Showing posts with label Women’s Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Women’s Fiction. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Bangkok Transit by Eva Fejos @FejosEva #MustRead #Women #Fiction

at 7:00 AM 0 comments
‘He only noticed the woman, arriving unexpectedly from behind like a cyclone, when a shopping bag hit the back of his knee and he was nearly toppled off his feet by the bag’s owner… whom he then had to catch. The first thing he noticed was the blondish cascade of hair draping itself all over his shoulder and the sweet scent emanating from it. Then the woman herself appeared from behind the surge of hair. She was tall, willowy, and young; she wore a black, spaghetti-strap top and black linen pants. Paul found her very lovely, her jaw defined and her lips pink and full, but her most attractive feature by far was her eyes. Contrary to her expression, her gaze did not imply annoyance, but rather wise sorrow.
The woman Paul held in his arms for a moment fell into the category of women that he could never, even for a moment, dream of having, because he knew they were inaccessible to him. This knowledge began to root itself in his mind when he was twelve years-old and deeply longing for the fourteen year-old girl who lived next door; Marcy was incredibly beautiful and was correspondingly adored by all. When Paul confessed to his father his adoration of the girl and his hopes that perhaps one day he might marry her, his father looked at him sincerely and said the following:
“Don’t make a fool of yourself, son. Don’t waste your time on girls who definitely won’t want you, girls that all the other boys compete for. Choose a simple, sweet, ordinary girl, and you won’t be disappointed. I did the same,” he said, hinting at Paul’s mother.
Paul was initially shocked by his father’s words, but later, each time an exciting and significantly attractive woman appeared on the horizon, he always retreated.
The woman quickly regained her balance, mumbled something in German, then switched to English.
“Thanks so much.”
“No problem,” answered Paul, helping her collect the scattered shopping bags. “Are you a tourist? Bangkok is such a strange place,” he added, a bit flustered.
The woman seemed lost for a moment, not answering, but after the pause, her lips formed a faint smile.
“Well, thanks again,” she said finally, reaching for the bags.
“Wait, let me carry these!” exclaimed Paul trying to seize the opportunity. “I suppose you’re taking a taxi. Let me walk you out to the taxi,” he added, swinging the shopping bags. His tongue seemed unhinged. “Bangkok is a great place to shop. Though I don’t usually do much shopping, I bought a whole bunch of faux brand names from the street merchants.”
The woman laughed.
“Did I say something funny?” asked Paul in disbelief. No one had ever found him humorous before. Even he thought he had no sense of humor. He finally checked himself. “I supposed you’re laughing at me for blabbing all this nonsense. If you even understand what I’m saying.” After all, I haven’t heard you say a single word besides thank you and some German cursing, he added in thought.
“I’m Helen,” said the woman, finally extending her hand with a smile.
Paul wasn’t able to shake her hand because he was holding the woman’s rather heavy bags printed with names like Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana, and other similarly high-end designers.
“Paul.  Paul Marshall,” he introduced himself.
“Hello, Paul. I’m glad I ran into you, otherwise I would have fallen flat on my face in front of everyone. Let’s head out to the taxi then.”
Paul noticed that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and didn’t know what to think. Did it mean that she had no husband? That she didn’t like jewelry? Of course, she must still be rather young, maybe thirty, if that. Women these days don’t marry so young anymore. But surely she had a boyfriend.
They cut across the square among the tables. A crew was just setting up on stage and the smell of grilling chicken wafted from the direction of the buffet counters. Paul suddenly felt very hungry.
“Would you like to grab something to eat?” he said, turning to Helen.
She looked at him with astonished, wide eyes.
“Right now?”
“Or anytime. Whenever.”
The woman didn’t answer, but strode resolutely towards a taxi.
“You have to haggle,” Paul called after her. “Don’t get in unless you have your price.”
“Okay. Haggle for me then.”
“Fine. What price do you want?” Paul asked pensively.
Helen laughed again.
“How about a hundred?”
“Alright. But where do you live?”
“At the Oriental Hotel.”
“Is it far from here?”
“About half an hour.”
Paul stepped over to a taxi idling by the sidewalk.
