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Corporate robot by day, lucid dreamer by night, Chantale Rêve lives to express her thoughts on the human condition through erotic short fiction (especially erotic mystery and suspense stories) and poetry. She is inspired by and enjoys the creations of other artists—from novelists and poets, to dancers, musicians, visual artists and chefs.
Chantale is profoundly influenced by certain existentialist schools of thought, including Camus’ and Sartre’s; by the literature of William Shakespeare, Franz Kafka, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Kate Chopin, Ralph Ellison, Jean Toomer, Alice Walker, Anaϊs Nin, Henry Miller, Philip K. Dick, Richard Burton Matheson, James Patterson, John Le Carré, Ian Fleming, among others; the plays of Tennessee Williams; and by the cinematic genius of Hitchcock; of French and Italian New Wave auteurs Truffaut, Varda, Bresson, Antonioni, Bertolucci and Fellini; and—from the African Diaspora—of Melvin Van Peebles, Gordon Parks, Spike Lee, Kasi Lemmons, Julie Dash and Ava DuVernay.
Chantale’s worldview continues to be shaped by her travels and by the images and messages in remarkable independent, modern and postmodern films—both past and present—from around the world.
on April 18, 2011 :
Imagine my surprise when two reviews came in together for my operation essays so long after the last one. That quickly changed to trepidation when I recognized your name. I was certain I was about to receive a spitting cobra’s dose of venom for the one star reviews I had given two of your stories. I try to rate stories as I feel them. That may very from day to day depending on my mood. (I truly loved your story of the Parisian chambermaids Juicy coffee break. [The capital J is not a typo]) Also imagine the delight (dare I say shock) when I read your reviews. I thank you very much for your kind words and encouragement. It has been over six months since the operation now and, so far as I can tell at this juncture, I’m doing as well as could be expected considering my age. (Aches and pains aplenty.)
Re-reading your review, I must at this point pass along my condolences for your losses from colon cancer. As I stated in the second missive, it was only luck that my doctor sent me off for screening. (Which I can’t recommend enough.) I had no symptoms.
I cringe at your mention of my style. For the life of me, I can’t discern any style in my writing. Perhaps the word bland might come to mind. I try to put on the screen what pleases me and if it pleases or amuses others, then great.
As to the reference to the pretty nurses, that was an honest judgment hampered by my weakened condition, the IV and the catheter I was impaled with. If I had a choice, I might have dallied longer just to enjoy the smiling faces, especially once the tubes were removed.
And now the down loads—the two operation essays have three hundred sixty four. Rather paltry compared to the twenty-one thousand plus the other nineteen stories have garnered to date. Most of them are erotic in nature so that just shows what the reading public wants. I guess I’ll just have to keep pandering to it. And I accept your offer (threat?) to read every one of my stories to point out my typos. If there is a Divinity, then He or She surly knows I make a lot of them. I had one correspondent recently point out a typo in my Bio, but I told her I was leaving it in to prove I’m human.
Okay this is supposed to be a review of you story ‘Pas de Deux.’ You undoubtedly know by now that I’m not well versed in French, so I have no idea what the title means. I read the story three times and got a little additional from it with each read. I can only hope that the coffee wasn’t too hot, but I assume it was. His fault I guess, for not paying attention to her return, but I suspect that the encounter was inevitable. Your style far surpasses mine, as does Shakespeare’s, whom I can’t read either.
I wish you all the best with your work and I must get back to mine. I’m putting the most recent polish to a long novel that I started a few days after posting ‘Operation 2.’ (Is a writer ever ‘done’ with a story?) It spewed out of me for over two months at a rate of over two thousand words a day. Could it have been aftereffects from the morphine? I’ve never had such action before or since. Again, thank you and read more of my drivel if you like.
(review of free book)