Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate.

[This post originally appeared in Dullicious, where I blogged as Barbie-dull for several years.]

In honor of Talk Like a Pirate Day, I humbly but lazily offer a single quote from Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, because this is already pirate talk, and because I like it:

Mr. Gibbs: Curse you for breathin’ ya slack-jawed idiot. Jack. Mother’s love. You should know it’s bad luck to wake a man when he’s sleeping.
Jack Sparrow: Fortunately, I know how to counter it; the man who did the waking buys the man who was sleeping a drink; the man who was sleeping drinks it while listening to a proposition from a man who did the waking.
Mr. Gibbs: Aye, that’ll about do it.

Speaking of which, I happily found out they’re brewing an opus II for 2006. I am a great fan of Johnny Depp.

Now, back to work, ye scurvy dogs!

Book: “Odd Thomas” (Dean Koontz)

[This post originally appeared in Dullicious, where I blogged as Barbie-dull for several years.]

Dean Koontz is one of my favourite authors for fiction. I just finished “Odd Thomas” and enjoyed it very much.

It is the story of Odd Thomas, a twenty year old boy who is blessed with two special gifts. He sees the dead and has a sixth sense that gives him some psychic magnetism. He is also blessed to love and by the love of Stormy, his soul mate.

Throughout the book, we learn about the very unfortunate childhood and teenagehood of Odd. We learn of his encounters, past and present, with ghosts that want justice or tip him to help prevent crimes.

He tells us that Stormy’s destiny is to be with him forever. They have a card from a fortune-telling machine as proof; Gypsy Mummy had given it to them for a single quarter. They also have matching birthmarks. They are to be married in less than a week.

The last chapters were particularly gripping as I realised at the same time that Odd did, that Stormy had become one of the lingering ghosts. Odd must let her go.

“The dead cannot speak, but Stormy spoke three words silently, allowing me to read her lips. I love you.
I kissed her, my dead love, so tenderly, so chastely. I held her in my arms, my face buried in her hair, her throat.
After a while, she put a hand under my chin. I raised my head.
Three more words. Be happy. Persevere.
“I’ll see you in service,” I promised, which is what she calls the life that comes after boot camp.
Her eyes. Her smile. Now mine only in memory.
I let her go. She turned away and took three steps, fading. She looked over her shoulder, and I reached out to her, and she was gone.”

— Dean Koontz, “Odd Thomas”