HOWDY TO EVERYONE WHO LOVES CASSANDRA CLARE'S THE INFERNAL DEVICES SERIES ( TID) AS MUCH AS I DO .
FEEL FREE TO RANT TO YOUR HEARTS CONTENT ABOUT THEM. NO RANT IS TOO LONG:D
Will Herondale: Shadowhunter. He is your sometimes a bit cranky, main male character who often reminded me of Jace with his smart mouth and wit and always up for a fight, (from TMI series). Do I have a theory there..well I may just , but will keep to myself . Will is the guy who will be there for you, if he likes you. He tries to not show that side of him. He is hiding something and someone of interest is named in the book. I have my theory there too....* wiggles eyebrows* Cassandra has only mentioned her twice I think. I am sure book 2 will possibly bring her into play.
Tessa Gray : Female main character who has a bravado within her like Clary ( TMI series ) but it grows with the book. Tessa has a power , which she was unaware of, but the charming ( said sarcastically) Dark Sisters helped her kindly understand it ( cough!!) Tessa is a ??? a question mark looms over her head as to exactly what category she would be placed in. Not Shadowhunter!!
James Carstairs or Jem as affectionately called : Shadowhunter. I love Jem . Poor Jem has his own issues to deal with but looks to always help. The calm , soothing Mr Nice Guy character.
Jessamine : Shadowhunter but would rather settle down and leave the dirty work to the others. Jessamine needed a good slap from me several times during this book..lol!!
Henry : The Scientist, the inventor who is married to Charlotte. Does he love her like he should ??? or is he soo caught up in all his inventions. I feel he is going to be the guy who , when he finally gets it right..lol!! will be the inventor of all the items you see in TMI series. He just has to work the kinks out, so to speak.
DELETED SCENE TAKEN FROM CASSANDRA'S BLOG PAGE:D I tried to put the link here so I wasn't putting the whole deleted scene but it wouldnt stay ????
"There was a place in China," said Jem, "called the Yuánmíng Yuán. The Gardens of Perfect Brightness. It was an Imperial residence. My mother went there to visit the Emperor once, a sort of ambassadorial visit from the Nephilim. She said it was the most beautiful place she had ever been. There were exquisite gardens, paintings, music, beautiful pavilions. They called it 'the Garden of gardens.'" He looked out over the water. "Fifteen years ago the British tore it to the ground. Reprisals for something that happened during the Arrow War. They killed the guards, stole anything they thought they could sell, and set the palace on fire. It took three days to burn. There's nothing left of all that beauty now but silent stones and scorched earth."
"I'm sorry," Tessa told him, having no idea what else she could possibly say.
"No one here cares, of course," said Jem. "They have never heard of the Gardens. Lord Elgin was the one who ordered the Gardens burned; for that, they made him viceroy of India. He is a celebrated man now. For what he did in my country I should hate him and all the Englishmen like him."
His voice was cool and clear, and sent a shiver up Tessa's spine. Across the bridge from them, the strolling couple had paused at a parapet; the man seemed to be pointing down at something at the water, the woman nodding as he spoke. "And do you? Hate them?"
"It does not matter," said Jem. "I am more than anything else a Shadowhunter. I am a brother to the Nephilim of England more than I am a brother to any mundane of the land where I was born. And when Nephilim look at me, they see only a Shadowhunter. It is the mundanes who look at me and see something they do not understand—a boy who is not quite white and not quite foreign either."
"Just as I am not human, and not demon either," Tessa said softly.
His eyes softened. "You are human," he said. "Never think you are not. I have seen you with your brother; I know how you care for him. If you can feel hope, guilt, sorrow, love—then you are human."
Nate and Tessa discuss Jessamine while she isn't around.
"You know," said Nate, "I'm feeling rather parched—I think I'd like some tea. If we could ring for a servant?"
"Oh, dear, you must be parched. I'm afraid I've been a most negligent hostess." Jessamine rose, all distress. "There are no bells in the library, but I'll get Sophie and have her ask Agnes to make up a tray for you."
She hurried from the room, smoothing her skirts down as she went. Nate watched her go with an appreciative glance before turning back to Tessa, who shot him a dubious look.
"You don't really want tea," she said. "You hate tea."
"I do, but I love my little sister." He grinned at her. "You were looking miserable. I take it you don't like Jessamine much? Why not? She seems delightful to me."
"She is delightful to you. Not so much to the rest of us." Tessa thought of Jessamine clinging to her in Hyde Park and hesitated. "It's just—she's like a child. Cruel sometimes and kind other times, at a whim. Other people aren't real to her. Of course she likes you—you're not a Shadowhunter. She despises Shadowhunters."
"Does she?" Nate's voice deepened the way it did when he was genuinely interested in something.
A very early conversation between Will and Tessa in which the nature of their escape was much different, and in which the Darke House was actually a working brothel of clockwork prostitutes.
Will handed Tessa up into the carriage, then swung himself up after her, shouting "Thomas! Go! Go!" at the driver, who cracked the reins. The carriage lurched forward as Will yanked the door shut, sending Tessa tumbling again him.
