Mar 12 - Mar 16, 2012 The BigheadEdward LeeHorrorPublished 1992 274 pages8/10 Deep in the woods of Luntville (did you say...? Ooooohhhhh, Luntville.... Carry on) there lives a man-beast called the Bighead. His cranium is the size and shape of a watermelon, one eye is the size of a grapefruit while the other is the size of a grape, and his teeth look like carpet needles. He rapes and kills nearly every person he... comes across (heh heh) with his gigantic monster penis and usually proceeds to eat parts of them, and he's going to visit some lovely people staying at a nearby B&B... "Bighead didn't know! He didn't know doodly-squat! He were a deformed, woods-rompin', brain-eatin', pussy-bustin' retart." I heard a lot of lore and urban legends about this book - it was supposed to be the nastiest, most disgusting, most graphic read out there. Obviously, I HAD to have it, but I could never find the damn thing. Luckily (unluckily?) for me, I was able to get it via the glory of the internetz and finally able to see what all the fuss was about. And my oh my, the fuss was well deserved!WARNING! EXTREMELY GRAPHIC CONTENT AHEAD! COVER YOUR EYES, CONSERVATIVE FACTION OF THE INTERNET! OR CLICK HERE! I mean, rednecks kidnap and rape an elderly woman in her colostomy bag hole (I found out this was called a stoma from a customer at work... Reason #897 I love working at a Weed Store - I could never discuss these things at a straight job). Nuns throw physics to the wayside and piss up a preacher's ass. The Bighead rapes and kills a pregnant girl, sucks the baby out of her vagina and eats its brains. I'm not making this shit up, people. And I can see why this book caused a stir. Not only was it a bloody gore-o-rama, but there was a discernible plot and an honest to goodness mystery to keep my brain limber. It was a little confusing at times, and occasionally convoluted, but it was still a real plot. I consider that a grand gesture for this genre. I was entertained, and even more so than usual, because I could describe certain acts throughout my read to disgusted friends, family, and one oddly unruffled head shop customer. There were some editing issues, but I've found that to be pretty prevalent in e-books. I don't know what the fucking deal is with that - something must be getting lost in translation - but the majority of e-books I read are fucked in some way or another. I could go on, but the Bighead is what it is, and it's simply this: a nasty-ass bit of literature (can I even use that word here?) to help a girl procrastinate. Chores? What chores? I'm reading here! Do you want me to tell you about it? This guy here, he's got a monster cock, see... Oh wait, wrong book...
Feb 21 - Feb 26, 2012
The Devil Next Door
Tim Curran
Horror
Published 2009
333 pages
5.5/10
During an average normal day, people go about their business just as they always do. But suddenly, and without warning, bloodlust enrages nearly every man, woman, and child, and civilization falls in a matter of hours. For the few lone folks who have kept their wits about them, danger is everywhere; but when night falls, things take a turn for the worse...
Senseless is the best word I can think of to describe this book. Without rhyme or reason, people go absolutely ballistic; every other page is an orgy of blood, rape, violence, and/or cannibalism. Generally, that kind of thing appeals to me. I adore the nasty stuff. But a couple of aspects made it somewhat difficult for me to really properly enjoy this book.
First off (and most definitely the biggest offender) I found it VERY repetitive. Not only did the same basic scenes play themselves out over and over again (person discovers neighbor/loved one/friend has gone crazy; person goes crazy and eviscerates family member/beloved pet/stranger; etc.) but the author also used a lot of the same metaphors, phrasing, and words with jarring regularity. The word 'altruistic' came up so many times that I could almost anticipate when I would see it again. And the comparisons of the crazy people to dogs or animals were just kind of smashed into your psyche at every turn. I get it. People have regressed. You don't have to keep telling me. I haven't regressed. In fact, I have a fully functioning frontal lobe. Yeesh.
I wasn't super keen on the writing (editing errors here and there, no commas where I would have put commas, unnecessary italics) but it was still generally understandable.
Another serious offender was that it took almost 200 pages before the plot really went anywhere. Hey, don't get me wrong, I love mayhem as much as the next guy... probably ever more than the next guy, if he's normal. But seriously man, GET TO THE FUCKIN' POINT.
