Feb 11 - Feb 19, 2012

11/22/63
Stephen King
Fantasy/Horror
Published Nov 2011
849 pages

10/10

  Jacob Epping is a regular dude dealing with his regular problems in his regular life; that is, until he is shown the "Rabbit Hole" - a time portal that leads to a sunny afternoon in 1958.  Then he becomes Jacob Epping AKA George Amberson, the man charged with saving JFK from being assassinated by Lee Harvey Oswald, and thus, the man charged with changing the course of history.

  I love Stephen King.  I do.  And his evolution as an author hasn't throw me off his bandwagon - not by a long shot.  Hell, I'll ride Stephen King's bandwagon like a drunk college student on a mechanical bull trying to win free beer.

  Except I'd never fall off the bandwagon.  Just sayin'.
  Although Stephen King no longer seems to write 'straight horror' (or even bisexual horror, for that matter) he still had me at, "Hello, is that a presidential assassination plan in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"  The thing is, King is an incredible writer; he holds you absolutely spellbound from page one, all the way though to the bitter (but beautiful) end, when you're crying like a bitch at 2AM on a work night, wiping your tears on the stuffed Rabbit you still sleep with.
  Ahem.
  King is at the top of his game with 11/22/63, and I couldn't help but notice that while it wasn't a horror novel per se, it contained all the cringe-worthy, nail biting, anxiety in your belly feelings that a regular horror novel produces.  You see, while our protagonist isn't exactly dealing with boogeymen (though Pennywise the Dancing Clown makes a behind the scenes cameo) he does have to deal with some all too human monsters and some utterly horrific situations that bring tears to your eyes and make the flesh crawl all up and down your hackles.  Ugh.  But the all encompassing, far reaching, genre bending nature of this book has to be its greatest appeal - it's horror, fantasy, romance, sci-fi, historical, political... and it even has pictures.
  As always, King has peopled his story with some mighty entertaining characters.  Jake AKA George is my definite favorite.  You can empathize with him one minute, and hate him the next; understand his actions but wholeheartedly wish he's reconsider.  He's a man who's one of us.  On the other hand, I found Sadie to be a little too perfect - so loving, so understanding, so heroic; she's almost unbelievable in my understanding of your average, everyday woman.  I also understand, though, that she's NOT an everyday woman... at least not from my day.  Hell, maybe chicks were different back then, and I can excuse some of her naivety and almost blind devotion to a dude who comes across as a little cray-cray.  But really, I actually chalk it up to the fact that we see Sadie through our protagonist's adoring eyes, and because of that, she comes out as a little too good to be true.  Jacob AKA George is the human mess I prefer to get behind.  And I must say, I really enjoyed the juxtaposition of the assholes and the sweethearts of the late 50's/early 60's - the ruthless bookies, the sweet Russian immigrants, the dried up old judgmental cows in position of power, and the earnest students trying to be the best that they can be.
  When it comes to the plot, I was hooked from the word go.  Time travel alone is such a neat ass concept, and when you throw in the butterfly effect and actually being capable of seeing the changes the character is enabling... holy fuck.  There's a scene early on where Jake says to his friend (and I'm paraphrasing here because I lost that particular bookmark) "What if you went back and killed your own grandfather?" and the friend replies, "Why the fuck would you want to do that?"  Honestly, that's the best solution to the grandfather paradox I've heard yet.  And that's just one of the reasons I liked the story so much.  I mean, there's so little that I can tell you about the plot without giving anything really important away... that, and my clumsy fingers would do a shit ass job in comparison to actually reading the words of the master writer himself in the actual book.  
  But what it all really comes down to is the writing.  King IS a master of the written word (at least, in my opinion).  I made note of a few of my favorite bits:

  "I felt an absurd urge to ask, Can you sell me a nice summer hat, or should I just go fuck myself?"
  "On the gray street, with the smell of industrial smokes in the airand the afternoon bleeding away to evening, downtown Derry looked only marginally more charming than a dead hooker in a church pew."
  "I pointed out more Denholm educators (many already leaving Sobriety City on the Alcohol Express)."
  "[It would] almost certainly [matter] to the tens of thousands of young Americans who were now in high school and who would, if nothing changed the course of history, be invited to put on uniforms, fly to the other side of the world, spread their nether cheeks, and sit on the big green dildo that was Vietnam."  

