27 nasty stories by a very talented writer wasting much of his talent, alas. by "nasty" I don't just mean wall-to-wall gore and fucking, which would n27 nasty stories by a very talented writer wasting much of his talent, alas. by "nasty" I don't just mean wall-to-wall gore and fucking, which would not necessarily be an issue for me. these stories do have tons of gore and sex, and much that is graphically scatalogical as well. really sickening stuff at times. they also have a genuinely nasty sensibility: joyously juvenile, sniggeringly sadistic, viciously mean-spirited, not to mention misogynist and homophobic. I don't particularly admire contes cruel and so I didn't particularly admire this collection. yet it was all still... fun, in its way? McNaughton writes like writing is a breeze; he is almost casually masterful in his ability to toss off a cleverly ironic bit of dialogue or an elegant descriptive sentence, which can be startling when his tales are often so crass and so broadly horrific. and his narratives, even in the shortest of his short stories, are often surprisingly complex. he was an ingenious and very original writer. RIP!
there were three stories that I might read again. (in bold below.) the first two reminded me of his brilliant cult classic The Throne of Bones with their dark fantasy settings, plots that hinge on misuse of magic, and of course their cruel humor. the third is set in an aristocratic English milieu and is chock-full of clockwork automatons and sport-fucking.
okay time to take a shower, these stories made me feel unclean. so very nasty!
☢
"Conversion of St. Monocarp" - nasty Medieval body-switcher gets her just reward
"Nothing But the Best" & "Drink Me" - nasty body-switching wizard gets his just reward - twice!
"Interrupted Pilgrimage" - nasty Medieval illusion-caster gets his just reward
"The Hole" - nasty young voyeur gets his just reward
"Changes" - nasty normal reality gets turned into an even nastier abnormal reality
"Lovelocks" - nasty ninny in love gets his just reward
"Fantasia on 'Little Red Riding Hood'" - nasty author reimagines a classic fairy tale
"Water and the Spirit" - nasty warlord is the recipient of some nasty revenge from a dead water wizard; in the end, the nastier of the two will survive!
"Congratulations" - nasty tv grifter gets his just reward; nice witch is nice to her neighbors
"Why We Fear the Dark" - nasty cop is also a nasty cat
"The Disposal of Uncle Dave" - nasty husband is also a nasty toad
"Getting It All Back" - nasty parents falsely accused of sexual abuse by their nasty children; nasty daughter gets her just reward
"Undying Love" - nasty necrophiliac finally lays a live one
"Child of the Night" - vampire-seeking youth finds his questions answered by a nasty priest
"The Dunwich Lodger" - nasty motel manager versus his nasty father; abused wife meets nasty sorceror
"Annunciator" - cryo-frozen head awakens to a nasty future
"Rubber-Face" - nasty colonialist gets his just reward in the Congo; rubber magic is nasty magic
"Herbert West- Reincarnated" - nasty Herbert West finds new employment in nasty Nazi Germany; a nasty Jesus Christ is reanimated, nastily
"La Fille aux Yeux d'Email" - nasty English earl versus nasty French clockmaker; lots of nasty sex with a nasty countess and a nasty maid
"Star Stalker" - nasty supermodel hires some nasty cops
"Marantha's Tale" - nasty illusion-casting creature called a 'bog-losel' gets its just reward
"To My Dear Friend, Hommy-Bet" - nasty hack author receives a nasty fanzine and a nastier creature from a nasty amateur book reviewer. so much nastiness!...more
I appreciate the independent journalist Matt Taibbi; he's a reliably intelligent, critical, anti-authoritarian writer who usually leans far-left. Due I appreciate the independent journalist Matt Taibbi; he's a reliably intelligent, critical, anti-authoritarian writer who usually leans far-left. Due to his exposé "The Twitter Files" and his perceived bias against Democrats and the current administration, he received a lot of heat from other journalists, social media, and various politicians (including a shameful threat from hack careerist Stacey Plaskett). Some of the attacks against him focused on cherry-picked quotes from this oversized book, a sort of self-exposé detailing misadventures editing the infamous eXile, an antiestablishment and often trashy publication for trashy expats living in trashy 90s Russia...
☭
Chapter 1: Mark Ames
what I didn't realize before reading was that the actual creator of eXile is Mark Ames, who in this first chapter recounts how the magazine came into being. it is in all ways a very subjective and personal recounting. it also took me over a month to get through. very hard to read! Ames is equal parts self-loathing and full of contempt for the entire world around him. he fell in love with 90s Moscow because it is violent, trashy, corrupt, cold, ugly, and bleak. literally those are his reasons. to Ames, the city is a physical manifestation of his own world view, and so it felt like coming to his true home when he moved there. it was beyond disagreeable being inside this fellow's head. his own self-debasement and his debased view of the humans around him made this as enjoyable as looking at the excrement someone left behind in an alley. Notes from Underground, meet your child Mark Ames.
I'm Gen X, the best generation since the Silent Generation. of course, it's inane making generalizations about an entire generation; such lists of traits often have little meaning within the context of individual lives. that said, I'm going to go ahead and make those generalizations. unlike the bombastic and complacent Boomers, the maudlin and self-righteous Millennials, and the sadly ill-equipped-for-life Zoomers, disaffected Gen X (supposedly) centers such underrated virtues as detachment and independence. in the lore of generational generalizations, nothing is less cool to a Gen X-er than getting all emotional about the vagaries of fate; Gen X has no time for crybabies and people who go on about their various traumas. but there is a flip side to that old coin: the potential for callousness. that tendency is front and center in this first chapter. it was just so ugly, from Ames' sneering at the suffering of various dipshits, to his detached acceptance of corruption & addiction & violence, to the way he physically describes both himself and all the people around him in the most degrading ways possible. back in the 90s, this would have been a person I'd sneer back at. here in 2023, it was like torture reading his perspective.
Chapters 2 - 4: Matt Taibbi
what a great antidote to having to deal with Ames' cruel and adolescent commentary! Taibbi's cold shower helped clean some of the grime off of this book.
Chapter 2 is all about Matt Taibbi. his life before, during, after, and during (again) Russia. Including some time spent in Mongolia, his bout with a life-threatening illness, and his own perspective on the creating and building of the eXile. I really appreciated his take on Russia during this time period: his is a cynical and incredibly critical way of looking at this society, but also a realistic one that doesn't reduce everything to a sneering joke. he does come across as a sarcastic, smarter-than-you asshole - a contrast to Ames' self-indulgent, nihilistic monster - but one who is still, in his own way, earnestly trying to understand and connect with a culture going through a complex identity shift.
