On Books: The Terrible Thing That Happens by Carlton Mellick III

I love a good post-apocalyptic novel; I really do. Technically this book is more of a novella than a novel, but damn. It's just so BIZARRE. And dark. And sssoooooo creative. And violent. And crude. 

So, in short, all of my favorite things.

I'd never heard of Carlton Mellick III before, but the poor bastard's officially been added to my list of authors I'll stalk badly and I've only read ONE of this books. Although, on second thought, maybe I should be a bit more careful stalking this particular author given the titles of some of his other books:

• Satan Burger
• The Haunted Vagina
• The Baby Jesus Butt Plug
• Zombies and Shit
• Adolf in Wonderland

Eh. I stalked Palahniuk and he writes happily about serial killers, so I think I'll be okay. Maybe. Anyway, if I survive our inevitable encounter I've got Punk Land on my shelf right now and Satan Burger in my Amazon cart, so I'll probably post a review here when I read them. This guy's writing style and choice of subject matter are so unique I just cannot wait to get more.

I can only imagine how twisted and bizarre these other books are after picking up The Terrible Thing That Happens. Even the freaking Introduction was fun to read, and before I even noticed I'd blasted through the whole novella. Somehow this magnificent mutant of a human created an insane, inexplicable, totally bizarre world, populated it with some of the most insane, repulsive, and grotesque monsters, then threw in an inexplicable regenerating grocery store/mass murder crime scene, and not once did I put the book down in disbelief. Somehow. Somehow. This guy makes you buy into all of this crazy shit and just accept it. And that ending man. OUCH. Heartbreakingly believable (in the context I suppose). 

Before you go grab all the guy's stuff though, as you might have assumed from the title list above, this book isn't for everybody. I mean there's definitely a bit about jerking off into a tin can to make mutant babies. It's not super graphic or anything, at least about the sex stuff, but if that's gonna squick you out maybe go read Moby Dick or something. Plus there's parts where people get exploded and apparently that's also hard for normal people to read. 

If you've read John Dies at the End or The Unnoticables, or you've got an affinity for Tank Girl comics or Mad Max, you're going to ADORE this book. If you prefer Victorian Lit to gritty, innovative, postmodern fiction, we're probably not friends and that's okay. 

In other news, Nick Harkaway, author of The Gone Away World (one of my favorite books OF ALL TIME - I should really write about it here cuz HOW HAVE I NOT), Angelmaker, and Tigerman (all GREAT go read them) just announced the publication date of his new book: Gnomon. I'm so goddamn excited.

On Books: Water Music by T.C. Boyle (also I stalk authors)

I’ve never been much good around celebrities. Upon meeting Ryan Benjamin, comic book artist for Batman Beyond, at Emerald City Comic Con a few years ago I practically climbed into his booth while frothing at the mouth. With this in mind, it should come as no surprise that when I met the author of My Favorite Book of All Time, I was a smidge less than smooth.

 My favorite book of all time is Water Music by T. Coraghessan Boyle. 

 Before I tell you how I stalked this man through the streets of Seattle, finally ambushing him in a dark alley, I should tell you a little bit about My Favorite Book of All Time.

 Set in the eighteenth century, Water Music is a historical-ish fiction detailing the first white man’s travels to the Niger River in Africa. This man would be Mungo Park, one of the book’s two main characters. Boyle got his mitts on Park’s publication, Travels in the Interior Districts of Africa: Performed Under the Direction and Patronage of the African Association, 
[... seventeen pages of descriptors because eighteenth century], and refashioned it into a profoundly visual, vivid, often raunchy portrayal of the explorer’s journey loosely based on his writings. Mungo Park, a genteel surgeon from Scotland, and Ned Rise, a shifty whore-mongering con man from the grungy streets of London, skirt death over and over again until finally meeting in the most unlikely of places: pre-Western influenced Nigeria. Ned Rise totally isn’t real, but there’s enough truth and solid research peppered throughout the book to make you second guess practically everything. This book smacks of the gritty action novel, and is still a subtle mockery of traditional 18th century writing style. That might be why I love it so much. This novel will make you laugh, cry, and nauseated all within a few pages, but still has enough literary depth to really sink your teeth into. 

