Lance Carbuncle, Sloughing Off the Rot (Vicious Galoot Books, 2012)
When I was about thirty pages into Sloughing Off the Rot, Lance Carbuncle's third a...moreLance Carbuncle, Sloughing Off the Rot (Vicious Galoot Books, 2012)
When I was about thirty pages into Sloughing Off the Rot, Lance Carbuncle's third and (conditionally) best-so-far novel, he and I (we've known each other since he emailed me out of the blue asking me to review Smashed, Squashed, Splattered, Chewed, Chunked, and Spewed six long years ago now) had a brief conversation about whether his work fits in the bizarro category. Lance doesn't think so. In general, I agree, though when one of the first people you thank on your acknowledgements page is bizarro icon Andersen Prunty, you've gotta figure that the influence is rubbing off at least a bit. But—and this is a very odd thing to say about a book that takes place entirely in a dreamlike alternate universe, to be sure—Carbuncle's work has always seemed a little more rooted in reality than most of the bizarro stuff I've read. In this case, “rooted in reality” includes a number of gratuitous musical references and a very strong Biblical parallel, both things which pretty much guarantee this book is bound to offend pretty much everyone you know—and if that's not more than enough reason to read it, for the love of carrot sticks, what is?
Plot: a guy named John, who adopts the name John the Revelator after a conversation with a burning bush (see where this is going?), loses consciousness one night in the real world and wakes up in a cave, dressed like Jesus in any number of cast-of-thousands Hollywood Biblical epics (including having linens that seemingly cannot be stained). After said burning-bush conversation and meeting up with a slightly (okay, more than slightly) crazy sidekick named Santiago, John starts off on a journey to redeem himself of the sins he committed in the real world. John, you see, is not a nice guy. At all. But, rather like Douglas Quail in Philip K. Dick's Total Recall, John discovers that his actual personality is, well, a pretty nice guy, and he wants to help people. HELLO, DIVINE PLAN! But how to reconcile these two halves of John's personality? For that, he learns, he must confront the Boss Monster in this world—the right reverend Androind Lovethorn, whom John must convince to send him back to the real world of his (Lovethorn's) own free will...
It's a classic quest/redemption tale, made even more classic by the strong Biblical parallels I mentioned before, which include Carbuncle's writing style, which consciously echoes the Old Testament in a number of places. Rather than making this like the unreadable dreck that is the Old Testament, it lends the book a certain gravitas that it might not otherwise have, as long as injecting it with an extra layer of humor if you happened to grow up subjected to the strictures of Mother Church. There are some bits that I found, shall we say, unsettling (going into them in any detail would be a bit of a spoiler, but let's say I found the blumpkins and niksiks to be... objectifying...), but your mileage may vary, and even if it doesn't, I would not in any way say the ultimately minor problems I had with the book should stop you from going and grabbing a copy posthaste. If you are not yet familiar with the wonderfully wacky world of Lance Carbuncle, this is as good a place to start as any—but you can grab any of his three (so far) novels and you will find yourself with a helluva good time on your hands. *** ½ (less)
Alice Duer Miller, The White Cliffs (Coward-McCann, 1940)
I finished this a few days ago, and have been trying to come up with something positive to op...moreAlice Duer Miller, The White Cliffs (Coward-McCann, 1940)
I finished this a few days ago, and have been trying to come up with something positive to open this review with ever since. I gave up about five minutes ago. Things get worse since I googled Coward-McCann and found out that by 1940, they were an imprint of Putnam. Which means that far from the vanity-published mess I thought this was, it's actually a major-label release. It's absolute doggerel:
“Strange to look back to the days So long ago When a friend was almost a foe, When you hurried to find a phrase For your easy light dispraise Of a spirit you did not know...” (--from “XVII”)
And we wonder why major publishers stopped publishing poetry? Because this came out on Putnam. And people, presumably, bought copies. (Someone must have, or I couldn't have run across one in a used book sale.) And probably had the same reaction I did when I was bogged down in it, which boils down to “why am I still reading this again?”. *(less)
David Dunwoody (ed.), Holiday of the Dead (Wild Wolf Publishing, 2011)
Sometimes themed collections get ridiculous. Holiday of the Dead is exactly what...moreDavid Dunwoody (ed.), Holiday of the Dead (Wild Wolf Publishing, 2011)
Sometimes themed collections get ridiculous. Holiday of the Dead is exactly what you think it is—zombie stories that focus on people on, well, holiday. It's an amusing conceit, though Dunwoody probably carried it on a bit too long (thirty-eight stories?); this would have worked better at about half the length, as well as cutting out some of the chaff. For this is the other usual problem with anthologies—there's a quality variance that seems almost unavoidable. I've always put it down to the editor having different tastes than the reader. Which explains it, but doesn't lessen the problem.
To be fair, the good stories in here are very good. They're usually the ones that take the holiday conceit and do something with it that's just a little bit off; Vallon Jackson's “Apocalypse Noo” is exemplary at this, Thomas Emson's “Where Moth and Rust Destroy”, and of course one expects great things from contributors like Tony Burgess, David Moody, and Joe McKinney (and of course gets them). And I'll go out of my way to say it—I'm not usually a fan of authors publishing their own stuff in anthologies they're editing, but Dunwoody's own contribution to this effort, “Roman Holiday”, just plain rocks, even if he did take the conceit straighter than I'd have liked.
