Tag: w

Women’s Prison

  By

★★★
“Innocence behind bars.”

It’s always interesting to watch these early entries in the women-in-prison genre, and see the elements which are still staples of the genre, close to seventy years later. Well, some of the elements anyway: this dates from 1955, so is obviously tamer than a kitten on Valium in terms of sexual content. No strip searches. No prison showers. And when it’s revealed that one of the inmates is pregnant, it’s almost as much of a surprise to the audience as it is to the authorities. But it’s still recognizable as an ancestor, thanks to things like the sympathetic prison doctor, new inmate who shouldn’t be there, and the sadistic warden who rules things with an iron fist.

It is an ensemble piece, whose focus shifts throughout. Initially, it seems likely to be the story of “fresh meat” Helene Jensen (Thaxter), who is doing time for vehicular manslaughter, and has a tough time adjusting to life inside. Then it shifts to Joan Burton (Totter), an accomplice to her robber husband, Glen, who is doing time in the men’s prison next door. He has something vital to tell her, and makes repeated attempts to sneak across the border to visit Joan. On the other side of the bars is the power struggle between the warden, Amelia van Zandt (Lupino) and jail physician Dr. Crane (Duff). Her methods are anathema to Crane, who flat-out calls van Zandt a psychopath. He may have a point.

Despite the lack of salacious elements, this is still entertaining fodder. There are a lot of amusing characters among the inmates, from cheerful fraudster Brenda Martin through to black inmate Polyclinic Jones – named after the hospital where she was born! She’s played by Juanita Jones, who’d be Oscar nominated a few years later. Interestingly, despite this being years before the Civil Rights era, the prison is not segregated: the black inmates have their own cell, but otherwise mix freely with the white prisoners. Race is never even mentioned here. There’s an impressively meta moment too, when two guards are discussing a cinema trip. “They never get things right in prison pictures,” muses one, and is told, “I know, but I like to pick out the flaws.”

This happens just before another familiar element: the prisoners riot and take over, after being pushed too far. In this case, it’s van Zandt’s brutal interrogation of Burton which proves the tipping point. Or at least, “brutal” by fifties standards; it’s not much more than a bit of light slapping around. The rebellion leads to tear-gassing and hostage taking, as the women seek to make van Zandt pay, plus Glen roaming around with a pistol. Really, the men’s side need to look into their security protocols, I reckon. For all its innocence in many ways, bordering on naivety, there are still moments which have an emotional impact; I found the death of one inmate surprisingly affecting. Released in Germany as Revolte im Frauenzuchthaus, which I only mention, as “frauenzuchthaus” may be my new favourite German word.

Dir: Lewis Seiler
Star: Ida Lupino, Howard Duff. Audrey Totter, Phyllis Thaxter

Wildcat

  By

★★★½
“She’s got claws.”

I was quite startled to read some of the scathing reviews this received. For I genuinely enjoyed it, to the point it likely came one element (which I’ll get to) from a seal of approval. Sure, it’s nothing particularly new overall. However, I found it consistently enjoyable, to the level I felt no desire to look at my phone at any point. These days, that’s high praise indeed. It takes place in a slightly alternate London, where gang bosses Frasier Mahoney (Charles Dance) and Mrs. Christina Vine (Krige) are on the edge of a war for control of the city. There’s also a rogue element, in the Mushka Gang, who have turned an East End estate into a no-go area.

Ada (Beckinsale) doesn’t have much to do with this, until her brother Edward (Hardiker) gets deep in debt to Mahoney. He kidnaps her daughter to ensure the money gets paid back. This forces Ada to carry out a heist on a jewellery store run by Vine, which is only the start in a series of problems. She does have assistance, in the shape of former lover Roman (Tan), who can help fence the product. Meanwhile, Ada is trying to get Mahoney blamed for the robbery, to start an inter-factional war that can cover their escape. Meanwhile meanwhile, we discover Ada and Edward’s past, and encounter a number of colourful characters, such as the foul-mouthed Galloway (Tom Bennett, channeling Budget Nick Frost).

