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Reader Rating: (250 ratings)
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The underground population of witches, vampires, werewolves—creatures of dreams and nightmares—has lived beside humans for centuries, hiding their powers. But after a genetically engineered virus wipes out a large part of humanity, many of the "Inderlanders" reveal themselves, changing everything.
Rachel Morgan, witch and bounty hunter with the Inderland Runner Services, is one of the best at apprehending supernatural lawbreakers throughout Cincinnati, but when it comes to following the rules, she falls desperately short. Determined to buck the system, she quits and takes off on the run with an I.S. contract on her head and is reluctantly forced to team up with Ivy, Inderland's best runner . . . and a living vampire. But this witch is way out of her league, and to clear her name, Rachel must evade shape-changing assassins, outwit a powerful businessman/crime lord, and survive a vicious underground fight-to-the-death . . . not to mention her own roommate.
More Reviews and RecommendationsBest known for her paranormal fantasy series starring sexy witch/bounty hunter Rachel Morgan, New York Times-bestselling author Kim Harrison is one of the leading lights in a burgeoning hybrid genre that combines fantasy, mystery, horror, and romance.
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November 11, 2009: I enjoyed this book a lot. The characters are fun and entertaining. If you like the Sookie Stackhouse books you probably will enjoy this series.
I Also Recommend: Night Pleasures (Dark-Hunter Series), Dead until Dark (Sookie Stackhouse / Southern Vampire Series #1) (True Blood), A Touch of Dead, Dark Lover (Black Dagger Brotherhood Series #1), Touch the Dark (Cassandra Palmer Series #1).
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November 02, 2009: This is the first book in the Rachel Morgan Series. If one can get through the first hundred or so pages the rest of the book is a real treat. The reader starts to feel like part of the action. The way the supernatural world and the human world combine in this series is intriguing. By the end of this book I personally could not wait to read the next one in this series.
Name:
Kim Harrison
Current Home:
Rock Hill, South Carolina
Education:
B.A. in the sciences, 1989
Awards:
Romantic Times Award for Best Fantasy Novel for Dead Witch Walking, 2004; P.E.A.R.L. (Paranormal Excellence Award for Romantic Literature) Award for Best Science Fiction Novel for The Good, the Bad, and the Undead, 2005
Bestselling paranormal fantasy author Kim Harrison went all the way through school with nary a thought of becoming a writer. A biology major in college, she took only the required English courses needed to graduate. So when the writing bug hit her later in life, she found herself at a real disadvantage with grammar, spelling, and other basic weapons in the scribbler's arsenal. However, her love of books was her saving grace. Always a voracious reader, Harrison instinctively recognized the role of plot, pacing, and character development in good storytelling. She set about writing with great enthusiasm and plugged away for the better part of decade, until she was able to bring her skills up to par.
Harrison's debut novel grew out of frustration with a growing pile of rejection notices. In an attempt to get publishers' attention, she set out to craft something deliberately weird and edgy. She conceived a motley cast of vampires, werewolves, pixies, and witches, including a sexy bounty hunter named Rachel Morgan, and threw them together in a short story. Then, her agent introduced her to editor Diana Gill, and together they refined and expanded Harrison's idea into a full length novel.
Published in 2004, Dead Witch Walking became a bestseller, launched a blockbuster series, and catapulted Harrison into a pantheon of paranormal superstars that includes Laurell K. Hamilton, Charlaine Harris, Christine Feehan, and Sherrilyn Kenyon. As if to validate her inclusion in these ranks, Harrison's stories have also been included in several bestselling paranormal collections.
What was the book that most influenced your life or your career as a writer?
I look back on my reading as I was growing up, and I can see a good handful of authors and series that have impacted my writing, but if I had to pick one title that did the most "damage," I'd have to say that it was Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury. I believe I was about ten when I read it first, not understanding as much as I do now, but I knew there was something there, a greater truth of the human condition, if I could only find it. So I kept looking, unknowingly studying Bradbury's pacing, suspense, use of language, and my favorite, how to describe a character in a single paragraph so that the reader instantly knows who that character is on the inside.
It was here that I first saw the power a writer can command when he or she mixes fantasy with the stark honesty of the human condition. The monsters in Bradbury's Dandelion Wine were the monsters inside us, as were the heroes, but that didn't make them any less real -- it made them more so. I fell in love with the fluidity he uses the language with, that the greater truth that can be found in the simplest things. A way of seeing, I suppose. Dandelion Wine became one of the few books that I returned to time and again, and while not anywhere near the story crafter as Mr. Bradbury, I hope I managed to absorb by osmosis some of his techniques.