Chapter 3 is a deep dive into both the world of the eXile and the world that the eXile was trying to mock and expose. mainly, various hypocritical neoliberal individuals and institutions that were making bank in Russia, usually at the expense of Russians. if you've heard of the term "dirtbag left" then you know the style and the political stance that Taibbi and the eXile channel - despite coming about two decades before dirtbag left writers became popular. Taibbi is hard left and it shows. practitioners of neoliberalism get extreme beatings within the eXile's pages, with the specific aim of running certain persons and publications out of town. the violence and corruption of 90s Russian society also gets eXposed, to a lesser degree, including via a queasy column that gloated over the high number of murders happening everywhere in Russia ("Death Porn" is the column's literal title). semi-Marxist muckracking side by side juvenile atrocity-mongering, as well as Taibbi & Ames' absolute willingness to be vicious antagonists, made the eXile a uniquely pungent rag. and, as with the dirtbag leftists that popped up 20 years later, there was no shyness when it comes to being un-pc: alongside Western neolibs and Russian politician-thugs, Jews & women & blacks received equally disrespectful treatment in the pages of the eXile, and to an extent, within this chapter.
Chapter 4 is weirdly inside baseball, all about deeply amoral American expat Michael Bass, an ex-con and wannabe power broker, infamous for a range of repulsive yet somehow boring shenanigans. Bass gets multiple beatings within the eXile (including a front page photo of Bass post-actual beating). this fascinating yet rather pointless chapter made me somehow ever so slightly sympathetic to a sex-trafficker and suck-up to the Russian powers that be. which is kind of a reverse accomplishment? it's that bad of a beating. hard not to feel sorry for the guy, a bit. mean Matt Taibbi!
Chapters 5-7: Mark Ames again
writers who aren't sellouts write about what they are actually interested in. in these three chapters, Ames writes about drugs, sex, and revenge. Ames is not a sellout! despite my loathing of his incredibly obnoxious and juvenile nihilism, the guy can really write. his natural talent (usually) shines, despite the cynicism. these chapters are basically fictive memoirs written in an intense gonzo style that is no doubt influenced by his idols Hunter S. Thompson and Eduard Limonov. and by "fictive" I mean more in the sense of a practiced raconteur's use of exaggeration for effect... these dirty, sickening, soul-deadening stories still have the ring of unvarnished truth to them. kudos?
Chapter 5 is an often fascinating mess. Ames writes that he was on a lot of drugs while writing this very chapter, which is about his love of drugs. namely, various forms of crank and heroin, which he prefers to mainline. the reader learns all about his habits, how to obtain drugs in 90s Moscow, and how he finally got in with the appropriate druggie crowd instead of having to socialize with the bougie normie expats ("Beige-ists") that he understandably despises. the problem with this chapter is that it was so clearly written... on drugs. he literally repeats anecdotes that he's told earlier in the book and sometimes repeats them again in the same chapter. there's a lot that was compelling but there was also a lot of annoying dross. the chapter felt like listening to someone high out of their mind. which he was.
Chapter 6 is the most infamous of the book. "White God Complex" is all about his sexual misadventures. his thoughts on women are, as they say, unreformed. to say the least! malcontent Mark scorns both macho fratbros and slimy eurotrash, but his deeply dehumanizing take on nubile devushkas comes from the same misogynist perspective. it is all about scoring the most chicks, preferably teens, the younger and more virginal the better, without condoms even better, anal the best. this - for any sheltered readers - is typical guy talk. from my college years listening to drunk Greeks horny for freshmen and openly theorizing about what they'd do to them, through my late 20s working in the corporate world and hearing casual comments from walking boners like "that bitch needs to be gangraped" - usually delivered in a blank, quasi-ironic monotone - I'm more than passingly familiar with how moronic, vicious, and sleazy many dudes can sound. yet the chapter surprised even me.
I think the surprise I felt reading this chapter came from actually reading it. rather than hearing it. I'm not sure I've read a personal narrative (despite its no doubt frequent tall tales) that is so wall to wall no holds barred in its graphic storytelling. we read all about the sex life of this swarthy, ape-ish, not-unattractive former-jock turned dirtbag druggie, all the details. in particular the ability of expats like him to use his Western Man status to repeatedly score sex in second-world Russia and Belarus. he's not cocksure, he's just American. thus the "White God Complex": sexually open Slavic women apparently threw themselves at him and others of his ilk, in the hopes of being whisked away from post-Soviet impoverishment. he, in turn, screwed them repeatedly then kicked them to the curb, and sometimes bullied them into having abortions. and then he occasionally wrote about them - demeaningly, of course - within the pages of the eXile. his favorite appeared to be Lena, a drug-dealing whore and ex-convict, who would excite him with tales of her raping other inmates during her frequent times in prison. so sad they couldn't make their touching relationship work out in the end!
Chapter 7 is how Ames dealt with hate mail and various anti-eXile campaigns from liberal Americans out to get our intrepid young (ish) hero. not a bad chapter, but it strangely made me want to read actual political articles by the author, rather than filthy tales of revenge, drug binging, and sex with underage Russians. those articles are apparently what gave eXile some sort of credibility inside and outside of Russia. why weren't there more examples of that writing? one piece that was included - "The Rise and Fall of Moscow's Expat Royalty" was fascinating.
Chapter 8: Matt Taibbi again
I wish I had read this chapter first! this is the Taibbi that I know and love (minus the occasional bits of crude misogyny, which honestly came as a big surprise whenever they appeared). "Hacks" is all about the ridiculous journalists of Western media. specifically, foreign correspondents in Moscow whose reporting sought only to underline the goals of neoliberalism and to portray Russians as simple-minded bumpkins (or Fresh New Voices who espouse Western economic values)... and who often couldn't even speak the language. these reporters rarely had a problem borrowing entire stories from each other - and themselves. Matt Taibbi rails against this cadre of grifters and how their entire world view was (and is) antithetical to true journalism.
"My colleagues weren't just stupid and petty. They were shilling for the rich and sucking up to tyrants, teaming up to squelch dissent, keeping the world, and particularly rich America, isolated from desperate emergencies.
Working for the eXile made me realize that right and wrong really do still exist, that the struggle between good and evil hadn't been phased out of existence. The fundamental things really did apply, as time goes by. All the rights that I'd enjoyed growing up - free speech, the rule of law - they were all tenuous and fragile, constantly in danger of being taken away. And everybody, even people working in professions as seemingly stupid and inane as newspaper writing, was playing a part in determining whether we kept them or lost them."
I wish the book had more chapters like this last one! still, overall this was a pretty interesting albeit frequently grueling experience. part squirm-inducing memoir, part diatribe against complacent and/or corrupt journalism....more
surprisingly not horrible pirate romance. definitely readable, like addictively readable. fast-paced, dialogue wasn't too terrible, and Robards can pasurprisingly not horrible pirate romance. definitely readable, like addictively readable. fast-paced, dialogue wasn't too terrible, and Robards can paint an evocative picture, felt like I was there. she also likes painting a picture of the pirate's bod. cover ignores the many hairy as an ape descriptions but does get heroine's hair color right. so I guess we'll call it even when it comes to the cover's hair imagery.
pretty rough at times, at the beginning and the end. rough as in rape. including a very mean spanking, which was a first for me. also some ongoing bathing of each other by our hero and heroine, another first. these two get really into each other. pleasant island times in the middle, my favorite part, I guess I'm a softie. heroine starts off awful and becomes not awful. was definitely rooting for her in the last third. hero is a psycho but sometimes very pleasant when not radiating cold silent treatment energy or raping the love of his life. neither character has too many dimensions that's for sure.
not enough historical stuff and not enough actual pirating. these are things I want!
