An oldie from the Captain and Tennille from back in the day. Keeping with the love theme.
Lord, you give creativity, music, gifts and talents. You know hearts and minds. May each one that participates in the various creative gifts know from whom they are generously given. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Here's the deal. I've read several novels in the last couple of months, but I haven't felt compelled to write reviews for them. What that means in my world is they were a disappointment. I just finished one with a favorite female heroine (general market) who I've enjoyed in the previous several stories. Now this gal is double-tough, kind of a no-mercy type. However, in this story she's like a psychopath. Now I understand her motivation for taking out the opposition when she figures out who and why, but this level of almost glee at putting them to brutal deaths just doesn't quite mesh with her overall character of past stories.
Like I said, she's basically a private assassin and her favorite skill-tool is her tomahawk, but the graphics used in this story with truly an attitude of real pleasure at the kills doesn't fit well with her past. She's not above providing brutal deaths to those who are wicked evil, but this time? No. She's too psychopathic in this one. And I'm choosing to let this one go.
Not all that interesting I know, but the novels that haven't been that good have been too frequent in recent times.
Father, help me to choose my reading material wisely and to be fair in my reviews. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise — the fruit of lips that confess his name.
Hebrews 13:15
Exactly. Popular fictional character: Mitch Rapp, the late Vince Flynn's unequaled thriller hero, his legacy resumed by Kyle Mills.
We left off here last Friday. Here's a brief snapshot of that segment moving right into the next.
Perusing the menus, they closed them simultaneously and sipped their drinks.
“I’m not great at making conversation.”
“A man of few words. I can appreciate that.”
“What about you?”
She gave a brief laugh. “I have a tendency to spill my guts with little provocation. An open book mostly. Except where work is concerned.”
She noticed he gave her that almost smile.
“Husband, boyfriend?” He caught her quick look away and back to him.
“I believe we share a similar circumstance in our distant pasts. My fiancé was KIA. We were told it was in Afghanistan, but I suspect that was a ruse.” She adjusted her posture. “No one even remotely serious since.”
He studied her. She didn’t flinch. “But many have tried?”
She smiled, slightly embarrassed. “Some.”
The young man returned with pad and pencil. Rapp nodded at Christine and she gave him her order. Rapp followed with his. He nodded to them and quickly returned to refresh Rapp’s coffee with the dark brew.
“So, you want to ‘spill your guts’ to me? Outside of work of course.”
She laughed. “Okay. I’m willing to tell you some things that Irene wouldn’t have mentioned and that you possibly might not appreciate.”
“Intriguing.”
She spoke directly to him, her tone firm and serious. “Not that ‘intriguing’, Rapp, but very real to me. I’m a Christian.”
She watched as the expressionless mask took over his face but not before she caught the minute moment of a reaction in his eyes.
The waiter arrived and carefully placed their plates in front of them. He spoke for the first time. “If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll be back with a refill of your drink and more espresso.”
“I’m not surprised,” he said after they’d both taken a few bites and got their beverages refilled.
She set her fork down and took a drink from her glass. “Well, I’m surprised that you’re not.” She smiled at him.
He too set his fork down, sat back a bit, and looked at his plate, pensive.
She waited, her glass on the table still in her hand.
“As you’re well aware, we come across all kinds of people in this world. I’ve seen some of the worst.” He paused and grasped his cup but left it on the table. “You could say I’ve had to look the devil in the eye.”
She waited.
“I’ve wondered how I’ve managed to make it this far.”
He picked up his fork and went back to his meal as did she.
“I see why this is a favorite place of yours. Great food, nice atmosphere, good people. Feels good to have a few ‘normal’ minutes.” He took a drink of his espresso. “So what else?”
It took her a moment to realize his reference, but she added, “I love to hike, but I can’t do heights or cliffs. Really can’t. As a kid, I rode my bike everywhere, but I hate bike riding and bike riders now – at least those who think they should have equal space with cars.”
