Edward Lorn's Blog, page 37

Giving the Gift of Cruelty (Audiobook Edition)

CRUELTY: A NOVEL is now available on Audible, all ten episodes in one massive file (over 17 hours of book). While the finished audiobook is expensive, you can pick it as your freebie if you’ve been planning to sign up, and (full disclosure) the narrator and I get to split $50 more than we normally would. If you’re already a member, you can use a credit. If you’re broke, ask me to gift it to you. I don’t mind at all and no strings attached.

Thank you for your continued support.

Link to purchase: http://www.audible.com/pd/Fiction/Cruelty-Audiobook/B01DTEHL2I/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1460384254&sr=1-1

 

 

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edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1377961/giving-the-gift-of-cruelty-audiobook-edition

Another Time, Another Life Review

This was a buddy read with the incomparable Thomas Strömquist. If you do not know Thomas, I suggest you get to know him. He’s well-read and a genuinely good person, which are two characteristics rarely found in guys these days. I consider myself lucky to know him, and even luckier to call him my friend. He was gracious enough to buy me a physical copy of this book for our monthly buddy read. I know I’ve told him privately, but here’s a another thank you, because he deserves to be acknowledged publicly. Thank you, Thomas. Your friendship and kindness are always appreciated.

Another Time, Another Life is not your average crime story. It’s not really a thriller either. While I did enjoy the overall experience, I was never on the edge of my seat. It’s not that type of mystery. I think I enjoyed this one as much as I did for the following reasons: a) I learned several new things, b) I dig dry humor, which this book is full of, and c) I was able to read this with someone who could clue me in on the original text.

The timeline jumps back and forth between present day, not-so present day, and the past. If you’re confused, I’ll try to explain. The story bounces from 1975 to 1989 to 1975 to 2000 to 1975 to Present Day. At least Present Day in the story. Everything from 1975 is boring to the point of sleep-inducing. You need the information being delivered, but the style in which it is written is long-winded and banal, like reading a newspaper article that goes on for fifteen pages. I was glad these sections were relatively short, because every time they popped up, the story ground to a screeching halt.

By the time I was done reading this book I felt as if I’d lived several decades with it’s characters. Especially our leading man, Swedish Security Policeman Lars Johansson. Unfortunately, I got to know several assholes along the way, as well. The homophobia was strong with this read, and even our main character seemed stuck on stupid at times. But the author makes sure that we know these points of view belong solely to his characters and not him by inserting certain characters to argue the other, less-hateful side of things. Some of the hate-speech was hard to read due to its casual nature. Maybe I’m the odd duck here, but casual hate-speech has always bothered me more than blatant hate-speech. If you’re going to be an ignorant ass, I’d prefer to know upfront. No reason to hide that shit. Get it out in the open so I can tell you to fuck off and get back to my day.

Of course, we must tackle the 800-pound stereotype in the room. Because this author is Swedish, he’s been compared to Jo Nesbø and Stieg Larsson. I’ve read both, and I don’t think he’s like either one of them. Persson’s plot is a far superior to the Larsson novel I read, but his writing is nowhere near as fun to read as Nesbø’s. That being said, Persson is his own person. (See what I did there? Ha-ha, ho-ho, he-he…).

[Awkward transition is awkward]

I find other countries and cultures fascinating. I was raised by a rather close-minded father who was equal parts homophobic, xenophobic, and racist. Being able to tell early on that his close-mindedness came from a lack of education helped a great deal where my own education was concerned. I read everything I could get my hands on (still do), but only recently (in the past two years or so) have I branched out to international authors. I dig all things Swedish and Japanese, and am (slowly) learning Swedish, which I chose because Japanese is, to put it mildly, fucking impossible to teach yourself unless you’re a genius. And, as anyone who’s read my fiction or reviews will tell you, I’m no genius. I love that this book was both educational and entertaining. I learned quite a bit about Sweden’s laws and political history, and came to appreciate this author’s unique brand of humor.

In summation: I’m not entirely sure any of my friends will be interested in this one, as the writing and humor can be a bit dry and the translation is rather verbose. Thomas warns that much is lost in translation, but the story has survived well enough. Recommended to fans of procedural crime fiction.

Final Judgment: A learning experience.

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1375392/another-time-another-life-review

ATTENTION CRITICAL-TYPE ‪#‎READERS‬!

I’m looking for another beta read of my new novella FAIRY LIGHTS. I need brutal honesty and someone who knows the ins and outs of track changes in Word. I don’t care about errors, those are for editing professionals to figure out. I’ve taken measures to make sure the manuscript is clean, but there will be typos here and there. I need your opinion on the story and I need it back before April 15 (the earlier the better, please) so that I can fix anything you point out before my deadline on May 1. 