What are your ten favorite books, and what makes them special to you?
My ten favorite books are going to look like a history lesson of young adult reading rather than a leather-bound collection of great literature. They are good, solid reads that satisfied my like of adventure and the chance to learn something along the way. Apart from the few children's books in there, most are from the SF/fantasy authors popular in the ‘70s and early ‘80s when I was doing most of my reading. I didn't know it at the time, but I think I was studying them, picking the authors' work apart and seeing what worked and what didn't. Some might even be out of print, but they will always remain new-penny bright to me.
What are some of your favorite films, and what makes them unforgettable to you?
As the reader has probably guessed, I'm a big fan of Clint Eastwood's movies. I've not seen them all by any means, but my favorite is probably Pale Rider or Heartbreak Ridge. I've often seen my protagonist like some of the characters that Clint played in his spaghetti westerns, the loaner who comes into town with the ability to wipe out the corruption, but not always eager to do it, and when pressured into it, doesn't always take care of business lawfully but with justice.
Some of my other favorite films are:
What types of music do you like? Is there any particular kind you like to listen to when you're writing?
Music oftentimes inspires my writing, or at least my characters and the direction they take. I've found that when I'm having trouble solidifying a character or a scene, that music will often free my subconscious just that last little bit to allow me to move forward, and often it's in a direction that I didn't expect, but is 100 percent true to the character. Alternate rock seems to be my favorite for the themes in the lyrics and the sound, rich in variety, though slow jazz will slip in on a rainy day, and electronic dance will get me through an action scene before I realize the day has slipped away.
I don't always listen while I work, but when I do, I tend to focus on certain bands that reflect the Hollows or the characters. NIN is good for working with Ivy or Rachel for the frustrated, in-your-face attitude. Rachel is pure Garbage with a little Evanescence thrown in for the themes focusing on the tragedy of the individual arising from our own choices. Evanescence is Ivy as well, with the attention given to manipulation, great for vampires. When I'm stuck on a scene with my two leading ladies, it's Amy Lee all day. A Perfect Circle is another group that really brings vampires to my mind.
When I brought to the readers the connections that I made between the characters and certain songs, they responded with such a plethora of ideas that I had to devote a portion of my web site, www.kimharrison.net, to cataloging them. Their ideas have expanded my music tastes dramatically, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that lots of people can see the characters in music as I do.
What are your favorite kinds of books to give -- and get -- as gifts?
If I give a book as a gift, it is invariably a children's book with beautiful artwork and a simple text. I adore the feel of them, the care taken in the artwork, and the high visual stimulation that sets off the simple but often powerful message the text conveys. You can't read a book like that fast, the experience slowed down as you study the artwork as the sentence or two sinks in. I'm lucky that my mother loves books like these as much as I do, and it's probably from her that my appreciation comes from.
Do you have any special writing rituals? For example, what do you have on your desk when you're writing?
I recently moved my office space from a three-by-five area against my kitchen wall to a real office with windows and a door, and I am enjoying it so much it's almost not fair. I have made a point to not develop a ritual so I could sit down at any point in my day and begin -- preventing a 30-minute warm-up -- but alas, a ritual has found me, involving spending the first hour of my day responding to my readers, loosening up my fingers, and slamming down my first cup of chai tea. That never-ending mug of chai tea is a must, and it is with me from the moment I sit down to when I push back at the end of the day and wobble out of my office. I have a salt lamp that I light to ionize the air when I know it's going to be an intense day, and I've got my iPod that I will sometimes program and loop to keep the mood flowing and the passing of hours unnoticed. Oh, and I have a four-legged office assistant that keeps my feet warm and gets me outside three times a day.
Many writers are hardly "overnight success" stories. How long did it take for you to get where you are today? Any rejection-slip horror stories or inspirational anecdotes?
Someone told me that it takes ten years' hard work to become an overnight success, and I fully believe it. I've been writing for at least that long, stashing manuscripts under my bed and a filling a file with short stories that will never see the light of day. I collected my share of rejection slips along the way, and actually, I threw all but two out while moving my office. It felt really, really good to throw the others away. I mean, really good, like I had finally made it and I was never going back. I have since framed and hung the two I kept as a constant reminder of where I started and how fragile the journey was to get where I am now.
I kept my first rejection letter as a reminder of how crushed I felt when I received it, and the surge of blind determination that followed that this one person was not going to tell me what I could and couldn't do. The other letter I kept is a query as to the availability of Dead Witch Walking (which was in production at the time in another house). I put this one on my wall as a reminder to take everyone seriously, because you'll never know what you'll pass up if you don't.