“How much to the Oriental Hotel?”
“Two-fifty.”
“What?!” Paul began to walk away.
“Okay. How much you give, mister?” called the driver.
“A hundred.”
“A hundred-thirty,” said the little Thai man.
Paul nodded and began to load the woman’s bags into the car.
“A hundred and thirty bahts,” he said to Helen victoriously when he finished. “How long will you be staying in Bangkok?”
“For a longer while.”
“Are you on holiday?”
“I’m working. At a photo shoot.”
“As…?”
“As a photographer,” the answer arrived after a short pause. Helen extended her hand in parting. “Well, thanks again for everything.”
One second from now she will be sitting in the taxi and speeding out of my life, Paul thought tensely. She’ll be off to the Oriental Hotel, and I will never have the courage to look her up. Everything depends on this second. He mustered his courage and surprising even himself, he asked:
“May I invite you to dinner sometime?”
The woman seemed astonished.
“Call me tomorrow night. I’m in room seven-eleven,” she answered after slight hesitation. Then she added: “Helen. My name is Helen Schmidt.”
“Paul Marshall,” Paul said, introducing himself again awkwardly, which made them both laugh.
Helen got into the car and waved goodbye. Paul waved back and realized that he had never been so full of happy anticipation before.’
Bangkok: a sizzling, all-embracing, exotic city where the past and the present intertwine. It’s a place where anything can happen… and anything really does happen. The paths of seven people cross in this metropolis. Seven seekers, for whom this city might be a final destination. Or perhaps it is only the start of a new journey? A successful businessman; a celebrated supermodel; a man who is forever the outsider; a young mother who suddenly loses everything; a talented surgeon, who could not give the woman he loved all that she desired; a brothel’s madam; and a charming young woman adopted at birth. Why these seven? Why did they come to Bangkok now, at the same time? Do chance encounters truly exist?
Bangkok Transit is a Central European best-seller. The author, Eva Fejos, a Hungarian writer and journalist, is a regular contributor to women’s magazines and is often herself a featured personality. Bangkok Transit was her first best-seller, which sold more than 100,000 copies and is still selling. Following the initial publication of this novel in 2008, she went on to write twelve other best-sellers, thus becoming a publishing phenomena in Hungary According to accounts given by her readers, the author’s books are “therapeutic journeys,” full of flesh and blood characters who never give up on their dreams. Many readers have been inspired to change the course of their own lives after reading her books. “Take your life into your own hands,” is one of the important messages the author wishes to convey.
Try it for yourself, and let Eva Fejos whisk you off on one of her whirlwind journeys… that might lead deep into your own heart.
About Eva Fejos, the author of Bangkok Transit
- Eva Fejos is a Hungarian writer and journalist.
She:
- has had 13 best-selling novels published in Hungary so far.
Bangkok Transit is her first best-seller, published in 2008.
- has won several awards as a journalist, and thanks to one of her articles, the legislation pertaining to human egg donation was modified, allowing couples in need to acquire donor eggs more easily.  
- spends her winters in Bangkok.
- likes novels that have several storylines running parallel.
- visited all the places she’s written about. 
- spent a few days at an elephant orphanage in Thailand; and has investigated the process of how Thai children are put up for adoption while visiting several orphanages. 
- founded her own publishing company in Hungary last year, where she not only publishes her own books, but foreign books too, hand-picked by her. 
- Her books published in Hungary thus far are:
Till Death Do Us Part (Holtodiglan) | Bangkok Transit | Hotel Bali | Chicks (Csajok) | Strawberries for Breakfast (Eper reggelire) | The Mexican (A mexikói) | Cuba Libre | Dalma | Hello, London | Christmas in New York (Karácsony New Yorkban) | Caribbean Summer (Karibi nyár) | Bangkok, I Love You (Szeretlek, Bangkok) | Starting Now – the new edition ofTill Death Do Us Part (Most kezdődik) | Vacation in Naples – the English version will be published in summer, 2014 (Nápolyi vakáció)
To be published in spring of 2014: I Waited One Hundred Nights (Száz éjjel vártam)
Bangkok Transit (English version): http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HDIT4UY
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Women’s Fiction, Contemporary
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Eva Fejos on Facebook & Twitter