2.5 stars, rounded up. which makes me feel kinda guilty. should I be giving rape romances 3 stars? I mean I just gave an Andre Gide book 1 star. mark, your tastes are questionable to say the least. man the lack of morality on display.
had to laugh at some of these angry reaction reviews. like the reviewers didn't know exactly what they were getting into. haha don't front, not buying it. this is a pirate romance and y'all knew that meant rape by pirate.
Pirate Rapemance Ranking: #1: Bound by the Heart (good history, great battle scenes) #2: Island Flame (best heroine of the 3 books I've read but that's not exactly saying a lot) #3: A Pirate's Love (felt like it was written by a romantic concentration camp guard)
I think I understand Pirate Rape Romance formula now, it's basically: (1) pirate grabs girl and within a few pages it's hammer time - girl hates it but body betrays her etc.; (2) girl falls in love with pirate and pirate falls in love too but both never want to say I Love You because reasons; (3) sexy idyllic times in middle of novel; (4) bizarre nonsense happens usually based on misunderstanding, pirate gets punished; (5) misunderstanding leads to pirate being mean again and author gets to write one last rape scene; (6) they finally say I Love You and happily ever after happens very quickly, like the author is spent and just had to turn over and pass out.
now that I get the formula, not sure I need to read another pirate lolromancelol. but I will still be reading plenty of bodice rippers! they are way too addictive for me to stop....more
well at last I have read something that could be considered The Great American Novel, while also being um incest porn? a surprising book!
Who was Earl well at last I have read something that could be considered The Great American Novel, while also being um incest porn? a surprising book!
Who was Earl Thompson? This portrait of America during the Depression, and its author, were complete unknowns to me. I actually have no recollection of how my mildewed and battered, torn and tattered paperback even came into my possession. The book was apparently A Big Thing when it came out, yet I've read nothing about it. Why is that? The author's talent with the prose is amazing: as poetic and as earthy as Steinbeck, with an interest in the same themes, the same era; but Thompson is somehow more empathetic, more alive in how writes about people, places, and times. There is no remove, no distance between author and subject, of the kind that I've experienced with Steinbeck. Thompson is right there in the dirt with his characters. The book feels beyond lived-in; it reads like an autobiography that was written while events were actually occurring, rather than being reminisced about when older and wiser. There is a palpable energy in this book, a livewire sort of aliveness that makes every description sing and sting, every person both Dickensian grotesque and fully recognizable, every horrible occurrence feel like something out of a rural gothic horror and also like something the author personally experienced, full of the kinds of details and character traits that make each and every scene feel completely authentic.
On top of all that, despite all of the despair on display, all of the broken lives and crushed dreams, this book is really, really funny. Sometimes the humor is meanly sardonic, other times warmer, based on recognizable human foibles and physical flaws; never in a way that feels like the author scorns who he is writing about or even the repulsive places where they struggle to eat, let alone get ahead. To me, the ability to illustrate the tragically humorous folly and smallness of life, while not actually being contemptuous of those lives, is the mark of a truly brilliant book.
...and yet, this masterpiece is impossible to recommend. Just have to get this out of the way: besides the over the top sadistic violence that occurs frequently, I'd say fully a third of this book details the extremely explicit fantasies or actions of our pre-pubescent hero and his sexual desires for his mother. Emphasis: extremely explicit. Wild to imagine this book being reprinted in our modern times. Jack alternately hints, begs, pleads, and demands the satisfaction of both his curiosity and his needs. He's constantly ogling her or finding ways to place his hands or mouth on her belly, breasts, groin, anywhere, when she's awake, when she's asleep, most usually in the twilight state in-between. He guilt trips and scolds her, molests her when she's out cold, he practically assaults her on more than one occasion. For a period of time he sleeps with an oversize makeshift pillow that has been fashioned into a pretend-person, fucking it furiously whenever he can as he imagines it as his mom. At one point, his degenerate step-father aids him in his goal (an especially grueling sequence); more frequently, stepdad gets in the way of young Jack's dreams, much to the boy's chagrin.
SPOILER ALERT: lil' Jack's dreams come true.
...and yet, the boy is indeed the book's hero, not just its protagonist. Take away his demented obsession with his mother (a hard thing to subtract, I know) and we are left with a portrait in pragmatic courage, dogged individualism, and the refusal to be cruel despite the cruelty surrounding him. This is a boy who is at first abandoned by his mother to the care of his grandparents, then taken up by her and her ne'er-do-well alcoholic husband in the second half of the novel as they traverse America, a boy with no education, very little in the way of guidance (his grandparents do try; they are the book's most genuinely positive and kind characters), constantly neglected and abused and lied to and barely fed and forced to not just survive with next to nothing, but often to support his parents... and yet he retains his intelligence, empathy, strong opinions, an ability to see beauty in life when it does appear, and most of all, a drive to achieve happiness throughout it all. "Scrappy" does not begin to describe him. "Ferocious" is a better adjective, but it is still one that makes him sound harder than he is. I'd use "spunky" but that is just a little too cutesy for a kid who makes it with his mom before he even reaches his teens.
One is tempted to see the relationship between mother and son as an allegory for America at its lowest point. Say, the boy representing the stubborn optimism of an American people that will always cling to its hopeful dreams in the face of their struggles, despite those ambitions being, essentially, the longing for the obliterating comfort of a return to mother's embrace, to the womb itself? Perhaps that would make the incestuous activities so fervently described easier to handle? The author places their actions and the many depredations occurring around them within the specific socio-political context of farmers-turned-itinerants living in the heartland of a supposedly liberal country; a country that dehumanizes its own people, reduces them to beggarly recipients of public welfare or scorns them as deplorable trash, but never deigns to view them as actual human beings. Certainly the portrait of an America hopelessly divided between an elite minority and everyone else, where everything is commodified including the smallest of spaces and especially the bodies of women - an almost Marxist analysis that upbraids the flaccid "good intentions" of liberalism while detailing the evils of capitalism at every turn - all of that critique is front and center. Often coming directly from the mouth of Jack's pro-union yet anti-New Deal grandfather. The story may be the story of America trying to find itself and failing, writ small. Mom & son could very well be metaphors for all I know. But I'm not a particularly deep thinker, so I didn't spend a lot of time trying to see them or their story as such.
