Arkenberg, Aqua Vitae (2011)

Therese Arkenberg, Aqua Vitae. Wolfsinger Publications, 2011. Pp. 70. ISBN 978-1936099092. $7.95.

Reviewed by Joan Leib

Aqua Vitae is a futuristic tale, set in the 26th century, about a woman seeking to become immortal. As the story opens, the protagonist, Jenes, receives a clue from a mysterious (and possibly mythical) Chinese man. Soon Jenes and several of her friends are haring off on an intergalactic pleasure-cruise to a tropical planet whose natives are allegedly immortal. The story is sparsely written, with little explanation given for certain crucial plot points, which was at first frustrating, but as I thought about it over the next few days, it began to grow on me. The sketchy nature of the background reflects the protagonist's personality: Jenes is so single-mindedly focused on her goal that she simply doesn't take notice of anyone else's experience. Still, the lack of detail on certain aspects of the plot can be confusing and distracting: for example, the question of whether the immortality treatment that Jenes undergoes is well-known or secret. The plot is vague on this point, at times maddeningly so.

And Jenes is not a likable character; I think this is deliberate. She is alcoholic, belligerent, rude, and completely self-absorbed. Inexplicably, she has friends, who for reasons at first difficult to understand choose to join her on the cruise. Also inexplicably, a handsome alien falls in love with Jenes, and she with him, leaving her with a difficult choice to make once she is immortal and he still isn't.

The central absurdity of Aqua Vitae is the idea that Jenes has set her sights on this goal, and pursued it (we are left to assume) fairly doggedly for some time—yet, until her goal has been achieved, she apparently has not spent any time at all thinking about such big questions as: why do I want this? what will my life be like afterward? and of course, what the heck will I do with myself once I have all the time in the world? That Jenes hasn't given these questions any thought at all is bizarre and incredible, and yet, it works—because the author has so effectively painted her as someone who always acts first and thinks later (if at all). The reader can easily sympathize with Jenes's friends in their frustration with her lack of forethought. Toward the end of the story, her one remaining friend confronts her with these questions, to no avail. Jenes needs to reach her lightbulb moment in her own time, and by the end she appears to have done so, although the ending, like much of the story itself, is somewhat vague and open to interpretation. Sadly, this does a disservice to the big topics of mortality and human nature that the author has opened up.

The story is marred by a few jarringly anachronistic details. It's bad enough that in the year 2542 there's no way for passengers on an interstellar cruise ship to contact each other without knowing each other's name and/or room number; technology being what it is, one would hope that a person should be able to simply ask the ship's computer itself for the name and contact info of a fellow passenger. (Something like “Ship, who’s that guy I was just talking to?”) That option being unavailable, Jenes resorts to writing a note for the alien she wants to contact—a note, written with actual pen on paper! Somehow that seems a bit hard to swallow. Worse, while our characters are on the tropical planet, Jenes gripes about tourists "wasting rolls of film" on pictures they'll never look at. Film? That reference is already archaic here in 2012.

I found myself a bit disappointed with the various romantic relationships portrayed in the story. Call me crazy, but I like to think that by the 26th century, human beings will be conducting their romances a bit less dysfunctionally than they do today. Of course, this may be primarily about the Jenes character in particular; as I said, she’s difficult to like, so it shouldn’t be surprising that the men in her life find her difficult as well. At the beginning of the story, Jenes describes the character Artemus as her boyfriend, but she certainly doesn’t treat him like a boyfriend; she spends most of the time trying to avoid him, except when she needs money. As for the alien man who falls for Jenes, it’s hard to understand what he sees in her, especially when she keeps pushing him away.

In the end, the story is interesting enough, but left me feeling unsatisfied. I’m of two minds about the novella form for this story. On the one hand, expanding it would have given the author an opportunity to explore more fully the characters and ideas she has created, and resolve some of those unclear plot points that I personally found so frustrating. On the other hand, the author’s lean prose style probably would not work well for this story in a full-length novel. Bottom line: an engaging and challenging read, with some food for thought if you have the patience to ferret it out.

Buy this item from Amazon.com
Buy this item from Amazon.co.uk

Astruc, Clockworld (2010)

RJ Astruc, Clockworld. Originally Wilde Oats, 2010/2011. Amazon Digital Services Reprint 2012. 85 pages. $1.99.

Reviewed by Jessica Nelson

There aren’t a lot of things Josie Cooper wants from his father, but his presence and approval are two of them. His father disapproves of the boy he’s in love with, not because he’s a boy, but because he has ‘problems’... big problems. In Clockworld, Festival of Skeletons-author RJ Astruc introduces us to these two boys and some of their closest friends, and together we delve into a world where reality is twisted, and drugs and friendship are the only escapes from a world gone mad.

All those things we, as a society, don’t like to talk about, don’t go away just because we don’t talk about them. In fact, they tend to balloon, instead, becoming entities of their own accord, instead of minor issues that would resolve if only we had the courage to address them. Do you talk plainly to your kids (or parents) about drugs? Do your kids (or parents) know you love them, no matter who they are and who they love? Have you even really spoken to your kids (or parents) today? About anything that really matters, I mean?

Galaxies away from Earth is a planet called Clockworld. Clockworld is mostly used for agricultural purposes, but there’s also a school there for children of Earth. The school is called Blackhall. The kids who attend range between the ages of 11 and 19, roughly post-elementary through college prep years. Most of the kids who attend Blackhall are the children of wealthy parents, or any parents who can afford it and don’t want to be bothered raising their own kids. In fact, they rarely even speak to their kids, being allowed only an hour of time to talk each month, and that one hour being rarely used up. The school and the agricultural settlements are isolated pod communities scattered across Clockworld’s only continent; in-between and everywhere else, the native flora of the planet grows wild and thick—and all of it can be used as some sort of drug or another. Whether inhaled raw, smoked, or eaten, the flora of Clockworld is a drug-dealer’s dream... and this is where people send their kids to school.