 So. Now that I’ve gushed about My Favorite Book of All Time a bit (and trust me, I’m being mercifully brief), you might understand why my friend Savannah and I went to T. C. Boyle’s reading to promote his (at the time) new book T. C. Boyle Stories II at the Seattle Central Library. I sat enraptured through the whole thing. Finally, the reading over, a line formed to buy the new book and get it signed. I abhor lines, but for the right author I'll do it. I joined the herd, purchased the book, and then confused the hell out of him when I gleefully presented my clearly very worn copy of his first book, Water Music. That probably should have been his first clue that I was bonkers. Anyway there were a million people behind me and most of them were staring and lines make me stressed so I blurted out something stupid, gathered up my suddenly embarrassingly ratty book, and fled.

 Once outside I smoked a cigarette, gathered my wits, and informed Savannah that NO. We CANNOT go home now. Not like this. I HAVE QUESTIONS DAMMIT. The library was almost closed, so with some quick sleuthing I figured out what door he'd most likely exit through. My friend was such a good sport. We hung out in that alley and chain-smoked until finally, ages later, the frizzy-haired leather-clad punk genius emerged with his beautiful wife on his arm. Bursting from the shadows much more alarmingly than I intended, the man immediately shielded his wife from me. That should have dampened my enthusiasm, but it did no such thing. I began happily rambling about the papers I'd written on his book as both travel writing and postmodern historical fiction, how much I loved that he clearly was making fun of 18th century literature, blah-blah-blah-fangirl, and fortunately he began looking less scared and more interested. After I finally slowed down and let the man speak, he pointed out that Water Music really was more a picaresque novel than anything (holy crap how did I not notice that before), and that it was partially inspired by his studies in British lit. He mentioned how he was happy somebody wanted to talk about a book that wasn't World's End (OH but I love that book too), then we moved on to how much we both love Don DeLillo. He really was far more generous with his time than he should have been.

I glowed. 

(It's not just the crappy photo.)

On Books: Lexicon by Max Barry

I am a shameless lover of action novels.

There. I said it.

Now that we have that out of the way, Lexicon definitely satisfied my love of things-that-go-boom, but it also managed to tickle my inner language nerd and my mild obsession with science fiction. Not as much as I'd hoped, but also not enough to stop me from recommending it to my sci-fi loving friends.

Max Barry immediately drops the reader into an airport bathroom where Wil is having a very bad day. His very bad day involves being savagely ambushed at a urinal and having a needle rammed into his eye while fielding really random questions.

From there the book doesn't let you down for a second. It moves along two narrative arcs, one providing the background to the main "antagonist" (Emily) and the other following a seemingly random buffoon (Wil) that is thrown violently into a world he knows nothing about.

The basis for this book is that there are certain people, called Poets, who have been trained by an enigmatic secret organization to effectively hypnotize people through the neurological effects of the spoken word. The mumbo-jumbo used to explain this is a bit vague, but the premise is logical enough for sufficient suspension of disbelief. Barry also throws in a lot of catch phrases that lend his story a teeny, tiny bit of credence, such as Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs and some basic concepts behind the Lexical Approach. But like all science fiction, don't pick at it too much or it all starts sounding ridiculous.

The two characters the book focuses on, Wil and Emily, both have intertwining stories and the way the two narratives play off of each other gives each character additional depth. They're both highly sympathetic and I was left in tears more than once as Emily's story unfolds.

Then there are car chases, subterfuge, conspiracy theories... All classic elements to an action thriller novel with a smidgen of sci-fi thrown in. If you're looking for a fast summer read, this is your book. I can't say it's a classic, despite having some masterfully crafted characters and a unique premise, which was a bit disappointing. The setting seemed to leave lots of room for speculation over the power of the spoken and written word, but the extent of it seemed to function simply as a plot device.

So yeah. Go read it.

Also I'm back blogging, so expect more regular updates.