Once it picked up though, it went rolling well enough that I read the last third in a third of the time it took me to read the first two thirds (while traveling twice the speed it takes me to get to Nap City on the Comfy Couch Express). There were also scenery changes and even some character development. And I'll freely admit it: I liked the gore. The ending was a pretty good culmination of the book as a whole, and I probably enjoyed the final scene most out of the entire story.
If you're a skimmer with a twisted mind, you'll really like this book. Definitely more than I did, but then again, I can't skim. Either.
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.
Mar 9 - Mar 12, 2011
Room
Emma Donoghue
General Fiction
Published 2010
321 pages
8/10
Remember the Josef Fritzl case? Of course you do, it was everywhere. Apparently Emma Donoghue took note of it too, because this book is something along those lines, except more feel good anecdotes, and less incest.
So, wasn't this Amazon's #1 book for, like, a million years? I mean, even today at Chapters, this book was errywhur, all covered in gold stickers and on the "Heather's Pick" table and shit. I mean, this book has been hyped. But when I finally read it, I found it kind of... underwhelming. It was certainly no Chuck Palahniuk. But maybe that's just my preference for the grotesque.
The subject matter was definitely thrilling, and there was lots of action to keep the ball rolling. There were plenty of tense and thrilling scenes, and some shocking bits as well. It has all the making of an easy to read book... so easy to read, in fact, that a grade schooler with above average vocabulary could enjoy it.
Because really, it all comes down the narrative; something so risky will make or break a novel. Reading from, at all times, 5-year-old Jack's point of view is definitely unique. On the one hand it works because the story moves so swiftly, no getting bogged down in analysis, and there's plenty of action. It also makes for some amusing observations. But on the other hand, it's so literal and detached, it makes it hard for me to identify with the little bugger. I have more empathy for his mother; at least she seems human, and believable (although making a socially stunted 5-year-old protagonist and narrator believable can't be the easiest task). And really, out of all of it, my relationship with Jack is the only detraction. I guess if I wanted more violence and sodomy, I should have picked up the actual Fritzl true crime book. I'll be happy enough to accept Room as the somewhat PG book it is; I can't fault it because I didn't find it gross enough, and I should have kind of guessed, considering how popular it is. There aren't a lot of bestsellers with hardcore incest. Unfortunately.
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.
Dec 1 - Dec 8, 2010
Gerald's Game
Stephen King
Horror
Published 1992
332 pages
9.5/10
A married couple heads to their summer house for a little frisky Fall business... unfortunately, our husband has the bad graces to die of a heart attack while our wife is handcuffed to the bed. And then the fun really begins.
Gerald's Game is another favorite book of mine, and I've read it multiple times for a couple of reasons. And just to be fair, I have to admit this right off the bat - I LOVE Stephen King books, and while he walks on rivers of blood and viscera in my eyes, this book rocks my world because it's one of his shorter, more condensed works - I can spend a week on it instead of a month (although it still took a while to gather up steam and get chugging along to Mutilationville). It's a little wordier than the bare bones stylings of, say... Carrie or Night Shift, but it's still a far cry from Under the Dome and The Stand (all of which I've read and enjoyed.)
Gerald's Game is incredibly graphic and vivid; when reading this, I almost always have uber disturbing dreams involving variations of Jessie's final attempt to escape her cuffs... and I'm always Jessie. For whatever reason that scene with the water glass has just STUCK with me, which, in my books, is the mark of a fantastic story... horror that doesn't just horrify for an instant, but lingers to horrify for a lifetime. Ahhh.
Most importantly, this story contains the Almighty Kicker, the Final Twist that leaves you in awe of such a clever, twisted mind and twists your brain and you gut just so. The final confrontation with Joubert is SPECTACULAR, not because of her pert in it per se, but because of his. It would have literally broken my brain to have been in that situation, in that moment, and again, it's so VIVID. King has a way with words that makes everything so damn clear and crisp that I can see him perfectly in my mind, mocking her and shrieking. Ugh.
And the idea of a person, handcuffed to a bed, trapped with no outside help ( but that of the author, haha) and only their ingenuity to save them... such an intriguing idea. I love stories about the human mind's survival instincts, and the lengths people will go to for simple self-preservation... if only to take notes for myself just in case a similar scenario were to occur (which is probably why I read so many zombie books, as well).