Instead I saw a portrait of a woman both weak and strong but mainly weak, a kind-hearted person whose unrealistic dreams of a better life than her parents lead her on an inexorable path to larceny and prostitution, and finally into the arms of the only person who has persistently declared his undying devotion, her son. Instead I saw a portrait of a boy who refuses to buckle under the yoke of a society that embraces fixed identities and destinies, a boy who sees through all of the bullshit, who refuses to be fooled, and yet who maintains his own secret idealism at his core, insisting to himself that he will create his own destiny - society and those who would stop him be damned. The narrative of the book is teeming with human insects, praying mantises eager to mate and to kill, but the book itself is teeming with human life and the need to be alive, the struggle to survive, making a life wherever and however one can make it. The book despairs but somehow, magically, does not depress. It is too busy being alive to be depressed....more
okay I tried but I just can't with this two dicks popping up from one crotch thing. had to give up. otherwise this is a fast-paced, rollicking adventuokay I tried but I just can't with this two dicks popping up from one crotch thing. had to give up. otherwise this is a fast-paced, rollicking adventure with high stakes and amusing characters, one that would probably be lightly enjoyable, even with all of the extremely over the top sadomasochistic activities happening every other page. the book certainly makes bloodplay sound like just another Tuesday lol. anyway, I tried and failed, again, as this is my second time attempting to handle imagining a double-dong guy, so not blaming the author because apparently this is something that people semi-frequently write about. but two dicks from one guy, another dick from the second guy because this is menage erotica... that's just too many dicks for me. and here I thought I'd never say that last phrase....more
You are Skye O'Malley, practically perfect in every way. You are bold and beautiful. You are brave and independent. You are headstrong and tempestuousYou are Skye O'Malley, practically perfect in every way. You are bold and beautiful. You are brave and independent. You are headstrong and tempestuous. Your sapphire eyes flash, your lustrous hair cascades, your heaving bosom heaves. You are a good daughter and a loving mother; you are a kind mistress to your servants. You are as brilliant as you are beautiful, with a facility for numbers and accounting, and a tongue skilled in many languages. You don't ride horses side-saddle and you can captain a ship as good as any man. You are filthy rich. You are a Mary Sue of the highest caliber! You are, as they say, the whole package. Even your most dangerous enemy is of the highest rank: Queen Elizabeth! You will have many adventures and you will love many men. You will travel from romantic Ireland to romantic Algiers to romantic England to a romantic smuggler's isle to a romantic ending in your lover's arms. You will love and you will fight and you will forget and you will remember. You can be conquered in only one way - if but briefly. You aren't ashamed to say that you love sex, you passionate woman you. Your "honey-oven" is apparently made for it.
You are Bertrice Small. You decided to write an historical adventure - but for the ladies! Your heroine will be everything a heroine can be. You will provide her lots and lots of sex, most of it good, some of it bad, all of it very graphically detailed. You will provide her lots and lots of love, all of it good, and due to a tragic but convenient memory loss, and then a tragic but convenient murder, and then a tragic but convenient illness, those many examples of true love will all be relatively guilt-free. You will also provide her some kids, but no need to get into that, they're barely there. You will, most of all, provide your reader with deliciously detailed descriptions of delightful destinations - every locale you send your heroine to will be described in the most luscious way possible. You love glamour. You are definitely no slouch with the adjectives! You could beat George R.R. Martin when it comes to all of the very specifically illustrated settings, outfits, food, and clothes. You definitely have him beat when describing hair color, eye color, amount of male body hair, creative ways to describe a penis, and especially on how to very specifically please a lady. You could also beat Song of Ice & Fire when it comes to the sadism! You have a similar disinterest in moralizing and that means many scenes are incredibly uncomfortable as they nonchalantly recount the horrific subjugation and degradation of women throughout this time period. You shrug at any reader outrage. Your writing style may be a bit embarrassing and your plotlines insane, but you could care less. You know what this is about: giving a woman the best and worst life possible! You realize that life is often too boring to deal with boring adventures. You hate being bored! You make sure your readers never experience it.
WATCH OUT, EVEN MORE SPOILERS FOLLOW
You are Niall Burke and you have exercised droit de siegneur upon Skye. You love her ardently and she loves you in return. Your eyes gleam blue-green and your chest is full of black curling hair. Your "pulsing root" will conquer. You are Skye's first love, her destiny. You also love cunnilingus.
You are Dom O'Flaherty and you are Skye's first husband. You are an infamous cocksman at 18 years of age, known as The Bull. Your eyes flash sky-blue and your hair and beard are a curling gold. Your unnaturally large "monster sex" will conquer. You love your perverted sister and also three-ways.
You are the Spaniard known as Khalid el Bey, Whoremaster of Algiers. You rescued Skye and freed her from slavery. Your eyes glint amber-gold and your chest is a dark furred mat. Your "pulsing shaft" will conquer. You are Skye's second husband and you love her. You also love cunnilingus.
You are Geoffrey Southwood, her third husband. You are an infamous cocksman, referred to as the Angel Earl. Your green eyes shine bright as your blonde hair. Your "great, blue-veined beast" will conquer. Your player days are over: your lust for Skye bec0mes love. You also love cunnilingus.
You are Lord Dudley, favorite of the Virgin Queen. You are a devious dandy. Your velvet brown eyes are set too close together; your moustache is red. You like spanking and being called "Papa". You blackmail Skye into surrendering her hidden valley. You also love bestiality with village girls, yuck.
You are Adam de Marisco, master of the island Lundy. You are a giant among Irishmen: 6 ft 6 inches! Your eyes spark a sensuous smoky-blue and your body is the hairiest Skye has ever seen. You love this vengeful woman but sadly you are only her "special friend". You also love cunnilingus.
You are Niall Burke and you have at last been reunited with your forever-love. You married a nymphomaniac, but at least that's over with - and good for you, you didn't shame her for her mental health condition despite her shenanigans. Your warm eyes for some reason now glow silver and then a smoky blue, but your chest hair remains dark and your nipples remain flat. Your "manroot" will conquer. You have also been conquered - by Love! You still love cunnilingus.
END SPOILERS
You are mark monday. You really enjoyed this trashy book. You should feel guilty but honestly you don't. You love adventure and trash! You also love (view spoiler)[spoilers (hide spoiler)]....more
Time stops when you come. Or is it when you "cum"? I've never been too sure about the appropriate usage of either word, whether the two worADULTS ONLY
Time stops when you come. Or is it when you "cum"? I've never been too sure about the appropriate usage of either word, whether the two words are interchangeable or if they refer to different parts of the orgasm - the orgasm itself, or perhaps simply the ejaculate? What word is for the feeling and what word is for the product? I dunno. If anyone has any hard, fast rules on the topic, please share. Sharing is caring. Although honestly, I'm not sure I care?
Anyway, the comic book series Sex Criminals takes this conceit of time stopping when having that perfect Angel into Buffy moment, that gasping moment of bliss, that little death, and it runs with it. When these sex criminals orgasm, perhaps with the one they love, or just really like, or are just really attracted to, or perhaps all by themselves, or by themselves plus some toys.... time stops. And what do they do when time stops? Sometimes fun things, like rearranging people and objects in hilariously inappropriate tableaux that cause much chagrin when time starts again. Sometimes more serious things, like robbing banks to stop capitalist oppression of the little guy, or in this case, the little library.
SPOILER: capitalism usually wins. For now, at least...
ADULTS ONLY
This is an adult book, but not because of the graphic sex. Teens know all about graphic sex, whether they've had it or not; sex isn't just for adults. This is an adult book because it is about adults, what it means to be an adult, to grow to change to not-change to be disappointed to examine the past to search for the flaws to rationalize to try to heal to try to keep growing to try to understand yourself to try to understand others to try to understand the world to try to understand your place in it to try and be okay with the fact that you can't change things to realize you can't even change yourself to keep on trying to change to keep on going to keep on growing to keep on feeling pain to keep on feeling love to keep on keeping on to try to feel sane to try to feel normal to try to connect to try and to fail and to keep on trying
The book is raw and honest and real; it is meta and postmodern and surreal; it is intimate and personal and private; it is a fun and clownish adventure; it is a sad song about sad lives; it is a happy tune about trying to do the right thing, for yourself, for others, for the world.