In other words, it's a typical short story collection: some good, some not so hot, and themed, so if you like the theme, you should like this collection (or most of it anyway); if you don't, you probably won't. But who doesn't like vacations? And zombies? ***(less)
Diane Gaston, The Wagering Widow (Harlequin, 2006)
You always know what you're going to get with a romance novel; the only difference is the setting. I...moreDiane Gaston, The Wagering Widow (Harlequin, 2006)
You always know what you're going to get with a romance novel; the only difference is the setting. I can't even remember where I originally picked this up, but I have it in ebook form, and when I dialed it up I for some reason had the idea in my head that it was a Kindle short rather than a full-length novel. Wrong I was, obviously (it turns out, at least judging by an omnibus title released in 2008, it's actually the second in a series of six loosely-connected novels; now I have to hunt down the other five...). But then I wasn't terribly concerned; after all, it being a romance, I knew what I was getting, and while I was not surprised in any way, I wasn't disappointed, either.
Plot: In one of those classic romance “we probably could have solved all this with a five-minute honest conversation” setups, Guy Keating, a Lord in name only who is saddled with crippling gambling debts incurred by his father, elopes with Emily Duprey, whom he believes to be an heiress. Turns out she's as penniless as he is. Guy has sworn never to return to the tables, despite being a much more successful card sharp than his father ever was, but given his current situation, he can't think of any other way to make money (ah, to be of the idle rich!). Emily, who believes (thanks in no small part from misinformation got from both her brother and her mother-in-law, as well as many, many evasive answers from Guy) Guy's gambling debts are his own, believes he's going out every night and losing his shirt, so she—also quite the card sharp—gets herself gussied up so no one'll recognize her save her maid and heads out to turn the tables herself. Well, you know that eventually these two are gonna get together across a table. And here's the important question: who's gonna win THAT game?
At least, it's the important question if you're a poker player (I am). Gaston, on the other hand, takes it in the expected direction— [SPOILER ALERT!] Guy ends up falling for the masked lass and going through a major crisis of faith, while Emily is all too well aware that her husband is being “unfaithful” and is gonna milk that for all it's worth. [/SPOILER] But, you know, this is a romance novel, right? It's safe, it's predictable, and it's enjoyable as long as you're willing to play by its rules. If a good historical is what you're in the mood for and you're a fan of the cardroom, The Wagering Widow will be right up your alley (or your ante). ** ½ (less)
Full disclosure: this book was provided to me free of charge by Amazon Vine.
For the first time, Robin Hobb...moreRobin Hobb, Blood of Dragons (Harper, 2012)
Full disclosure: this book was provided to me free of charge by Amazon Vine.
For the first time, Robin Hobb has extended past the trilogy and given us a quartet. I admit, I was a little apprehensive—especially given the brevity of the third novel in the series (really, she could have easily combined the two)—but she pulled through, and Blood of Dragons, while not packing as much of a punch as concluding-trilogy volumes like Ship of Destiny or Fool's Fate, brings the Rain Wilds Chronicles to a satisfying conclusion.
NOTE: the plot summary below necessarily contains spoilers for previous books in the series.
Plot: The dragons, and some of the keepers, have finally made their way to Kelsingra—at least, those who can fly. The rest remain in the makeshift village across the miles-wide river until they can fly. But it's not just the dragons and their keepers, of course; some of the ship's crew are still there, though most are on a supply run back to the jungle. (That's a weird sentence, no matter how you present it.) Alise is still there, though after an offscreen confrontation with Rapskal—we only hear about it in retrospect—she has decided, or been forced, to rethink her position within the expedition. Still, despite all the Kelsingra drama, everything seems to be going along swimmingly—except that the Duke of Chalced, still desperate for dragon parts he believes can extend his life, is sending ever-greater numbers of mercenaries into the Rain Wilds—including the guy who's been working with Hest, Alise's husband (and who was previously working with Sedric), and who has decided that since Sedric has disappeared without a trace, Hest needs to head into the rain wilds himself to recover some dragon bits. We all know where that plot line is going, yes? But at the same time, a third thread emerges: Tintaglia, one of the major players in the Tawny Man trilogy, but whom we haven't seen here since the first book, is gravely injured after a battle with some of those same Chalcedean mercenaries. Unable to find Selden, her singer (whom, you will remember, was captured by Chalcedeans in the first book, and his journey through Chalced, and through various hands, has been a tangential plotline throughout), Tintaglia heads for the Rain Wilds as well, looking for healing—which she, and the other dragons, believe can be found in Kelsingra, but the racial memories of neither the dragons nor the Elderlings offer any clues as to how or where—so the keepers must discover it on their own...
