"Beautifully written, a kaleidoscope of finely drawn characters and an unfolding mystery that reveals the hope and horror in the human heart."
-- Alan"Beautifully written, a kaleidoscope of finely drawn characters and an unfolding mystery that reveals the hope and horror in the human heart."
-- Alan Brennert, Author Honolulu, Moloka'i and Palisades Park
"...likely to be the best book you might not read this year...a gorgeous, genre-defying novel of heartrending truth...that builds slowly and confidently toward a page-turning climax that will leave you breathless..."
-- Stoker Award-winner Vince A. Liaguno, Dark Scribe Magazine
"Reminiscent of Stephen King...[Bens] is an author to watch."
I must admit, I am woefully under-read when it comes to lesbian fiction; so this review will not so much be based on specifics of the genre, but upon I must admit, I am woefully under-read when it comes to lesbian fiction; so this review will not so much be based on specifics of the genre, but upon readability and the enjoyment the story brings. And on that front, author Thomas excels, delivering a thoroughly entertaining read for the beach or the living room.
Margaret "Ret" Butler is running the once glorious Gay Banana, a resort just outside of Palm Springs that her father and mother had once made into the social hot-spot. There were glamorous parties held here, with alluring women and classic gentlemen. Now, its days of being the place to be seen are far behind it, but the resort still manages to eek out a meager existence. But Ret has a problem. The deadline her father had given her to turn the resort around is fast approaching and, unless Ret takes some drastic action, ownership of the Gay Banana will revert to him. And who knows what Daddy will do with this magnificent place that Ret still finds romantic.
But things get complicated. One of the gentlemen Ret considers going into partnership with is a young genius...a snotty, know-it-all youth who sets her ill at ease with his cockiness and the slightly shady and mysterious business practices that just seems to hover about him. To make matters worse, Daddy has gone missing and Ret's high-society, no-nonsense mother--convinced he is cheating on her--is plotting his death. But let's not stop there. Enter Billie: the most beautiful and enigmatic woman ever to have visited the Gay Banana during its hey-day who returns after more than a decade just to see Ret. Will the Gay Banana survive? Will Mother get her way? Will Daddy turn up or just turn up dead? And what about the alluring Billie? Believe it or not, it all comes together in the end. But you'll have to read it to find out how.
In this debut novel, Ret is our narrator and Thomas imbues her with a wonderful voice: a little bit edgy, a little bit lost romantic. The style is a bit stream of conscious which only adds to the charm of Ret's character and adds much of the humor. Ret ping-pongs a bit between the unraveling--and at times overwhelming--developments in her life. She's pulled in all directions by a demanding (and funny as hell) mother, a concerned staff, and two potential business partners. And when Billie enters the scene, there is a wonderful romance between the two that is believable and charming, and which helps to create the romance and glamour of the bygone days of the Gay Banana. We see why the old place is so important to Ret and why she wants so desperately to save it.
The prose reads swiftly and easily and I found myself smiling through most of it and enjoying the various red-herrings that Thomas throws out in the story. Now, it's not the perfect novel: I would like to have seen some of those red herrings played out and I longed to see a bit more of the past (and present) relationship between Ret and Billie, but in the end, this novel charmed me to no end. It's a wonderfully fun novel, a breezy read with a little romance, a smidge of mystery and an infectious spirit. ...more
Vampire fiction. Just whisper the words and they’re likely to evoke groans from horror readers, writers and editors across the globe. Let’s face it, tVampire fiction. Just whisper the words and they’re likely to evoke groans from horror readers, writers and editors across the globe. Let’s face it, the vampire is a character which—pardon the expression—has been done to death. Of course, every once in a while, a King or a Rice or a Brite comes along and unexpectedly re-invents the old vamp, giving him back his teeth and his terror, but then hundreds of sub-par copycats inevitably follow, flooding the market with sparkly, erotic or just plain pornographic vampires who lack bite as well as literary merit. Understandably, respect for vampires falls dormant and the welcome mat at publishing houses is withdrawn. Despite this cycle, there are always those authors unafraid of tackling the subject; luckily, for readers, Michael Rowe is one of them, his debut novel Enter, Night beautifully capturing a feeling and horror and dread long absent from most vampire fiction.