I never considered I might make a career out of writing as I was going to school, so when I did turn my attentions that way, I was very ill prepared, having only what I read as a guide, and no formal training whatsoever. I credit that very ignorance with a great deal of my success. My voice was my own from day one, my ideas on how to get from point A to point B were my own -- they were pathetically rough, but they were my own. I had to work extremely hard to catch up with grammar and spelling, but I fell in love with the process and kept at it until my skills started to equal my enthusiasm. Most importantly, I never considered that I wouldn't make it. Ignorance is bliss sometimes. If I had known how hard it would be, I might have given up.
What tips or advice do you have for writers still looking to be discovered?
I have two pieces of advice that I give out to writers looking for publication. The first is to write like you have the contract. Which by, I mean, intently and with purpose. If you want to be a writer, BE A WRITER. Sit down and write, don't make a game out of it, but treat it as a part-time job. You will never be a writer if you don't first start acting like it. You don't need an office. You don't need a fancy printer or huge chunks of time. Don't fall into the trap of having to have everything perfect to write or wait until the mood strikes you. If you want it as a job, treat it like a job, and just as you don't go to work only when you feel like it, you have to condition yourself to sit and write even when the ideas don't flow. Ah, having said that, don't quit your day job. I was lucky to have someone to support me and supplement my part-time day job while I was building my skills, but a page a day will get you a completed manuscript in a year's time.
My second suggestion would be to get into a face-to-face, functioning critique group. The reasons are twofold. First, publication is a hard path to follow, and friends who can relate will make it easier. Secondly, there's bound to be a published author there, and they can start to open doors for you. I credit my old writers' critique group with me finding publication so "fast." They helped me learn what is good advice, and what is bad. I learned confidence in my ideas and my skills, I polished my voice, and my style. And when I was ready, someone shoved my little introverted butt in front of the man who eventually became my agent. And yes, she literally dragged me over there.
Which brings me to the shy people. Don't worry about it. If you truly love your work, you can do anything. Trust me on this. Your enthusiasm will pour out, and you will be heard.
The Barnes & Noble Review
In the vein of blockbuster supernatural thrillers like Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake sequence and Charlaine Harris's Southern Vampire saga comes Kim Harrison's debut novel, Dead Witch Walking, about a sexy witch and bounty hunter who will do anything to bring criminals to justice.
Set in and around an alternate Cincinnati where Inderlanders (witches, vampires, werewolves, faeries, etc.) have officially been recognized, the novel begins with Harrison's leather-loving hero, Rachel Morgan, quitting her job as a runner (a kind of supernatural bounty hunter) for Inderland Security. The only problem is that no one walks away from Inderland Security -- and lives. Her boss, an ill-tempered ghoul named Denon, immediately puts out a contract on her, and within a matter of hours, her life is officially forfeit. She finds herself evicted from her apartment and almost assassinated on a city bus.
Thank God for friends. With the help of Ivy Tamwood, a non-practicing vampire, and Jenks, a temperamental pixie, Rachel tries to begin a new life by starting an independent investigation service based in an old church in an area called the Hollows. But first she must survive the week! While Dead Witch Walking doesn't have the overt sexuality of an Anita Blake novel or the clever sense of humor of a Sookie Stackhouse tale, Kim Harrison's new saga -- powered by her intelligently crafted characters and tightly knit plotlines -- will undoubtedly find a place of its own in this burgeoning hybrid genre that blurs the lines between fantasy, mystery, horror, and romance. Paul Goat Allen
The underground population of witches, vampires, werewolves—creatures of dreams and nightmares—has lived beside humans for centuries, hiding their powers. But after a genetically engineered virus wipes out a large part of humanity, many of the "Inderlanders" reveal themselves, changing everything.
Rachel Morgan, witch and bounty hunter with the Inderland Runner Services, is one of the best at apprehending supernatural lawbreakers throughout Cincinnati, but when it comes to following the rules, she falls desperately short. Determined to buck the system, she quits and takes off on the run with an I.S. contract on her head and is reluctantly forced to team up with Ivy, Inderland's best runner . . . and a living vampire. But this witch is way out of her league, and to clear her name, Rachel must evade shape-changing assassins, outwit a powerful businessman/crime lord, and survive a vicious underground fight-to-the-death . . . not to mention her own roommate.
Loading...I stood in the shadows of a deserted shop front across from The Blood and Brew Pub, trying not to be obvious as I tugged my black leather pants back up where they belonged. This is pathetic, I thought, eyeing the rain-emptied street. I was way too good for this.