If you're already invested in the series, you don't need me to tell you you want to read this book. If you're not yet, and you've read the other series leading up to it (which is everything except the Soldier Son trilogy—and I persist in my belief that the Soldier Son universe is just on the other side of the mountains at the western edge of the Mountain Kingdom), then what are you waiting for? If you're new to Robin Hobb, welcome aboard—but you're at the wrong end of things. Go pick yourself up a copy of Assassin's Apprentice, the first book in the Farseer Trilogy, and work your way up (Farseer, Liveship, Tawny Main, Rain Wilds Chronicles). You'll be glad you did. **** (less)
Roger Priddy, Slide and Find: Trucks (St. Martin's Press, 2007)
Very nicely-constructed (I picked up a well-used copy at a local used bookstore and the...moreRoger Priddy, Slide and Find: Trucks (St. Martin's Press, 2007)
Very nicely-constructed (I picked up a well-used copy at a local used bookstore and the interactive bits are almost as good as new despite heavy cosmetic wear) book that will definitely appeal to the pre-lit truck fan in the family, and as you get to first reader stage, the identify-the-trucks games should continue to hold a child's interest for a while longer. While the book is simplistic beyond the level of being able to actually read it to your child, it's simple enough that this may actually become a first reader's first reader, if you handle it right in the pre-lit stages. ** ½ (less)
Jim Durk and Gary McNamara, Let's Go, Thomas! (Publications International, 2010)
Who was it that originally came up with these books that come with pre...moreJim Durk and Gary McNamara, Let's Go, Thomas! (Publications International, 2010)
Who was it that originally came up with these books that come with pre-recorded sounds? We always used to make fun of them when I was in the book biz in the early nineties. Well, they obviously haven't gone away, and they're just as obnoxious now as they were when I had to sell the things. But the kid loves the sounds, so who am I to say? The problem being that he's more distracted by pressing the buttons and hearing the sounds than by the story, though I assume (I hope, anyway) he'll grow out of that as time goes on. ** ½ (less)
Sandra Boynton, Let's Dance, Little Pookie (Random House, 2008)
Pookie and his mom are back in this third installment of the series, where Mom teaches...moreSandra Boynton, Let's Dance, Little Pookie (Random House, 2008)
Pookie and his mom are back in this third installment of the series, where Mom teaches Pookie a dance, to the accompaniment of the usual wonderfully rhythmic text and easily-remembered rhymes. Nothing new here, but established Boynton fans, especially those who already have the first two Pookie books, will want this one in the collection. ***(less)
Another book (viz. Barnyard Dance) adapted from a song on the Philadelphia Chickens album Boy...moreSandra Boynton, Snuggle Puppy! (Workman Publishing, 2003)
Another book (viz. Barnyard Dance) adapted from a song on the Philadelphia Chickens album Boynton released in 2002. It's relatively new to the household (a couple of weeks), so I haven't had a chance to see what's going to happen over time, but for the moment it's still high up on the list of bedtime rotation books—the usual cute illustrations, though I need to get round to listening to the song to find out how the rhythm's supposed to work. More good stuff. *** ½ (less)
Sandra Boynton, Little Pookie (Robin Corey Books, 2011)
The first of Boynton's five (to date) Pookie books is a gentle counting song, full of the same...moreSandra Boynton, Little Pookie (Robin Corey Books, 2011)
The first of Boynton's five (to date) Pookie books is a gentle counting song, full of the same pitch-perfect rhythm and rhyme that is Boynton's hallmark and a mother-and-son cast of pigs who'll look suspiciously familiar to seasoned Boynton readers. Not the bean's favorite Boynton, but cute as always.*** ½ (less)
David Milgrim, Time to Get Up, Time to Go (Clarion Books, 2006)
I have to admit, I didn't think Time to Get Up, Time to Go was going to be a big hit at...moreDavid Milgrim, Time to Get Up, Time to Go (Clarion Books, 2006)
I have to admit, I didn't think Time to Get Up, Time to Go was going to be a big hit at Goat Central upon first read, but Milgrim (Amelia Makes a Movie) has created one of the bean's new favorite books here. The rhythm is simple and strong, the illustrations are precious, and parents will enjoy the toddler's imitation of his own upbringing with his favorite doll. Absolutely lovely, and a current bedtime favorite. *** ½ (less)
No author listed, Thomas' ABC Book (Random House, 1998)
Points off: No author listed.
Very heavily integrated into the Thomas the Tank Engine/Shining Ti...moreNo author listed, Thomas' ABC Book (Random House, 1998)
Points off: No author listed.
Very heavily integrated into the Thomas the Tank Engine/Shining Time Station universe, which should surprise exactly no one, but that does carry with it the caveat that this is not necessarily a book for casual fans of the series, but more for the obsessed (like my son). There are a few times when things seem as if they were stretched a bit to fit (and they totally cheat on X), but otherwise worth a go as long as your kid is a huge fan of the series. ** (less)
Victoria Adler, Baby, Come Away (Farrar, Strauss, and Giroux, 2011)
I really didn't think this one was going to be a hit at all, if not with baby, then...moreVictoria Adler, Baby, Come Away (Farrar, Strauss, and Giroux, 2011)
I really didn't think this one was going to be a hit at all, if not with baby, then with me—Adler's attention to the niceties of rhythm and rhyme, on the surface, is shall we say a bit lacking. But the bean was enchanted by David Walker's wonderful illustrations (and I was as well), so we kept at it, and eventually I uncovered what's going on here. Adler actually understands what she's doing in the realm of poetry, and has created a Gerard Manley Hopkins-esque sprung-rhythm piece with a great deal of internal rhyme; unfortunately, my initial impression came from the page layouts, which make it look as if Adler is following lines of hexameter with limes of dimeter (or even shorter!) rather than giving the visual line-break cues one would find in a Hopkins poem (“With a bird suit, feather cap, stockings on your legs,/You'll warm my eggs/And we'll have tea/In our tip-top tree./A worm for you/And a worm for me.”). We like this one a very good deal, and it gets read during book time more often than not. *** ½ (less)
Martha Simpson, What Not to Give Your Mom on Mother's Day (Amazon Children's Publishing, 2013)
Full disclosure: this book was provided to me free of ch...moreMartha Simpson, What Not to Give Your Mom on Mother's Day (Amazon Children's Publishing, 2013)
Full disclosure: this book was provided to me free of charge by Amazon Vine.