He gave one of his rare laughs but sobered quickly. “Yeah, thought I’d take up biking for a brief stint.” He paused. “Didn’t work out.” He finished his espresso. “Heights I can do. It’s caves for me. Do my best to stay out of them.”
She felt her face heat briefly as she considered what to say next.
“What?”
She glanced up from a quick look at her plate.
“It’ll no doubt strike you as silly, and comparably it’s downright ridiculous,” she said with a brief shake of her head.
“Let’s have it.”
“I,” she looked away and then sat up straighter. “I’ve taken some private military instruction with various weapons combined with my self-defense classes. I’ve learned so much, and, please don’t take this wrong, but I’ve found it to be quite fulfilling as I’ve accomplished certain challenges.” She knew she blushed. “It’s nothing like what you’ve had to do,” her voice dipping.
He cocked his head slightly and watched her. “I respect that,” he said after several moments. “Did your dad suggest you do that at some point?”
“He did.”
“He must’ve known you had the talent and drive to do it.”
“He didn’t want me to get involved in . . . in what he did, but apparently he thought I could have. My brain kind of operated the way his did, and he told me I was gifted with a gun. He was my hero, you know, so his praise meant everything to me.” She reached for her napkin and quickly patted under her eyes. “I’m sorry, Rapp. I didn’t mean to make this conversation about me.”
“That’s the best part of this conversation. I prefer not making it about me.”
She took another drink and hesitated briefly before saying, “Is there anything you want to tell me or ask me? I know you’ve been trained to evaluate people. Not only because of your line of work but because of your innate sense of self-preservation, you won’t easily trust me if ever at all. If you don’t want to be my client, I would hope that somehow we might be able to cultivate a friendship. Do you think that could ever be feasible?”
Rapp decided right then that he liked this woman. She was truthful and had no obvious desire to play games. She didn’t pry into his life even though he suspected she knew a fair amount about him, having said as much in her office when she told him she’d admired him for some time. He considered her offer.
“If you had to choose, which one would you take?”
“Friendship, hands down,” she replied without hesitation. “But before that could happen, I have a confession to make. Not here though.”
Father, thank you for the fun, the absolute enjoyment, of writing this. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
This is not a review of the first prequel to Mitch Rapp's life story. Rather it's a post I wrote last year as a Mitch Rapp Ambassador. (I didn't apply for that honor this year.) It explains the kind of thoughts I've experienced over the course of reading the entire collection of Vince Flynn's and Kyle Mill's Mitch Rapp novels. With the latest in the series due out on September 13th of this year, it seemed like a good time to reflect on the impetus for my Fan Fiction . . . a la Mitch Rapp posts:
"Mitch Rapp's Women"
Let's start with Mitch Rapp's college fiancée who we never meet. We know two things about her: Mitch loved her and planned to marry her; her death on the Lockerbie flight caused by the direct act of terrorists was the impetus that produced the best operator/assassin America had yet to see.
Let's go next to Irene Kennedy, brilliant discoverer of Mitch Rapp who believed in him from the beginning, argued with Stan Hurley about him and always defended Rapp even when he became his "own" man and operator and chose to go off-script. For the longest time, Irene was the only person in the world (besides his mother) who he could trust. And although in his current life he no longer works for Irene and the CIA, their mutual respect and love for each other as longtime friends with the bonds that risking lives and saving lives form, Irene remains close to him even when he might wish to distance himself from what she knows only he can accomplish.
We learn much later about an agent from another country with whom Rapp had a serious passionate affair. She was a wild thing, good at what she did, beautiful and sexy. A thrilling combination for the young Mitch Rapp.
***SPOILER ALERT!***
Then came the woman he married. In many ways the opposite of Mitch politically, she was intelligent, opinionated and with that outspoken. Personally, I never liked her character. But apparently this is the kind of woman Rapp prefers, and their sad story broke him for a time, leaving a deep scar. He finally began the long healing process by the end of my favorite of all the Mitch Rapp stories, Consent to Kill.