Being in such an isolated place does have its high points, though; the students of Blackhall spend all their time together, and get to know each other well. This creates a generally accepting environment for students of all sexual orientations, and it seems that each one is as common as any other there. Gay, bisexual, pansexual, heterosexual, confused... friends accept each other for who they are, because on Clockworld, your friends are your only lifeline to sanity, and everyone knows it. I mean, when your own parents have shipped you off to be raised by teachers and shrinks, who else do you have? But then, who do you have to turn to when you have a falling out with your friends, and teachers and shrinks are still just teachers and shrinks?

RJ Astruc has authored many novels and short stories, including one of my favorites, Harmonica & Gig. In Clockworld, a whole new voice emerges in the narrative; the voice of some unknown and uninvolved student telling the story of what happened to Jocelyn ‘Josie’ Cooper, Aubrey Partington-Hale, War Vladistov, and Xiaoping Hathaway. “What happened”... sounds ominous, doesn’t it? Well, it sort of is, in a Lord of the Flies or Stand by Me sort of way.

Clockworld is not a long book, by any means, but Astruc manages to squeeze in more social, moral and ethical points than I could have ever imagined. LGBT issues, nationality and race stereotyping, parenting issues, drug use and abuse, mental health, kids who need help and slip through the cracks with dire consequences; all of these are addressed—plainly, bluntly, with no illusions. The reader who comes to the story with no illusions, either, will see the reality of this fantastical story... how it takes what’s happening in our real world and gives it a good twist of exaggeration.

There’s not much to do on Clockworld but play sports, and drugs are everywhere. Without parents around to encourage hobbies and special interests and—gasp!—talk to their kids about life in general, most of the kids’ free time is spent getting high, making out, and talking about life. Yes, parents, even the jocks. Believe it or not, sports don’t keep your kids off drugs. Kids aren’t dumb: they recognize all the ways you try to keep them ‘busy’ while you’re off living your own life. It’s pretty normal for most kids to do a little dabbling, a little experimenting, but when they’re around drugs far more often than they’ve ever been around you, what do you think is going to win out? When they can’t talk to you about their problems, but drugs are there to help them forget them, which do you think they’ll turn to?

Clockworld is a good, fast read, not only touching on myriad social issues, but slapping the reader in the face with their consequences. I would recommend it to any mature reader who liked Lord of the Flies, Stand by Me, The Catcher in the Rye, or even The Grapes of Wrath. And if you, Reader, have kids... please take its lessons to heart. If you, Reader, are a kid, or young adult... don’t be afraid to demand the attention you deserve from your parents, or grandparents, or someone who’s been around the block and come through it okay. If you can’t go to your parents, that’s something only you can decide, but find someone. If you’re here, reading this, I have faith in you; faith in your desire and ability to do this. Because sometimes, the world feels like a lonely place, and fictional characters can be family, too, and books a healthier, more imaginative escape than any drug could ever be.

Buy this item from Amazon.com
Buy this item from Amazon.co.uk

Peck, A Short Stay in Hell (2012)

Steven L. Peck, A Short Stay in Hell. Strange Violin Editions, 2012. Pp. 110. ISBN 978-0-9837484-4-1. $11.95.

Reviewed by Kate Onyett

Metaphysics: the philosophical study of meaning in existence: the ‘why’ and ‘how’. It’s a big subject. Huge. Only bordered by the scope of human imagination, which a creative soul will tell you can encompass far more space than conventional physics; there is more within the human psyche, thought being a product of the mind unbound by physical laws, than there is without in the physical world. And it is just as well, because this novella is set in a place that’s about as vast as it is possible to conceive of; even in part. Just to get you around the mind-bleedingly large numbers at work, the action is set entirely in one library, containing 95^1,312,000 books. Ok, if that’s too big to think of (and I don’t blame you, we’re into stupidly mammoth numbers at this juncture), then consider this: it has been calculated that there about 1.5⁸⁰ electrons (tiny, wizzy sub-atomic particles that are present in everything because everything is built up from atoms of varying size) within the entire universe. Even if maths sends you into cold sweats, just looking at the number of digits in each of those figures shows that the novella wants us to consider a place humongously bigger than even our own universe. Already I am running out of synonyms for ‘big’. Take it from me; the canvas for this one is epic. Probably the biggest proposed stage for a story since the short story by Jorge Luis Borges, The Library of Babel, that Peck openly admits (through his hero’s voice) inspired this setting. The action is, thankfully, much, much more focused and very, very human.

To sum up the most basic premise; this is a metaphysical novella. Within its short length the hero is the instrument of discussions on meaning. To do this, it takes the form of a type of thought experiment. A scenario is created with minimal stimulus; just the barest essentials and a goal primed for the human element to aim for, and then the various ways humans try to find meaningfulness is toyed with. Like an intellectual rats-in-a-maze test.

The plot or hypothesis of this experiment is also deceptively simple. A man dies and ends up in Hell. No ordinary Hell, this, but one chosen specifically as one that will provide the best “edification and instruction” that having learned and passed, he can move on to a better afterlife or Heaven. The task; a seemingly never-ending library within which is a book that will be the entire description of one’s life. One must find it and post it into a slot provided. The hero is a Mormon, like the author. This turns out to have been the wrong religion. No, apparently the ‘right’ one isn’t any form of Christianity, Islam or Judaism, either! Most bases covered as the hero and the other occupants of the library struggle to exist and find point and purpose in such an overwhelming task. There’s the visceral; eating, drinking, sex, violence and injury. Each night all damage is repaired and made new, so there is no release from the base line of physical being. Then there is the gamut of emotion; boredom, happiness, rage, fear, humour, and despair and social-intellectual interactions with the formation of social groups to aid furtherment of a common goal; the ‘university’ of thinkers the hero belongs to at one point, various forms of worship attempted and the standard greeting on meeting someone new of exchanging of life stories.

If this is Hell, then is this torture? A rather conventional-sounding demon (red skin, horns, sulphurous breath) whom the hero briefly meets to be assigned his type of hell, rubbishes the idea of eternal punishment. For what is punishment without a lesson being learned? However, when faced with the continuous monotony of the geography, the reset of all damage and death to health and life and cleanliness again over night, the identical race and ethnicity of the hero’s fellow residents (all white American) and the enormity of finding one book in quizzillions, this is perhaps the worst kind of torture. Subtle, too, for in the need to find definition; that human need that compares, contrasts and struggles to identify either for or against in order that we can say ‘I am’. How would one find meaning for existence as a consciousness existing for millennia?

