Edward Lorn's Blog, page 38

Dune Review

Review:

After 21 days, I am back from Arrakis. I have sand crammed into every orifice, and my stillsuit smells of three-week-old swampy man ass. Think papermill with a side of skunk ape and we’ll be on the same page. Yummy. If I never see another beach in my life, it’ll be too goddamn soon.

Bet you think that means I disliked this book, huh? Well, probably not, because you saw my rating, but whatever. Anyfloop, I dug the shit out of this book, and my opening comments are why. I was utterly transported to this sandy bastard of a planet, and while it wasn’t always fun, it was always an escape. Some sections go on way too long, but I only realized how little the information-to-story-progression ratio was once I finished certain chapters. Although, while I was reading them, I honestly didn’t notice. In hindsight, yeah, this book is heavy, but it’s a sexy kinda heavy, like Ashley Graham in Sports Illustrated. All the right worldbuilding in all the right places.

(I’ll wait here while you Google “Ashley Graham Sports Illustrated”. I know I’ll have to wait longer for the dudes and the ladies who dig ladies to “come” back, but that’s all right. Have fun. Just don’t get any on your chins.)

I think I am one of the only people on this third rock from the sun that hasn’t a) seen the movie version of this book, or b) read this mammoth-sized motherfucker of a novel. My mother loves the movie. She’s seen it a hundred times, if not more, but I never could get into it. The floating, bubbling fat man always put me off. Now that I have even more to go on concerning Baron Harkonnen, I find him even more disgusting. The Baron is all about that booty. That underaged-boy booty, and me thinks his neck is deserving of a crysknife.

Being that I enjoy a bit of the ol’ strum strum, I think my favorite character throughout the entire book was Gurney Halleck. He’s a wicked talented basilet player, yo, and one hell of a dedicated, honorable individual. I enjoyed his storyline the most, especially when I legitimately thought he was about to cut a chick. Such a harrowing scene, and such a long time coming. I’m glad it turned out the way it did, but for a minute there, I wouldn’t have minded had it went the other way.

Paul was probably my least favorite character, as he played the “Chosen One” role and I’m not a fan of that storyline. Never have dug the people who turn instant badass due to prophecy. That being said, it didn’t detract from my experience. Paul, in my opinion, was simply the weakest link.

And finally, every scene with a worm in it fucking rocked, but my favorite worm scene has to be the first one, where Duke Leto decides to save the spice miners. I saw that scene so clearly in my head. Man, that was fantastically written.

In summation: I can see why Dune has withstood the test of time and maintained the label of one of the “Best Science Fiction Books in Existence.” Herbert handled third-person omniscient stunningly well, and I was never confused while reading, as can be the case with some authors. What a terrific experience, and many thanks to Athena Shardbeaer for the recommendation. I likely never would have picked this up otherwise.

Final Judgment: Fear is the motherfuckin’ mind killer, yo.

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1351599/dune-review

The Ballad of Black Tom Review

Review:

Even before I found out Lovecraft was a humongous shitstain of a human being, I didn’t like the way he wrote. His prose is a bit too antiquated for my tastes. So when I found out he hated all skin tones darker than Elmer’s-glue, it didn’t bother me because I already didn’t like the guy. Am I dumb enough to think all his fans must be racist because he was? No. I know plenty of radically non-racist individuals who love his stuff. These folks can look past the artist to appreciate the mythos he created. Good on them. The problem for me is, I’m not even a fan of his mythos. Squid-faced gods and monsters so ugly the author can’t be bothered to describe them never have done much for me. It’s all too easy to say, “Oh, snap! That thing is so scurry my mind can’t even wrap around it, yo!” I wish all of us could get away with that; describing everything as too scary to describe. It would make being a horror author much easier.

So why did I read this? Well, Gregor Xane read it and shared with me the epigraph, which reads, “For H.P. Lovecraft, with all my conflicted feelings.” You see, Victor LaValle is a mixed dude who grew up reading Lovecraft. When LaValle was in his teens, he found out about Lovecraft’s extreme racism, but decided to play with the old Aryan’s mythos anyway. I respect that. The idea of the offendee reimagining an offender’s work piqued my interest. Kinda like what would happen if the crew over at Kidz Bop paid tribute to Michael Jackson. (Too soon?) Anyfuck, that’s why I read it. And I’m glad I did, because this motherfucker was damn good. I also find it hilarious on several levels that LaValle does Lovecraft better than Lovecraft did Lovecraft.