 

The piece is 35,000 words (a little over 120 manuscript pages) and includes extreme violence, blood, gore, rape (not of women), monsters, fairies, social commentary, and filthy, nasty, immature, offensive, and foul language. Everything I listed serves the story in some way, and is not there simply for shock value.

 

More than one person will be considered if I feel it necessary, so please respond even if you think you’ve missed your chance.

 

Ya dig? Message me if you’re down. Thanks, and love yo faces.

 

 








 

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1371758/attention-critical-type-readers

FREE AUDIOBOOKS!!!

The next twenty people to respond to this status update on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Goodreads, or Booklikes get one of my audiobooks for free.

To win, all you have to do is tell which book you want. All audiobooks will be gifted by tomorrow before noon central standard time.

Thank you.

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1369929/free-audiobooks

Don’t be a Dick (Audible Edition)

Please read. If you want to read/listen to my work but cannot afford to, ask me for a copy. I’ll gladly gift you a copy if you can’t afford it. At least that way, my narrator gets paid. Thank you.

 

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1369902/don-t-be-a-dick-audible-edition

Autofiction Review

Have you ever read a book and liked it but not known exactly why you like it? That’s kinda where I’m at with Hitomi Kanehara’s Autofiction, which sits on my shelf in between Ryu Murakami and Natsuo Kirino. Not because Kanehara is a Japanese author, but because I have nowhere else to put it. It doesn’t fit anywhere else.

Autofiction is one of the strangest books I’ve read that doesn’t have a surrealistic or supernatural something going. There’s some confusion as to whether or not Rin, our narrator, is batshit crazy, or if she’s just playing a part in order to create a fictional autobiography worthy of publication. Autofiction, by definition, means fictional autobiography, so I’m going to go with the Russian nesting doll theory. Here we have Kanehara writing a fictional autobiography about a woman who’s writing a fictional autobiography. Confused? No? Good. We shall proceed.

(If you are confused, shit, I don’t know what to tell you. This is the best I can do, so have a coke and smile, sit down and shut the fuck up. There’s less confusing shit coming up.)

I mainly had a blast piecing together this puzzle because Rin’s head is an awesome place to be. She’s a fucking hoot, always talking to her vagina and shit. Grade-A hilarity was achieved during certain sections, especially when she’s calling her own nu-nu a “needy cunt” while in the process of getting some o’ that good-good. There was a time or two where I had to pause and blame some things I read as being lost in translation. The believe the narrator confused “orgy” with the word “rape”. At least I hope that was the case. Let me explain.

There are two sections in which groups of men walk off with females thrown over their shoulders with the intent of “raping” them. That’s how our narrator Rin thinks of it, anyway. But the girls seem to be into it. At the very least they seem to be getting paid to fuck these men. Which caused much confusion inside this reader’s head. I mean, are we talking about these guys forcing themselves on these girls, or are they willing participants? Is this one of those freaky-deaky fake-rape parties? Did I miss the bus completely and read something horribly wrong? I don’t know, kids, but I had all the confusion. Head scratching was most definitely going on during these “rape” scenes. Well, I shouldn’t say “rape” scenes, because there was no on-screen rape. Had there been rape, I would have said to myself, “Self, that there is some rape. There is nothing pleasurable about that, because that shit right there, is rape. Ya dig?”

I know I’m making this book sound rape-ier than a Michael Jackson sleepover, but it’s really not. There is quite a bit of sexy times, moreso than I suspected there would be. And considering we’re in the head of an insane person, the bumpity-bump is a fantastically hilarious read.

Unfortunately, Autofiction is only available in paperback, and the copy I purchased came all the way from Japan. It’s the UK edition, but it still came from a bookseller in Tokyo. To my knowledge, there is no US version. Anyway, if you ever get a chance to lay hands on this weird little book, buy it. I spent eight bucks on a 216 page paperback and I don’t feel a bit cheated.

In summation: If you enjoy being inside of a crazy person’s head, this is the book for you. It’s funny, quirky, and at times dark, but it is never boring. If you can find it, read it up. Recommended, for sure.

Final Judgment: Big fun in a little package.
 
 

 

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edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1367328/autofiction-review

Watchers Review

Review:

What started as a buddy read involving Stepheny, Dan 2.0, Delee, Kells. and Shelbs, soon descended into organized Koontz-shaming. Our seemingly harmless group excursion into one of Dean Koontz’s best books became a game of Who Can Take the Hottest Squat On E.’s Childhood? That’s fine, though, because Kells’s and Shelbs’s brains have been rotted by reading too much porn, and we all know that Dan 2.0 suffers from Ridiculous Disease, a disease that confuses fiction with real life and makes its sufferers believe that insane shit cannot happen in or around make-believe stories, unless that fiction is Harry Potter, who obviously gets a pass because wizards are the shit, yo.

