 hours,5 months, or 5 years from now. Our hands will touch,and we’ll be surprised at the shock, like every set of hands we’ve felt before were comprised of cardboard. You’ll tell me how you’ve been on so many dates,but no girl has ever made you laugh like this. I’ll tell you about all the stoplights I’ve sat through with the taste of your name on the tip of my tongue.

—  stoplights by brittney l. melvin
There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in the room. It’s like watching Paris from an express caboose heading in the opposite direction–every second the city gets smaller and smaller, only you feel it’s really you getting smaller and smaller and lonelier and lonelier, rushing away from all those lights and excitement at about a million miles an hour.
—  The Bell Jar