  And just in case you think I'm only in it for the swears and sex talk, I also wanted to share this, because it's so poignant, simple, and above all, true:

  "That's the curse of the reading class.  We can be seduced by a good story even at the least opportune moments."

  Amen, brother.  Amen.
  Honestly, if you're looking for a good long read, pick this up.  It doesn't matter what you're preferred genre is, if you studied Canadian history instead of American (King actually gives a shout out to us Canucks) or the fact that you don't have a stuffed rabbit to wipe your tears on when you lose your shit at one of the most devastatingly legit endings I've read all year. 
  You can wipe those tears on just about anything.
 
  And for all you Stephen King/sci-fi nerds out there, here's a LINK to King's interview with WIRED magazine regarding his Rules For Time Travel.  Just read the article AFTER you read the book, because some pretty key plot points are given away here.  That's just like a magazine, ruining books for us so we'll turn to their embrace of bite sized bits of information and advertisements for nice cologne.  

Oct 26 - Nov 6, 2011

The Exorcist
William Peter Blatty
Horror
Published 1971
385 pages

10/10

  The daughter of a film star is afflicted with a monstrous change in personality that grows more terrifying with every passing day, a Jesuit priest struggles with his faith (and lack thereof), a homicide detective tries to solve the baffling murder of an accomplished director, a creepy foreign servant tries to hide a dark family secret, and a mysterious figure draws them all together and brings the story full circle...

  I'll get this out of the way right now: I was expecting cheese.  Lots of cheese.  A torrential downpour of cheese on a dairy farm in Denmark during GoudaFest, even.  I mean, this book was made into a movie, and Hollywood isn't renowned for seeking out thought-provoking ideas to turn into intellectually stimulating film fare - Hollywood is known for bringing Single White Female (which is one of the Single Worst Fictions I've ever had the misfortune of reading) to an even broader audience.  So I'm sure you can understand my hesitation to read another book that Hollywood took a... Shining.... to.  You see what I did there?  Yeah, I'm here all night, folks.
  But this book... is was actually decent.  Better than decent.  Great, even.  Maybe I liked it so much because it totally blew my expectations of a garbage read right out of the water.  There was still cheese, in that some of the characters were fairly cut and dried literary stereotypes (handsome, tormented priest; beautiful, helpless woman; bumbling, oafish detective - though he was smarter than he let on) but I didn't like them any less because of it.  They were easy to understand and because of their simple nature, and I didn't have to spend excess time trying to figure them out, thus taking away from the badass creeping tension.  And I appreciated that Blatty didn't toss in a tacked-on romance, just because there was a handsome priest and helpless woman. 
  The suspense was crafted in such a skillful way that it built slowly, without making the story drag ass, to a sudden, frenzied, completely unexpected conclusion that left me more than a little blindsided; and I loved that the main plot point in the book, the possession of Regan, was so ambiguous - Is she or isn't she?  Only the Devil knows for sure!  And the final culmination was so subtle that, really, it totally depends on your perception to take it or leave it and make the story into what it is.  It's up to the reader to decide whether The Exorcist is a horror novel or a medical thriller, an example of demonic possession or a serious case of pre-teen angst.
  The writing itself was very well done.  I had to dig up my dictionary (well, the dictionary on my Kobo) a dozen or more times because I kept coming across words I wasn't familiar with.  In my books (both literal and figurative) that's a good sign.  It reminded me, actually, of A Wrinkle In Time - a throwback to the old days when an extensive vocabulary didn't make you unintelligible and people said "He told me..." instead of "He was all like...".  Le sigh.
  The Exorcist was a good book. Not horror in the traditional Vampires, psychopaths, choke-you-to-death-with-your-own-bloody-intestines sense, but more in the creeping, suspenseful, intricacies-of-human-nature sense.  
 

Oct 3 - Oct 9, 2011

The Year of the Flood
Margaret Atwood
Dystopian Future
Published 2009
434 pages

10/10

  The future has slowly but surely crept up upon us, and it is very bleak indeed.  There are far fewer animals and greenspace, life has exponentially grown more regimented and desensitized, and the shit is about to hit the fan...