It is certainly an original achievement!
ADULTS ONLY
The writing is smart, soulful, witty, and wise. I wonder if I appreciated it so much because I have a lot of years behind me. I wonder what I would think about the book if I had just as many years ahead of me.
The art is colorful and eclectic, often as goofy and vibrant as the story itself, and sometimes as mournful, with people that look like real people and sex that looks like real sex.
I'm really looking forward to getting the second volume! It's not cheap, but hey I'm an adult and can afford such things....more
A pleasant country manor murder mystery married to gay pornography, slick and easy going down. This was written by a talented author under a pseudonymA pleasant country manor murder mystery married to gay pornography, slick and easy going down. This was written by a talented author under a pseudonym, and the clever, funny dialogue openly displays a prodigious talent. The murder mystery itself is certainly the bottom in this relationship, as the amount of explicit sex scenes tops the page count when compared to anything having to do with murder or mysteries. Dick dick, mouth mouth, ass ass, fluids raining everywhere like a downpour of thick salty milk, plus there's a body in the cupboard, oh and an innocent man in jail.
It's amusing reading porn written by literary authors because my focus is usually less *cough* self-involved and more interested in what the erotic scenes are saying about the author's sexual predilections. And so I learned that Rupert Smith likes hairy men, he likes balding men, he likes masculine men, and he also likes what is known as versatility. Certainly can't knock a man for his tastes.
Although the book was a cheerful excursion, 1 star removed, with irritation, for some surprising transphobia and the unfortunately less surprising decision to make the most villainous queer also be the most effeminate. For some reason, this sort of weird internalized homophobia (rooted in misogyny) is found frequently in older gay men, like say men Rupert Smith's age, and often displayed by gay men who are not exactly butch icons, like say the dandy named Rupert Smith. Cheerio, Rupert darling!...more
➩ Brazilians really love to fuck. I mean who doesn't, but Brazilians should get some kinda 10 THINGS I LEARNED
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7 Things I Learned About Rio and Brazil
➩ Brazilians really love to fuck. I mean who doesn't, but Brazilians should get some kinda award.
➩ Brazilian women like it rough and Brazilian men are more than happy to deliver. This is of course true all over the world, but Brazilians are really on point with this.
➩ Brazilian police are inherently corrupt, secretive, eager to make some side-money, and happy to deliver torture and violence as they see fit. Sure, police all the world over naturally abide by this common sense code, but Brazilian police really embrace it - no shame in their game!
➩ The original tribal cultures of Brazil were without a doubt bloodthirsty, vindictive, and sorta stupid. Naturally this is the case of the original tribal cultures of all countries in the history of the world, but those original Brazilian tribal cultures really put the thirst in bloodthirsty.
➩ Rio was basically founded by pirates. Well this is a truth for every major city in every country, but in Rio they were literally pirates, like on a boat type pirates!
➩ Rio's residents are consumed by role/game-playing to the point that it rules and often ruins their lives. This is a truism for humans in every city but man in Rio those games will determine who you have sex with, whose girl you steal, who you marry, who you kill. That's gaming with stakes!
➩ The folk of Rio, of Brazil itself, are basically a superstitious, foolish people whose women are secret sluts dependent on men and whose men are jealous, controlling, and potentially violent. And that keeps things fun! It goes without saying that this is true for every man or woman who ever walked the face of earth since the beginning of time, but gosh those Rio folk really live the dream on the daily.
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3 Things I Learned About "The Mystery of Rio"
➩ Digressions and amusing anecdotes about the history of a place can be entertaining to read. But when all of those digressions and anecdotes are mainly interested in portraying how violent, sexually obsessed, superstitious, toxic, and ignorant the people of a place are... it really gets old. I started wondering if the author just sees Rio as some sort of colorful, brutal porn cartoon.
➩ Digressions and amusing anecdotes about the history of a place can be entertaining to read. But when all of those digressions and anecdotes eventually become the novel itself, so much so that the narrative is sidelined and characterization comes to a standstill and the themes get lost in the mix... it can get frustrating. And eventually boring.
➩ No matter how skilled and imaginative a writer is - and make no mistake, Alberto Mussa is phenomenally skilled - if you decide to solve your murder mystery by explaining it all happened because of magic... I can't help but roll my eyes a little. Um, isn't that sort of a cheat? Pretty unsatisfying....more
The late 80s through mid-90s was a fertile time for experimental queer writers. (It was an exciting time for me as well, as a queer Creative Writing sThe late 80s through mid-90s was a fertile time for experimental queer writers. (It was an exciting time for me as well, as a queer Creative Writing student during that period.) From fiery Kathy Acker to quirky Kevin Killian to angry David Wojnarowicz to loving Joan Nestle to ice cold Dennis Cooper, the sheer range of mood and purpose of this group of fresh voices made reading them an exhilerating crap shoot. Would I be enlightened, as I was with Acker, moved and angered, as with Wojnarowicz? Or would I be disgusted, as I was with Cooper? And how would I use what I read in my own writing? The unifying factor across these diverse voices was the idea that our own stories, our personal narratives, could be centralized in works of so-called fiction. Genre boundaries were blurred, as were the boundaries between fiction and fact, love and sex, overt activism and internal exploration. I loved reading (and writing) these sorts of stories - the kinds of stories where the storyteller's own personal story is just as important as the story they are telling.
Unfortunately, Margery Kempe is a huge failure in my book, despite it doing exactly what I described above. I wonder why I even wrote all of that as an intro. I suppose to justify to myself why I still admire these sorts of books, these kinds of experiments with structure, theme, perception, reality.
Anyway, Glück constructs two stories that are supposed to comment on one another: Margery Kempe's love for Jesus and the author's own love for some babe. I started off annoyed and then moved into dismayed and ended with an irritated sort of bored. One can't criticize the writing itself, which is often beautiful and challenging and beautifully challenging - despite an intense focus on extremely explicit, un-romanticized sex. Or perhaps because of it? We all have our muses, and for many writers of that era, sex itself was a muse - especially since queer sex often automatically gave its practitioners a sort of outlaw status.
But here's the thing: this is a book about a woman who loved God, written by an atheist (probably). It's utterly bizarre that the author decided that his obsession with some cute young thing would even equate with Margery Kempe's love of Jesus. Reducing Kempe's intensely spiritual connection to God to the ravings of some demented woman who is hungry for Jesus' dick is not just, well, reductive, it is genuinely diminishing. Diminishing in that particularly easy and ugly way that men diminish women all the time. In the modern parlance, Glück tries to mansplain Margery's complicated feelings as pure lust - albeit lust of a higher form, I guess. Lust to the/a higher power? LOL? But Margery Kempe - author of the first recorded autobiography and obviously a real person - was defined by her faith and her spirituality. She was not defined by her lusts! Love of the physical body is not the same as a spiritual connection, and sorry to anyone who still suffers under that delusion. I'm not saying one is better than the other, I'm saying that one is an apple and the other is an orange and that the author is a nitwit for pretending that they are the same fruit. Sorry, author.