(Old cover pictured here.)
Now there is Claudia, a strong and outspoken French woman, who Mitch has been with for some time after the death of her criminal partner and father of her daughter, who is now 10 years old. Mitch first saw Claudia in a stunning scene in Consent to Kill. Claudia's intense skills have helped out with Mitch's missions and Irene's planning and she and Irene have become good friends. Claudia's connections with a criminal underworld from her past occasionally provide valuable information and asset availability – for the right price of course. Rapp is sliding in and out of seeing a real future with Claudia to the point of walking her daughter down the aisle one day. I think his attraction to Claudia was of course a passionate one but also a respect for her intelligence and abilities. He's become very protective of his "adopted" family, but he still wavers and waffles about ultimate commitment which is probably his way of justifying their protection. People attached to his kind tend to disappear.
I have the perfect woman for Mitch Rapp designed in my mind, how they meet, her profession, his reaction, but, alas, it'll probably stay where it is: in my imagination. Sigh.
(As you know, I've finally introduced the woman I want for Mitch Rapp in my Fan Fiction.)
Father, please continue to provide Mitch Rapp stories that minister. So far, they've been thrilling, poignant, and covered real characterizations of operators and politicians. It would be especially powerful to have the spiritual component included in a dynamic fashion. Only you, Lord. Thank you for Vince Flynn, Kyle Mills, and the entire staff who've brought this amazing series to readers. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
In the world of writing stories, it's sometimes difficult to predict what will turn out to be the next trend. Who knew that stories of teenage vampires would be the rage when the Twilight books hit the stores and then the movie screens? Monsters have always been popular. The original Dracula, Frankenstein, and the Jekyll and Hyde novels have survived for eons, been made into countless films with multiple variations of the originals. And let's not forget the semi-current popularity of zombies and aliens and super-heroes of old made new.
On a different level altogether, we went through years of Amish stories, Nicholas Sparks' sentimental tear-jerkers, and trending books have even drifted to the macabre and perverse.
Series novels with heroes and heroines are still trending with continuation books featured around a central figure wading into the double digits with readers anxiously waiting for the next installment.
Truth be known, romance novels never get old to the devotees of the genre, but, for many authors, it's next to impossible to "compete" for a spot amidst those hundreds of well-known writers of romance. To know what will strike that incredible chord to bring recognition amidst this huge stable of authors? That's for a publisher to decide or for an indie author to choose just the right marketing tools. No guarantees promised.
Do you see a coming trend in the world of writing stories? Have you noticed anything new? Are you hoping to create one?
Father, apart from you, I can do nothing. I think I'll leave it at that. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
If ever there was a love song written to express deep love, this is it. And I can't hear it any better than through the voice of Johnny Mathis. Until the Twelfth of Never . . . and that's a long, long time.
Father, you love us more than we can imagine. Our minds can't work that big. I love you, Lord, with all my heart, but it's insufficient and stained by sin. Thank you for forgiving me, rescuing me, and loving me in spite of me. No words can thank you enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
On the thriller site I visit, the guys were praising the new movie of Mark Greaney's first in his series of The Gray Man.
As the title implies, the average person would walk right by him and probably not give him a second look. The average stranger in a crowd. He's perfected the look of being unnoticeable while having gained the actual notoriety of being the top and almost mythically skilled assassin for hire. You want the best? You seek out The Gray Man. So when a brutal two-faced African dictator who's soon leaving his position as head of his country puts an indecently high bounty on the literal head of The Gray Man because of an incident concerning the dictator's brother, literal teams of killers from nearly every country are hired by a firm who wants one last deal with the dictator before he steps down. To secure that deal one representative seeks out The Gray Man's boss and to insure he gets what he wants from him, he presents a very real threat.
Through the course of this story, Courtland Gentry (aka The Gray Man) is forced to figure out he's the target of some major killing teams. This realization slams him hard and requires every trick he's ever mastered in his covert practices plus being forced to seek aid where he's never had to go. No one could expect to escape multiple assassination attempts of this magnitude.
