mirrorsofthesoul
mirrorsofthesoul
A cup of tea large enough or a book long enough
16 posts
Dee | She/They | Old as heck | BritishHey, this is a blog I'm using to log any and all books I'm reading. I used to read every day for hours, to the point that some weeks I was reading a book a day. That sadly dwindled off when I finished University. I started to only read once a month, then maybe two or three times a year. So this blog is connected to my main account and hopefully is going to push me into reading at least once a month once again. Here's hoping I can keep it up successfully. Photo by @chris.lawton
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mirrorsofthesoul · 28 days ago
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Studying in the library 📖
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mirrorsofthesoul · 29 days ago
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mirrorsofthesoul · 1 month ago
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Author's Note - Erik J. Brown on All That's Left in the World
“Why did I write a pandemic book? I know the reason I gave when my editor first offered on the novel you hold in your hands and it hasn’t changed (though many other things have): I was tired of not seeing queer representation in post-apocalyptic stories. And that’s what this book is. A post-apocalyptic story. 
“Editing All That’s Left in the World over the last two years has been a difficult balancing act. What I originally wrote in 2015 had to be altered because it was reading false. The superflu in this book wasn’t meant to be Covid-to-the-extreme. It was its own fictional creature.
“When Balzer + Bray in the US and Hachette Children’s in the UK decided in March of 2020 to publish this book, I wanted nothing about Covid in these pages because we were all living through it together. Why add in real-world pandemic moments when this was always supposed to be escapist fiction? Why even bring up Covid at all?
“But the longer Covid went on, the more irresponsible it seemed to try to ignore its impact on our world and not include something about it in the novel. I was torn between making this an alternate reality where Covid never happened and Andrew and Jamie’s world never learned the lessons from that, or having it take place in a near-future after Covid, where even the lessons the world learned couldn’t protect us from this new deadly virus. 
“So I came back to the balancing act. How much reality do I put in the fiction? I tweaked this – with the help and understanding of my editorial team – all the way up to the last possible second (Timestamp: 1:57 p.m. on November 8, 2021). While there are brief references to Covid as part of the characters’ histories, the similarities end there. 
“I’ve tried to approach the subject with as much sensitivity as possible, but this is a post-apocalyptic novel. It’s sad, it’s scary, it’s thrilling. But hopefully you also laughed, or shook your head and smiled, or even got full-on heart-eyed stomach butterflies.
“Like I said, I wrote All That’s Left in the World as a story of two teens finding hope after surviving a pandemic. I didn’t realise by the time it was published the theme would be universal. 
“Have hope, be safe, and help keep others safe.”
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mirrorsofthesoul · 1 month ago
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Jamie, boy you're too nice
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mirrorsofthesoul · 1 month ago
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That’s what makes you good. Despite everything, you don’t feel like you’ve done enough. But there’s never an enough.
Erik J. Brown, All That's Left in the World
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mirrorsofthesoul · 1 month ago
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𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫
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mirrorsofthesoul · 1 month ago
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They are so stupid, I love them
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mirrorsofthesoul · 1 month ago
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A quiet afternoon
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mirrorsofthesoul · 1 month ago
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We were all scared. And fear made us all do incomprehensible things.
Erik J. Brown, All That's Left in the World
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mirrorsofthesoul · 1 month ago
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All That’s Left in the World by Erik J. Brown 
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A post apocalypse slow burn queer romance, which had me hooked and invested from the start. It explores the key concepts of what it means to be human. What aspects of humanity and morality remain important when society is no more? What hopes do people cling too, as all hope seems to be lost?
Our narrators Jamie and Andrew, have similar needs and wants. They come to understand that other people have similar, if not the same goals, though their morality and beliefs may be in stark contrast to both Jamie’s and Andrew’s. 
All That’s Left in the World is a journey of hope. Jamie and Andrew develop a friendship throughout, which quickly develops into a closer relationship. Both characters catching feelings for the other and each having an existential panic in their own chapters about their growing feelings for one another. They become each other’s reason to live, to fight, and to carry on working towards their seemingly impossible dream.