I'd like to say that at least the "personal narrative" portions of the book were interesting, but I can't. They are real at least, or were once real for the author. Sadly, the obsessive longings of an older gent for a younger lad are completely uninteresting to me. The genders could have been switched out and I would have been equally bored....more
Are you feeling emotionally blocked and bound up? Are your personal pleasures compromised by feelings of loneliness, dissatisfaction, murderous wrath?Are you feeling emotionally blocked and bound up? Are your personal pleasures compromised by feelings of loneliness, dissatisfaction, murderous wrath? Is your sex life arid extra dry?
TREATMENT: Treatment for TTS addresses the psychosis or delusional symptoms exhibited by lady demon-slayers. This often involves a combination of therapy and medication. Your incubus doctor may guide you through counseling, psychotherapy, or role play before a diagnosis.
COMPLICATIONS: TTS causes sufferers to engage in risky, aggressive behavior. In some cases, this behavior can include the stalking or slaughter of poor innocent demons who are minding their own business. In rare cases, TTS can result in being taken to a secret demon hospital, sedated and strapped down, and then gently roused and aroused by a sexy incubus doctor who really fills out his scrubs and who is tenting those loose pants of his in obvious appreciation of your assets, so no need to get uptight about that, it's a natural reaction for humans and incubus doctors alike. Untreated TTS is often associated with pointless threats, "running hot & cold", pretending you're just not that into him, and strident whinese.
OUTLOOK: TTS may only last for a few hours or days, but it can continue for months or years or forever. If you are a lady demon-slayer and notice symptoms of TTS, seek medical help right away. Getting treated for Torpid Trench Syndrome is crucial in maintaining a sexy lifestyle both above ground and within the Stygian depths below.
USES: This medication is used to stoke and enhance uncontrollable sexy movements and/or outbursts of words/sounds. Seminus Incubus is a medication that works by increasing the activity of a natural substance (dopamine) in the brain and by increasing other sorts of activities as well. Take this medication by mouth, or any orifice, with or without food, usually once a day, or twice, or thrice, or however many times you can handle it, in the morning or at bedtime, or anytime, as directed by your incubus doctor.
SIDE EFFECTS: Seminus Incubus may cause muscle/nervous system changes. Tell your incubus doctor right away if you notice any of the following side effects: relaxed muscles and attitude, sexy spasms, arching back, shaking, restlessness, dirty talk, bow-legged walk, drooling, a bed soaked with sweat and other fluids, and/or eyes rolling upwards in a cathartic ecstasy you never imagined was even possible. Your incubus doctor may prescribe increased dosages.
PRECAUTIONS: Before ingesting Seminus Incubus, tell your incubus doctor your medical and personal history, seriously tell him everything, especially in relation to: blood problems (e.g. drinking blood, bathing in blood, having half-human/ half-demon blood), rage, depression, weird mother, creepy father, overwhelming self-pity, ability to see in the dark, traumatic past (including irregular flashbacks), shitty apartment, weasel as pet, innate fighting skills (and that's hot), enrollment in a laughably loser-ish club of so-called "demon slayers", inability to have lasting relationships with wimpy human beta-males (can't blame you for that), and/or a completely unreasonable antipathy towards perfectly nice and sexy incubus doctors with superabundant magical semen that you shouldn't knock until you try it.
I'm not a fast food kind of guy. It's not because I'm a snob about it - I have really trashy tastes and I love the cheap, salty, greasy flavor. But myI'm not a fast food kind of guy. It's not because I'm a snob about it - I have really trashy tastes and I love the cheap, salty, greasy flavor. But my body has much classier tastes and prefers good food. A couple hours (or minutes) after I eat fast food, I feel vaguely nauseous and lethargic, and the next day sort of hungover. It's just not worth it; sad to say, I'm an insufferable, fine dining, organic food sorta guy. If I want "fast" food, it's taquerias and noodle houses, not restaurant chains. So I save fast food for the semi-annual drives down to visit my family. Like little poison treats. Over the years, I've learned to differentiate and even have favorites.
- In-N-Out is hands down the best, 4 stars.
- Carl's Jr. is likable, especially that chicken sandwich with the green chili on it, 3 stars.
- Jack in the Box has an admirably bizarre and off-putting menu but makes me gassy, 2 stars.
- Everything else is 1 star and must avoid.
- Oh and Arby's is literally hell on earth and sucks your soul out with a plastic straw, but I love the combo of "roast beef" and "horseradish sauce", so 2.5 stars I guess? I think I'll round up. not a bad place to eat, once every year or two.
I'm not an erotica kind of guy. It's not because I'm a snob about it - I have really trashy tastes and I love reading about sex. But my mind has much classier tastes and prefers things that are well-written and have interesting themes and/or deep characterization. After an hour or so of reading most erotica, I feel vaguely nauseous yet also sleepy, in a bored, well I guess it's time for bed I have to get up early sort of way. It's just not worth it; sad to say, I insufferably prefer books that aim higher than getting a response from my crotch. If I want cheap reading thrills, I will go for horror paperbacks or pulp scifi and fantasy because at least the stories absorb me and sometimes the writing is surprisingly stylish. So these days I save erotica for the end of various weird, pointless reading challenges, e.g. "Read 100 books by the end of 2017" or, in this case, "Read 1 romance novel a month in 2018". Like little erotic hail marys. Despite years of fitfully reading erotica, I'm still not sure what I think of the genre or what I actually like.
- Santa Steps Out was incredible, 4 stars, but was that really erotica?
- The Virgin Proxy was fun and actually hot at times and The Flesh Fables was very well-written but more horrific than erotic, 3 stars for both.
- Lord of the Deep was cute and upbeat but also embarrassing, 2 stars.
- Most everything else have been 1 star experiences and will not be reread and certainly have not been added to any spank bank except maybe at a deep subconscious level, I mean who knows, right?
