conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled Beyond the Shadows about Deborah, Christian, Gideon with the genre: Children's Books, Religions.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The prolific, award-winning the author offers this message-driven story of the impact of alcoholism on a Christian family in the 1950s, with mixed results. After 15 months of marriage, Deborah Haskin's beloved husband, Andy, dies in a freak farming accident, and she's left with a 40-acre farm and a broken heart. Then Gideon Clermont, a handsome Korean War veteran buddy of Andy's, shows up to help her. Deborah, the first-person narrator, finds solace for her grief in a swift romance, but disaster is lurking. Although she discovers that Gideon has covered up a drinking problem that threatens to destroy their newfound happiness, the co-dependent Deborah reassures herself, "He's fine." Many short first-person testimonies by other characters work surprisingly well to round out the story. However, it is rife with scripture quoting, Deborah talking to God in italics, God talking back to Deborah ("Do you think I was surprised by what you did, beloved?") and Christian lingo that will resonate with a hardcore evangelical audience but lose most others. The second half of the novel becomes more didactic about alcoholism, and Deborah's life is used as a device to demonstrate the novel's view of how Christian women should respond to an alcoholic husband&mdash;as the book makes clear, God hates divorce. <BR>Copyright &copy; Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about We're.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The prolific, award-winning the author offers this message-driven story of the impact of alcoholism on a Christian family in the 1950s, with mixed results. After 15 months of marriage, Deborah Haskin's beloved husband, Andy, dies in a freak farming accident, and she's left with a 40-acre farm and a broken heart. Then Gideon Clermont, a handsome Korean War veteran buddy of Andy's, shows up to help her. Deborah, the first-person narrator, finds solace for her grief in a swift romance, but disaster is lurking. Although she discovers that Gideon has covered up a drinking problem that threatens to destroy their newfound happiness, the co-dependent Deborah reassures herself, "He's fine. We're all fine. " Many short first-person testimonies by other characters work surprisingly well to round out the story. However, it is rife with scripture quoting, Deborah talking to God in italics, God talking back to Deborah ("Do you think I was surprised by what you did, beloved?") and Christian lingo that will resonate with a hardcore evangelical audience but lose most others. The second half of the novel becomes more didactic about alcoholism, and Deborah's life is used as a device to demonstrate the novel's view of how Christian women should respond to an alcoholic husband&mdash;as the book makes clear, God hates divorce. <BR>Copyright &copy; Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a title for a book about Montana, Beyond, Shadows with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Beyond The Shadows'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Beyond the Shadows
  With six inches of dust on the ground, Logan didn't dare a full charge. If that black snow concealed pitfalls, horses would fall. The riders behind, blinded by thick black dust, would ride right over their companions.
  Logan and his foremost riders were within thirty paces when he saw something looming through the black dust. It was vaguely bear-shaped, but men were stuck to its skin, screaming. "Break! Break!" Logan shouted. "Ferali!"
  He veered left. A crowd of Khalidorans appeared out of the dust before him, all pressing to get away from the ferali. The Khalidorans were panicked, totally unprepared for the sudden appearance of cavalry, and Logan's line plowed through them. His destrier trampled half a dozen before the press of bodies became so thick it stopped them.
  A vast arm, its skin writhing with gaping little mouths, passed over Logan's head, brushing his helmet with a scraping sound as little teeth tried to chew through metal. Logan couldn't see the rest of the creature except as a shadow against the lesser blackness of the dust.
  He lurched as a horse collided into the back of his destrier. It jarred him forward and the men before him slowly yielded, either crushed, or faces laid open from his destrier's teeth.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The whistling and the magic crescendoed as one. Through Curoch, for a split second, Kylar felt the Hunter as it seized the offered hilt of Jorsin Alkestes' mighty blade to snatch it away from them. And Kylar knew him.
  When Kylar became aware, he was standing on the roof of the Hall of Winds. The Wolf stood next to him, and the world had the indistinct sheen Kylar had come to associate with the Antechamber of the Mystery. "So I'm dead," he said. He had no passion left in him.
  He chuckled. "You are still Kylar, aren't you? But not to worry, the Hands of Hell are still bound for another fifteen or twenty years. Until then, the Hunter and I will battle for control every day. I can only be here while it sleeps."
  Kylar looked with new eyes, stunned. The city was completely restored, and it was a marvel. The streets were straight, perfectly paved. The houses were immaculate, from the largest manse to the tightly packed row houses in the artisans' quarter. Fountains pumped sparkling clean water in squares throughout the city. Hanging gardens flowed over white marble walls. The dome of the Hall of Winds was covered with beaten gold. Nearby, the castle shone white and red. The fields below the city were carpeted with the green shoots of growing crops. The docks on the lake and the locks on the river were restored. The dam was closed and the water level rising. Every sign of war and death was gone.
  Flowers were budding everywhere, at every corner, bordering every field, rows of beautiful red flowers bursting from bulbs. Kylar had never seen their like, or known any flower to bloom so early in spring.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Kylar had never seen their like, or known any flower to bloom so early in spring. Through Curoch, for a split second, Kylar felt the Hunter as it seized the offered hilt of Jorsin Alkestes' mighty blade to snatch it away from them. And Kylar knew him.
  When Kylar became aware, he was standing on the roof of the Hall of Winds. The Wolf stood next to him, and the world had the indistinct sheen Kylar had come to associate with the Antechamber of the Mystery. "So I'm dead," he said. He had no passion left in him.
  He chuckled. "You are still Kylar, aren't you? But not to worry, the Hands of Hell are still bound for another fifteen or twenty years. Until then, the Hunter and I will battle for control every day. I can only be here while it sleeps."
  Kylar looked with new eyes, stunned. The city was completely restored, and it was a marvel. The streets were straight, perfectly paved. The houses were immaculate, from the largest manse to the tightly packed row houses in the artisans' quarter. Fountains pumped sparkling clean water in squares throughout the city. Hanging gardens flowed over white marble walls. The dome of the Hall of Winds was covered with beaten gold. Nearby, the castle shone white and red. The fields below the city were carpeted with the green shoots of growing crops. The docks on the lake and the locks on the river were restored. The dam was closed and the water level rising. Every sign of war and death was gone.
  Flowers were budding everywhere, at every corner, bordering every field, rows of beautiful red flowers bursting from bulbs.The whistling and the magic crescendoed as one.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last three paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He walked back to the table with the blue bread. Grabbing one use-smoothened edge of the painting, he pulled. It swung open silently, revealing a narrow chute.
  Nothing menacing about the chute. Too small for a man to climb up, even if he overcame everything else. It might have been a laundry chute. Yet to Gavin it looked like the mouth of hell, the evernight itself opening wide for him. He tossed one of the bricks of bread into it, then waited. There was a thunk as the hard bread hit the first lock, a small hiss as it opened, then closed, then a smaller thunk as it hit the next lock, and a few moments later one last thunk. Each of the locks was still working. Everything was normal. Safe. There had been mistakes over the years, but no one had to die this time. No need for paranoia. He nearly snarled as he slammed the painting closed. 
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