Built on the blood of the displaced Native population and the backs of generations of its residents, Parr’s Landing, in 1972, is a ghost of a community, its gold mines long run dry, opportunities scarce and the people wanting nothing more than to find a way out. Fifteen years earlier, Christina Parr and her husband were one of the few to escape the suffocating confines of the town, one ruled with an iron fist by matriarch Adeline Parr. Not long after, Christina’s brother-in-law Jeremy also escaped after a gruesome attempt at gay reparative therapy forced upon him by the controlling Adeline. Following the death of her husband, however, Christina, her teenage daughter Morgan, and Jeremy have no other choice but to return to the Landing to live under the roof and constant eye of the woman from whom they had once fled. But Adeline Parr isn’t the only thing Christina and her family has to fear; for far beneath the ruined mines of Parr’s landing lurks a horrific being who has just been awakened after 300 years.
Enter, Night may be Michael Rowe’s debut novel, but Rowe is far from a neophyte. A life-long devotee of all things horror, a seasoned editor, short-story writer and journalist, Rowe has numerous awards under his belt for both his fiction and non-fiction work; so it’s not surprising that Rowe’s freshman outing has a maturity and style about it that puts other first time novelists to shame. His prose is lean but at the same time lush, evoking not only a sense of time and place, but also an atmosphere of intense suspense. In his hands, Parr’s Landing and the surrounding countryside come alive, transforming into characters in their own right.
At night, Parr’s Landing breathes in its population and doesn’t exhale them until morning.
This skill isn’t limited to the setting. Rowe likewise has a deft hand when it comes to creating characters whom we understand. We may find them endearing or infuriating, but never boring or one-dimensional. And this applies evenly to all the characters, not just our “leads.” Even the most minor of characters are rich and deep; while they may be little more than vampire fodder within the plot, they are never, ever disposable in Rowe’s hands. We feel each of their “deaths” immensely because Rowe finds the details in their lives that resonate with the reader. He opens them up (sometimes literally) so that we see all of them. And it is this penchant for making the reader care about each and every character that makes the horror and tension more palpable. Because in this novel, every single character is at risk. We feel it almost from the moment we meet them and the loss of each one—even those we fear will disappear—is felt deeply. Take, for example, the following, which reveals a relatively minor character, Jordan:
Late at night, Jordan sometimes heard his parents arguing through the wall of his bedroom. His father’s voice would rise and Jordan would catch words like normal and wrong and dreamer and other boys in between his father’s raw profanity...His mother’s voice would rise in answer. Jordan heard words like someone and out of this town and success. And dreams, which sounded like a completely different word when his mother said it.
That passage tells us a lot about Jordan and while we may think we know where the author is taking the character, Rowe always manages to throw in a bit of a curve. And this extends to the major characters as well. Though matriarch Adeline may at first seem a stock horror character, Rowe imbues her with a depth and history that manages to endear even this cold-hearted bitch to the reader. Christina is a woman shrouded in grief, but hardly in a shambles or a pushover. Jeremy, who has experienced the freedom of gay life back in Toronto, is forced to confront not only the homophobia of small towns, but also the reality of a long lost love whose time may have passed. Add to the mix, young outcast, Finnegan, a comic book nerd whose strength surprises even himself, the aging but appealing Donna and her closeted “beau” Elliot, and the sadistic and insane Richard Weal and you have a brilliant mix of characters that are rich, darkly humorous at times and fascinating through and through.
Rowe also manages to work in a bit of social commentary within the novel, though he does so with a subtle hand. He expertly captures the realities of small time life: how such a life traps one but also how the residents also seem to take comfort in their captivity. He touches on bullying, homophobia, the repercussions and collateral damage of living in the closet and, with the most fascinating character (Dr. William Lightning), the treatment of the Native Canadians and the stereotypes of them that infect small-minded people. Rowe never beats us over the head with it; it’s all there, though, skimming the surface.