The amounts of time that becomes the norm for units of measurement; weeks, months, years, turn into centuries and eons. So vast that they nullify their own gigantisms, becoming almost commonplace in a sea of ‘meh’ness into which the hero sinks in order to continue his existence for large swathes of time. It’s a brave idea to explore.

Thankfully, the novella centres on the most experiential part of his life in Hell; the first couple of thousand years, during which he suffers love, loss, hope, despair, joy, bitterness, pain and consideration. This is the human mind latching onto the most intense snippets of memory as a form of self-description. Even in the wider vastness of time; human life is a drop in the ocean, yet we live so intensely, and that intensity is what frames our existence into a manageable sense of ‘what’ and ‘how’. Given this, the title is, of course, deeply ironic. Any further writing would be to attempt to unravel what is actually impossible; the chart a life of googols of years, given the very finite frame of earthly reference the author is working with. Instead it is for us, the reader, to make our own decisions and carry on the thinking and the debating after the novella ends. This is the beginning of a dialogue with our own life experiences; the idea that should set us looking; not a book with the answers.

It does make one wonder, as the hero oscillates between company and loner wandering, whether hell is truly other people (thank you, Sartre) or being utterly alone in a faceless, almost bureaucratic geography. The functionality of this Hell, while it stands as a suitable lack of distraction for the human reactions upon which life in this Hell and the story are both predicated, cannot but help reminding people of a Kafka-esque nightmare vision of ‘powers that be’. Without any other beings visible than the residents, yet all inhabitants of this Hell are utterly at its faceless, bland mercy.

The choice of one type of race and ethnicity is also deliberate. It narrows the boundaries of the baseline into something manageable. The author is a white American; he sensibly (given the otherwise huge scope of his thought experiment’s questions) sticks to a Western approach to ideas of selfhood. There is no point in getting upset over a ‘lack of diversity’; the author seems to be admitting he just has understanding as a white Westerner and he is not trying to make assumptions about other peoples’ ideas. For such a thought experiment to work, one has to draw the line somewhere at one’s included elements. Equally, a non-white, non-Western writer could do the same, but using their own cultural background to present questions on identity.

Faith and religion cannot be ignored in this context. Peck’s background is one of and evolutionary ecologist and Mormon, and he has energetic ideas on how evolution is not precluded by his faith, and also compiles a lively blog on his faithful life. Thankfully, the religious slant does not detract from the story, and this novella is not a polemic on one faith, given the very public confidence of Mormonism. In order to find meaning in a place with none except what you bring to it, the hero makes leaps or breaks from some of his previous beliefs. One gets a feeling that the thought experiment is an active for the author; he presents non-Mormon ideas and meets them with his own, filtering this through his hypothesis. The hero is inevitably seen as an avatar for Peck’s thinking on drinking, sex, marriage and godhood. The idea of a principled, apparently normatively calm and centred character (the implication being this is the result of disciplined faith) gives an aura of credibility to the facts presented from his POV.

There are, however, breaking points where one’s values are tested. Such testing, too, is a form of definition, although the hero has broken a fair few by the time we reach the end and he has spent untold swathes of time in that place. Eventually, it seems we wear down our prejudices in line with the environment we find ourselves in, although there is an inner core of personal morality; the hero would not attack another for no reason, for example, or rape a vulnerable woman.

The style is practical; it gets its point across in a remarkably short space of time. The author’s gift is to start us thinking, and if we want to, leave us still thinking beyond the close of the book.

Some of the sentences are a little heavy and wordy. There are chunks of information about mathematical probabilities, substantial speech to express theories on Being and Meanings. But given there is a lot to squeeze in, it could be a lot worse and considerably dryer. Instead there is action and emotion to oil the plot wheels, and on one level it could be read just as a short, amazing adventure story. Everyone’s going to read it differently, and one interpretation is that this is a very original, quirky view of Hell. All in all, I feel privileged to have had a chance to read this.

Buy this book from Strange Violin Editions
Buy this item from Amazon.com
Buy this item from Amazon.co.uk

Arkenberg, Last of the Lesser Kings (2012)

T.L.K. Arkenberg, Last of the Lesser Kings. Silver Publishing, 2012. Pp. 505. ISBN 9781920501884. $7.99.

Reviewed by RJ Blain

In a world torn by war, Neathander plays a pivotal role in the salvation or destruction of the independent human kingdoms. This novel pursues the romantic interests of a magician who wants to escape the wars that he has been participating in for the past thirteen years. T.L.K. Arkenberg’s debut novel, published by Silver Publishing, Last of the Lesser Kings is a story of love, betrayal, kingdoms, and Kings. It is romance mixed with fantasy tied together in a world where kingdoms rise, fall, and struggle to survive against the tyranny of one man who wanted everything, no matter what the cost.

Neathander is many things; cruel yet kind, loving, yet callous. He is wise, yet confused, and falls easily beneath the attraction of strong, powerful men. But, when Janir goes too far in his desire for conquest, Neathander betrays the man he has loved for thirteen years. After the falling out with Janir, a chance meeting with Aorin forever changes the magician. Kindness replaces cruelty, until Neathander isn’t sure who he is anymore. With the hope of redemption little more than a seedling, he remains with the people of Rivensed and the last of the independent Kings. This relationship between Rivensed’s King and Neathander is the heart of the book, as well as the critical focus of the conflict in the novel.

The story has several themes, but the most major ones include love, lust, redemption and jealousy. Neathander’s character is one so realistic that it brings to mind several key stereotypes while reading—character types that fit the book and the character so well that it is the glue that binds everything together. At a first glance, the use of these stereotypes is disconcerting, until one looks deeper at the character and understands that for all Neathander is not a human, he has a human’s nature.

While there are elements of epic fantasy, the story is not about how the world must be saved, or even the kingdoms that are dominated and controlled beneath the cruel hand of the High King. Instead, it is a story of the people that surround Neathander. Some change him; for the better, and in some cases, for the worse. Others are changed by him. But, the underlying theme of redemption is never quite forgotten—not by T.L.K. Arkenberg, and definitely not by her characters. It is brought to the forefront, the desire for redemption so strong in some of the characters that the need for it is capable of extinguishing even the light of hope.