But on top of that, survival stories are just damn entertaining. They usually have all the elements of a great horror novel: the degradation of the spirit, the slow torturous spiral of impending insanity, psychotic meltdowns, and usually culminating with terrific shocking violence. Does loving these elements make me a sick girl?
Now, unfortunately for me, because I've read this before, there was a fair bit of "GET TO THE GOOD STUFF" in the first half of this book, but that's not the book's fault. I faintly recalled the main plot points, so there wasn't really any creeping up to most of the big reveals. It was just a lot of "Yeah, yeah, quit mincing around it. I know all about your sticky unmentionables..." and greatly anticipating THE HORROR. But if I was a first time reader, whoo boy, I'd be gasping at every turn. Luckily, I never seem to recall the final twist, so I still get a surprise or two.
I also thought Jessie was portrayed as a smidge... melodramatic. But then again, she may have been ovulating. Hell, she attracted that dog.
All in all, I'd give this book a hearty "Awesome!" and this is one of those books that I find myself recommending to friends. Because I'm sick that way.
Oct 11 - Oct 27, 2010
The Annotated Lolita
Vladimir Nabokov
Classic Literature
Originally Published 1955/Annotated Version Published 1991
457+ pages
10/10
Obsession and love are two mirrors reflecting one another.
When starting a book club, you might as well go big or go home. And I think we've certainly stepped up to the challenge; Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov is not only my favorite piece of literature ever created, but it's a damn fantastic book in general. Interesting subject matter, intellectually stimulating, and witty as hell... you know, if you get french asides, lepidoptera allusions, and classic literature motifs. Which I generally don't. In fact, Lolita is really one of the only classics I've ever read, if you count the rad stuff they assign you in High School (which I absolutely do). So, hence, the annotated versions. And can I just say: the introduction by Alfred Appel Jr is dry as fuck. Seriously, it took me three hours to get through, and I've already read it once before. The thing is, you can't skim it. It literally tells speed-readers to take a hike (eloquently, of course). So it's just page after page of... literary stuff. Don't get me wrong, it's fascinating, and I'm grateful for it so as to pick up on all the multiple layers that would have otherwise gone right over my head; it's just tough to get through when all you want to do is get to the book itself. And it is such an AMAZING book - reading it makes me feel more intelligent, just for the fact that I'm reading words that I've literally never seen before in everyday reading. Well, my everyday reading, anyways. I'll admit, I've got a penchant for cheesy Leisure horror. But I digress.
I first heard of the book when I was in my early teens, and it immediately caught my attention based on the subject matter alone. A handsome older gentleman, in love with a girl not much younger than myself? I was into it. I finally got it as a gift for my 16th birthday, and read it immediately.
And had, really, no idea what the fuck was going on.
Oh, I understood it on a basic level - but I knew there were things occurring that I couldn't possibly comprehend. I thought (and still think) I had a pretty advanced vocabulary at that age. But I was coming across words that I couldn't even find in my dictionary. All the same, I loved it. It was beautiful, lyrical; a pleasure to read out loud simply because of how the words were strung together, the way I imagined poetry should be, instead of weird-ass allusions and disjointed imagery that poetry generally is, at least in my opinion. I read Lolita over and over again, loving it more each time, but knowing I wasn't getting the whole story.
And then I got the annotated version. For all my bitching about the intro, and flipping to the notes and back making for a bit of a jerky read, and the reliable friend that is my dictionary (I just write the definition in the book now if I come across an unfamiliar word) it's been a GOD-SEND. I finally get all these sneaky little references, and confirmation that yes, this thing IS connected to that thing, and these parallels ARE real. Ah, utter and complete satisfaction.
I've found that after having read Lolita more than a dozen times over the course of nearly ten years, my opinions of the characters has changed somewhat. The story has evolved for me.
