This is an interesting collection of short stories, of which "Fifty Ways to Eat Your Lover" is the apex of them all, others are a bit boring and mainlThis is an interesting collection of short stories, of which "Fifty Ways to Eat Your Lover" is the apex of them all, others are a bit boring and mainly feel like scare tactics, but the experimental feel and sharpness of the stories make this for a worthy read.
From the aforementioned piece:
When he buys you a drink, plunge a knife into his nose and carve out a piece. When he asks you what you do for a living, dig into his spine with a broken juice glass. When he wonders aloud if you ever get that feeling about someone, bite his tongue out of his mouth. When he says you have a beautiful body, seize his Achilles tendon. When he slides his hand under your thigh, sliver off his earlobe. When he persuades you to spend the night, sink your teeth into his collarbone. When he asks if you’re on the Pill, squeeze your pelvic floor until his penis pops off. When he wakes up in the morning, clip his eyelashes and snort them. When he makes the bed, open up the vein inside his elbow. When he stops by your place after work, crush his skull with a tire iron and lick his brain. When he gives you a book he likes, dip him into a deep fryer. When he asks you out again, stab him with a box cutter and suck the wound.
Some stories are extremely short, others a tad longer, but most are engaging. For instance:
William was a puker. His expulsions—the color, consistency, and volume of a baby’s—occurred after every sentence he spoke. This unfortunate fact of life began innocently enough during his infant coos and babbles, but by the time he was barfing onto his coloring books, the doctors were stumped. He had to carry a paper cup throughout middle school. By high school he didn’t have to worry about direct ridicule any longer, because he had no friends. And then everyone in his peer group graduated and left town and he was blessedly, blissfully alone.
We were in the parking lot of a Dunkin’ Donuts in Beaumont when I told Kyle. I figured I’d rather be out under God as I announced the reason for all my illness and misery. I said Well shit. Guess we’re having a baby. “Lemme see,” Kyle said, frowning at the test for a second before tossing it into a planter. He flipped the double deuce to a stranger who had set his coffee down to applaud. “People these days,” Kyle said. I said my folks would be happy. “Here’s the thing though,” he said. “Your folks are dead. And I have a warrant out for my arrest. And you’re forty years old. And I am addicted to getting tattoos. And our air conditioner’s broke. And you are drunk every day. And all I ever want to do is fight and go swimming. And I am addicted to keno. And you are just covered in hair. And I’ve never done a load of laundry in my life. And you are still technically married to my dealer. And I refuse to eat vegetables. And you can’t sleep unless you’re sleeping on the floor. And I am addicted to heroin. And honest to God, you got big tits but you make a shitty muse. And we are in Beaumont.” I said these were minor setbacks on the road to glory. “And,” he added, “the Dunkin’ Donuts is on fire.”
Some lines are just pretty:
One of the kids at school says You would be cool if you weren’t so stupid, and I think like Yeah, this heart is the same way.
The photographer’s assistant had tried to cover Marcy’s pimple with a concealer before the ceremony, but Marcy waved her off. It would shine as if it contained its own light.
All in all, it's flawed, but pretty enough to keep its light going. It doesn't really wane, and the stories are quite consistent....more
This is a graphic book which made me wince a couple of times, and it's so well written that it nearly turned my head. Whenever an author manages to puThis is a graphic book which made me wince a couple of times, and it's so well written that it nearly turned my head. Whenever an author manages to push something out there which - especially considering the title of this novella - makes the reader, to some level, understand the main character where the content - necrophilia - is so stigmatised on so many levels - including the fact that corpses are exhumed and sexualised on many a level - and this is done on so few pages, I'm really in awe of the author.
The contents, then? As I said, it's graphic, but one is shown the world of a person who works with antiques and also lusts for dead bodies and the world of the dead.
This book was thought of by Malcolm McLaren, the utter svengali as far as punk rock comes to mind; the man who at least orchestrated the Sex Pistols aThis book was thought of by Malcolm McLaren, the utter svengali as far as punk rock comes to mind; the man who at least orchestrated the Sex Pistols and Bow Wow Wow, and changed a bit of music history simply by being in the background.
I don't know how much of this story he really contributed to, but in Alan Moore's introduction - yes, there is one! - Moore claims that McLaren asked a comic store proprietor which artist is considered the best thing in comics, to which the young man answered "Alan Moore, left hand of God". Moore writes that if he ever should write an autobiography, this will be its title.
Speaking of God, it's suitable to have it in mind when thinking of the fashion industry: braggadocio, better-than-thou and unspoken rules and hierarchies. It's all in this book, wonderfully illustrated by Facundo Percio. I don't think I've ever seen computer-generated colours better used prior to this book.
This is a collection of 10 issues of a magazine that was supposed to be a film to begin with. Still, it's here as a graphic novel, one tome, and it's good. Despite the very sits-in-a-tower-ishness of the book, it's not hard to think of real-life examples that make it seem painfully real, e.g. the film "The September Issue" and Tim Gunn's "Gunn's Golden Rules: Life's Little Lessons for Making It Work", where very few people run the lives of many. And in this book, that's really the case, borderline on fascism; Moore admits that this book, much like his "V for Vendetta", is based in an England where Margaret Thatcher rules (or possibly John Major) and hence, the Dark Ages is still the case despite what some people may feel about it.
I shan't say much about the book's contents. A person is thrown into a hyper-superficial world where one creator runs The fashion house that rules, while people on the streets literally run hungry and amok; very French revolution. Or Britain under Thatcher, if you don't mind.
Percio's drawing is impeccable, and suits this book marvellously. Moore's writing is simple yet effective, and I have no qualms with envisioning the rôle of McLaren as the hurt man behind the mask, so to speak. All in all, enthralling and a philosophically simple, yet effective, read....more
At the comics shop, I asked for something that would fill the mind of somebody who loves "The Filth", "Transmetropolitan" and "V For Vendetta", and goAt the comics shop, I asked for something that would fill the mind of somebody who loves "The Filth", "Transmetropolitan" and "V For Vendetta", and got this.
It's the story of Tom Taylor, whose father created the Tommy Taylor enterprise, a long series of books about a boy wizard with round glasses and...yes, it's a poke at Harry Potter.
Tom Taylor's bored with going from comic-con to comicon, until he is suddenly pointed out as a fraud and some otherworldly characters make their move onto him, post-stalking. I won't reveal more of the plot and story, but suffice to say, Mike Carey has culled a lot from the world of fiction.
This is a very promising start to a series that might end nowhere or become increasingly epic and distorted. I'm hoping for the latter.
Inked and penned nicely (with the obvious use of computer effects, e.g. fading and toning) the story drives the graphics rather than the other way around, even though the stray use of unconventional framing is very welcome.