  When I started reading this book, I was worried.  VERY worried. 
  First off, there were two narratives.  Two narratives means twice the amount of protagonists to remember, and half the time to bond with them - the risk runs high that I might just end up not giving a flying fuck about either one, unless expertly handled.  Secondly, the timeline wasn't linear - we jumped back and forth from present to past all willy-nilly, like a time machine piloted by Calvin and Hobbes: 

In cases such as these, there's a good possibility that I'll become confused and disoriented and, eventually, pissed off (not unlike crowds at sporting events in Vancouver *cough* Stanly Cup riots *cough*).  So yeah, mighty worried on my end when I started reading The Year of the Flood.
  Luckily, this is a Margaret Atwood book.
  So while I initially suffered some unusually crafted book jitters, I quickly became accustomed to the style and dove in full force.  And because it was slightly more complicated of a read, it felt all the more satisfying to read it.
  I was invested in both protagonists: Toby, because she was so complicated; I loved that she put out the outward appearance of being a supreme hardass to the other characters, but underneath it all she was as banged up a human being as the rest of us.  Ren, on the other hand, was naive and vulnerable and emotional; I could identify with her because she handled situations the same way I felt I would, and she was achingly human for all the world to see.  And yet you could see a lot of Toby in Ren, and Ren in Toby.  It was almost as though they were two different versions of the same character, which was really neat.
  Even the beginning of the chapters, where we were given a glimpse of the indoctrination of the Gardeners, was crucial because it gave us insight into the critical shaping of these women, mentally, spiritually, and emotionally.  And again, because they both spent so much time with the Gardeners, it helps to draw us to their similarities as opposed to their differences. 
  The future that The Year of the Flood described was hardly outlandish.  Gene splicing is growing by leaps and bounds as we speak, the gap between the rich and poor is becoming more and more pronounced (Gated communities and ghettos still exist) and I wouldn't be surprised if there was already a shady police force doling out justice as seen by the wealthy.  Oh, that does already exist?  I rest my case.  This book just takes all those elements and makes them more pronounced, and adds neat futuristic elements that make the read a little more realistic, in a way.  It IS the future, after all.  Of course there's going to be liobams!
  Did I mention there was a SeksMart?  Clandestine grow-ops?  Inward spiritual journeys fueled by magic mushrooms?  Christ on a cracker, Margaret Atwood is a rad lady.
  Honestly, I was dreading the end of this book, counting the dwindling pages and feeling kind of depressed that it was going to be over, because I liked it so much that I wanted more.  Luckily, I caught many a reference to Oryx and Crake, and I do happen to have a copy of that book kicking around...

Sep 22 - Sep 25, 2011

Inside the Outside
Martin Lastrapes
Horror
Published July 9, 2011
292 pages

10/10

  Somewhere outside Vegas, a happy little commune practices regular full-body shaving, the sharing of sex partners and child-rearing, and ritual sacrifice to provide for cannibalism.  All this is overseen by their glorious virile leader, who is leading them to salvation.  And possibly the human version of Mad Cow Disease.  Seems like my kind of party.

  Cara and I found this story in our inbox; the author wondered if we'd perhaps read and review it.  Sure, I thought.  As soon as I get an E-Reader.  And wade through the other requests.  And maybe check out some of my other books.  I'd get to it.  Eventually.
  Then Cara mentioned the cannibals.  And I got a kobo.  And of course I had to learn how to load the thing, and Inside the Outside wound up being the first thing that came up when I turned on my kobo.  And I did recall the cannibals, so even though I had reservations about reading something free (People don't give away awesome stuff!  If it's free, there must be something wrong with it!) I gave it a go... and I'm so freakin' glad I did!
  I picked this story up, and I literally could not put it down.  I was reading it at work.  I was reading it at a party last night.  I fell asleep in bed with it in my hands at 2AM two nights in a row.  I was totally hooked, and reading at every possible second.  Honestly, I wish all my reading experiences were like this; I'd burn through WAY more books.
  First off, the subject matter is right up my alley.  Cannibal cults?  Human sacrifice?  Uninhibited sex?  Prostitution and pornography?!  Can I get a double helping splashed with gore gravy and incest sprinkles?!  I can?!  Because that's my favorite!  This book literally included all the elements of the "gross" and "weird" and "inappropriate for a birthday party" books that I LOVE to read (occasionally out loud).
  I found myself excited by all of the characters - the charismatic cult leader who loves to fuck, kill, and eat people; the sweet, gentle homosexual pornographer and his stripper-cum-internet-sensation companion; the crooked cop with an all-too-human secret; even the minor characters added interesting little detours.  When an underage girl slits her own throat because her lover's been publicly decapitated, you know you've got an exciting story.  And our female protagonist is one cool cat indeed.  Timber was raised a corpse mutilating cannibal, and I love that she never really grows out of that.  She doesn't generally feel shame or remorse for who she was, and who she has become.  She simply is who she is.  She eats people.  Tough titties. 
  Maybe I like this, and Timber, so much because I find cannibalism and it's social taboos fascinating.  I personally can see no issue with eating human flesh, since as a society, we eat animal flesh all the time, and humans are just another fleshy animal.  And while I myself have no interest in sampling the delicacies of "long pig" ("I am a vegetarian you know..." she said, snobbishly) I certainly don't judge others who do.  As long as it's consensual, obviously. 