There are a lot of moving parts, but Nunn keeps things clear. He has plenty of action experience, including the wonderful Scott Adkins vehicle One Shot, which was my favourite movie of 2021. This isn’t quite as relentlessly kinetic, yet keeps a good pace throughout. Tan actually gets as many action scenes as Beckinsale, and this brings me to the issue mentioned above. While she still looks the part – and very good for 52 – there’s an awful lot of shots from behind, strongly suggesting heavy stunt doubling. And it’s not subtly done. They might as well just have hired Laura Vörtler, Beckinsale’s stunt double, to play the part and been done with it. Still, despite clearly more limited resources, I preferred this to her last couple of actioners, Canary Black and Jolt.

It helps to have the likes of Krige and Dance in the supporting cast. The latter is barely seen until the end, though makes up for lost time with a blistering anecdote about his late wife. I really enjoyed Krige, whose character can go from comforting a grandchild troubled by bad dreams, to torturing an employee for information, without more than a blink. There are some elements which feel underdeveloped, such as a weird club which seems little more than a flimsy excuse to tie Beckinsale up. But overall, I enjoyed this, and particularly appreciated the bone-dry British humour peppered throughout. Although the lead may not have many more action films in her, Nunn continues to prove his credentials. 

Dir: James Nunn
Star: Kate Beckinsale, Lewis Tan, Rasmus Hardiker, Alice Krige

Woman at War

  By

★★★★
“Feel the electricity in the air.”

This was a real and pleasant surprise. I wasn’t even sure if this would qualify for the site, or if it would end simply being too gentle. Whole it’s not going to get any awards for hard-core action, it does fit in here. More impressively, it managed to make my empathize with someone whose views are ones I’d generally disagree with. It takes place in Iceland, where Halla (Geirharðsdóttir) is a middle-aged, single woman, waging a near one-person campaign of sabotage against heavy industry, mostly by disabling the power-lines which supply electricity to it, disfiguring the landscape and exacerbating climate change. It’s a game of cat and mouse, with the authorities keen to stop the eco-terrorist from dissuading foreign investors.

However, Halla has issues of her own, beyond the net closing in on her property destruction. A long-dormant adoption request is suddenly approved, and she can’t risk further criminal acts, as a conviction would bar her from proceeding. She intends to go out with a declaration of her manifesto, literally flung from the Reykjavik roof-tops, and a final act, stealing Semtex to blow up a key electricity pylon. Her accomplice, government employee Baldvin (Ragnarsson) is increasingly concerned about the “one last job” trope, and twin sister Ása (also Geirharðsdóttir), a yoga teacher, threatens to put a spoke in the adoption process too, by vanishing off to India for two years to live with her guru.

It’s charming, quirky and rather subversive, all at the same time. It could easily have toppled over into preachiness, but is leavened with enough humour to keep the messaging secondary to the medium. For example, there’s a poor Spanish tourist (Estrada), who is perpetually getting blamed for the attacks, simply by being in the wrong place at the wrong time, leading to his tent getting SWATted. There’s also the soundtrack, which shows up on screen as a three-piece band, and a trio of singers, who play whatever music is needed to accompany the scenes. Every character is a pleasure, not least the farmer (Johanson) who becomes Halla’s leading accomplice. I will say, any wannabe eco-warriors might well get some helpful tips here, such as the best place to hide your explosives…

But it’s Geirharðsdóttir’s film, in both of her roles. She has a quiet yet absolute commitment to her cause, and it’s thoroughly convincing, even to someone like me who thinks “Earth First” means, “We can strip-mine the other planets later.” I still found myself rooting for her, as she scurried across the Icelandic moors, using low-tech means to counter the authorities with their drones and thermal imaging cameras. For what’s as much a comedic drama as anything, these sequences pack their share of tension, and I was left wondering how it would get resolved. It is a bit of a cheat – are the Icelandic authorities that incompetent? I’ll let it pass, since this demonstrates the way message movies should be executed.

Dir: Benedikt Erlingsson
Star: Halldóra Geirharðsdóttir, Jon Johanson, Juan Camilo Román Estrada, Jörundur Ragnarsson

[A modified version of this review first appeared on Film Blitz]

Who Cares!

  By

★★½
“Hop to it!”

I would have sworn I had seen every example of Hong Kong girls-with-guns movies from the eighties. But this one had managed to escape my attention completely for 35 years, until accidentally stumbling across it on YouTube. It’s perhaps partly because it never seems to have received any kind of post-VHS release, being unavailable on DVD or streaming sites. Which is a little surprising since it combines two genres that have been quite popular in the West: not just GWG, but also hopping vampires, as in the Mr. Vampire franchise. It’s a rather awkward combo, and there’s definitely significant potential wasted. Yet I’m fairly certain it’s going to be unlike anything you’ve seen before.