Cute book about what animal mothers might like for mother's day that goes off the beaten path at times (salamanders!), which is never a bad thing where kidlit is concerned. Because of this, however, it ends up being list-based rather than story-based, and we do have a preference for the latter at Goat Central. That said, the kid does seem to like it, though it's not as high in the rotation as other books for book time. ***(less)
Karen Katz, Where's Baby's Belly Button? (Simon and Schuster, 2000)
A lift-the-flaps book Karen Katz-style, with her distinctive illustrations and simp...moreKaren Katz, Where's Baby's Belly Button? (Simon and Schuster, 2000)
A lift-the-flaps book Karen Katz-style, with her distinctive illustrations and simple text. It's a lovely book, but it's getting a slightly lower review than I'd otherwise give it because it's not as well-constructed as it would be reasonable to expect given that much of the flap-lifting is going to be done by the pre-lit set; the flap on the back page, especially, is likely to start coming loose after just weeks of handling (it covers almost the entire page) . Still, that shouldn't dissuade you from getting a copy (though you may want to pick it up from the library first to give it a test). ***(less)
Margaret Wild, Kiss Kiss! (Simon and Schuster, 2003)
A baby hippois eager to get an early start on playing and forgets to give his mother a kiss goodby...moreMargaret Wild, Kiss Kiss! (Simon and Schuster, 2003)
A baby hippois eager to get an early start on playing and forgets to give his mother a kiss goodbye in the morning. He traverses various types of terrain (We're Going on a Ghost Hunt-style), witnessing a number of other types of animals kids usually love kissing their babies, then realizes what he forgot and heads right back for home. Fun illustrations (going back through the tall, tall grass is my favorite), strong rhythm, and lots of love by all the animals are making this one a current favorite at Goat Central. *** ½ (less)
Tarun Reddy, Brew-ku: Where Coffee Intersects with Life (dMon Publishing, 2012)
Full disclosure: I have known Tarun for, at this point, more years than...moreTarun Reddy, Brew-ku: Where Coffee Intersects with Life (dMon Publishing, 2012)
Full disclosure: I have known Tarun for, at this point, more years than either of us would care to admit. I'll put it this way: we were co-writing bad hair metal sings before you ever heard of Toni Basil.
I normally take great pleasure in dinging authors for not knowing the difference between haiku, a strict poetic form that adheres to a number of rules, and senryu, the much looser form. Not when I happen to know the author well, but there you go. (For the record, haiku—a three-line poem that, in Japanese, has five syllables in the first and third line and seven syllables in the second—always includes a seasonal reference, two distinct images, and a “cutting” word, or phrase, that usually comes between the two images, while senryu only adheres to the 5-7-5 rule—and to make things worse, 5-7-5 is not a strict rule in English; per both Higginson [The Haiku Handbook] and Henderson [Haiku in English], 5-7-5 is an upper limit, or a guideline, in English-language haiku and senryu; many authors of haiku in English aim for poems that can be recited in a single breath.) Brew-ku consists of two hundred senryu, each of which has been translated (using an online service) into Japanese as well, and each accompanied by a random coffee-related fact.
Taken as senryu rather than haiku, if you care about such things, Brew-ku contains a number of pieces that show a keen eye for detail and, occasionally, good insight into human nature through the observation of body language and the like. I like what we got...but what we got is somewhat less than two hundred senryu thanks to some problems either with the editorial process or the printing process. (Note that I'm not coming down on Reddy here, but his publisher.) A number of pieces are repeated with only slight changes on different pages; for example,
Limping and waiting Runner with broken ankle Caffeine eases pain
...on page 150. On page 160, the only difference is that the word “swollen” takes the place of the word “broken”. On pages 148 and 158, verbatim:
Eighty five degrees Yet the hot cups of lava flow Weather, no effect
Likable indeed the first time round. A bit confusing the second. It's enough for me to give the book a pretty severe smack on the wrist, but again, this isn't a problem with the author, it's a problem with the press. A new edition that corrects the book's problems would be welcome indeed. ** ½ (less)
Rio Youers is one of those names that sticks in the back of your mind. I first heard of him a few years...moreRio Youers, Mama Fish (Shroud Publishing, 2009)
Rio Youers is one of those names that sticks in the back of your mind. I first heard of him a few years back, but didn't encounter any of his work until recently; a copy of Mama Fish popped up at my local Half-Price Books, so I grabbed it to see if any of the buss I'd heard was warranted. Short answer: yes. While Youers does get a bit overwrought during the climax, Mama Fish is a whole lot of fun, with a handful of very well-drawn characters and a classic plot with some fresh new twists.
Kelvin Fish is the classic high school outcast, mocked by his classmates and ruthlessly tormented, despite his only desire being to be left to his own devices. Patrick Beauchamp is another kid in the same high school who shares a few classes with Kevin. He's not an outcast, per se; he's more the invisible man, that kid who always sat in the back of your chemistry class, the one whose name you knew, but you never found out anything else about. Patrick is fascinated by Kelvin Fish, and thinks maybe he might be able to find himself a friend. But when you start associating with the school outcast, the wrong element ends up noticing you...
You know these kids. You went to school with them. And that's what makes Mama Fish such a solid experience. As I said, he does go a little overboard once we get down to brass tacks, but that's forgivable. There's a whole lot to like about this book, and I suggest picking it up if you happen to run across a copy; good stuff indeed. *** ½ (less)
John Everson, Needles and Sins (Necro Publications, 2007)
You've read the reviews. You may have even already read Charlee Jacob's intro. You don't need...moreJohn Everson, Needles and Sins (Necro Publications, 2007)
You've read the reviews. You may have even already read Charlee Jacob's intro. You don't need me to tell you that Needles and Sins is a barnburner, the kind of book of horror shorts that will keep you up at night munching on chips and finishing just one more story the same way EverCrack had you finishing just one more quest. So what am I going to do different? Everyone else is focusing on the horror stories here. And they're good, though I'm not quite sure some of them are all they're cracked up to be (“Mutilation Street”, in particular, which Jacob singles out in her intro, strikes me as a gimmicky one-trick pony that could have been so much more than it is). I'm going to focus on the two non-horror stories here, which are, perhaps not coincidentally, the two stories that kick this book up from being good to being in the realm of Greg Gifune good and Vincent Sakowski good and Thomas Ligotti good and Richard-Christian-Matheson-when-he-wrote-“Red” good.