I like each of the people listed above, even if they read almost everything wrong, because opinions are like Cheetos. Everybody wants to have them but no one wants to be seen with dirty hands. But Shelbs, Kells, and Dan 2.0 eat Cheetos with wild abandon, and have no problem wiping their neon-orange dusted fingers down the fronts of everything you hold dear. Seriously, you guys rock. I wouldn’t change you for the world.

Needless to say, this book is awesome. It also sucks a load of donkey penis. While reading, you’re likely to have a great time. It’s only when you’ve completed this book and start another Koontz book that you realize that something has gone terribly wrong. Once you put down your second Koontz book and pick up your third, you begin shaking with terror because that feeling of unease has become sheer unadulterated terror. You throw the third book out the window and shriek after it, “Never again!” But then you pick up a fourth… and a fifth… and Tom fucking Cruise on a hydraulic crutch, you’ve finally realized what’s happened. Dean Koontz is a fucking hack who repeats himself in every book!

And Watchers is the book that started it all.

For those of you who do not know, the film version ofWatchers was the first successful Koontz adaptation. Never mind that the world-weary Travis was played by the barely pubescent Corey Haim (who would later sell his teeth on eBay and die of a drug overdose but once had a thriving career), the film was an overall success because dogs and government-trained killers and monsters are rad! Everybody but Koontz fans liked the movie. The movie dropped a muddy deuce all over the source material, but Koontz made a few bucks. He’s been trying to recreate the magic ever since. And then Koontz’s Golden retriever, Trixie, died, and the poor bastard lost his fucking mind. After the death of his beloved pooch, every koontz book was about a super-smart doggie sidekick, a government-trained killer, or a monster. Sometimes all three happened. Sometimes only one of those things happened. Eventually Koontz found Odd Thomas and most Koontz fans rejoiced because, while the book was an obvious cash-grab based on the success of The Sixth Sense, it was original in comparison to the other bullshit Koontz had been dropping on fans from his throne on high. Odd would eventually shit the bed too, but we’re not here for that. We’re here to discuss Watchers, the best and worst thing Koontz ever did with his career.

I would hazard a guess and say that Watchers is the last original thing Koontz wrote. It is the end of the road when it comes to his imagination. Every book published after it can be found earlier in his career under a different title. While the character names and plots change slightly, Koontz only has ten templates with which to work. After you read more than five close together, you start to see the pattern that has made him a bestselling author. Because casual readers like the same old shit over and over again. It’s comforting to know that Koontz will always deliver one of ten kinds of stories and that it will always be readable. He’s the literary equivalent of a Marie Callender’s pot pie. Each box contains a different meat, but the same old broth and veg baked into the same old crust. Nothing wrong with it, but you will get tired of it if you eat it every night.

In summation: A piece of my childhood that’s withstood the test of time. I like it. I like it a lot. But I also know that it’s kinda like saying you liked Hitler in 1936. You know, before he became Hitler-Hitler. People change. Dean Koontz is not Hitler, of course, but he’s strayed far from the writer I once wanted to emulate. Somewhere along the way, he abandoned his imagination and succumbed to financial success. More power to him.

Final Judgment: The book that ended it all.

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1365638/watchers-review

Fig Review

Review:

I will get what I didn’t like about this book out of the way upfront. Somewhere around the 80% mark, the book stopped being as good as it had been prior to that point. It was still a good read, but the magic died and I was no longer enthralled and hypnotized by the writing. It became just okay. Had the final 20% or so been as captivating as what came before, this would’ve easily been a five-star read. Unfortunately, Schantz dropped the ball somewhere, but I cannot pinpoint where it began to go downhill. I simply found myself no longer caring and trudged through the final fifty pages like a Romero zombie through quicksand.

I was going to spend the majority of this review explaining to you what it was like growing up with my father, but I’ve decided not to. I’ve written about it before, and I don’t want to upset myself by writing about it again here. If you’re at all curious, you can read my blog post concerning my fatherHERE. You don’t have to read it to understand this review. I only thought I would share with those of you who care to know more about the experiences that molded me into the person I am today.