As you know, I've read loads of thrillers by some of the best in the genre. I will tell you this about Mark's book: I don't think I've ever read a novel that has more ongoing serious conflict where it's one life or death confrontation after another. You frequently hear reviewers say, "This story never lets up!" The only book I've ever read where that expression comes true is this one. It never lets up. In a way it's exhausting to read. Almost too much.
Finally as the pages dwindle in another dire situation, there's a slight twist at the end.
If you're a diehard thriller fan who craves a lot of detailed action with all kinds of everything that entails, The Gray Man by Mark Greaney is the book for you and the beginning of potentially many more action-packed books in the series.
Father, you know hearts and minds and everything else in all of us. Please bless your writers and authors. May they all know from whom their talent comes. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
. . . For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths. But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry.
2 Timothy 4:3-5 (NIV)
These are the original novels by the late great Vince Flynn. We are grateful that Kyle Mills has taken up the mantle for Vince's creation of the unequaled Mitch Rapp. Throughout the stories of Rapp, I've never cared for the women he's fallen for, so just for my pleasure and fun, I've begun some Fan Fiction to present The One with whom I believe Rapp should spend the rest of his life. My fun continues:
(You can catch up here and here.)
“How long have you known Irene?”
She cut her gaze away from the mirror to look at him and followed it with staring out the windshield. “About 18 years or so. I don’t get to see her often, but we try to communicate fairly regularly and if possible to have lunch once a month. Doesn’t always happen, but it’s always good when it does. She’s recommended several clients over the years. It’s rewarding to have someone like her have that confidence in me. Truthfully, for her to recommend me to you? Priceless. I didn’t think you’d show up.” She quickly shot a glance at his profile.
“Not sure why I did,” he replied after a few moments passed.
She gave him further directions. He pulled into the tiny parking lot and backed into a spot near the entrance to what resembled a small restaurant where he once had dinner in Rome. Strange to have that memory surface.
Christine collected her purse from the floor and began to open the door.
“Sit tight, Doc.” He got out and did a careful but casual assessment as he rounded the front of the car to open her door.
Once inside the restaurant, they were greeted by a man who immediately extended his hand to grasp Christine’s and bring it to his lips.
“So good to see you again, Christine.” Returning her hand, he extended his to Rapp. “It’s a pleasure, sir." He shook it firmly.
“Follow me. I have your usual table available, cara mia.”
“Thank you, Paolo. How is Rose?”
He led them to the table as he spoke. “She is wonderful as always.” A genuine smile accompanied his words.
Rapp noted it was situated so both of their chairs faced the front door and maintained a clear view of the kitchen’s entrance. He ordered a black espresso, she a tonic water with lime.
“You come here often,” he stated.
“Often as I can which hasn’t been often enough lately.”
A young man with olive skin and a dark ponytail tied back low on his neck set their beverages and menus before them, nodded and left them alone.
Perusing the menus, they closed them simultaneously and sipped their drinks.
“I’m not great at making conversation.”
“A man of few words. I can appreciate that.”
“What about you?”
She gave a brief laugh. “I have a tendency to spill my guts with little provocation. An open book mostly. Except where work is concerned.”
She noticed he gave her that almost smile.
“Husband, boyfriend?” He caught her quick look away and back to him.
“I believe we share a similar circumstance in our distant pasts. My fiancé was KIA. We were told it was in Afghanistan, but I suspect that was a ruse.” She adjusted her posture. “No one even remotely serious since.”
He studied her. She didn’t flinch. “But many have tried?”
She smiled, slightly embarrassed. “Some.”
The young man returned with pad and pencil. Rapp nodded at Christine and she gave him her order. Rapp followed with his. He thanked them and quickly returned to refresh Rapp’s coffee with the dark brew.
Thank you, Lord. This has been rejuvenating and so much fun. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