  As a side note, if, like myself, you have an interest in stuff like this, check out this sweet ass documentary I watched on Netflix- "Keep The River On Your Right" chronicles Tobias Schneebaum's trek through the wilds of Peru, where he engages in many grand adventures, including eating human flesh, participating in tribal attacks, and taking a life companion, who also happens to be another man.  Schneebaum comes across as an incredibly sweet and intelligent man, who partook in some motherfucking AMAZING adventures, the likes of which we could only dream about.  He ate human flesh, and he's cool (and hard) as fuck.  Seriously.  Watch this.

Plus, Woodhouse from Archer eats long pig, and he is also cool (and hard) as fuck.  This whole review is almost a peer pressure ad for cannibalism.  I wouldn't recommend it though: I'm pretty sure it's illegal in a lot of places.
  My point is, Timber accepts herself for who she is, and our author is willing to let this book stand on its awesomeness, instead of trying to turn it into some namby-pamby "overcoming the horrible nature of her upbringing to discover the error of her ways, repent, and persevere to find the inner goodness that we all have inside of us" Oprah-esque bullshit.  The story is good; it doesn't require that kind of schmaltz to make it digestible for the masses. 
  That doesn't mean that it's not an easy read, though.  I flew through the damn thing.  There was tons of action to keep me interested; enough contemplations and musings for me to get to know, and therefore care about the characters, but not so much that I got bored; and everyone just kind of dealt with their shit up front and moved on, like how normal human beings should.
  As this book was set up in two parts, I worried that it would all go downhill once I finished the first part, which was so badass and all encompassing that it could have easily been a stand alone novella.  Really, I didn't know how the author could live up to the standard I set for him.  When I started Part Two, I thought, "Oh boy, here it comes, a bunch of real world assimilation bullshit and the inevitable change of heart and the real world mediocre dullness."  Luckily, I was totally wrong, and my fears were completely unfounded, because there was still plenty of murder, sex (Even the gay kind!  Excellent!) and corruption.  What a relief!
  If I had to express any complaint with this book whatsoever, I would have to say I'm not so shit hot for the cover.  It made me think this was a sci-fi book, for whatever reason.  I kind of thought it was a robot or something.  Now that I've read the book, I totally get it.  Except for why she's holding a feather duster.  That I still don't get.  But if that's the only fault I can find with a book, I'm counting myself fortunate.
  I was sent this book, to review, for free, and it was FUCKING EXCELLENT.  It gives me hope and encouragement that free stuff can be awesome, to try out those neat free downloads from unknowns that I keep coming across, and that maybe, just maybe, I'll eventually find a use for those painting I snagged off the curb two months ago.

Aug 26 - Aug 31, 2011

The Ones That Got Away
Stephen Graham Jones
Horror Anthology
Published 2010
251 pages

10/10

  This excellent anthology of Jones' collected work ranges from humorous, to disgusting, to outright heartbreaking, all while maintaining a common theme of superb originality.

  In "Father, Son, Holy Rabbit", a father and son are lost in the woods during a snowstorm, and must do everything necessary to survive.
  What a great way to start the collection - I found it to be a perfect representation of Jones' style.  He turned a horrific, but everyday situation into a horror story, with a gut-wrenching revelation at the very last moment that was still ambiguous enough to make everything that was happening feel kind of dreamy and surreal.  I liked this one in particular because it was so eerie, and kind of beautiful, in a really disgusting way.  Really, REALLY disgusting.