It begins with a gang robbing a mausoleum of antiques for their boss, Yiang Wei (Wei). However, included in their haul is a pearl, which was the only thing keeping a traditional Chinese vampire (Kwai) pinned down. It’s now free to roam the land, terrorizing the possessor of the pearl, who is the only person that can see it. Meanwhile, a special police squad has been set up to investigate the ring behind the recent slew of antique thefts. In charge of it is Sergeant Wang Wai Shan (Hu), who follows the evidence to Wei, after one of his minions turns up dead, a victim of the vampire. Wang and her mostly-female team then find themselves having to take on both the hopping undead and the criminals.

The results are kinda decent, but it’s not hard to think of ways it could have been better, particularly from the perspective of this site. I was expecting to get a final battle pitting Wang against Wei. Doesn’t happen. I did like how the cops find a way to control the vampire, and I was thinking it was then going to end up as Wang + vampire against Wei. Doesn’t happen either, with Wang entirely sidelined, and replaced with a climax which is simply villain versus vampire (before an ending which is… certainly an ending, and that’s all I can say). Hu deserves better, and so does Sophia Crawford, who is one of Wei’s minions, and gets almost nothing to do. Admittedly, it was only Crawford’s second film.

Not to say that Wei is a slouch. I simply preferred earlier scenes, such as Wang and her squad battling the largely invisible vampire around her father’s apartment, with a range of improvised weapons, from crosses – would those really work on a Chinese vampire? – to flamethrowers. It’s fairly refreshing how nobody really mentions the fact a woman is in charge, with everyone apparently accepting Wang’s role, and there’s not too much in the way of dumb slapstick, which can derail proceedings. As horror, it’s certainly light in tone. Perhaps it might have benefited from sticking to one genre or the other, instead of trying to be two things at once, and coming in as largely forgettable in both departments.

Dir: Chiu-Jun Lee
Star: Sibelle Hu, Dick Wei, Kara Ying, Kwai Po Chun

Women Rescuers of WWII, by Elise Baker

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Literary rating: ★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆

With the somewhat accurate and rather clunky sub-title of “True stories of the unsung women heroes who rescued refugees and Allied servicemen in WWII”, this is a book whose idea I liked rather more than the execution. The core is six chapters, each devoted to a woman or pair of women, who operated before and around World War II, mostly helping refugees to escape the Nazi regime as it swept across Europe. Every chapter has the same structure. Each begins with ‘The Threshold’, describing how they came to take on that role; then ‘The Move’, covering their heroic activities; and finally, ‘The Close’, detailing what happened to them afterward.

These stories are all worth telling, though perhaps not to the same degree. A couple appear more like glorified bureaucrats, and while their roles in facilitating emigration of refugees were important, you don’t get much sense they were in genuine danger. Others, however, such as Irena Sendler, was clearly risking her own life in smuggling Jewish children out of the Warsaw ghetto, being captured and brutally interrogated by the Gestapo. The same goes for Andrée de Jongh, who ran the Comet Line which allowed Allied soldiers trapped behind enemy lines in occupied Europe, to make their way back to friendly territory. She ended up in Ravensbruck concentration camp: that’s “real” heroism, putting yourself at personal risk, and definitely deserves to be better known.

However, the desire to cram in too much here works against the book. Each chapter typically covers only 20-25 pages, and as a result, you get not much more depth about each woman, than you would find in a well-written Wikipedia article. These are more like an appetizer, and you’ll probably be left hungry to know more about the likes of de Jongh. Baker has an odd tendency to shift from factual descriptions to what reads like dramatic restagings of scenes, an awkward shift that she does not manage to pull off. Rather than letting the stories speak for themselves, she tends to belabour her point about sexism being responsible for suppressing these stories.