Rowe draws on the entire history of classic vampires, from Stoker’s Dracula to the better vampire films and, most importantly, from the amazing work of writers and illustrations like Marv Wolfman, Gene Colan and Tom Palmer—and connects it all both regionally and theoretically to the legend of the Wendigo. But perhaps what Rowe does best of all is to resist the urge so many authors who tackle vampire cannon fail to. Rowe isn’t interested in reinventing the vampire, on putting his “unique stamp” on the lore by creating new abilities or making them little more than whining, introspective gadabouts. You’ll find no vampires walking around in the daylight, or eating meals at the local malt shop, or getting married to their high school sweetheart. His vampires aren’t interested in discovering why they are they way they are, what great sins lead them to their lot in life. Rowe’s vampires still fear the symbols of Christianity, still must be invited into a house, still fall prey the slings and arrows affecting the most historic of vampires. They are fierce, brutal, enigmatic, appealing and terrifying.
In the end, Rowe manages to do what so many others writing “vampire fiction” fail to...he creates an astoundingly creepy, violent, atmospheric and frightening novel that not only pays homage to the literary and cinematic past, but also manages to restore the vampire to his former and deserving glory. Highly, highly recommended. (4.5 stars)...more
Very satisfying for fans of Steve and Ghost from "Lost Souls," although achingly short. Formatting is rather odd at times as portions of the text wereVery satisfying for fans of Steve and Ghost from "Lost Souls," although achingly short. Formatting is rather odd at times as portions of the text were underlined instead of italicized. This may have been a formatting error by the publisher or the actual intent of the author, which is not clear.
As a side note, it is nearly impossible to find copies of this as PZB collectors seldom part with their copies....more
Heh....I got to read this in advance. =-) Great fun sequel to Interstial. I loved all the characters, but especially loved the development of Jati.
HerHeh....I got to read this in advance. =-) Great fun sequel to Interstial. I loved all the characters, but especially loved the development of Jati.
Here's my more formal review:
Anyone who knows me knows I'm a fan of Ann Somerville's work. I loved the first book in this series, Interstial, and with Impedimenta Somerville takes what she did so well in that first book and gives us a whole new spin and adventure. This time we still have our favorite characters: Seb, North and Jati. But this is a whole new mission, with new troubles and a number of engaging new characters.
Seb still has his protective military face on -- as stiff as ever -- but he's started to thaw, and North, he's still impetuous and hot headed, but slowly starting to gain some of the even temper and analytical capabilities so present in his lover. Both men have grown since the last book and and the dynamic between them is as real and fascinating as ever: tense when it needs to be but through it you see the real love they have for one another. Jati -- who was my favorite from the first book -- is back and she's still as tough as nails, but because of a new crew member, we get to see a new side of her, a softer side and the relationship Somerville developes between Jati and Jorge is just as charming and realistic as the relationship between Seb and North. And I have to say it is always really nice to find a great female character in m/m romance...a character who is well developed and not just there to advance the story or just stuck in to serve the needs of the leading men (plot-wise, I mean).
What I also liked is that Somerville didn't take the easy way out and just turn Impedimenta into a rehash of the first book, with more nasty space creatures to deal with. This time, she gave us some political intrigue as the crew finds themselves essentially marooned on a plant where things just seem too perfect and rigid. The world building is excellent and Somerville creates tension really, really well. If I had any criticism at all it is that I would have liked a little more action in the penultimate chapter of the book, a little more time seeing how the crew solves this particular problem. That's a relatively minor nit to pick at as the book is a great, quick read with just the right amount of sci-fi, romance (gay and a little het as well), and tension. Fun space adventure....more
It’s a complete coincidence that I ended up in San Francisco just days before Mary Ann in Autumn, Armistead Maupin’s latest instaBarbary Lane Lives On
It’s a complete coincidence that I ended up in San Francisco just days before Mary Ann in Autumn, Armistead Maupin’s latest installment of the Tales of The City series, was released. The trip was planned well before I ever knew the release date of the novel, but once I learned of the close proximity of the two events, my trip to the Bay Area transformed into a pilgrimage of sorts to Maupin’s endearing and iconic works, Mrs. Madrigal, Michael “Mouse” Tolliver, and all the denizens of the Tales of the City.