The Ballad of Black Tom is first told from the POV of Tommy Tester, a dude who becomes the titular Black Tom. At exactly the halfway point, the POV switches to a detective named Malone. While Tom’s section is more of an introduction, Malone’s section brings home the creepy, gory bacon. The description of Ma Att’s shadow/tail/ whatever-the-fuck was so subtle and well done, it actually raised gooseflesh on my forearms. I honestly cannot remember the last time a simple grouping of words affected me physically. I am in awe. LaValle nailed that scene. I can say, truthfully, it’s in my top ten scenes ever written. The descriptions of the monster under the water and the low note played throughout the piece were equally well written.

As for the story itself? It’s definitely my cuppa tea. A slow burn that goes into a bit of what-the-fuckery before the ending leaves our protagonist forever changed. I dug the fuck out of this little book and I want more.

In summation: The Ballad of Black Tom is now my forerunner for Novella of the Year 2016. I’ll be looking for more LaValle, as this one has officially made me a fan.

Final Judgment: Eye opening.

(Gregor Xane shared this link with me after I read the book. I suggest you read it too, you know, AFTER you read this story. It’s Victor LaValle explaining why he tackled this particular story and its characters.

 

http://whatever.scalzi.com/2016/02/17/the-big-idea-victor-lavalle/)

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1350520/the-ballad-of-black-tom-review

Real YouTube Comments #4

“u ppl are so racist against spaghettis”

 

No alterations were made to this YouTube comment. 

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1350188/real-youtube-comments-4

Cry Havoc all sold out.

 

Finally found a comic book series I’d like to read issue by issue and no one locally has it in. They can order it, but I kinda wanna read it right now. 

 

Anybody read this one? Looks amazing.

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1350167/cry-havoc-all-sold-out

Calamity (The Reckoners, Book 3) Review

Review:

Brandon Sanderson’s Reckoners series is the first series I’ve read/listened to that consistently got better with every book. I gave Steelheart two stars because I saw potential in the world yet the story bored the stains outta my shorts. Book 1.5, the novella entitled Mitosis, had a battle derivative of far better stories (The Matrix Reloaded) and got two stars, too. I gave Firefight 3.5 stars because Sanderson upped the action but the narrative was overloaded with the most idiotic fake cussing known to the fantasy world. In Calamity, Sanderson returned to the formula of the first novel and I was scared I’d end up one starring this bad boy. Fortunately for me, there was a better story to be told this time around. While there was less action in this one than there was in the second book, the ending had enough in the way of twists and emotional payoff that I didn’t feel like hate-fucking it with my rage-boner. In my opinion, Calamity was a better book than both book one and two combined.

The faux foul language in place of actual curse words is asinine, and I will harp on this subject until religious persons get the message I’m trying to send. It’s goofy and pointless. I get that Sanderson is mormon, but cussing is still cussing even if you replace “fuck” with “sparks” and so forth. Words are only words, it’s the intention of those words that make them curses. For instance: If I say I frosted your wife’s face like a cake, you’d probably be upset because, even though I didn’t use any naughty words, the intention is there and the meaning is obvious. Your wife is unfaithful and uses semen as facial cleanser. Saying I fucking jizzed on Mrs. Sanderson’s goddamn gobbler is not any better or worse. It’s all about intent, Brandy. Get a clue. Somehow I think your invisible man will still give you a demerit if you replace “asshole” with “slontze”. And if he doesn’t it’s probably because he doesn’t exist he’s not offended by words like “fuck” and “cock” and “cum bubble” and “twat biscuit”.

This has been a public service announcement brought to you in part by the letter E. Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame…

Overall, I give the Reckoners series a solid three stars for world building. This final book gets four stars because, even though the middle is heavy with dialogue and missing some much needed action, Sanderson managed to trick me at the end with Calamity’s true identity. I knew the red star was someone we’d heard tell of throughout the series, but I didn’t guess correctly. Well played, Sanderson.