The resolution of the book brings with it the expected conclusion, falling prey to the expectations of the audience. In a way, it has the fairy tale ending that is a little too perfect to be real.

For fans of same-sex couplings, this novel is almost the ideal romance. However, this novel falls short in terms of being an epic fantasy. Depending on where the book is acquired, it may or may not have the epic fantasy tag, which is misleading. The description, which paints the picture of an epic battle of the human realms, also aids to this misinterpretation that this book is of the epic fantasy genre. While there are strong fantasy elements present, the author opts to gloss over the elements that would make it a solid epic fantasy in exchange for pursuing the romantic interests of the men within the novel. Rather than being a full epic fantasy, ripe with culture and kingdom, it is more of a traditional fantasy that bit off a little more than it could chew, donning the cloak of epic fantasy with a thin grasp. However, to make up for that failure, T.L.K. Arkenberg has a very strong writing style suited for pursuing the intimacies of relationships, no matter what gender the partners are.

If I had to categorize this novel, I would classify it as a Homosexual Romance novel with fantasy influences. However, while relating to same-sex couplings, the theme of prejudice is glanced over, and despite the male-dominated, traditional world the characters live in, the expected prejudices don’t really exist. Aorin, who is described as old-fashioned and traditional, is easily swayed to change his original orientation (conveniently) by the book’s end. This gives the world a flat and unrealistic side that made it difficult to suspend disbelief.

One notable downside to this novel is that the ending was just too abrupt. T.L.K. Arkenberg spent a great deal of time building to the climax, but once it arrived, it passed by so quick that it was over before I realized it was even happening. This disappointment was made up for in other regards, but I found that the read was not nearly as satisfying as it could have been, especially considering the care for the characters and plot right up to the end of the book. While Neathander’s redemption is acquired, the price paid somehow felt empty despite the pleasant tone the ending of the book takes.

Arkenberg manages to do a complete about-face in terms of Neathander, evolving him from the extreme of cruelty to something most of us would identify as a kind person with a good sense of justice. Janir’s character doesn’t evolve as much as one would like, stagnating when a strong villain could have made this book much richer in both tone and depth.

That said, Last of the Lesser Kings was worth the read to a point, as the characters are fallible and likeable—including even Janir

However, there was a critical downside that effectively ruined this book for me. This is the inclusion of threats as a part of the copyright notice in the beginning of the book. Instead of the standard notices provided by large-scale publishers, Silver Publishing has opted with threats that are enforced by the FBI in conjunction with South African Copyright Law. The associated fine listed within the book is $250,000, and the warning spans four pages on a standard 6-inch kindle. Unlike other publishers, Silver Publishing does not permit ‘owners’ of the book to transfer the book between devices the reader owns or permit lending of the book to friends or family, essentially granting a one-use license to read the book and store it on one device. Reader and lover of books, beware. The harsh tone of the threat and warning is not pleasant to have to sit through, and will likely leave a sour taste in the mouth.

Buy this book from Silver Publishing
Buy this item from Amazon.com
Buy this item from Amazon.co.uk

Olsen, The End (2010)

Nora Olsen, The End: Five Queer Kids Save The World. Prizm Books, 2010. Pp. 270. ISBN 1610401166. $13.95.

Reviewed by Martha Hubbard

The End is a first novel by Nora Olsen, whose goal is “to write fun books that anyone can enjoy”, but she especially wants “LGBT teens to be able to see themselves in [her] books”. It is published by Prizm Books and is young adult science fiction of interest to LGBT teens. Five queer teenagers receive magic amulets that can help them to save the world from nuclear disaster. They must learn to trust each other and work together in order to accomplish this. Ms Olsen tells an engrossing story that is well plotted and moves briskly along to a satisfying and believable resolution.

Christian, Finger’s Breadth (2011)

M. Christian, Finger’s Breadth. Zumaya Boundless, 2011. Pp. 265. ISBN 978-1-934841-46-4. $15.99.

Reviewed by Sheri White

M. Christian is well-known for his erotic stories, as well as editing several erotic anthologies, so I wasn’t surprised to find that his newest novel, Finger’s Breadth, was pretty explicit. This is not a book to read if you are easily offended. Published by Zumaya Boundless, the gay, lesbian, bisexual or transsexual-themed imprint of Zumaya Publications, which has been putting out both e-books and print since 2001.

Finger’s Breadth takes place in San Francisco in the near future—someone is drugging random gay men and cutting off the tip of their little finger. The gay bars in the area are almost empty; men are staying home, scared it might happen to them. The police are baffled; there are no suspects. The first victim, Varney, works for the newspaper and becomes a celebrity of sorts. But his celebrity isn’t exactly earned, and this is eating Varney up inside. He debates with himself whether to confess his sin while still using his infamy to reach out to the public.

Then a gradual change comes over the gay population—those who have been cut are looked at as desirable, exciting. Those who have not been cut now begin to feel left out, even ashamed—aren’t they good enough to be approached by the cutter? Are they unattractive? The bars fill up again; the patrons divided between victims and wanna-bes. It’s rarely said aloud, but those men who are whole are hoping to be the next victim. The internet burns with men in chatrooms, looking for the cutter or a reasonable facsimile. Although the story is seen through the eyes of several characters, quite a bit of the book is written in chatroom format, with the cutter—or supposed cutter—looking for victims.

Those men who have had their fingertip cut off have a certain confidence about them; now that the worst has happened, what else do they have to fear? They feel invulnerable, brave. Those who are still intact begin to take drastic measures—cutting their fingers themselves or even having cutting parties.

So who are the real victims?

Varney is a nice guy who has gotten himself into a situation he’s not sure he can get out of. As a sort of penance, he uses his newspaper column as a format to reach out to the gay community, as well as inviting them to vent to him about the cutter. But even this becomes too much for Varney to deal with, knowing the real truth of what happened to him.

