conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is a description for a book titled Trick of the Light about Frances, London's, East with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Contemporary? End with the sentence ' In this, her striking debut novel, the author creates a subtle and compassionate portrait of a young mother struggling to protect her child and of a father destroyed by his own childhood.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A young couple abandon the urban jungle of London's East End for a remote, mountainous corner of Washington State. Chosen by Mick, who is half-American, the place seems as alien as the moon to Rita. But she soon adjusts to raising their small daughter, Frances, in a broken-down cabin without electricity or water, and revels in the untamed beauty of their surroundings. She's scared, though, of the wild animals howling and screeching outside by night. What she cannot admit is her fear of Mick's violent temper. Worse, perhaps, are her own flashes of anger at Frances, frightening losses of control which leave her feeling shaken and guilty. Then she meets Ryan, a redneck poacher who plants in her mind the seed of rebellion. In this, her striking debut novel, the author creates a subtle and compassionate portrait of a young mother struggling to protect her child and of a father destroyed by his own childhood.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the first three paragraphs for this book? End with the sentence ' You get your kicks where you can.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Trick of the Light
  And how do I know this? A lot of ways, but mainly because I know there are demons in the world. Monsters. Creatures that would steal and eat your soul. Devils that would...
  But that's okay. Since I knew, I could personally pitch a Molotov cocktail at a nightclub that sat halfway between the university and the Strip, an area otherwise and ironically called Paradise. No hiding under the covers for me. I knew about what hid in the dark all right, and there was nothing I enjoyed more, at least tonight, than watching some son of a bitch demon's club burn to the ground. Demons in Paradise. Could they be any more smug?
  It was six a.m. and the club was empty. The last drunk had staggered out twenty minutes ago into the dark November morning. Frying patrons wasn't on the agenda and a fire wouldn't do the demon or his demon employees much harm even if they were standing in the middle of it, not if they changed from human form back to the genuine article fast enough, but I still enjoyed it. You get your kicks where you can.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is five more paragraphs? End with the sentence ' Where is the trust there?"'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Besides, stare into the abyss and it stares back into you. Follow that to its natural conclusion when it came to sleeping with demons. And that's what Solomon and Eli were, no matter their charm and appeal. One of their kind had killed Kimano... as so many of them killed others, over and over. Solomon seemed to think the fact that he limited himself to just taking souls made him a saint. To hear him talk, it was no worse than a person eating a hot dog. At least Solomon's meal had agreed to it—the pig hadn't. And I was far from being a vegetarian; I'd yet to come up with a good answer to that one. That people were better and more deserving of life than animals wasn't it. I'd never met a dog I didn't like. I'd met plenty of people I couldn't say the same about.
  Now Eli... Eli definitely lied and he definitely killed. That I knew as surely as anything. Souls would never be enough for him. He was a demon—as much as he looked like a man—who would crave variety, infinite and in any fashion he could get it. Eli existed for every experience he could get, because for him life was the opposite of short. Instead, life was endless. How to fill the millions of hours... days... years.
  The night was unusually quiet despite our preparation. No demonic hordes. No wounded friends in pain. No wispy little girls and fat, waddling dogs. It was just half the number of the usual drinkers, sports fans glued to the TV, and the occasional hooker. Not legal inside the city limits, but if they could put up with what they did for the few bucks they needed to survive, I wasn't going to kick them out. "Nice night," Leo observed.
  And it stayed that way until I was escorting a wobbly patron to his cab. Getting the door open with one hand, I used the other to grab his waistband as he started to go down and tossed him in the back with one heave. "Damn, lady, you got some muscle on you," the cabbie observed.
  I turned as the cab drove away, folded one arm under my breasts, and kept the other free in case I needed my gun. "From what I hear, I'm not the only one." Not that he was wrong. Fighting demons was great for toning. I should've bought an infomercial. "You'd just as soon kill one another. You higher demons anyway." The mud-colored demons, the lowest of the former angels, seemed to follow the orders of the other demons. Like Solomon had said, or the equivalent of, if you were a mail clerk in Heaven, you were a mail clerk in Hell. "Or so Eligos tells me. Don't tell me you haven't been completely open with me, Solomon. Where is the trust there?"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the last five paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: This feather was something entirely different. Well, maybe not. It had the touch of a miracle to it too. Under Leo's patient eyes, I considered it for a moment, then took it. I stroked the sheen of it.
  The enjoyable drift of anticipation that I'd fallen into disappeared instantly. "Is that a comment on my career competency?" I demanded as I turned back to face him.
  He smiled as I said it before he did. "But we might not always be. I've changed over the years. Same spots, as you're always saying, but a different leopard underneath them. You've changed as well. You're darker. You've lost. You're not as cocky. You know now that things aren't always as you thought they'd be. That the world still holds mystery and the unpredictable, even for us. Griffin and Zeke taught you that."
  I was proud to be a trickster, but it was also good to be this—a silver point of light high and blazing in the apricot and violet morning sky, a moment that seemed as long as my life. Then the kiss ended; the morning star fell, as it always did. Leo carefully folded my fingers over the feather. "A token of my future esteem. Someday, if we're ever less alike than more, give this back to me."
  Besides wild, ravenous turkeys, she has a dog (if you don't have a dog, how do you live?)—one hundred pounds of Siberian husky. He looks like a wolf, has paws the size of a person's hand, ice blue eyes, teeth out of a Godzilla movie, and the ferocious habit of hiding under the kitchen table and peeing on himself when strangers come by. Fortunately, she has another dog that is a little more invested in keeping the food source alive. By the way, the dogs were adopted from shelters. They were fully grown, already house-trained, and grateful as hell. Think about it next time you're looking for a Rover or Fluffy.