Apprehending unlicensed and black-art witches was my usual line of work, as it takes a witch to catch a witch. But the streets were quieter than usual this week. Everyone who could make it was at the West Coast for our yearly convention, leaving me with this gem of a run. A simple snag and drag. It was just the luck of the Turn that had put me here in the dark and rain.
"Who am I kidding?" I whispered, pulling the strap of my bag farther up my shoulder. I hadn't been sent to tag a witch in a month: unlicensed, white, dark, or otherwise. Bringing the mayor's son in for Wereing outside of a full moon probably hadn't been the best idea.
A sleek car turned the corner, looking black in the buzz of the mercury street lamp. This was its third time around the block. A grimace tightened my face as it approached, slowing. "Damn it," I whispered. "I need a darker door front."
"He thinks you're a hooker, Rachel," my backup snickered into my ear. "I told you the red halter was slutty."
"Anyone ever tell you that you smell like a drunk bat, Jenks?" I muttered, my lips barely moving. Backup was un-settlingly close tonight, having perched himself on my earring. Big dangling thing -- the earring, not the pixy. I'd found Jenks to be a pretentious snot with a bad attitude and a temper to match. But he knew what side of the garden his nectar came from. And apparently pixies were the best they'd let me take out since the frog incident. I would have sworn fairies were too big to fit into a frog's mouth.
I eased forward to the curb as the car squished to a wet-asphalt halt. There was the whine of an automatic window as the tinted glass dropped. I leaned down, smiling my prettiest as I flashed my work ID. Mr. One Eyebrow's leer vanished and his face went ashen. The car lurched into motion with a tiny squeak of tires. "Day-tripper," I said in disdain. No, I thought in a flash of chastisement. He was a norm, a human. Even if they were accurate, the terms daytripper, domestic, squish, off-the-rack, and my personal favorite, snack, were politically frowned upon. But if he was picking strays up off the sidewalk in the Hollows, one might call him dead.
The car never slowed as it went through a red light, and I turned at the catcalls from the hookers I had displaced about sunset. They weren't happy, standing brazenly on the corner across from me. I gave them a little wave, and the tallest flipped me off before spinning to show me her tiny, spellenhanced rear. The hooker and her distinctly husky-looking "friend" talked loudly as they tried to hide the cigarette they were passing between each other. It didn't smell like your usual tobacco. Not my problem, tonight, I thought, moving back into my shadow.
I leaned against the cold stone of the building, my gaze lingering on the red taillights of the car as it braked. Brow furrowed, I glanced at myself. I was tall for a woman -- about five-eight -- but not nearly as leggy as the hooker in the next puddle of light over. I wasn't wearing as much makeup as she was, either. Narrow hips and a chest that was almost flat didn't exactly make me streetwalker material.
Before I found the leprechaun outlets, I had shopped in the "your first bra" aisle. It's hard finding something without hearts and unicorns on it there.
My ancestors had immigrated to the good old U.S. of A. in the 1800s. Somehow through the generations, the women all managed to retain the distinct red hair and green eyes of our Irish homeland. My freckles, though, are hidden under a spell my dad bought me for my thirteenth birthday. He had the tiny amulet put into a pinky ring. I never leave home without it.
A sigh slipped from me as I tugged my bag back up onto my shoulder. The leather pants, red ankle boots, and the spaghetti strap halter weren't too far from what I usually wore on casual Fridays to tick off my boss, but put them on a street corner at night ... "Crap," I muttered to Jenks. "I look like a hooker."
His only response was a snort. I forced myself not to react as I turned back to the bar. It was too rainy for the early crowd, and apart from my backup and the "ladies" down the way, the street was empty. I'd been standing out here nearly an hour with no sign of my mark. I might as well go in and wait. Besides, if I were inside, I might look like a solicitee rather than a solicitor.
Taking a resolute breath, I pulled a few strands of my shoulder-length curls from my topknot, took a moment to arrange it artfully to fall about my face, and finally spit out my gum. The click of my boots made a snappy counterpoint to the jangling of the handcuffs pinned to my hip as I strode across the wet street and into the bar. The steel rings looked like a tawdry prop, but they were real and very well-used. I winced. No wonder Mr. One Eyebrow had stopped. Used for work, thank you, and not the kind you're thinking of.
Still, I'd been sent to the Hollows in the rain to collar a leprechaun for tax evasion. How much lower, I wondered, could I sink?
Continues...
Excerpted from Dead Witch Walking by Harrison, Kim Excerpted by permission.
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