As the narrative switches between the two, it allows the perspective to show the growth of each character and how they change for the better over the duration of the story. They support each other throughout. With them both learning to let go of the past and to live on, with hope for a better future. 
The story opens-up many questions about humanity. How when pushed to the limit and when exposed to extreme circumstances, some people’s humanity is tested and found wanting. Morality is often used both by antagonist and protagonist characters, with both seeing their own morality or lack of, as the ‘right’ way. In one section of the book Jamie’s resolve to protect Andrew overshadows his usual moral compass; causing him to act against a threat and pulling the trigger, when at an earlier point he struggled to justify killing, despite the need to.
Jamie and Andrew as our protagonists, are often seen as being morally right. They are not outwardly antagonistic towards others, unless provoked first. Both have the chance to be aggressive and throw away their basic morals, instead they stick to their own personal morals, even when it is a detriment to them. They and the reader alongside them stay hopeful that they’ll find a safe place. A shelter and home.
I really enjoyed the journey that the story took me on. With engaging narrators and a colourful imagery for the world they inhabit, the story kept me hooked until the last page. I was genuinely on the edge of my seat for several tense moments throughout and found myself racing ahead to see if Jamie and Andrew would make it out in one piece. The characters are relatable and so hopeful, that you can’t help but hope right alongside them. 
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mirrorsofthesoul · 1 month ago
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Instagram: pagesofelysian
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mirrorsofthesoul · 1 month ago
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꒰ all thats left in the world moodboard ꒱
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all thats left in the world is currently my favourite book of all time !! its a queer apocalypse story that follows two boys , Andrew and Jamie !!
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mirrorsofthesoul · 1 month ago
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You have to trust people sometimes. The good in this world might surprise you.
Erik J. Brown, All That's Left in the World
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mirrorsofthesoul · 1 month ago
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What I read in 2024...
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“Jamie and Andrew are strangers. And two of the last people left alive.”
After the Superflu rages through the Earth’s population, ending family lines and civilisations alike. The few people left behind struggle to regain the normalcy they once knew. 
Following the death of his mother, who succumbed to the virus herself; Jamie (Jamison) is left alone in his family’s cabin. An injured Andrew stumbles across the cabin and Jamie allows him to stay whilst he recovers. They quickly develop a friendship and soon find it inconceivable to part ways after Andrew recuperates. Thus, they begin a to live together peacefully, their lives now entangled beyond what they ever expected. When their circumstances change suddenly, the two are forced to leave the safety of the cabin and begin a journey to the south. Looking for a safe place and a community they can count on.   
The world is perilous and the devastation of the Superflu has left its scars on more than just the people. Society has crumbled and the world along with it. Leaving Andrew and Jamie scrambling to find a semblance of what they once knew and loved. 
“Find Shelter. Find Safety. Find Each Other.”
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mirrorsofthesoul · 1 month ago
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cats and libraries ۫ ꣑ৎ
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mirrorsofthesoul · 1 month ago
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The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary. Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore- While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping. As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "Tis some visitor," I muttered, "lapping at my chamber door- Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow-vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore- Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before: So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating "Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door- Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door- This it is and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping. And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you-here I opened wide the door- Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before But the silence was unbroken, and the stilness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore- Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning. Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore- Tis the wind and nothing more!
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a firt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door- Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door- Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore- Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly. Though its answer little mearning-little relevancy bore For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being, Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door- Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered-not a feather then he fluttered- Til I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before- On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before." Then the bird said "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of Never-nevermore."
But the Raven still beguling all my fancy into smiling Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore- What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er. But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore: Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet said I, "Thing of evil-prophet still, if bird or devill Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted- On this home by Horror haunted-tell me truly, I implore- Is there is there balm in Gilead?-tell me tell me, I implore Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet" said I, "thing of evil-prophet still, il bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore- Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore- Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting- "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken-quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door! Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door, And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted-nevermore!
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