The first is “Spirits Having Flown”, and if I had to try and pigeonhole it into a genre, I'd call it an urban fantasy story, but that would be doing it a great disservice, in that it's a fantasy that takes place in an urban (and distinctly grungy, which is an atmosphere at which Mr. Everson excels in creating) setting, but it has none of the hallmarks you've come to expect if you've read half a dozen novels tagged that way. No, this is more “urban fantasy” like Gifune writes, mythical creatures that intrude on the lives of us normal folks, but without the whole us normal folks finding out we're half-faerie or whatever the hell. Specifically, in this case, “Spirits Having Flown” focuses on a pair of down-and-out drunks, one of whom has just shuffled off this mortal coil and is being mourned by his family—who didn't know he still existed, or those few that did didn't give a tinker's—and his best friend/housemate, who absolutely did. I wish we'd gotten more about these two guys than we did, especially the narrator, whose tale of “how I got to this state” is as perfunctory as they come, but there's no denying the emotional power this story packs.
The second, and one I haven't seen mentioned in a single review (and why, for the love of ink?), is “You Never Got Used to the Needle,” the best piece in this book by a country mile, and the fourth installment in the five-story cycle that finishes the book, a loose collection that surrounds a down-and-out, increasingly-desperate circus endlessly touring the American heartland. At the end of “Birth and Death”, Talman, its protagonist, has skirted certain death by joining up with the circus as its tattooed man, looking for a better life than the one he left behind. “Every town was the same.”, the omniscient narrator tells us from Talman's POV. “Every town had a tattoo parlor that blared its trade in neon screams and called to young and old to decorate the skeins of their lives in garish ink.” (--225) But Talman finds that Parkville, Illinois is not the same at all, and the tattoo artist who fills the space just above his heart unlocks gifts that Talman didn't know he had (yep, you can call this one another urban fantasy, though it's more in the current-definition vein), and tasks Talman with the choice of whether to use those powers to do good, do evil, or try to spend the rest of his life burying them. You'd think it would be an easy choice. But Talman, as damaged as he is, is not one to embrace the role of superhero lightly. I'll admit it—I shed a few tears at the end of this one. It's one of the best pieces of short fiction I've read in the last few years in any genre.
(And without trying to be spoily, this, as well as the other three stories that precede it in the cycle, set up the grand-guignol finale in “Irrelephant in Anathzebra”, and while I know in my heart that my desire to fling the book against the wall halfway through this story, cover it in kerosene, and burn it means the damn thing was doing its job, but it makes me hate John Everson not one whit less for being so effective, and I've spent the last four days adjusting the rating on this book between 2.5 and 4.5 stars because “Irrelephant in Anathzebra” pisses me off so much. Which was, of course, exactly the reaction Mr. Everson was looking for. There's even an extra-nasty twist of the knife towards the end that will scrape bone if you have children.)
If Everson ever ends up turning out a book of shorts that all have the same attention to character development, pacing, and plot as “You Never Got Used to the Needle,” it will be one for the ages. Until then, Needles and Sins will do very nicely to tide you over. Most of it's good. Some of it's damn good. And some of it's great. **** (less)
Debra Driza, Mila 2.0 (Katherine Tegen Books, 2013)
Full disclosure: this book was provided to me free of charge by Amazon Vine.
The biggest problem I h...moreDebra Driza, Mila 2.0 (Katherine Tegen Books, 2013)
Full disclosure: this book was provided to me free of charge by Amazon Vine.
The biggest problem I have with Mila 2.0 has not thing one to do with the manuscript that Debra Driza turned in, and for that I am heartily sorry. You see, Driza spends the first circa 100 pages of Mila 2.0 trying to keep secret what thoughtless copywriters and marketing agents—not to mention more than one reviewer—trumpet on the book jacket, in its ad campaign, etc., which by default makes it no longer a spoiler that our titular heroine is, shall we say—not to be spoily myself in case you have somehow managed to miss all that—not exactly what she seems to be.
(non-spoilery) Plot: Mila and her mother Nicole have recently relocated to Nowhere, Minnesota, to regroup after a house fire in Philadelphia claimed the life of Mila's father. Mila hasn't taken it well, not just for the obvious reasons, but, well, city-kid-in-the-country syndrome is in full swing. Sure, Kaylee, one of the popular girls, has taken Mila under her wing, even if her sarcastic-bitch best friend keeps prophesying doom on that relationship, and not long after Mila appears, here's Hunter, an ultra-hunky transfer student from California. Kaylee sets her sights immediately, but Hunter seems to only have eves for Mila, creating a triangle that culminates in the car accident that sets up the remainder of the book—which is where I'll stop, though you can pick up after that by simply reading the jacket copy, because that car accident reveals the major spoiler emblazoned all over same.