  In "Till the Morning Comes", a young boy is terrorized by his Uncle's Grateful Dead posters.

 
  I'm just going to start this off by saying that Grateful Dead posters are not scary for me, per se.  In the light of day, anyways.  But my buddy has a huge Grateful Dead beach towel from my workplace tacked up on the wall, across from his bed.  If I had that creepin' on me during my sleepy time, I'd be having some pretty messed up dreams.  For a kid?  Wow.  I have to assume that all kids are already living in a constant state of trippin' balls (If you've ever watched a show for really little kids, you'll understand what I mean) so I'd think this kind of ornamentation would have to do a number on their impressionable little brains.  So I can emphasize.  I'd be scared too.
  But this one was almost TOO ambiguous for me; I had no idea where it was going.  I didn't actually know who the antagonist was.  I wasn't quite sure what elements I was supposed to be focusing on for horror expectations.
  What saved it and made it enjoyable for me was the superb writing skill.  The imagery was top notch, and everything came together and whalloped you at the end.

  In "The Sons of Billy Clay", a couple of prison guards discuss a very unique rodeo bull.
  I don't think I got this one.  I mean, I understand what happened physically, but I don't understand the how, or especially the why.  Definitely too ambiguous.  The characters were also hard to relate to because they were so mercurial - maybe they were supposed to be surprising, but in a short story, when a character has little time to develop and acts erratically, it hard not to see it as a continuity or convenience (as in deux ex machina") issue.   I just couldn't get a good handle on either of the guards , or the story itself.

  A couple of teenage girls go to extreme lengths to become "So Perfect".
  This was so macabrely (Is that a word?  Spell check doesn't think so, but Google does) hilarious to start out, and could have continued on in that vein and still been a good funny story; but instead it veered off into the realm of completely grotesque, and ended just disgustingly - which is just the way I like my literature.

  In "Lonegan's Luck", a traveling salesman offers his unique wares to some very eager towns.
  I've already read this before in another anthology, and normally I don't particularly enjoy reading things more than once, as I get too antsy to get to the end that I know is coming.  This was actually just as entertaining as the first time I read it, which was an unexpected and pleasant surprise.  In my opinion, that means it's better than just good.
  It seemed really complete and straightforward - it had all the necessary elements of information at the right moments, so it was easy to follow and get into.
  When I read in the notes that Jones would consider doing a Lonegan collection, I was totally stoked; I would snatch that shizz up in a heartbeat!  I love the character, and I LOVED this story.  Bring on the Lonegan book!

  Two youngins and an ex-police dog come face to face with REAL "Monsters" during the summer in a quaint vacation town.
  This was AWFUL.  Not awful bad though; I mean awful as in you felt awful reading it because it was so nice to begin with, and it just kept creeping and creeping up on you as you got closer and closer to the end, until it all got to be almost too much.  By the culmination, it had all happened so fast that it was almost overwhelming, because it was so sad and disturbing.  Any story that takes you from a pair of gradeschoolers walking the neighbor's friendly dog, to... well... all that horror that happened at the end... It'll definitely do a number on any reader's psyche.

  There's far worse things than just being shipwrecked when you find yourself on "Wolf Island". 
  I basically thought this story was over before it really even began.  "OK, lone werewolf on an Island.  Yawn."  Then it just went completely out of this realm to conclude with an ending that defies all author formula.  Totally bizarre elements with a strange plot to bring them all together.  Definite points for creativity.

  In "Teeth", a detective bites off more than he can chew (See what I did there?  Ha ha, aren't I the witty one) when he takes a case revolving around owl shit, severed fingers, and an amputee.
  Honestly, this was so surreal and cryptic that I just got kind of lost, and found myself reading words one after the other, as opposed to reading an actual story.  The final scene though, that was a doozy, and my experience with the work as a whole didn't take away from the ending, if that makes any sense at all.

  In "Raphael", a group of misfits take turns trying to give themselves the ultimate scare, and unexpectedly succeed with dire consequences.
  This has got to have been one of the EERIEST scenes in literary history.  I'd equate it to the first time I saw that dead kid climb out of the TV in "The Ring". 