Seeing that Sanderson didn’t completely shit the bed with this three-book outing, I think I’ll try one of his other series, you know, as long as he doesn’t use that lame-ass-Dr.-Seuss-bullshit-replacement language. I bought the first two Stormlight Archive books when they were on sale at Audible, so I’ll likely jump into those next.

By the way, for those of you who wonder why I stuck with this series, the answer is simple. I was given a gift of Audible codes under the strict orders that I use them on Sanderson books. Many thanks to Random House Audio for the chance to review these books. MacLeod Andrews did a fantastic job of keeping the voices unique to their characters.

In summation: The substitution cussing will likely not upset you as much as it upset me. I simply enjoy a well-used curse word because I’m an adult who understands the concept of intent. I dug the world building and the variety of Epics, but I did not appreciate the lengthy sections devoid of action. I believe that this series should have been battle after battle after battle, and not battle, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, battle, end. There are entire chapters I would have cut from the first and third books. That being said, I do not regret reading the series due to the payoff of this final book. Recommended for mormon comic book fans.

Final Judgment: Not bad for a bigot.

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1349966/calamity-the-reckoners-book-3-review

Randomized Randomocity #183

So there’s this new fad that’s really an old fad called the Under Boob Challenge. Any of you ladies remember being told (or have been told recently) that if you put a pencil under your breast and it stays there, your boobs are saggy and/or unattractive? Well, that shit has returned (if it ever truly went away in the first place). Now, there’s YouTube vids and Twitter pics for this. Censored, of course, but they exist. 

 

Ladies, if you’re worried that guys aren’t going to like you because your boobs are too big, all I have to say is, you’re more than your chest size. Besides, any guy that is concerned with the size of anything on your body isn’t worth your time. But I know dudes who like ’em itty bitty and guys that like massive mammories. I have one friend who actually prefers one to be bigger than the other. Some guys couldn’t care less what you have up top. They’re all about that butt. Likewise, some guys like eyes and noses and so on.

 

That being said, if a guy loves you, whatever you’re rocking is the sexiest thing on earth.

 

*hugs and high fives*

 

E. 

 

 

 

 

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1349649/randomized-randomocity-183

The Face of Fear Review

Review:

Dean Koontz originally released The Face of Fear in the 70s under the pen name Brian Coffey. This was during his struggle to find a genre and persona that would lead him to fat stacks and his own personal library of Chester the Cheetah porn. He was Aaron Wolfe and David Axton and Leigh Nichols. He even wrote as a female author under the pseudonym Deanna Dwyer. He wrote screenplays, too, one of which was turned into the cheese-fest The Funhouse, wherein a disfigured man terrorizes, you guessed it, a funhouse. Later in his career, he released the novel version, and it is one of my favorite books from him, although many Koontz fans hate it. Finally, in 1980, Koontz struck gold with the success of Whispers and decided Dean R. Koontz would be the name he’d ride until the fucking wheels fell off. Sadly, he’s been riding on nothing but axles since 2002. After peaking in the 90s, he dropped the R. from his name, losing some mojo along the way. It’s been a decade since I fan-flailed over a Koontz novel, and two decades since he was consistently good. Nowadays, his work is a literary death rattle. He’s replaced concise prose with rambling philosophical dribblings and breakneck-paced storylines with meandering diatribes about how shallow and violent society has become.

The Face of Fear is from what I call Koontz’s Black/Neon era, meaning it has a black cover, a simple image that fits the story, and a neon-bright title and byline. Every single book by Koontz with cover art like this is at least worth a read. Not one of them rates under three stars for me. Some of them aren’t quite as awesome as I remember, but they are still good. This one was is no different.

All right, enough history lesson. Let’s talk about this book. Ready? Onward!

Graham Harris is a psychic who has a fear of heights due to injuries he sustained whilst falling from Mount-Fucking-Everest. D’oh! Lately Graham Cracker’s been having visions of some rape-y-stabby bastard known as The Butcher. Graham’s visions are public information, so The Butcher decides to kill Graham and Graham’s subservient live-in girlfriend Connie. Unfortunately for Gram-Gram, The Butcher decides to strike one night while G-to-the-Ram is working late on the fortieth floor of an office building in New York . Connie decides to bring pizza and wine to the love of her life and winds up trapped in the highrise with G-Dog. Cue cat and mouse chase and one of the cooler escape scenes Koontz has ever written.