Simply-put: it's a genre sci-fi-thriller, and as long as you're okay with the predictability that brings along with it, you'll find this as enjoyable a ride as I did. The criticisms I've read of the book in other reviews all hold water—most of the minor characters are one-dimensional, and some of the majors aren't much better yet (but I'm assuming they'll be fleshed out in later volumes, so am not counting off for that at all), the plot never goes anywhere an astute reader wouldn't expect it to, etc.—but I'm okay with all that. This is meant to be a quick, fun read, and it delivers. ***(less)
Robert W. Chambers, The King in Yellow (Project Gutenberg, 1895)
The King in Yellow is best-remembered these days for being one of the seminal works be...moreRobert W. Chambers, The King in Yellow (Project Gutenberg, 1895)
The King in Yellow is best-remembered these days for being one of the seminal works behind the formation of the style of H. P. Lovecraft. Well, part of it, anyway (more on that later); as such, it's must-reading for Lovecraft fans, and its current public-domain status means it can be had for free from Gutenberg, not to mention the many, many companies who take Gutenberg tracts and repackage them (usually also for free, but be wary of paying for a Gutenberg file!) to circulate at Amazon, B&N, and other web outlets. Hey, free is a wonderful thing. And the unprepared Lovecraftian may appreciate that, given the dual nature of the book.
The King in Yellow is divided into two sections. The first is the one the shallower Lovecraft fans are going to want to read, a series of loosely-connected (sometimes very loosely-connected) stories centering around the titular tome, the first part of which, we are told, is deadly dull, but the second part of which is capable of either driving people mad or gifting them with unimaginable power. (Or, possibly, both.) At least, most of them are; the first clue you'll find that the thing is not a thematic whole is “The Demoiselle d'Ys”, a (this is a minor spoiler, but only a minor one; most modern readers will pick up on it immediately, though readers in 1895 may not have) parallel-time story that has nothing at all to do with The King in Yellow. Then comes the second half of the book, which is entirely different. It, too, is a series of loosely-connected vignettes, this one concerning an artists' enclave in Paris. The stories are much more realistic, slice-of-life pieces about young passion, artistry, and war (one might argue that Chambers—almost supernaturally, if one believes in that sort of thing...presaged the devastation of Paris twenty years later in “The Street of the First Shell”). There is a minor connection between the two parts, in that the protagonists of most of these stories are artists of some form or another, but one would do well to simply consider them separate cycles brought together for the purposes of coming up with a full-length, publishable manuscript.
This is not to say the Paris cycle is in any way inferior to the King in Yellow stories. In fact, as much as I liked those, and would be thrilled to find myself a package cruise that would swing by Carcosa and Lake Hastur, I have to say I ended up liking the Paris cycle better; perhaps because Chambers was striving for more realistic tales, his characters are somewhat better-drawn, and (oddly; one would think this true of the supernatural characters) quirkier, more individual. They sometimes do irrational things, but at no point does one equate “irrational” with “out of character”, and that's a lesson any number of writers would do well to learn. This is good stuff indeed, and stands equal to any number of solid short story collections published since. Check it out (for free!). *** ½ (less)
Greg F. Gifune, Blood in Electric Blue (Delirium Books, 2009)
I've been a huge fan of Greg Gifune's short fiction for almost a decade, since I first re...moreGreg F. Gifune, Blood in Electric Blue (Delirium Books, 2009)
I've been a huge fan of Greg Gifune's short fiction for almost a decade, since I first read Heretics. Until now, however, my experiences with Gifune had always come in the realm of short fiction; this is the first chance I've had to sample one of his novels. It was to my great delight that I found him to be equally proficient with feature-length work. Blood in Electric Blue is short (just over two hundred pages), sharp, well-drawn, and leaves just enough unanswered questions at the end to keep the reader thinking about this one for a long, long time after s/he turns the last page on it.
Plot: Dignon Malloy and his transgendered sister, Willie (it's never mentioned whether Willie is pre- or post-op, but I always got the feeling she is the latter), grew up in a household that can kindly be called “horrifically abusive”, and both have major problems as a result; Willie is drawn into relationships that mirror those the children had with their father, while Dignon has spent the past two decades mourning the loss of his first, and only, true love. Now Willie lives in a fleabag apartment building in the bad part of town with her newest nasty boyfriend, while Dignon has a small apartment in a slightly nicer section, with a view of the local chemical plant. On indefinite leave from his job after a traumatic event landed him in the arms of the PTSD crowd, Dignon mostly spends his days watching his pretty, punky neighbor Nikki through the bathroom window and haunting used bookstores. It is in the latter pursuit that he happens upon the book Mythical Beings in a Mortal World, which once belonged to a woman named Bree Harper, who wrote her name and phone number inside the front cover. Dignon uses the book as a ruse to meet her, and she turns out to be the epitome of “all this and brains too”. But Bree, as well, comes with baggage, in the form of jealous ex-boyfriend Kyle. Kyle, in one of his confrontations with Dignon, insinuates that Bree is not exactly what she seems to be—and Dignon, when he starts thinking about it, realizes Kyle may in fact not be crazy after all.
To me, the mark of a truly great mystery is not that it keeps you guessing until the end, but that once you get there, you realize you were trying to guess the answers to the wrong questions after all. Gifune doesn't get quite that far here; the setup for the main mystery is a little too obvious, so you know from the beginning what questions you're supposed to be asking. But he does manage to keep things interesting by not giving you all the necessary details; not so much that you have to fill in huge pieces of the puzzle, but some of the minor details are left just obscure enough to have you wondering which of the possible answers Gifune had in his head by the time you turn the last page (or if he kept himself from asking those questions in order to be able to truthfully say “I don't know” if ever asked). This is very good stuff from first page to last. Gifune, it turns out, is equally skilled writing short stories and novels, and I hope I'll be reading a lot more of both from him in the future. ****(less)
Jodie Medd, Lesbian Scandal and the Culture of Modernism (Cambridge University Press, 2012)
Full disclosure: this book was provided to me free of charg...moreJodie Medd, Lesbian Scandal and the Culture of Modernism (Cambridge University Press, 2012)
Full disclosure: this book was provided to me free of charge by Amazon Vine.
