Gail Carriger
Gail Carriger
Gail Carriger is the pen name of Tofa Borregaard, an archaeologist and author of steampunk fiction. She was born in Bolinas, an unincorporated community in Marin County, California, and attended high school at Marin Academy. She received her undergraduate degree from Oberlin College, a masters of science in archaeological materials at England's Nottingham University in 2000, and a master of arts in anthropologyat the University of California Santa Cruz in 2008...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth4 May 1976
CountryUnited States of America
These things, regrettably, are bound to occur when one is married and befriended.
His lordship can eat my fat—
She reached inside the wide ruffle and pulled out a little vial. “Poison?” asked Lady Maccon, tilting her head to one side. “Certainly not. Something far more important: perfume. We cannot very well have you fighting crime unscented, now, can we?” “Oh.” Alexia nodded gravely. After all, Madame Lefoux was French. “Certainly not.
Uh, my lord, I am not actually food. You do realize this, yes?
Oh, dear me, no. Then I should be known as that vampire with all the cats.
I like fish," chirruped Tunstell. "Really, Mr. Tunstell? What is your preferred breed?" "Well"--Tunstell hesitated--"you know, the um, ones that"--he made a swooping motion with both hands--"uh, swim.
These feelings you engender in me, my lord, are most indelicate. You should stop causing them immediately.
Follow that porcupine!
Lady Maccon stopped suddenly. Her husband got four long strides ahead before he realized she had paused. She was starring thoughtfully up into the aether, twirling the deadly parasol about her head. "I have just remembered something," Alexia said when he returned to her side. "Oh, that explains everything. How foolish of me to think you could walk and remember at the same time.
Acknowledgements With grateful thanks to the three least-appreciated and hardest-working proselytizers of the written word: independent bookstores, librarians, and teachers.
It was a constant source of amazement to Alexia that the only thing she had ever done in her entire life that pleased her mama was marry a werewolf.
Scotsmen, she had occasion to observe, often did have nice knees. Perhaps that was why they insisted upon kilts.
Alexia abhorred hypocrisy, especially when munitions were involved.
I consider science fiction and fantasy my genre. And I've noticed over the years that there doesn't tend to be a lot of lighthearted, comedic stuff.