It’s somewhat questionable, since many male heroes of WW2 are arguably more unsung: de Jongh, for example, was awarded decorations by multiple countries, including the George Medal, Britain’s highest civilian honour. That’s not “unsung.” I’d rather Baker had used the pages she spends on making such points, to tell the reader more about the women’s stories.  I will admit, I did learn things here, and if you’re looking for a primer – a Cliff Notes on wartime heroism – this and the other books in the series are probably worth a look. But it feels like Baker is only skimming the surface, and the subjects would have been better served by a more in-depth recounting, rather than trying to cover so many different candidates. Sometimes, less is definitely more, and this would be a good example. 

Author: Elise Baker
Publisher: Intrepidas Publishing, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book Part of the Brave Women Who Changed the Course of WWII series.

We Kill Them All

  By

★½
“Kill me too. Please”

It generally makes sense for a film to escalate over its duration. The problem here is, what escalated was my annoyance. It began as irritation, but by the end I was deeply peeved, because the stupidity is strong in this one. It begins with two different strands. In one, former desperado Lee Hughes is visited in his mountain resort by ex-colleague Jimmy Montague (Fafard) and his minions. They want to know the location of two million in proceeds from a previous crime Lee and Jimmy pulled. In the other, lesbian couple Lane (Newton) and Megan (McClay) are busy being lesbionic with each other, because they’re lesbians. Did I mention they are a same-sex couple?

These two threads link up because Megan is Lee’s daughter. When she and Lane head up to visit him, they discover only Jimmy and his henchmen, Tweedledum and Tweedledumber. They think Megan knows where the loot is. And this is where the idiocy becomes industrial strength. I’m not sure who is worse. The bad guys, for repeatedly allowing their captives to escape. Or Megan and Lane, for repeatedly allowing themselves to get recaptured. It doesn’t help the script ties itself in knots, trying to keep any firearms out of the wonens’ hands before the very end. Yes, the liberal agenda™ here seems to extend to gun control. Until it finally gives up and admits that they are, in fact, the best equalizer in a home invasion scenario. 

Lane, in particular, is entirely useless for the great bulk of proceedings. Until she is not, suddenly able to escape from being tied up with barbed wire – albeit the kind of barbed wire which leaves no marks in her flesh – and left entirely alone while Jimmy and Megan wander off. Again. Megan does, at least, have some guts. But, really: you are in a kitchen, and the best impromptu weapon you can find is… A chopping board? Meanwhile, the purpose of the whole lesbian thing is revealed. It’s cheap heat, so the bad guys can get all homophobic. Being bad is not, apparently enough. [The film really needs to take lessons from What Keeps You Alive in the department of lesbian relationships]

I honestly feel the whole endeavour would be improved by dubbing Three Stooges sound effects over the top of it. The first half is meandering and not very interesting. The second half does at least have things happening. It’s just that they range from the weakly plotted down to the flat out ludicrous. With little or no reason to care about the characters, who seem entirely defined by their bedroom habits, I was left with no interest in their fate. This, incidentally, ends up being exactly what I expected at the mid-way point. I want to stress, this isn’t a bad film because the heroines are lesbians. There are a lot of perfectly good, unbigoted reasons to find this well below average. 

Dir: Jeremy Drummond
Star: Chloe McClay, Emma Newton, Leo Fafard, Michasha Armstrong

Wyvern Awakening, by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

  By

Literary rating: ★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆

There are reviews which are easy to write, because – good or bad – the subject generates a lot to talk about. This is not one of those. It’s a bland slice of semi-urban fantasy, which just… sits there, the literary equivalent of a bowl of vanilla pudding. It’s not good, nor is it bad enough to be memorable. It merely exists, remarkable mostly in how unremarkable it is. Put it this way, I finished it less than 24 hours ago, and I can’t even remember the heroine’s name, so little impression was made. Instead of writing, I find myself almost preferring the Star Trek musical episode Chris is watching next to me. And I don’t really like Star Trek. Or musical episodes. 

It starts off feeling like a Harry Potter knockoff. Heroine (checks notes) Astrid was orphaned after her parents were killed by a powerful mage, leaving her with a facial scar, when she defended herself with her own innate arcane talent. She’s then sent to live with some nasty relatives, who treat her badly, almost to the point of abuse. Yeah, it’s all very J.K. Rowling. She has a dream where she suddenly realizes the Mage was Duke Jorgen, the city’s ruler. She vows to take revenge, and fortunately, the Duke is having a contest to find a new assistant. Astri, who is the last of the wyvern shape-shifters, joins the competition and goes through the resulting trials.