  I won't ruin it for you, but if you've read this, and I wholeheartedly suggest that you do, you'll know exactly what scene I'm talking about.  Ugh.  Just thinking about it gives me the willies.  And not the good kind. 
  Really, the whole story is remarkable in it's entirety.  Good show.

  The "Captain's Lament" is a story as old as any in our society.
  This one was BADASS.  Again, as with the previous one, but even more so, I can't tell you SFA (that's Sweet Fuck All for all you uninformed types) about this without ruining the whole thing.  But I can tell you this: it was fantastically written, with a great protagonist, and a concept that BLEW MY FRICKIN' MIND, MAN.  Loved it!  It was so clear, so concise, and so utterly sad, especially in comparison to it's well known literary (and oral) counterpart.  Now I bet you're REALLY wondering...

  If you're lost in the woods, and come across "The Meat Tree", you might want to think twice before you decide to sample it's offerings.
  I love how this starts off with one premise, and then leads you somewhere completely different right under your nose. 
  It was a little obscure at the end, but it was cleared up for me, for the most part, once I put all the info from the story AND the notes together.

  "The Ones Who Got Away" aren't necessarily the luckiest.
  As soon as you started this, from the very first sentence, you KNEW something awful was coming.  It's just that you can't imagine how awful.  It's not even the supernatural kind of horror, it's just plain old, totally probable, every day horror.  Disturbing as fuck, I say.
  It helped that it was so refreshingly clear; it was simple to understand, and it was so much more visceral because you could get right into it.  Great idea, great story.

  In "Crawlspace", a man is slowly being tortured by his inner demons, his conscience, and maybe by something more dangerous.
  I really got into this last story.  The characters were very real, very believable, which is so huge when reading anything.  You want to be able to understand them, feel what they're feeling, so you can just get lost in what's happening.  This was just mesmerizing because the main character was so SO developed.
  The end got a little out there for me, and I may not quite have gotten all there was to be got, but Jones proved with this that he could just as easily write straight fiction (you know, the kind Oprah likes).  What I'm saying is, he's skilled enough not to have to rely on gore to get entertainment points.  But I'm ecstatic that he chose this genre.  Because the imagery that he puts out... Jesus.  It's dark as hell, and it's GOOD.

  To top it all off, Jones included notes on all of his stories.  I LOVE it when authors do this.  It ties everything together, usually answers all those questions you've got wiggling around after the story is finished, and you just get to get into their head space.  Neat-O.  I'm glad he did this, and the notes are totally worth extra brownie points.

  All in all, this was  great collection.
  While a little too generally ambiguous for my personal taste, I recognize great writing when I see it.  Jones gives me everything I want in a reading experience: original ideas, characters I can identify with, and therefore care about, disturbing imagery, and always a punch at the end to make sure the story is smashed into your brain and leaves an impression.   Seriously, this guy is the master of great endings.
  And when I finished the book, I had a legit case of the heebie-jeebies.
  Stephen Graham Jones?  Good work. 
  Although all your stories start on the wrong page number.
  Or is that just to mess with me?
 

Aug 19 - Aug 24, 2011

Remember Me 3: The Last Story
Christopher Pike
YA Horror
Published Feb 1995
244 pages

10/10

  Shari Cooper is rich, famous, and slowly but surely going Hollywood.  It's hard to juggle saving the world with the trappings of the good life, and Shari is beginning to struggle with all the mundane bullshit we all get bogged down with in our day-day lives.  On top of that, Shari's new story has aroused the interest of the villains, and she must face the evildoers before they destroy her, and humanity's chance for salvation.  It's the final showdown between good and evil, right and wrong, man and shark.  To the victor go the spoils!