Finger’s Breadth is a suspenseful, erotic and disturbing tale of what happens when the monstrous becomes the desired. While a little slow at the beginning, the pace picks up towards the middle of the book and it's difficult to put down. The characters are well-written and believable; their angst very real. Taylor, who has been traumatized by the goings-on in the city, takes refuge at an ex-boyfriend’s home when Taylor is afraid he is next on the mutilator’s list. His fear of being a victim, and the insecurity over he relationship between him and his ex-boyfriend are palpable. The story is a little hard to follow at times—there are times when I’m not sure who belongs to the chat names—but is overall riveting.

This is not a book for the easily offended; there are many graphic sex scenes. The sex scenes are not gratuitous, however. They are an important part of the story as much as the cutting scenes are. Finger’s Breadth will get to you. It may disgust you and it may even arouse you, but it will definitely get you thinking. Would you change yourself, physically or mentally, in order to fit into the majority of your peers? Teens do this—do the rest of us really outgrow the urge to be one of the crowd? Even if you’re not part of the majority, you may change yourself to fit into a sub-group. Everyone wants to be wanted.

Buy this item from Zumaya Publications
Buy this item from Amazon.com
Buy this item from Amazon.co.uk

Butler, Hellhound on My Trail (2011)

D.J. Butler, Hellhound on My Trail (Rock Band Fights Evil #1). Smashwords, 2011. Pp. 135. ISBN 978-1-4661-3254-2. $0.99.

Reviewed by Kate Onyett

Sometimes, just sometimes, a genuinely bumptious romp of a story comes along that makes you want to praise the gods of narrative for the ragingly camp, OTT genre of pulp fiction. Bursting with action, snappy one-liners, quirky characters and tantalising glimpses of the author’s own view of fantastic mythology, Hellhound on My Trail is a heady series of set-piece fight scenes, improbable adventures and, naturally, rock music.

They say the devil has the best tunes. Apparently the Fallen Angels can no longer appreciate music at all (something they were deprived of, being a Heavenly pastime, when they rebelled), but the collection of individuals comprising the titular rock band are all still literally hell-bent, but determined to stick two fingers yup at Old Scratch before they are doomed forever. What the devil does have, as the story emerges during the course of snatched conversation between fights, is a range of nasty pets and servants and quite possibly bigger problems, politically speaking, among his own demons and the angels. Having escaped from a heavenly prison, the devil left behind a part of his hoof (a sort of satanic toenail), and possession of this is of somewhat vital importance to the band. But there’s an angel on the loose, too, with designs of his own on the item...

Told from the point of view of Mike, an ordinary human (a ‘vanilla’ in Buffy-speak: a not unfair interjection since the story reads very like a high-octane, effects-laden episode of the Joss Whedon supernatural comedy-drama) and a session bassist, called in to play with ‘some band’ in New Mexico. But everything rather goes south when a portal to Hell opens in the middle of the set and a hellhound leaps out, followed shortly thereafter by a Baal (a very nasty fly-demon-thingy). Mike has his own problems: a violent past, a need for drink and suicidal tendencies due to being haunted by the bloodied spirit of his long-deceased brother. Now he’s got a small matter of join a bizarre group of evil ass-kicking musicians or most likely be eaten by a big bad nasty. Thankfully for the continuation of the story he opts for the former; his youthful miss-exploits standing him in good stead in handling a gun against infernal foes.

Mike is the newest member of the band, but not the strangest: there is a man who sold his soul to Satan to become the best rock musician in the world (without specifying which instrument he wanted to master; Satan has a sense of humour, after all); an ambiguously-gendered shape-shifting Fairy; a son of Hell; and a narcolepsy-cursed wizard. Obviously the first choice of squad for the fighting of evil. Since we meet the group with Mike, and this is the first episode (the entire story runs to ten short chapters and is the length of a novella), set-up, characters and tone are all new. Butler’s intention is not, I think, to produce some great artistic polemic on the state of society or of mankind’s moral health, but to whip up a froth of exciting action, far-fetched monsters and add a hefty sprinkling of varied mythologies. We have some Mexican Indian, Christian, Kabbalah, Apocryphal and downright inspired connecting of the dots. These are not a group on a mission to save the world, but to save their hides and try to keep out of trouble. In this instance, they are very believable characters; rarely does one have to save mankind, but often one might feel as if one is fighting one’s own corner. You get the impression, however, that trouble follows them pretty much consistently.

The whole show eases in with a raging battle in a dusty two-bit tin-roofed bar in the middle of nowhere, continues with a pitched battle in a ruined synagogue/temple and finishes out the back in an ancient pyramid structure in the desert: a situation not dissimilar to the pyramid-backed bar in From Dusk Till Dawn. The level of demon-splatter is about the same as that road movie, too, as are the pithy comments thrown back and forth between the combatants. It starts low-key: Mike, we are told, is awaiting the end of the gig to get drunk then take his gun and shoot himself. His guilt over his younger brother’s death years ago still overwhelms him. We don’t appreciate that Mike might have seriously spooky supernatural problems of his own until we also ‘see’ the ghost; a bloodied, furious spirit, spitting blood and rage at the brother it felt let it down in life. In comparison, as Mike’s thoughts tell us, facing a running battle with tangible demons actually seems the better option.

Once ramped into action, the narrative does not flag, nor however, does it become over-excited and wear itself out (and the reader’s patience) before the end of the adventure. Butler keeps a firm hand on the reins; springing his horses, as it were, but not letting them gallop in a mad rush and spoil the narrative’s momentum with an unbalanced, messy crescendo. Out come the adjectives and adverbs, certainly, scattered liberally over the action. But this latter is cleanly described; there’s colourful, but not excess, description here. The images are clear and graspable. For immediacy of content to reader, one is as much ricocheted around the narrative alongside the characters as they are in their beat-up van trying to outrun the forces of Hell. Although it is basically a series of set-piece action situations, Butler is wonderfully unapologetic about this. Undoubtedly, his intention is of a rollicking great time for the reader, but thanks perhaps to the use of verbal quips and having a ‘vanilla’ as the first person, reader’s way in, it is all grounded in a very understandable level of communication. As sheer entertainment, it’s a right royal bouncer: bursting with energy, likable characters, improbable nonsense and a whole can full of whup-arse.