Yet, the closer she gets to Jorgen, the more confused she becomes, because he hardly seems like the parent-murdering type. He is, of course, far too attractive to be evil. Read that sentence with as much sarcasm as you wish. So, if you want every encounter to be overflowing with unresolved romantic tension, here you go. The problem is, there’s no consistency in Astri’s approach. One minute, she is about to get all kissy-face with him, the next she’s leaving him to be tortured by rogue shifters. She’s supposed to be a strong, independent heroine, yet is frequently neither. And what are the rules of this contest anyway? They seem to be made up as the trials progress. 

There are some decent elements. I was amused by the her scabrous pair of pocket pixies – named Jetli and Lenin, because reasons, I guess. There’s also a sense of bigger forces at play beyond Astri’s personal problems. The last trial brings these particularly into focus. But the final revelation has been telegraphed from almost the very beginning, and is as thoroughly unimpressive as I feared. I suspect this might be aimed more at a YA audience. Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with that, except there are YA books that can still work for an adult audience. Then we have this, which does not. To be honest, I suspect even my 13-year-old self might have found it severely deficient, in a number of areas. 

Author: Joanna Mazurkiewicz
Publisher: Self-publshed, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 4 in the Mage Chronicles.

When Women Were Warriors: The Warrior’s Path, by Catherine M. Wilson

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Literary rating: ★★½
Kick-butt quotient: ☆

To be frank, I was expecting rather more action given the title here. Almost all of it, however, takes place “off-screen”, as it were, being described second-hand, rather than experienced. It makes sense in the context of the book, and it’s not badly written. But when you use the word “warrior” or derivations thereof, not once but twice in your title, it would seem fair to expect a higher quotient of… warrioring. I tagged this as fantasy, mostly because it clearly takes place elsewhere and/or elsewhen. It is fairly grounded e.g. no dragons or vampires, but certainly contains elements I would call mystical.

The book tells the story of Tamras, who is sent to join the house of Lady Merin, hoping to progress through the ranks of apprentices and become a warrior woman herself, like her mother before her. Tamras feels too small and weak to succeed, but bonds with another outsider there, Maara, a mysterious woman with no past, who came from the north and whose loyalties are consequently suspected by the others. Maara initially rejects Tamras, but after the warrior is hurt while fending off cattle raiders, it’s Tamras who is largely responsible for nursing her back to health, and the pair begin to forge a relationship. After providing valuable information, Maara wins Merin’s trust, although others in the house still perceive her as a threat.

There is a great deal of sitting around here, though I suspect that might be partly the point. To quote Maara, “Most of a warrior’s days are uneventful” this coming after a month when she and Tamras have been part of a group which spent a month guarding against further livestock theft, without very much happening at all. The nearest to proper action are the reports of the battle where the warriors successfully repel an attack, thanks to Maara’s intel. I liked the setting, this being a world where gender – at least, in this part of the world – is not seen as an issue, with men and women fighting side by side. It’s also definitely lesbian friendly – more so than action heroine friendly, I would suggest.

For there was a point, probably about two-thirds of the way through, that I realized the author really wasn’t interested in providing an adrenaline-packed thrill-ride. This is much more about the relationships between the women – we poor men rarely merit a mention – and in Tamras’s growth as a person. Taken as that character study, it’s by no means bad: Wilson has a good turn of phrase, with some of the more spiritual experiences having particular weight. But at other points, it does feel more like sword ‘n’ soap-opera, and the overall sense of much more interesting stuff happening elsewhere became overpowering before the end. The rating above reflects that; while on purely literary terms, it’s likely better, I was left wanting less talk and more fighting.

Author: Catherine M. Wilson
Publisher: Shield Maiden Press, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 3 in the When Women Were Warriors series.

The Way

  By

★★½
“Well, I did not see THAT coming…”

I think it has been a long time since a film has so completely yanked the carpet out from under me. We might have to go back all the way to David Lynch’s Lost Highway, and that was 1997. So it has been a while. I’m not sure if it works here. It did in Highway; I’m just uncertain whether Khalili is as good a film-maker as Lynch. It’d likely require a second viewing to decide, and I wasn’t that impressed elsewhere to justify a repeat. I will remember it though, and that’s more than can be said for many of the films I review here. So it was not a complete waste of time. 