I follow the world of poetry more than the world of non-fiction, so maybe I'm oversensitized to this sort of thing. But at least once a week, an article comes across my desk that laments the death of modern poetry, usually because it's inaccessible or unreadable or some other buzzword that translates to “we don't feel like taking the time to teach students how to read it”. I never see them about academic non-fiction, but it seems to me one could make the same argument; I've read dissertations, vast tracts of verbiage written by people who haven't seen the outside of the University in their entire adult lives (A. J. Greimas' notorious Structural Semantics comes to mind), books I needed to keep two dictionaries within reach at all times in order to even comprehend. You think poetry is unreadable?
That's the sort of thing I expected when picking up Jodie Medd's Lesbian Scandal and the Culture of Modernism; one look at the press releasing the book and I figured I was headed into murky territory indeed. But I was surprised by this book, about as much as I can be surprised by a piece of academic non-fiction these days. I don't think I've ever come across a book that is structured like Foucault, but reads like Jared Diamond. And that's what I'm going to focus on here; you can look at the title and figure out whether the subject matter is going to be interesting to you (another wonderful holdover from the old days of non-fiction!), you don't need to read a review for that. I'll just note in passing that if you're a fan of pre-WW2 literature, and even if you're not (Virginia Woolf is the subject of Chapter Four, despite its centering on Radclyffe Hall and the obscenity trial over The Well of Loneliness and, well, to be frank, I don't think the woman could write two words together without making them sound as godawfully wrong as possible side-by-side), you're going to find something to sink your teeth into here.
It's the teeth-sinking that's got me half in the bag for this book. You can actually sit down with the silly thing and read it! Without reference tomes! Medd—consciously, I thought throughout—sat down to write a piece of academic non-fiction that cleaved as much as possible to the conventions of popular non-fiction. Yes, there's lit-crit jargon; you can't write a lit-crit book and get away from specialized language (though let's face it, if you can't figure out what a signifier and a signified are from the context, you probably shouldn't be reading Carl Zimmer, nuther). But Medd keeps it to a minimum, spending as much of her time as possible talking in layman's terms. To say the least, it's a refreshing change of pace. (Unfortunately, it seems she couldn't do anything about the academic non-fiction price tag, however.)
In other words: if you're not used to the wild, untamed world of academic non-fiction, this is actually a really, really good starting point, though unless you're independently wealthy you'll probably want to see if your local library has a copy. Jodie Medd has written a book that I hope becomes the new standard for academic non-fiction—it's a book that attempts readability, and succeeds. ****(less)
Heather Au, Murray's First Book of Words (Bendon Publishing, 2010)
The Bendon books that actually have attributions—all of them written by Heather Au,...moreHeather Au, Murray's First Book of Words (Bendon Publishing, 2010)
The Bendon books that actually have attributions—all of them written by Heather Au, at least all of them that have made it to Goat Central—are uniformly better than those with no author listed (i.e., one assumes, books that are “written by committee”). Murray's First Book of Words is the best of the lot so far, one of the few Bendons that actually looks like they were trying to conform to the standards of stuff that carries the Sesame Street license. (And for the record, I say this as someone who thinks Murray is second only to Elmo as the Most Annoying Character in the Modern Incarnation of Sesame Street(TM)). Each page sets up a scene, presents a focus, and then adds other words for peripheral things of interest in the scene. Well-presented, keeps the bean's interest, and holds up to repeated readings better than other Bendon books (though that's a relative thing). Hoping Ms. Au will take over as head writer for all of Bendon's stuff in the future. *** ½
(I may be too hard on Bendon—we do have one of the Sesame beginnings books from back when Random House had the license, and it's no better.)(less)
Nate Southard, This Little Light of Mine (Burning Effigy Press, 2011)
The latest piece of Burning Effigy madness to find its way to Goat Central (once...moreNate Southard, This Little Light of Mine (Burning Effigy Press, 2011)
The latest piece of Burning Effigy madness to find its way to Goat Central (once again thanks to my local Half-Price Books) is this lovely little Nate Southard chap, a fifty-one-page story about a trio of business-suit types who get trapped in an underground garage during an earthquake and find out that running out of air is far from the worst thing they have to worry about. This sort of thing has been done in short form very well in the past—the obvious example, if you translate from “underground garage” to “pond in the middle of nowhere”, is Stephen King's immortal “The Raft”. Southard's story doesn't quite hit those heights; there are places here where I got the feeling he wanted to turn this into something longer, and for what seems like it would be a thin premise, I never doubted he could. (If you turn this into a novel, Mr. Southard, I will be at the bookstore day of release.) Aside from one character, who never has a chance to develop (this isn't a spoiler—during the initial earthquake he is, as Steven Stapleton would put it, brained by falling masonry), Southard does a good job of focusing on character development just as much as the problem-solving aspects of these folks keeping themselves alive and whole, trying to get word from the outside world, etc. If the story has a drawback, it's that the short leg of this triangle is the creep factor, but I'm willing to play this as a thriller-with-monsters instead of a horror tale and be satisfied with the focus on problem-solving. Toronto-based Burning Effigy once again shows their impeccable taste in what they choose to publish. ***(less)
Nadine Bernard Westcott, The Lady with the Alligator Purse (Little, Brown, 1988)