"Steady on," he said, and reached for her, but Tessa had already pulled away, settling into the seat opposite his. She yanked the curtain back from the window and stared out—there was the dirty street, the shabby buildings crowding in on either side. As the carriage whipped forward, they passed the alley she had spent so many days staring at—it was there, and then gone as they careened around a corner, nearly knocking over a costermonger pushing a donkey cart piled high with new potatoes. Tessa screamed.
Will reached past her and yanked the curtain shut. "It's better if you don't look," he told her pleasantly.
"He's going to kill someone. Or get us killed."
"No, he won't. Thomas is an excellent driver."
Tessa glared at him. "Clearly the word excellent means something else on this side of the Atlantic." The carriage lurched again, and Tessa clutched at the seat, squeezing her eyes shut. Her head was spinning, and not just from the movement of the carriage: it was the first time she had been outside the Red Room in over a month, and the sounds of the street outside, even filtered through the closed windows, seemed to echo inside her head like the booming of a drum. She heard Will, distantly, calling something out to the driver; the carriage slowed, and Tessa's grip on the seat relaxed slightly, the dizziness abating. She opened her eyes, and saw Will looking at her curiously. "Did you tell him where we were going?" she croaked.
"Yes," he said, "although I can't help finding it odd that someone like you would have a brother with an address in Mayfair."
Tessa blinked at him. "Someone like me?"
"A prostitute," said Will.
Tessa's mouth dropped open. "I am not a—a—"
"A prostitute?" Will said again, raising his eyebrows.
Tessa shut her mouth with a snap. "What a horrible thing to say. If that's your idea of a joking way to insult me—"
"I never joke," said Will, "or at least, I only joke when the occasion truly warrants it, which this one does not. I assumed you were a prostitute due to your presence in what can only be termed a brothel."
Tessa stared at him.
"You can't expect me to believe you were entirely ignorant of the Darke House's function?" Will inquired. "You must have seen what was going on."
"I told you, I was never allowed out of that room."
"I didn't realize that meant no one else was ever allowed in," Will said.
"What—oh, ugh. Ugh. There's something horribly wrong with you, isn't there? It's like you can't stop saying awful things."
Will's eyebrows went up; despite her anger, confusion, and horror, somehow Tessa couldn't stop herself from noticing that they made perfect dark half-circles above his eyes. "Now you sound like Jem."
"Never mind that," said Will. "I'm trying to figure out how someone could live in a brothel for a month and not notice. You must be terribly dull-witted."
"If it helps at all, it seemed to be quite a high-class establishment. Nicely furnished, fairly clean..."
"Sounds as if you've visited your fair share of brothels," Tessa said, sourly. "Making a study of them?"
"More of a hobby," said Will, and smiled like a bad angel. Before Tessa could say anything in return, the carriage jerked to a stop. "Seems that we're here," Will announced, and Tessa reached past him to pull back the curtain across the window; she stared out and saw that the carriage had drawn up in front of a tall Georgian townhouse in a pretty square lined with trees and other, similar houses. There was a iron-railed fence around the house, the number 89 marked prominently in silver numbers on the gate.
It doesnt matter if you werent overly excited about TID...I would love to here what you thought still. I saw your Goodreads:D
Very 'COOL'fan made vid:
be sure to leave some thoughts here as you are reading Clockwork Angel...or not...loL!!!
February Teaser: Clockwork Prince
They slowed finally at the southeastern corner of the church. Watery daylight poured through the rose windows overhead. “I know we are in a hurry to get to the Council meeting,” said Jem. “But I wanted you to see this.” He gestured around them. “Poet’s Corner.”
Tessa had read of the place, of course, where the great poets and writers of England were buried. There was the gray stone tomb of Chaucer, with its canopy, and other familiar names: Edmund Spenser, who had written The Faerie Queen, “Oh, and Milton,” she gasped, “and Coleridge, and Robert Burns, and Shakespeare —”
“He isn’t really buried here,” said Jem, quickly. “It’s just a monument.”
“Oh, I know, but —” She looked at him, and felt herself flush. “I can’t explain it. It’s like being among friends, being among these names. Silly, I know . . .”
“Not silly at all.”
She smiled at him. “How did you know just what I’d want to see?”
“How could I not?” he said. “When I think of you, and you are not there, I see you in my mind’s eye always with a book in your hand.” He looked away from her as he said it, but not before she caught the slight flush on his cheekbones. He was so pale, he could never hide even the least blush, she thought — and was surprised how affectionate the thought was.
She had become very fond of Jem over the past fortnight; Will had been studiously avoiding her, Charlotte and Henry were caught up in issues of Clave and Council and the running of the Institute —even Jessamine seemed preoccupied. But Jem was always there. He seemed to take his role as her guide to London seriously: they had been to Hyde Park and Kew Gardens, the National Gallery and the British Museum, the Tower of London and Traitor’s Gate. They gone to see the cows being milked in St James Park, the fruit and vegetable sellers in Covent Garden, had watched the boats sailing on the sun-sparked Thames from the Embankment. And as the days went on, Tessa felt herself unfolding slowly out of her quiet, huddled unhappiness over Nate and Will and the loss of her old life, like a flower climbing out of frozen ground. She had even found herself laughing. And she had Jem to thank for it.
“You are a good friend,” she exclaimed, and when, to her surprise, he said nothing to that, she said, “At least, I hope we are good friends. You do think so too, don’t you, Jem?”
He turned to look at her.