It’s the story of Jane Arcs (Jane), whom we first meet as she is on death row, preparing for her execution. Over a decade previously, she had killed another woman during an underground mixed martial-arts match, and was subsequently sentenced to death for it. Initially bitter and still filled with rage, in jail she met Qi Gong Master Xin (Wong), and learned from her how to manage her emotions, through both physical and mental training. Now, Jane is considerably more at peace with her imminent death than others around her. Most notably, guard Max Stone (Watson), who has come to care for Jane over the previous 13 years, and will go to any lengths to stop her being executed. 

This is, at least for the first hour, more of a redemptional drama than anything. There are a lot of flashbacks to Jane’s life on the outside, and we see what happened there. First, there’s the fight in question: while undeniably brutal, I am still not sure why it was deemed a capital crime. That’s especially so, given the extenuating circumstances which we then see, going a long way to explaining why Jane was overflowing with anger at life. Oddly – and this is another Lynchian touch – Watson also plays Ben Jorden, the father of Jane’s child on the outside. Otherwise, though, it’s a fairly straightforward story, albeit one that leans heavily into cliché. For instance, Xin often sounds more like a fortune cookie, saying things like, “The only respect you need is self-respect.”

And then… Wait, what just happened? You will take a few minutes to figure that out, and even when you do, you may well not be able to wrap your head around it adequately. I even Googled for an interview with the director, hoping to get some explanation. No dice – and in the end, it may be better that way. I suspect it might well fall short of satisfying. By the end, I was left with a furrowed brow, and it’s perhaps a little unfortunate. For if the story is otherwise too obvious and with gaps in its logic, I did appreciate the performances. Jane puts over an inner strength that is impressive. Shame it is so thoroughly overshadowed by the abrupt left-turn towards the end.

Dir: Dastan Khalili
Star: Eli Jane, Kelcey Watson, Joan Wong, Lorenzo Antonucci

When the World has Ended, by Rick Wood

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Literary rating: ★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆½

“It just seemed as if Hell opened up one day and that was that. Instant carnage, liberated monsters, death for all. They rose from somewhere beneath the ground, attacking for no clear reason and killing until God knows when.” That’s how this starts, so there’s no hanging around. Cia Rose is one of the few survivors, for whom every day survival is a perilous endeavour. She’s seventeen, and the daughter of a scientist. When the monsterpocalypse took place, the rich, influential and powerful – who, it appears, knew this was coming – headed for their shelters. Her father was allowed in, to research the invaders. Cia was not.

Four years later, she’s barely scraping by, running from the creatures or their mindless human slaves, known as Wasters. She still holds a grudge, albeit an understandable one, at being abandoned. But Cia is devoted to “Boy”, an autistic child whom she saved after his parents were torn apart by Masketes, a vicious flying species with lethal fangs and claws. The two are separated when Cia is captured by a pack of Wasters, and most of the book is concerned with her attempts to re-unite with Boy. During the process, she discovers that regular humans can be as much a threat as any monster, and finds out the truth about what happened to her father, both back in the early days of the invasion, and since then.

Wood certainly doesn’t stint on the horror, with much rending of flesh by the monsters, though I never really got much of an idea of what they looked like. For example, a Thoral has four legs and is “about the size of the average bungalow.” More than that, I’d be hard-pushed to say. Regardless, life is now nasty and brutal, not least when Cia is captured and made to become part of a repopulation program. The resulting sex scene is, perhaps intentionally, borderline creepy given the heroine’s age. Though it’s worth noting the story is set in Britain where the age of consent is 16 – not that “consent” is much of a factor here.

I think the biggest misstep is at the end, where Cia takes action which results in the immediate deaths of hundreds of people, destroying what had been a safe haven. No matter how bad your Daddy issues, and regardless of the reason, it’s hard to come to terms with the vast carnage for which she is directly responsible, willfully and very much with malice aforethought, while still empathizing with the character. Even though nobody we particularly care about is lost – only bad people, judged by Cia’s severely questionable moral code – it yanked away almost all desire to follow her progress through this post-apocalyptic landscape. It was basically a teenage temper tantrum. Having raised two teenagers, my tolerance for those is slim, especially with the lethal consequences they have here.

Author: Rick Wood
Publisher: Independently published, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 4 in the Cia Rose series.