Written with a cinematic eye for the wider picture, it is not a hard jump to imagining the events as written about unfolding on the screen of the mind. As I said above, this is not a story with any great ‘message’ to proclaim unless it is ‘walk softly and carry a big gun’. These are not Heroes on an Epic Quest. Like most of us; they are people just trying to stay alive, in this case, literally! It is all about machismo, unlikely heroes (the comedic value of this is always a winner if properly exploited, and thankfully Butler tweaks his characters, but leaves just enough hanging to keep interest going) and visceral, cathartic thrills and lots and lots of bubbly, liquefying, grizzly, giggling carnage. Truly, the pulpiest of fiction, without being self-parodying. I felt this was a genuine argument for the solid value of a good pulper, rather than as a sardonic ‘homage’. It is so caught up in its own story, it stands utterly alone in a bubble of entertainment on its own merits, and on that basis it has to be something that you might enjoy in order to, well, enjoy. If heavy action, mythic beasties, swearing and gun-toting are not your thing, you won’t find anything in here to please you. It does exactly what is says on the tin: a rock band that fights evil. Repeatedly.

One could argue the merits or otherwise of pulp fiction till the cows come home. Yes, it’s not any great shakes in the moral department; in fact it is a delightfully a-moral genre; its characters nearly always a mix of ambiguity with a large wodge of the down-and-dirty about them. The band members aren’t saints either; all have flaws and problems. And while there’s the old argument about believability of characters being based on their realism, I rather feel that pulp fiction should not be judged on the post-Stanislavski obsession with ‘truth’. Yes, pulp fiction characters are gnarly; most humans are gnarly. This doesn’t mean it’s a social commentary. Pulp fiction, rather, belongs to the ranks of old-fashioned melodrama; the overdone, the grand gesture, the technicolour sets and costumes. Yes, it might be hopelessly overblown compared to ‘real’ life, but there’s no question in anyone’s minds over what is being presented; and what is more overblown than supernatural actioneering? The splatter-gore sub-genre in horror is itself also a child of melodrama. By going overboard we see more clearly our ‘real life’ narratives for what they are; apologetically scrambling on the surface of what they crow over being ‘complex’ human ‘issues’. Pulp fiction reminds us we can have story for story’s sake, and that we can have fun.

Could the format become repetitive? The shoot-'em-up-a-few-times-per-tale format in this start of a series of such tales? I have started in on the next two stories, and I can report that, while they follow the basic format, there is sufficient difference within them to make each its own little bundle of joy. Plus, given enough time between readings, the answer can be given as a no. A favoured episodic TV serial can become repetitive, but still claims one’s affections because it does so with such charm (moderated, of course by its genre. Splattered entrails of the damned might not be everyone’s idea of ‘charming’). Charm in this instance is taken to mean to cast a spell of agreeability (at the very least) over the eyes of the beholder. This is what creates the fan. So with a breather between each story of a day or so to increase the expectation, treating the stories like a TV series aired weekly, I’m finding them to be a roistering series of punchy entertainments.

If they ever make this into a TV serial, it has hit written all over it. Butler very much has his finger on the pulse of reminiscent pop culture classicism (I shudder to use the hackneyed title of ‘retro’). Instead of long-drawn-out angsty reasoning; the milieu of shows and books in the horror/fantasy genre since the early 1990s (themselves victims to Stanislavski’s realism ghost), his characters get on and do, in the spirit of the more lovably awful 80’s serials. It is a marvellous throw-back with all the wit of more up-to-date ventures. Coming out as a series of e-books, it is in a more modern format than the pulp serial magazines of half a century ago, but follows their lead of ‘in next week’s instalment.’ However, I am still waiting (and hoping) for a real hum-dinger of a one-liner delivered dead-pan, 80's action-hero style after a particularly Big Bad is dispatched. There has to be one at some point!

The group is not utterly aimless; they do want a hold over Satan and to win back some un-damnation for themselves. Given the introduction of the characters piecemeal and the fact that the subsequent two tales are focused on other members of the band; their viewpoint, the troubles they are trying to get solved, it is probable that over time we will build up a bigger, richer picture of the whole. The main frame is one of physical action; the tapestry itself on the frame will come from separate, interlocking threads as the characters mould and change one another. Apart from which, they have that piece of diabolic ungula to use, so there should be a build-up towards that at the very least!

This is a solid piece of writing. The author himself is obviously a well-read and literate man; it takes a lot of intelligence to write so deftly and believably about religious mysticism; a musician and someone with a strong background in law. His confidence in his work is clear; it is the confidence that one can pick up from another and make one confident in them. I would love to see this go more mainstream, but it is niched by its content and genre. Certainly I am very pleased that there is more on the way; that we will learn more, and see more action from Jim, Twitch, Eddie, Adrian and Mike.

Buy this e-book from Smashwords
Buy this item from Amazon.com
Buy this item from Amazon.co.uk

Grimwood (ed.), Monster Book for Girls (2011)

Terry Grimwood (ed.), The Monster Book for Girls. Exaggerated Press, 2011. Pp. 289. ISBN 978-1-4710-0975-4. £8.99.

Reviewed by Georgina Bruce

Exaggerated Press is published by horror and fantasy writer Terry Grimwood, who is the editor of this anthology of stories and poems. In his foreword to the book, he states that anthologies “grow a soul of their own, a thread within a theme...” Unfortunately, this is precisely what I found lacking in The Monster Book for Girls.

The collection is a real mixed bag of stories and poems with no discernable theme, or “soul”. Nothing connects or unites the pieces in the anthology, and there is no sense that an viewpoint is being developed, or an argument explored, or a series of images uncovered. The pieces have little in common besides the fact that they all feature females in some way. Stories and poems are thrown together with apparently little thought as to how they play off one another. Literary fiction sits next to schlock horror; thoughtful poems rest alongside comic japes. There is a case to be made for a ‘something for everyone’ approach, but I wished for a more coherent read, with less changes in tone from piece to piece.

Alexandre/Loepp, Nuncio and the Gypsy Girl (2012)

Kristen Kuhn Alexandre & Thomas Loepp, Nuncio and the Gypsy Girl in the Gilded Age. Runnymede Press, 2012. Pp. 80. ISBN 978-0977668724. $14.00.