When I was younger, I had a clear cut idea of this book: Humbert is a poor lonely soul just looking for his lost love, and Dolores is a sneaky, tempestuous, brat of a girl who leaves poor Hum a broken shell of a man. Quilty is some asshole that little Lo falls for because she's got some weird-ass transference issues going on. Simple, simple, simple. I suppose that, as a teenager just out of the nymphet's parameter age, I couldn't understand why a man wouldn't be attracted to me (lofty, I know, but teenagers are like that). Lolita was a only a few years my junior, and so it wasn't that shocking of an idea. Yes, I felt for our pedophile protagonist. Maybe because I knew what I was like at that age, and really saw myself in young Haze (my God, there's some terrifically awful and tasteless wordplay at work here). Now, it's not such a cut and dried opinion. I'm no longer a rebellious teen.
Maybe it's because I'm older and have conformed to society's standards for adults, but I'm slightly more creeped out by Humbert Humbert. Now, even with how kids act in this day and age (I know I'm old when a book review degenerates into a "Kids these days" monologue) it just seems so... wrong. At least to begin with. Humbert's predatory ways really stand out to me now; his scheming is so creepy. And yet none of his specific schemes really come to fruition per se; his scheme just seems to unfold for him, with little or no effort on his part (which, I suspect, may be the work of a Mr. Nabokov). Lolita is no longer the unfeeling beastly brat, but a more complicated, emotionally disturbed mess of a child. At least, this is where I find myself standing for Part One of the book. Scheming Hum takes advantage of vulnerable Lo. End scene.
Part Two is where it gets really awkward. Because while it should become all the more morally reprehensible, we find that Humbert Humbert, while still taking advantage of his underage charge's charms, is becoming more and more charmed by her in turn. Instead of his feelings waning with her steadily advancing age, he's growing more and more obsessed with his Lolita, and the shadow that stalks his paradise, in the form of his doppelganger Quilty.
He's still an asshole, although I thoroughly enjoy the cat-and-mouse hide-and-seek we get to play with him. As for Lolita, she goes from being a child that's being taken advantage of to the one taking the advantage. She's found her captor's weakness, and preys upon it, all the while working with her Que to escape her love-crazed tormentor. Is this evolution because of her circumstances? Or is this just a manifestation of her truly wicked nymphet ways? I'd like to think that, had the circumstances been slightly different, she and Hum could have found happiness together (as trite at that may sound). Of course, to be a great piece of literature, all has to end in tragedy.
Lolita is a complicated book, both physically and emotionally. The former because the annotated version requires constant tedious flipping to the notes and back to check references, as well as the same in regards to Lolita's constant traveling companion - the dictionary. Amazingly, Lolita makes one feel supremely smart and degradingly idiotic in tandem; somehow Vladimir Nabokov thrusts those qualities upon the reader (my GOD reading him in Russian must be an absolute mind-fuck). It can be frustrating at times but absolutely worth the trouble - even if Appell's notes are as dry as an octogenarian's orifice. It's all worth it. The prose is beautiful. BEAUTIFUL! Everything blends into one, gorgeous, shifting swirl of depravity and art. Which brings us to our latter complication.
Lolita is not just one thing. It is many. It's a multi-layered story of obsession for a young girl, evolving love, and ultimately sacrifice, insanity, and defeat. It's a book clearly presented as artful storytelling, but so artfully masked as to appear real. One begins with dirty, depraved Humbert. You mourn his initial loss, and then you are quickly faced with the musings of someone who is... not a gentleman. One is then introduced to Dolores AKA Lolita. Not the innocuous dear of big eyes and vapid smiles, she is found to be somewhat depraved in her own right; and so they would be a perfect match, if not for... you know, EVERYTHING. And so we are conditioned to know that Humbert is at fault, and Dolly is an innocent poor child (greedy, thoughtless, rash, fickle, passionate, beautiful, impulsive) yet somehow, by the time we've reached the end of the book, the roles have reversed, and I find myself feeling for poor put-out Hum, and hoping Lolita realizes the error of her ways... or at least the pain she is causing. I always wind up rooting for Humbert in the end, and somehow, somewhere, it would be so beautiful for them to finally come together. Maybe in another life (is there such a thing as soul-mates, or reincarnation for literary characters?) Humbert is a madman, a poet, a dastardly fiend with a broken heart. And Lolita? Lolita is a nymphet. In the end, I find that Humbert's love is the most pure of all - it transcends everything; age, circumstance, time, and space. Somehow this book is the greatest love story ever told.
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