This book will not challenge you. Even the identity of the killer is an easy solve because the list of possible suspects is shorter than Tom Cruise blowing a penguin. What makes it such a good read is its brevity. Koontz doesn’t spackle the pages with loads of filler bullshit. He gets in, gets dirty, and gets out. The only time he’s long winded is while describing the climbing gear and the proper way to use it. To outdoors-y types, this information will likely impress you, because RESEARCH! But, to a lazy fuckwit like myself who doesn’t even enjoy climbing stairs, it is uninteresting.

Another complaint I have is a minor, subjective one. I enjoy reading about strong female characters. Are there women out there who live and breathe for their men? Yes there are. I know they exist. I simply do not like reading about them. They don’t have to be all Xena Warrior Princess to impress me, but they must have depth. Connie’s as deep as a coffee cup. She was only here to provide Kilo-Graham with a wet spot in which to park his hot rod and unlimited sandwiches. Her presence did not subtract from my enjoyment of this book, but she didn’t add to my enjoyment either.

In summation: A good early outing from the once Master of Suspense, Dean Koontz. Recommended to thriller fans, young and old. Readers who enjoy strong female characters need not apply.

Final Judgment: Higher learning for serial killers.

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1349363/the-face-of-fear-review

Reflections of a Fat Kid #8

Anybody else fat and get pissed when you’re eating salad and someone inevitably asks if you’re on a diet?

 

No, asshole. I just like salad. My problem is, I also like ranch dressing and shredded cheese and motherfucking real bacon instead of that fake bacon bits bullshit. There just happens to be lettuce and tomatoes in here too.

 

Next time I see some skinny person eating yogurt, I’m gonna ask if they’re having problems shitting.

 

#probiotics

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1345806/reflections-of-a-fat-kid-8

Dark Matter Review

I know it’s only February, but this joker has taken a substantial lead in the race for my 2016 Book of the Year.

I’ve read and reviewed several of Blake Crouch’s novels: the Wayward Pines series, Run, and Desert Places. I have yet to read a bad Crouch book. Up until I read Dark Matter, Run was my favorite. All that’s changed now.

Dark Matter is, at its surface, a spec-fic thriller. The book is paced like a thriller, too. Gets the blood pumping, for sure. The significant difference between this novel and Crouch’s other works is the depth of emotion, as this is Crouch’s most mature novel to date. It tackles love and lust, partnership and loss. Due to the twisty nature of the plot, we’re allowed to see all outcomes of a thought process that haunts many if not all of us: What might have been. And that’s the strongest pull of this book.

Being able to hop through the varying possible outcomes of Jason’s decisions was insanely enjoyable. I had so much fun following this character through door after door, never knowing what would come next. While this book has a bevy of tear-jerking scenes, it is well balanced with loads of action and dimension-hopping goodness. The Box is one of the better science fiction creations in recent years. In the world of fantasy contraptions, I’d rank it up there with Wells’s time machine and LeMarchand’s puzzle box. Because once that door closes, baby, it’s a whole new world(s).

Blake Crouch is the Dean Koontz we Koontz fans miss reading. Speculative fiction written with raw emotion at break-neck speeds. This is not to say that Crouch is a mimic. Oh no. Crouch has his own unique voice, a voice so singular that I believe I could pick up one of his books and tell he wrote it even if I hadn’t seen the byline. While his prose is brief, it carries the impact of a shotgun. He does not linger on superfluous detail. Every word has weight and purpose. And I dig that very much.

In summation: I have absolutely nothing bad to say about this book. Even though I received this book from NetGalley in return for an honest review, I will be buying the hardcover. Blake Crouch continues to grow as an author, and I’m all about supporting growth. I suggest you do the same. Highly recommended.

Final Judgment: Surgically-precise prose riding an emotional rollercoaster into another dimension.

Original post:

edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1345597/dark-matter-review

Book Haul (02/17/2016)

All books shown were a quarter apiece. Have any of you read any of these? If so, what did you think?

 

For pictures of individual covers click HERE.

 

 

 

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edwardlorn.booklikes.com/post/1345150/book-haul-02-17-2016