Reviewed by Jessica Nelson

Nuncio and the Gypsy Girl in the Gilded Age is a romantic graphic novel that takes place in the early twentieth century. Populated by all manner of innovators of the era, the story centers around a Gypsy girl named Neci Stans and her love, composer Ezra Muster. Ezra is taken with Neci and her people, but is torn by her young age and his desire to succeed. When Ezra meets Marlene, a beautiful woman with connections that can help him, the two soon become engaged, completing the classic love triangle. But in this tangle of hearts, something more sinister lurks; something that could destroy them all.

Thomas Loepp’s beautiful illustrations bring the story to life. In the beginning, the very basic, scratchy artwork can make telling people apart a little difficult, but as the story moves along, it’s easy enough to sort out who’s who. This is far from a drawback; the artwork brings a simple elegance and tone that adds so much to the romantic feeling of the book, I can’t imagine it being illustrated any other way.

Hudson, Panoptica (2011)

Patrick Hudson, Panoptica. Kindle ebook, 2011. c. 90,000 words. ASIN B006F37Y5K. £1.15.

Reviewed by Steven Pirie

Panoptic: seen by all. Hudson’s Panoptica is a near-future parody of today’s surveillance society and its seemingly insatiable appetite for all things celebrity. Of course, being parody, this celebrity culture is extrapolated and exaggerated to epic proportions, and the result is a cross-genre work part Science Fiction in terms of futuristic technologies, but mostly Humour in terms of society and its blatant abuse of such technologies.

Thompson, Apoidea (2011)

Douglas Thompson, Apoidea. The Exaggerated Press, 2011. Pp. 211. ISBN: 978-1471007897. $10.82 / £6.99.

Reviewed by Martha Hubbard

In his new book, Apoidea, Douglas Thompson proposes a chilling and potentially all too real scenario. Sitting in his hermetically sealed, climate controlled, home-compound in the Colorado desert, Gert Villers is feeling very pleased with himself. His creation, his children, miniature silver, bee-like creatures, ‘apodroids’, developed to take on the task of pollinating the world’s harvests after the death of natural bees, has made him unbelievably wealthy and given him a sense of satisfaction few ever achieve.

Nothing stays the same forever and Gert’s idyll is about to change irrevocably. The U.S. Government in the shape of Major Bob Brautigan wants Gert’s apodroids to use in the war against its enemies. Soon other visitors, Steve Dobs of Lemon, and Bill Yates of Winterra also request a piece of the apodroid pie. Gert refuses all of these requests even as he realises that events are moving out of his control.

Far down south in Mexico City, Del Freemont, a disgraced former employee also has plans for Gert and his apodroids. He arranges for Gert to be kidnapped by the apos, reintroduced to Del and shown a vision of the future potential for the apodroids. While Gert is in the desert, a swarm of apodroids invade the pentagon and kill Major Brautigan. Staggering back to his compound he is placed under house arrest by soldiers who refuse to let him see his wife Marielle. This does not prevent the apodroids from killing Bill Yates and making a near fatal attack on Steve Dobs. In addition, more than half the world’s AI bees have stopped working. Without their pollinization of the world’s crops, the world’s economy will crash and millions will starve.

Because the government and Gert’s other company officers are convinced he is behind these actions, they are treating him like a criminal. Frustrated and angry, he is surprised when a voice from the air-vent system tells him that he is to be rescued. The apodroids drug him, then form a swarm which first tunnels out of the compound and carries Gert away into the desert. Now in the eyes of the world and his family he is an escapee as well as a criminal.

Del’s plans for him continue. Plastic surgery and months of retraining create a new man. When the time is right, Vernon Hopkins is turned loose. He begins an odyssey that, guided by his creations, will take him down through Texas, picking up the lovely and troubled Melissa along the way. Finally Vernon and Melissa make it into Mexico where Del has been waiting for them. He takes them to the cave system where he has set up a control centre. He needs Gert’s engineering expertise to solve a problem that he has been unable to master. But has Del now become another enemy who wants to control of the apos for his own purposes? The answer to this provides the shocking climax of Gert/Vernon’s adventure.

I was drawn to this book because of my long term involvement with the organic and local food movement where I live. Here we are all too aware of the dangers of limiting species variety, of food contaminated by pesticides and antibiotics. As the book says: the need to create an artificial means of guaranteeing pollination after the destruction brought about ‘by our monoculture and selective breeding. As well as the excessive use of pesticides,’ is an all-too real possibility. Currently scientists are baffled by the devastating rise of ‘hive-death’.

‘In 2007, about one third of the US domesticated bee population was wiped out as a result of a phenomenon known as Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD), with some commercial hive owners losing up to 90% of their bees.’ (BBC, 28 September 2010)

More insidious is the spread of monoculture genetically modified crops. These, developed, sold and controlled by enormous agri-businesses like Monsanto, are causing wide-ranging problems in many of the developing countries that have adopted them.

‘Shankara ... facing the loss of his land due to debt, drank a cupful of chemical insecticide. Unable to pay back the equivalent of two years’ earnings, he was in despair. ... Shankara’s crop had failed—twice. Of course, famine and pestilence are part of India’s ancient story. But the death of this respected farmer has been blamed on something far more modern and sinister: genetically modified crops. Shankara, like millions of other Indian farmers, had been promised previously unheard of harvests and income if he switched from farming with traditional seeds to planting GM seeds instead. Beguiled by the promise of future riches, he borrowed money in order to buy the GM seeds. But when the harvests failed, he was left with spiralling debts—and no income.’ (Daily Mail, 28 February 2012)

All over the world, governments and farmers are handing control of their livelihoods and nutritional security to giant corporations that have greed as their primary motivator. These are very real issues that have been brilliantly addressed writers like Paolo Bacigalupi in The Windup Girl. Apoidea is a worthy member of this pantheon.

However, an event last week set me to thinking. First was the rescinding of Kormen for the Cure’s decision to cease funding Planned Parenthood The initial announcement of Kormen’s plans, set off a firestorm of reaction, debate and determination to protect what most regard as a critical agency assisting women. A support PP campaign was spontaneously born that generated substantial donations. Kormen’s newish right wing director Karen Handel subsequently resigned. Regardless of which side of the issue you stand on, what was truly remarkable was the speed and effectiveness of the response on various social media. Twitter, Facebook, LiveJournal et al. were a-buzz from morning to night.