  You know what the only lame part of an awesome book is for me?  I'll whiz through the thing and think, " That was awesome... what the hell happened?"  It's like getting hit by a speeding train of speed reading, a literary locomotive, and you don't have time to catch the make and model.  I'll do my best to relay the experience. 
  The main joy of this book is that by a few chapters in, I had grown to detest Shari Cooper.  She was fine enough in the first book, wimpy in the second, and I was getting ready to just write her off as a straight up asshole for the third.  She was full of lies, she was superficial, and she was kind of a hypocrite.  I hated who she had become and the decisions she was making.  Yet she managed to evolve into some I had real empathy for, maybe because ultimately, Shari wanted to do the right thing, she was just too busy doing retarded (and yes, I mean that word specifically) deeds and having utterly human faults.  As opposed to, say, her robot faults.  Asimov's laws of robotics, be damned!
  Because I've already read the book, and Amazon reiterated the spoilers on me, I knew what was coming as the final culmination.  And yet, it wasn't spoiled for me.  Instead, I found myself lost in the moment for the majority of the novel, even tearing up like a bitch at times.  It was one of those stories that moved along so quickly (thanks to some pretty awesome action scenes and uber tense sexual... tension) that it was a pleasure for every last little second of it. 
  The story within the story was great as well, although I normally don't read sci-fi, and I'm not sure if there's a deeper meaning other than the obvious that I'm not getting.  I generally assume that, because I assume all authors that I love are geniuses, while I am just a lowly peon.  But hey, good writing is good-ass writing. 
  I loved these books.  Reading Pike novels always makes me want to strive to be a better human being... to evolve from superficial bitch Shari to at peace with the Universe Shari, so to speak. 
  And really, the only thing I fear about Death is thatI  might not get the chance to read all my books before it happens.

Aug 9 - Aug 13, 2011

Remember Me
Christopher Pike
YA Horror
Published April 1989
230 pages

10/10

  After a wild party, Shari Cooper awakens feeling a little weird, and unfortunately, she can't be cured by a little hair of the dog.  Turns out Shari went up and over the fourth story balcony at this party, and while the fall didn't kill her, the landing sure did.  The word on the street is that she jumped, but Shari knows she was pushed; now she has to figure out who killed her and somehow clear her name - easier said than done, since she's a ghost.

  I had a complex for YEARS because of this book (and to some extent, still do).  The ghosts in this book are basically super-voyeurs - they can spy on you at their leisure, enter your dreams, and watch you shower.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to poop in peace when you're afraid ghosts are watching you?  Ghosts you might know?!  I'd try to be as cultivated as humanly possible, not because I liked being proper, but because I didn't want to be gossiped about by those inhabiting the after-life.  Even now, when I'm engaging in nasty-ass behavior, I occasionally wonder about who might be watching...  And THAT is the mark of a great book - it stays with you for LIFE, yo.
  Christopher Pike writes great books in general.  He never seemed to be in it just for the paycheque (did people even get paycheques in the 80's?  Or just bricks of coke?)   Instead, he always seemed to be trying to communicate an important message.  The religious discussions between our protagonists were particularly thought-provoking, as well as those concerning the afterlife.  The anecdote about drugs being able to open your consciousness up to alternate planes of being  (while risking a spiral into insanity) was especially insightful; just ask any Shaman.  But it wasn't all heavy trips and seriousness; Pike has a sense of humor too, and always slips a few chuckles in to keep things from getting too dark.
  This was a great book; it was wise, it was funny, it drew me in.  Sure, it was YA and therefore a little oversimplified, but it was INTELLIGENT - a quality lacking in today's literature scene (so I assume; I'm old and have a hate on for today's culture in general). 
  Bring on the next book! 

July 28 - Aug 8, 2011
    
Books of Blood: Volume 6
Clive Barker
Horror Anthology
Published 1984
152 pages

10/10

    A badass collection of Clive Barker's short fiction.

    In "The Life of Death", a woman gets herself mixed up with a plague, murder, and the Grim Reaper.  Who she also wants to bang.
    Stupendous!  Probably the best opener out of all of them, and there were some amazing ones.  It was well crafted, there was lots of murder, and a twist (I love twists!) and most importantly - I UNDERSTOOD EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED.  You can not believe my frustration and crippling shame when I get to the end of a literary perusal and I have no idea what the fuck is going on.  This was the opposite of that.  It was straight forward and had a discernible story line, with a clear rising arc horror that culminated in a fantastic twist.  Really, I love a good twist, especially one where you think you know the twist ("Haha, I am so clever, with my novel and my smoking jacket and my pipe full of fine aromatic tobacco!") and then BAM, it busts a mega twist all over your perceptions ("Ow, my frontal lobe!").  Great.