- Oh and then there's this book, Nicholas, which has a Tuscan setting and I'm renting a villa there this summer with friends so that's a fun coincidence and it also has hirsute satyr men despite the hairless cover model and faerie wings being pulled out by a self-hating half-breed and magical brain-numbing nipple rings and dildos made from the sex organs of animals that "died naturally and so throb forever" and evil maenads and death by orgasm and (sorta-)incest of course and sexy pagan lesbianism, that was a happy surprise, and three brothers sharing a wife for magical protection reasons, sure? and mindless sex slaves made from mist so no need to feel guilty 'cause they're not even real and I guess I'm down with that? and weirdly cold, clinically described, very un-erotic sex scenes for the most part and an awkward, rather uncomfortable for me to read but still rather sweetly loving sex-while-pregnant scene followed by an awkward, rather uncomfortable for me to read but still rather sweetly loving NURSING SCENE and surprisingly not-bad prose that didn't make me cringe, oh and A MAGICAL SECOND PENIS THAT POPS OUT FROM OUR HERO'S PELVIS ONCE A MONTH WHICH MY MIND STILL REFUSES TO PICTURE, so 2.5 stars I guess? I think I'll round down. not a bad sort of book to read, maybe once every year or two....more
angry dark corrosive self-lacerating; stark sad lonely contemplative; the road the theater the restrooms the back alleys; driven diseased desperate deangry dark corrosive self-lacerating; stark sad lonely contemplative; the road the theater the restrooms the back alleys; driven diseased desperate despairing... these four stories, these four personal narratives put on display a hungry heart and an even hungrier dick - fully illustrated by very graphic, very haunting black and white drawings with blurred and shadowy line work - a heart and a dick and an emptiness and a need, four things that drove him out to the streets and inwards to himself, lashing himself and lashing out; his early life as a pre-teen and then teenage prostitute scarring him irrevocably but also providing fuel for his creative rage, a rage and a lust that is somehow so childlike - fully embraced by the children's book that holds these stories - and yet something so old because terrible experiences can age a man, can make his outlook blurred and his world a shadowy place, can make him embrace death... and yet he lived, to embrace the ugly as beautiful, as real, he lived to write and rage and to comfort and mourn and most of all, he lived to tell... and then he died, before his time. rest in peace, David Wojnarowicz, you broken man who survived your breaking and showed your wounds for all the world to see, rest in peace you beautiful soul, one of my first inspirations; you taught me so much.
"Now this is the kind of vacation I've been needing," I coo, gazing up with my big round real-estate-tycoon eyes.
Tingleverse is an odd place: a sp
"Now this is the kind of vacation I've been needing," I coo, gazing up with my big round real-estate-tycoon eyes.
Tingleverse is an odd place: a spoiled billionaire American real estate developer-cum-celebrity icon travels millions of miles to Russia, of all places, just to snort illicit unicorn powder in the most exclusive of restaurants and then order up a prehistoric prostitute for a bout of raw-dogging - as if he couldn't do all that back home in the good ole U.S. of A!
"Call me your thunder lizard!" Rombo suddenly demands, taking control in just that way that I like.
Tingleverse is a sexy place: a world where a friendly, studly, open-minded dinosaur prostitute pounds a newly passive billionaire while a talkative Russian cameraman cheerfully videotapes it all. Plus peeing, which is not really my thing, but hey I'm not judging.
"I know this is going to sound kind of strange, but I'm going to need you to run for president now," the dinosaur informs me.
But Tingleverse is also a sweet place: what might have been a squalid bit of sex-and-blackmail ends ends up being sex-positive, life-affirming romance. One where a spoiled billionaire resolutely rejects running for president in favor of exploring a new relationship with sexy green friend.
What was once something of a joke about the political climate and an absurdist commentary on celebrity culture has suddenly evolved, becoming all too real.
This bonus story is set in a dimension quite different than the previous one; in this world, Tromp is a domineering top. But before America gets its long-overdue pounding, a certain young journalist finds himself suddenly submissive, cowed and turned on by the hot presidential hopeful from Loch Ness; and so he inevitably presents rearward. Attention all purveyors of fake news: you have been duly warned!
"You're just what this country needs," I tell the monster.
Both stories are basically worth a shrug, but they have their moments of clever satire, in between all of the pounding....more
Gwen, In Green is an obscure little horror fantasia; as with all fantasias, it is a mixture of different styles and is based on a number of familiar tGwen, In Green is an obscure little horror fantasia; as with all fantasias, it is a mixture of different styles and is based on a number of familiar tunes. It riffs on eco-horror and the destruction wrought by men with machines, the unfreezing of a frigid woman (which is so 70s), sexuality as horror and as freedom, and finally, terror from space. It handles all of those familiar songs with care. It is also quite the seductive little number: it leads the reader on with a low-key but rather formal style and a story that is focused on the psychological; there are only vague whiffs of dread - and a series of unsettling dreams - to point to the strangeness slowly seeping in from the edges. And then it switches it up, almost abruptly, and turns into a narrative about a semi-possessed woman whose extreme coping mechanisms alternate between the wanton and the murderous. I loved this bewitching obscurity from beginning to end.
As mentioned, the book is so very 1970s and that may make it really irritating to read, for some. There's a certain chauvinism that is continually present - although it never actually veers into misogyny. Gwen may have mental problems and sexual hang-ups; her horndog fratboy of a husband may view her as his lil' lady who handles the cooking & the cleaning & the relaxing of her man; the first half of the novel may be concerned with her issues with sex and his attempts to unfreeze those frosty lady parts... but all of that appears to come from a place of empathy. Zachary is an empathetic writer: Gwen is richly nuanced and her idiosyncrasies are celebrated; George is surprisingly kind, patient, and supportive; their evolving relationship is always tender and respectful. I really enjoyed reading about them and the home they create together, from the ground up.
From the ground up, from within the woods, from the depths of the pond... unfortunately for Gwen and George, the novel is not just about their relationship. It is also about an intangible horror from the ground, the woods, the pond, the stars, and how that horror seduces and then destroys.
Synopsis: A young couple build a beautiful home on a forested island. They proceed to have lots and lots and lots of sex. Horror eventually intrudes upon their happy, sexy idyll....more
I've enjoyed the first two short seasons of Channel Zero, Nick Acosta's horror project on Syfy that adapts various popular creepypastas, so I thought I've enjoyed the first two short seasons of Channel Zero, Nick Acosta's horror project on Syfy that adapts various popular creepypastas, so I thought I'd start my weekend October Horror Binge with an adaptation of the most infamous of the creepypastas.
Of course the difference between Channel Zero and the 14-page "I Slept with Slender Man" is that the latter is basically bizarro horror-porn. The emphasis here is really on the bizarre. Steele does a good job in balancing the overtly bland storytelling with sex scenes both weird and weirdly nonchalant. Poor Virginia, beautiful and misunderstood and suddenly obsessed with a very slender (and flexible) man - one who has certain things he'd like to show her. The images of a little house made of living children and Virginia's sexy time while traveling through Slender Man's body were... memorable.
#3 in my Read One Romance per Month Challenge. cutting it kinda close this month. ___
The admiral laughed. "Did I forget to mention that Regelence is
#3 in my Read One Romance per Month Challenge. cutting it kinda close this month. ___
The admiral laughed. "Did I forget to mention that Regelence is a very patriarchal society? So much so, in fact, that the aristocracy makes certain their offspring, especially their heirs, are male and genetically altered to have a preference for the same sex."
well that's definitely not disturbing at all. oh the lengths some authors will go to make sure no troublesome women appear in their gay fantasias. apparently even female authors like J.L. Langley. ___
ADULT THEMES AHEAD
GOODREADS FRIENDS UNDER 18... STAY AWAY! PLEASE? FOR ME?
about a third of the way in. a quick read; amateurish prose that could use an editor but it's hard to be too critical of the writing when this book is less of a romance novel and more of a stroke fantasy. erotica without the eros, at least so far. although a lot of talk about stiff pricks etc. I'm at page 110 and still no sex scene. I don't really consider a scene with a guy jerking off to be a "sex scene" per se.