What I do not discuss in my blog post is the OCD that my father passed down to me. He had his routines and rituals, and I have mine. He was a hoarder and I am a collector. The only difference between those two words is order. He threw shit everywhere, and I believe in upkeep. I dust my bookcases and reorganize my shelves at least once a month. Sometimes twice in a thirty-day period. It all depends on whether or not I’ve added something new, or something of a different size. I cannot stand books being out of order, but I also cannot settle on which order I prefer: from biggest to smallest; chronologically by publication date; or by genre. What a fuckin’ dilemma. It drives me batshit, and I’m always shifting things around to find the most aesthetically pleasing solution for that month.

Suffice it to say, I related with Fig and her story. I wish my father would have given us a break from his neuroses like Fig’s mama does, but I survived nonetheless. I am who I am today because I grew up around that man. Had I not, I likely never would have written Life After Dane, which was loosely based on my childhood. My father was not physically violent, but I almost wish he had been. At least bruises and broken bones heal over time. Abused persons are all left with scars, but this self-doubt bullshit is for the fucking birds. This is one of the reasons why I don’t get mad and rage when I get negative reviews, because I usually agree with the people who say, “This guy is a horrible writer.” I dig that some people seem to like my stuff, and that’s why I continue to publish, but I’ll never think of myself as worthy of praise. You don’t like me? Cool beans. ‘Cause I don’t like me much either.

Anyfuck, I enjoyed this book and I didn’t. It took me forever to read because I related a little too well with certain scenes, especially the scenes where the reader isn’t sure if what’s happening on the page is actually happening. I could only deal with it a chapter a day, and sometimes even that was too much.

In summation: This was a difficult read for me, but I managed to finish it. I do love a challenging read, but this one hit too close for comfort. If mental illness is one of your triggers be forewarned: Fig is a sad read who’s only purpose is to pummel your feels. I’ll likely not read it again. Recommended to gluttons for punishment.

Final Judgment: Will make you count things.

 

 

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1363929/fig-review

Cry Havoc #2 Review

Ah, there’s nothing better than a masturbating Norwegian constantly jerking it under cover of helmet. The fact that he’s an animus who changes into a massive, terrorist-rending battle boar is the icing on the cake. This dude’s name is Ottar (there’s supposed to be a straight line [a macron] over the O in his name, but I can’t find the alt code for it), and he’s the best thing since Rice Krispies squares dipped in Nutella. You haven’t tried Rice Krispies squares dipped in Nutella? What the fuck are you waiting for? While you’re out procuring those tasty items, drop by your local comic shop and pick up this series.

Issue #2 is even better than the first one, and has a unforeseeable ending that made my jaw drop. I am really digging this series. The writing is on point, and the characters are all fun and unique. I can’t wait for issue #3 to drop next month. Waiting 30 days between issues is a motherfucker, but so far worth it.

In summation: A masturbating Norwegian battle boar. Enough said.

Final Judgment: Second verse better than the first.

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1352614/cry-havoc-2-review

Cry Havoc Review

Review:

The last comic book I read issue by issue as it came out was the death, funeral, and return of Supes. Every comic I’ve read since then, I’ve gone all Netflix-binge-watch and waited until the omnibuses came out. I can’t fucking help it, all right? I’m impatient by nature. Hell, it’s the whole reason I’m an author. I don’t want to wait around for someone to tell me my favorite types of stories, so I tell myself.

And then came Cry Havoc. And I am in love. Why? Because of a lesbian werewolf. No, not an Adam-and-Eve lesbian. A real person who identifies as lesbian. A fully-realized human being who isn’t reduced to a sex act or who they sex upon. And yes, had this been about a gay werewolf, I would have been just as excited to read it. The thing is, this hasn’t been done before. At least not to my knowledge. We’ve had loads of gay vamps, a lesbian Frankenstein’s monster, a guy who writes about every news story being pounded in the butt, but I’ve never seen or read about a lesbian werewolf. Like Jeffrey Dahmer once said, “I like trying new things.” (Too soon?)

I sought out this series because I saw the cover on Twitter. When I read the synopsis, I knew I had to have it. The best part about this comic is the art design. Gorgeous. Just fan-fucking-tastic. And guess what? The story, so far anyway, is great too. It’s non-linear and time-jumpy. I dig that shit. It’s my Precious.

Side note: I don’t drive because my back issues have rendered my right foot damn near unusable. My interest was so piqued by this series that I had someone drive me two hours round trip to procure the first issue. With gas money included, the first issue cost me $15. Luckily I found #2 locally, and I have my local store holding all future issues for me. Win.

In summation: If you like stories that are told out of sequence, you should dig this. If you like your characters left of normal, you should dig this. If you’re offended by masturbating Norwegians, you should probably skip this… more on that in my review of issue #2.

Final Judgement: Worth every penny of gas money.

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edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1352080/cry-havoc-review