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Olga Soaje on Motivation, #Writing & Favourite Books (#AmReading #Women)

at 11:30 AM 0 comments

Have you always enjoyed writing?
I have always expressed myself better in writing than verbally and when a serious topic was on the table, it was easier for me to do it with pen and paper. I was from an early age an avid reader but somehow I saw writing as something foreign. Little did I know it would be something that would bring me so much joy.

What motivates you to write?
I wish I could explain something that seems so intangible, but the best I can do is describing it as a need to do it. To express myself and get rewarded every time a reader sends me a message of how my book touched their life or inspired them.

What books did you love growing up?
I loved and still do Dr.Seuss books; I also loved “Little Women” and Jane Austen lather on. In high school I started a routine of mix-reading self-help books with novels (a thing I still do).

What book genre of books do you adore?
Women’s Fiction.
Self-Help
Literary Fiction.

What book should everybody read at least once?
I would say there so many great books but one I always come back to for some reason is “Great Expectations” by Charles Dickens.

Is there any books you really don’t enjoy?
I would say I don’t enjoy horror or terror in movies or books.

Where do you get inspiration from?
From seeing life situations and thinking “What if?” there are so many stories to waiting to be told.

Is your family supportive? Do your friends support you?
I have been blessed with family and friends that have supported this passion since I’ve told them, with many expressions from reading the book in process, discussing stories, proofreading, to helping me thinks of ways to market.

Do you plan to publish more books?
Yes, I have more ideas that still need to come to life.

How do you write – laptop, pen, paper, in bed, at a desk?
I write mostly in my laptop either on a small desk I have at home or at a coffee shop in between errands.

Can you give us a short synopsis of Twelve Houses?
Dying often has its own decorum. The family gathers, the doctors explain, and kind nurses murmur advice and consolation in sterilized corridors. Nathan’s death was not like that. He went abruptly, without a hint of warning. Amelia woke up to find her husband dead of a heart attack, beside her in their marriage bed. Only then does the family gather, the circle of friends console, and the rabbi arrive. As the rabbi tears Amelia’s garments in the ancient ritual of mourning, her world is turned upside down. She feels like a shadow in her own life, almost like she is watching someone else act her part. She has become a stranger to herself in her shock and disorientation.

Her son offers consolation. As a doctor, he also offers her medication to take the edge off her sharp suffering, which she will not allow herself to accept. Instead, she lets him give her something of more lasting value: his spiritual support and his certain, understanding love. Yet she knows she cannot intrude on his life, cannot lean on him. He is soon to be married, to start a new life, and his own family.

Amelia’s daughter, her first-born child, is more of a problem. Amelia knows they were never as close as they should have been. As a mother, she feels she was too interested in her own life and her own career to give her daughter the warmth and nurturing she deserved.

As Amelia wanders through her artist’s studio, she comes upon her old wishing jar, the handmade prayer jar in which each family member placed their secret longings. Opening it, written on an old scrap of paper, Amelia finds her daughter’s dearest wish: “Help mom understand me.”

Work has become impossible, though her agent nags. For decades, sculpting has been her livelihood and much more. The feel of the soft clay in her hands has satisfied her in a way nothing else could and allowed her to express herself when she had no other way. Her talent has brought her money and fame, but now it is useless to her.

The work that had been a source of goodness and wholeness now seems to be betraying her. In her studio, she now finds hopeless grief instead of peace. She cries and does nothing, speaking silently with her absent husband and endlessly reworking the past.

It is her daughter who rescues her. Chloe needs help with her pregnancy and her marriage. It is the kind of help her mother is glad to give. Yet the two women still struggle to build a relationship, neither quite able to accept the other’s choices. Nevertheless, their attempts at understanding help to draw Amelia out of her consuming grief.

Amelia does find new work. With it she finds a new way to look at the world, one that that does not ignore her ideals. In the city in which she first fell in love with the man who would become her husband, she begins to learn to live again.


twelveHouses
Can anything good follow the best thing that ever happened to you?
Amelia Weiss loved her husband of thirty-five years very much, but now he’s left her a widow. Without him, she is unable to work in her sculpture studio without crying. She no longer has a bridge to her estranged daughter. And she can’t seem to keep her mind in the present.

But when her daughter reaches out asking for her help and her agent threatens a lawsuit if Amelia doesn’t deliver for an upcoming exhibit, she’s forced to make a choice. Will she reengage with her life and the people in it—allowing room for things to be different than they were before? Or, will she remain stuck in the past, choosing her memories over real-life relationships?

Thrust fully into the present, Amelia stumbles into a surprising journey of self-discovery.

Buy @ Amazon
Genre – Contemporary Fiction, Literary Fiction, Women’s Fiction
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Olga Soaje on Facebook
 

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