My wife tells me (as does the book's cover) that this is a relatively...moreNadine Bernard Westcott, The Lady with the Alligator Purse (Little, Brown, 1988)
My wife tells me (as does the book's cover) that this is a relatively common sing-along song for kids. I'd never heard it before seeing this book. Actually I still haven't, so I've no idea if I'm reading it “right” when I read it to the kid. Fun little story, I always get a laugh out of the first few lines and Davey cheers when the titular Lady prescribes pizza for the baby's ills. The illustrations are capable, if nothing to write home about, and I do wish there were more of a resolution to the thing (though I'm not going to ding the book for it, assuming this is a faithful recreation of a popular... double-dutch chant, maybe?), but we have fun with it. ** ½ (less)
Lacey Kane, The Sexretary's Adventures, vol. 1: The Sexretary (Night Shift Publishing, 2012)
Sigh. Okay, I give up. I realize there's a market for what...moreLacey Kane, The Sexretary's Adventures, vol. 1: The Sexretary (Night Shift Publishing, 2012)
Sigh. Okay, I give up. I realize there's a market for what the folks at Goodreads' Dark Erotica group calls non-con books, but having read a few handfuls of them now, I realize equally that I'm just not that market. As soon as we hit that inevitable “oh please don't do that OH YES DO IT” moment, I have an instinctive revulsion that kicks in, and I don't think that's ever going to go away. So I started out giving this the gentleman's C and going from there, attempting to discount the material and focus on the actual structure and writing style as much as possible. And it's not a terribly-written thing, certainly not as bad as much Kindle porn I've subjected myself to over the past couple of years; it's very episodic for being as short as it is (thirty-three pages), which should clue you in that the author isn't spending anywhere near as much time building these scenarios as is necessary for a reader to really identify with any of the characters—but in my case, that turns out to be an unexpected bonus, rather than a detriment. I think the author has enough basic chops that, given some time and attention to the details of character, place (one must consider the realism of having a boardroom-style space in a construction trailer...), etc., s/he—I am never quite convinced that the female names on these files correspond to actual female authors (with the exception of Selena Kitt)—could do some pretty darn good genre work, at least the quality of the better books from Beeline of the other seventies porn presses. This ain't it, but it at least shows more promise than most of the works of this ilk. **(less)
Sandra Dillard (illus.), Follow the Bunny (Price Stern Sloan, 2006)
The main attraction of Follow the Bunny, at least going by my son's reaction to it,...moreSandra Dillard (illus.), Follow the Bunny (Price Stern Sloan, 2006)
The main attraction of Follow the Bunny, at least going by my son's reaction to it, is that each page has a textured piece he loves running his finger over. The main drawback to Follow the Bunny, from my perspective, is that the poetry's scanability (if that's even a word) lapses from time to time:
“First he hops over to Little Duck and Little Chick, Planting many flowers that soon they can pick.”
Four accents per line, so it scans, but the rhyme is forced. Which is still better than:
“Little Pup wags his tail, and wiggles his ears, If he doesn't hurry, he'll miss the fun, he fears.”
Forcing that second line to have four accents requires some tongue-twisting reading, not to mention putting for more syllables into a poetic foot than anyone in ancient Greece ever envisioned. (Oh, and the first comma in the first line is [sic].) So it stays in rotation, but for its tactile, rather than its sonic, qualities. **(less)
Stephen Krensky, Curious George Cleans Up (Houghton Mifflin, 2007)
Krensky's “cine-manga”-style adaptation of another Curious George TV episode (viz. r...moreStephen Krensky, Curious George Cleans Up (Houghton Mifflin, 2007)
Krensky's “cine-manga”-style adaptation of another Curious George TV episode (viz. review of Curious George Takes a Trip, above) at least does a better—much, much better—job at keeping pace with the episode it's adapting, but once again I couldn't help feeling they would have done better to make these twenty-four page books forty-eight and add a bit more of the episode in. The story here is at least coherent, but there's still too much left out for any of the humor to land correctly, especially the cow bits towards the end; they definitely have an “it's in the episode so it needs to be here” feel without anyone seeming to have considered the emotional thrust. Nothing here is going to make anyone laugh. Watch the episode instead (the entire Curious George animated series is a Netflix streaming mainstay). **(less)
Rotem Moscovich, Curious George Takes a Trip (Houghton Mifflin, 2007)
This is what the guys at the now-deceased Tokyopop used to call “cine-manga”, ada...moreRotem Moscovich, Curious George Takes a Trip (Houghton Mifflin, 2007)
This is what the guys at the now-deceased Tokyopop used to call “cine-manga”, adaptations of teleplays turned into books using actual screencaps (or in this case, one assumes, cels from the animation). I'm sure this sort of thing can be done competently, but to date, I have yet to come across a case of that; this is unarguably the worst example of the bunch. As someone who has seen the episode of the Curious George TV show being adapted, I can fill in enough of the blanks to make a coherent story out of this, but someone who hasn't seen it is likely to be totally lost; the first eighteen pages of this twenty-four page book concentrate on the first half of the episode, and then the last four of story (there are two pages of “audience interactive” kind of stuff) jump ahead to key pieces of the plot—the problem is, there's no telling how we get from point A (George is wandering around the airport looking for his toy plane) to point B (George is sitting in the cockpit of the actual plane he's taking to Hawaii), which is the second half of the episode in question. Not sure what anyone involved was thinking here, but everything about this book screams “quick cash grab.” *(less)
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