    Greedy adventurers are taught "How Spoilers Bleed" when they defile one Amazonian tribe too many.
    First off, great title; love it.  It's graphic, and gives a great visual on how the whole thing will play out.  The story was fantastic - an adventure full of blood and retribution.  Reprehensible characters that you love to hate, and a broken alcoholic with a pet monkey.  Totally horrible, and utterly realistic.  Score.

    "Twilight at the Towers" explores what really goes on in the spy world.
     I was afraid this was going to be some boring old spy story.  Berlin, the KGB, a disillusioned spy, a dude with a glass eye... it could have been lame.  I've seen K-19: The Widowmaker, and all I recall is Harrison Ford's atrocious Russian accent.  Spy stuff is not my thing.  But my fears were totally unfounded.  This was a rad story!  Gore, monsters, violence, as well as suspense and intrigue.  THIS is how I like my spy stories.

    In "The Last Illusion", a deceased magician is pursued by the very force that gave him his gifts, and it's up to a Private Dick to save him.
    This was the best Shaemus story I could ever hope to read - hardboiled detective meets demonic minions of hell.  The visuals were very vivid - I particularly loved the varied demons and their musical instruments.  Very graphic and gory, and sometimes just plain sick.  A nice way to end the anthology... on an uplifting note.

    "The Book of Blood (a postscript): On Jerusalem Street" is the culmination of all the horror, and what could possibly become of a man who the dead have used to tell their tales.
    This capped off all six books very nicely, and it concluded the account that began everything in the first place.  This story was an incredibly apt set of bookends, as it were, and very well done.

    Fantastic; the best of the bunch!

    All in all, a great collection. 

Jan 12 - Jan 16, 2011

The End of Alice
A. M. Homes
General Fuction (typo STAYS)
Published 1996
271 pages

10/10

    When a woman who likes to touch young boys starts up a correspondence with an imprisoned man who likes to touch little girls, a disturbing relationship is formed and nurtured.  Classy.
    If a book upsets you, is it bad reading or good?  Because while I found this story to be thrillingly great, it also bothered me.  On a basic level, it's ridiculously well written, especially abundant in alliteration and rife with rhyme; wildly witty when considering crime.  Ahem.  As I was saying, the author puts stylus to parchment real nice.
    Our girl is a tough nut to swallow (ha, ha, haaaa...) but I don't know if that's our author, our protagonist (who admits he embellishes) or me - maybe I'm biased because I identify with our thoroughly screwed up leading lady, but I could never imagine taking such a risk, and to be so cavalier about it!  Sure, I've imagined kicking a loved one or two down a flight of stairs, but I'd probably never do it.  There'd be too many radicals and free agents to consider.  But it's as though she knew she wouldn't be punished for her substantial crimes!  Maybe it's that wacky old double standard at work (if a man makes it with a kid, the guy's a pervy old man, but if a woman makes it with a kid, that kid deserves a righteous high five!  Case in point: this, this, and this) but I'm sure you know what I mean) or maybe she was just hopped up on the sweet sweet nectar of... Jesus, never mind.   So while I find her hard to believe, I won't hold my preconceived notions against her.
    Now, our incarcerated man friend, him I believe.
    He's clearly the above average intelligence, below average sanity type.  I get that.  His evolution as a character is wonderful - from kindly corresponding with adamant admirers, to marinated in menstrual blood.  Awesome.
    As a whole, I can see why people would see a parallel between The End of Alice and Lolita (because all pedophiles are the same) but I found this book to be vastly different: our children are no precocious, confused teens (Alice seems this side of crazy, and Matt is... well... a 12 -year-old boy) our adults are no lonesome heartsick gentleman (what's-her-face is a sullen wiener and Chappy is fucking insane) and The End of Alice is no love story.  Also, this is far more graphic than Lolita.  Lolita teased.  Alice dry-humps your face.  In fact, I find this book somewhat crude (me, of all people, find it crude)!  But I genuinely like Chappy for his shocking behavioral fallacy.  I have no sympathy for him (or her, either) like I had for Humbert, but I like Chappy's complications and affectations.
    It's a beautiful, very insightful (you'll see what I mean when Chappy chats with you) piece of work.  I liked it as a whole; beginning, middle, and especially the well-done ending.
    Bravo.