This is where I saw the real parallels with Apoidea. What is interesting, exciting and frightening is the power of the hive mind, its uncontrollability, once set in motion, as Del learns to his detriment. Individually an ‘apo’ has limited intellectual capacity; collectively, in the tens of thousands they can learn, reason, plan and carry out complicated group activities that in the book make them a formidable force. In the way that many of the most important events of 2011, the Arab Spring and OWS were reported and driven by multitudes using social media hint at a sea-change in the way revolutions are carried out, the rise and proliferation of linked world wide social media may be a seminal event on the same history changing order as the Gutenberg printing press.

A few small quibbles: The use of blatant name jokes i.e. Steve Dobs and Bill Yates is not really bad—just silly. More annoying were the polemics and propaganda during Gert and Melissa’s road-trip. These create mind blank-out and turn-the-pages moments that interrupt the forward movement of the adventure. This seems to be a dangerous trap some authors fall into when they feel the message is so important it overrides the need to concentrate on the story telling. The message should be in the story; the story itself should be the message.

These aside, Apoidea is an exciting adventure story that raises some challenging questions about the world we are creating.

Buy this book from Exaggerated Press
Buy this item from Amazon.com
Buy this item from Amazon.co.uk

Elhefnawy, Surviving the Spike (2011)

Nader Elhefnawy, Surviving the Spike. CreateSpace, 2011. 264 pages. ISBN 978-1463691875. $12.99.

Reviewed by D. Joan Leib

Surviving the Spike is a near-future novel, taking place in the 2070s. Dr. Elhefnawy uses this setting to create a novel that is not quite sure whether it wants to be a black-ops spy story, a polemic on bioethics and religious philosophy, a shoot-’em-up thriller, or a romance.

Our protagonist is a young woman named Bobbie, who at the age of 17 finds out that she is the result of a genetic-modification experiment with which her parents complied. Mysterious Men In Black yank her away from her home, tell her that she can never again contact her loved ones, and set her up with an apartment in a new city and a job for which she isn’t qualified. At this point, the author has a problem. The story he really wants to tell takes place several years later, after Bobbie has worked at her secret surveillance job for a while and gained experience, technological knowhow, and a healthy dose of cynicism. But how to describe her gradual evolution from sheltered teen to jaded spy? Unfortunately, like many a first-time author, Elhefnawy couldn’t find a way to make this happen other than by violating the all-important “show, don’t tell” rule. So we get pages and pages of text telling us that Bobbie is learning her job, and that in her spare time she hangs out in coffeeshops eavesdropping on other people to learn social skills. We’re even told that she engages in several relationships—although the phrasing is vague, I believe we’re intended to understand these as sexual/romantic relationships—all of which eventually fail when Bobbie is unable to tell her partners anything about her past.

The reader comes out of these exposition-dumps understanding what the author wants us to know about the character, but not really “feeling” it. A few well-crafted anecdotes could have accomplished the same purpose and engaged more interest. Similarly, later in the story a love interest is introduced, apparently just for the sake of character-building; but again we are merely told that Bobbie finds the man charismatic, while the author’s depiction of him gives no clue as to why this could be.

As the plot progresses, Elhefnawy effectively builds suspense by showing that the more Bobbie learns about surveillance and tracking technology, the more paranoid she becomes, suspecting that the MIBs who ripped her from her family are still watching her. Though she wants to try to find and contact the people she used to know, the fear that her every move is being watched holds her back.

At the same time, Bobbie occasionally overhears snippets of conversation that seem to provide clues as to where her story might go. The reader is never certain which of these concepts might eventually become relevant to the story. Bobbie spends some time wondering about the genetic modifications that were made to her, and whether they relate to the particular job that the MIBs chose for her. Yet, where one might expect her to do some research into the latest GM developments and technology, she doesn’t: a curious omission. Other conversational threads introduce a new religion based around uploading one’s consciousness into virtual reality, and various geopolitical struggles; but none of these threads seem to be going anywhere either.

Are the MIBs watching Bobbie? Did they set her up in her surveillance/courier job for some nefarious purpose, and indeed, did they genetically tailor her skill set for that job? Is there some pattern to the assignments Bobbie is given? Do the antagonists she encounters have something against Bobbie specifically, or just against her employers? In the end, unfortunately, most of these questions remain unanswered. New plot threads crop up toward the end of the story, which provide a fairly pat resolution to Bobbie’s predicament, but without resolving what had earlier seemed the important questions. The forward momentum of the story is derailed (almost literally) by a bizarre interlude that finds our hero stranded somewhere in Russia, having inadvertently become part of an internecine struggle that has nothing whatsoever to do with the rest of the plot. Given the nature of the assignment that Bobbie is on at this point, and the surveillance technology that the author has so carefully described previously, it’s hard to suspend disbelief and accept that Bobbie can disappear into this side plot for several days without her employers—or her enemies—finding her.

Also problematic to me is the fact that, beyond the first few weeks, Bobbie apparently never spares another thought for her parents. Even as she devises complicated spy programs to run on the worldwide network searching for the people she knew prior to her abduction, no mention is made specifically of her parents, nor does she seem interested in finding them any more than her friends or acquaintances. This was difficult to credit.

In summary, Elhefnawy has the basics of an interesting story, but makes the common mistake of introducing too many plot threads, which seem to tangle him up. In the end, he can’t do them all justice, so most are left hanging. The book would have benefited enormously from the attentions of a good editor. In particular, several major, glaring plot holes could have been avoided, character development improved, and unnecessary scenes pruned. There is some really good meat here for interesting discussion of concepts such as the nature of friendship, the psychological implications of digitizing personality, the ethics of experimenting on humans—all of which are touched on at least to some degree—but a more carefully crafted plot would allow for more nuanced exploration of these ideas. (A good editor could also have introduced the author to the correct construction and usage of the past perfect tense.)

Buy this item from Amazon.com
Buy this item from Amazon.co.uk