but man this is odd. it's too goofy and light-hearted to be genuinely disturbing. I dunno. a planet where young men protect their virtue until age 25 and one that specifically follows the Ancient Greek tradition of pairing older gents with younger, more naive lads so that one can mentor the other. um... ugh? I guess? apparently this is a super safe planet because of that virgins-until-25 rule, but didn't one of our heroes almost get kidnapped and/or raped just because he stole out to the spaceport to draw? also, this is a world where being an artist is considered manual labor? what? also, what is up with the other hero bringing his teenage son along to act like his valet and why is his son acting like such a flagrant slut? (not that there's anything wrong with being a slut, obviously, but around your dad?) the scenes where gay son is talking to gay dad about how much he wants some action with some of the hot princes on this planet are kinda yuck.
there seems to be an emphasis on how masculine this planet's decor is... but all of the scenes of various young men flouncing around, making quips to each other with hands on hips, and totally reading and rolling their eyes at the older guys prowling around... doesn't feel super masculine to me. not that that's a problem of course. I just don't think it is the type of "masculine" that the author is intending. sorta reminds me of when I was 18 and going to this club that literally had a chicken wire barrier between the bar area and the dance area, where lads like myself could torment the older folks able to buy drinks and I assume drown their sorrows because they couldn't get past that chicken wire fence to dance with all of us chickens. ah, memories. ___
teenage son is definitely more interesting now that he is in threatening killer mode. while wearing flower print pajamas and bunny slippers!
so, alpha protagonist has a pierced dick and just fantasized about fisting our innocent young hero. things have definitely leveled up. I hope innocent young hero knows about safe words.
I should go to bed now, really, but my mild headache and usual bout of insomnia are stopping me. so back to the book I suppose. normally I'd pour myself a little scotch to make myself sleepy, but for some reason I think I will have a cherry cordial instead. ___
well no need to wonder where the sex scenes are - they are all in the second half of the book. really graphic but still romantic. but mainly graphic! I actually did not realize this book was going to turn into one of those quasi-bdsm, call-me-sir, dominant-submissive type deals. despite the hints throughout the first half, I was still surprised. I'm not really into that kind of thing (anymore) so honestly I sort of skimmed those scenes. can't say I was too comfortable with our innocent young hero's first and possibly only relationship being so dom/sub. or with the last paragraph being all about his first fisting. *shrug* well I guess that's erotica for you....more
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a mystery in space of How Did the Captain of the Venusian Expedition Die? is not the mystery in space
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the mystery in space is the mystery of the inner space
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the mystery of the confined madman and hopeful author and failed husband and tragic victim and master of projection and master of binary thinking and yet still somehow the master of accepting all probabilities all potentialities all things and possible murderer and time traveler and a lover both impotent and hyper-potent, the lone survivor, the unhappy astronaut Col. Harry Evans
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the mystery of the space between a man and a woman, a man and a man, a man and himself
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the mystery of sex, the banality of it, its constancy in the mind and its transformation of the body, its shaping of things into shapes shameful and quickly hidden away
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the mystery of a genre called New Wave Science Fiction, barely remembered, a genre that challenged its own genre and a genre that blazed bright and briefly and full of a strange stylized mockingly literary playfulness, a genre that pushes all sorts of buttons and pulls all kinds of levers, my mind moving in all directions, sparking and flashing, a constant smile on my lips at the ingenuity of it all
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as for the mystery in question, a sad Earthly answer: your wife no longer loves you, why is that why is that, perhaps a trip to Venus will solve this riddle, perhaps you can write a book, perhaps you can recreate reality, perhaps you can run away, perhaps things will be better then but probably not probability says no
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One of the theories of the new mystics was that all of space was merely a projection of the inner wastes of man and that space exploration therefore became merely another dull metaphor for internal exploration: up against Mars, Venus, Ceres or the moon the voyager was merely confronting one or another pyramid reared in his own damaged psyche. Under this theory, the rationalization for space exploration became preposterous. One would have been better off accepting from the beginning the internal truth of oneself or, failing that, seeking competent care in an institution where for relaxation cryptograms, hairgrayers, puzzles, and sexual biography would serve the essential purposes while keeping allotted time free for introspection and the consideration of inner space.
once upon a time there were old gods, and they ruled a world filled with blood and lust and death and transformation. they saw no use for such things once upon a time there were old gods, and they ruled a world filled with blood and lust and death and transformation. they saw no use for such things as altruism or kindness or propriety or monogamy or the protecting of little children. they followed their own urges and the world followed as well. 'twas such a dirty world back then, in the olden days! a dirty, dirty world. but then the ultimate transformation came, and one such god became God. He changed his fellow godlings as well, into angels and immortal beings who ruled over certain holidays. and all those He didn't change, He slaughtered.
this book is fucking unique! I haven't read anything like it. I think I was expecting some bizarro sex romp featuring sexy-weird scenarios that included Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. it has that, sure, but this is far from one of those jokey sex-monster books that karen loves to review. it is so much more. Devereaux mines mythology in order to reconstruct the fables of the present into something darker, dirtier, danker, and richer. The Tooth Fairy is a fearsome and horribly compelling enchantress yearning to gnaw at the bones of children. The Easter Bunny chitters creepily and longingly as he stares at humans from their windows, invisible. Santa Claus feels the haunting call of the lustful old times, long forgotten, and when St. Nick busts a nut, all sorts of magic happens.
first of all, the writing. Devereaux is no hack. the prose is compelling, to say the least. by turns sweetly moving, dryly sardonic, and darkly lustrous... the author's talents shine. like dumping out a trash can and finding everything - the rotting food, the plastic wrappings, the used condoms, all of it - has turned to gold. a treasure trove of trashy riches! I laughed, I was intrigued and fascinated, I was disgusted and appalled, I was moved. a brilliantly written book and I immediately want to read more from the author.
second and most important, the ideas. there's so much in here. whether it is the exploration of mythology, Devereaux's willingness to go all in when looking at ancient archetypes, the surprising focus on the male sexual drive and what that realistically means for monogamy, the empathy he displays for his weird and monstrous creations, the compassion he has when delving into human (and inhuman) psychology, his nakedly honest appraisal of love... my mind was constantly being pushed into places I did not expect when I first picked up this book. reading this during family holiday time was an unusual experience!
obviously this book is not for everyone. but you should check it out if you want something that is full of tenderness and hope, lust and a lot of it, gore and brutality, excessively explicit sex and death scenes, a reconstruction of pagan and Christian mythology, an exploration of adult relationships, and wall-to-wall dark fantasy. it is a fully engorged and very spicy blood sausage and that flavor is certainly not to everyone's taste. but I found it to be delicious.
25 affairs, connections, one night stands, encounters...whatever you want to call them. not to be an essentialist, but urban gay men often have a nonc25 affairs, connections, one night stands, encounters...whatever you want to call them. not to be an essentialist, but urban gay men often have a nonchalant attitude to one night stands, often devoid of moralism or guilt....and Renaud Camus takes that attitude right on up to the next level. his portraits of his various activities, and often the mornings after, are interesting introductions to how folks can connect briefly, understand each other, move on, and experience no troubling after-effects. unfortunately, despite the sweetness, it all becomes pretty monotonous after a while. or maybe i'm just getting old!...more
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