After walking all the way from Market and Powell, getting lost, and going up and down Russian Hill at the grand old age of 46, I found myself, winded and sweating, standing on the steps of Macondray Lane—the real life inspiration for the house that has been etched into my psyche for so long—hoping to capture a little bit of the magic of that literary world. And it’s only fitting that in the opening chapter of Mary Ann in Autumn, the titular character, Mary Ann Singleton, finds herself climbing those same stairs to catch a glimpse of her former home, 28 Barbary Lane. With a wistfulness and longing, the 57 year-old stares through the locked gate of the property, similarly trying to recapture the magic that had been her past life, one she abandoned so many years ago along with her husband and adoptive daughter.
With that scene, Maupin perfectly sets the tone for Mary Ann in Autumn, a sweet and solid entry in the Tales of the City mythos that is part nostalgia (for both the readers and the character of Mary Ann), and a deceptively simple exploration of the desire for one person to discover who they truly are after pursuing who they thought they wanted to be.
Mary Ann has returned to San Francisco after some shocking revelations in her personal life, and the first person she contacts is her old friend, Mouse, now happily married to the younger Ben. From the moment Maupin brings the two together, their voices are as if they have never been apart, easily falling into the playful (and sometimes serious) banter that made them an endearing couple of friends in the original works. And here is where the novel succeeds best: the rekindling of that relationship and the literary rehabilitation of Mary Ann.
In the original Tales novel and early sequels, Mary Ann Singleton was an immensely likable young woman, a naïve transplant to San Francisco from the bastion of conservatism, Cleveland. Her journey as she discovered who she was and how she reacts to a city as free as 1970s San Francisco was funny, charming, mysterious and a little bit sad. But starting in the 4th book in the series, Babycakes, Mary Ann found herself in search of a career and she became a not-so-likable person, one who seemed willing to turn her back on family and friends. It was disheartening for me as a reader to see Mary Ann transformed such. Now, don’t get me wrong…it was utterly true to life. How many times have we all had someone in our lives who is incredibly dear to us who gets caught up in the desire to be something more and becomes someone we don’t like so much any more? There was nothing at fault in Maupin’s writing of those later three novels. It was spot on. I simply didn’t want to see a dear, wonderful friend become someone I didn’t like. I wanted her to always stay Mary Ann. And that, alone, is a testament to Maupin and the character he created. I never wanted her to change.
In Mary Ann in Autumn, though, we find a character who is, again, at a turning point. As she approaches the autumn of her life, she has obviously been taking stock, looking closely at her past choices, the repercussions of some not-so-great actions. In trying to find a way forward, she is looking back at the people she has left behind, one of whom happens to be herself. And she finds that little bit of herself, again. Don’t get me wrong, Maupin doesn’t magically convert Mary Ann back to whom she was. He doesn’t absolve her of her sins. She’s older, wiser, still a bit self-absorbed, but it almost feels as if she is exhaling all the inconsequential crap that has been in her life, so that she can breathe in again. And it is exactly in her relationship to Mouse that Maupin so expertly let’s us like Mary Ann again, perhaps understand her a bit more.
Maupin also adds in outsiders, those who never knew the Mary Ann we all loved, to help in this rehabilitation, namely Mouse’s husband, Ben who is a bit suspicious of this woman and her effect on Michael. Through him—someone without the shared history—we get to learn this new Mary Ann. As Mouse himself says to Ben “Look, I know you think she’s a drama queen, but she’s had some actual drama.”
Now, in any Tales novel, a reader expects some humor, a little bit of mystery and wonderful characters. Maupin is in excellent form here, capturing everything we readers have loved about Tales, but never once relying on our nostalgia for the series. His 2010 San Francisco is just as vibrant and alive as his San Francisco of the 70s and 80s. It has simply grown and changed, morphed into something different, no less charming or infections as its previous incarnation.
In the mystery department, Maupin gives us Shawna, Mary Ann’s estranged, adoptive daughter, now a popular sex-blogger looking for a new direction in her life. She fixates on an old homeless woman named Leia, and stumbles onto a mystery that she must solve, a mystery that gives us readers a genuine aha! moment or two that is richly satisfying. But that’s not all…Facebook figures into it all as well, giving us yet another jolt that can’t be revealed in a review. Now I tend to pride myself on figuring out twists and turns, but Maupin honestly got me on these. I didn’t have it figured out until it was very clear that Maupin wanted me to. Perhaps I was just naive, but I was genuinely taken by surprise by the twists.
In the character department, Mrs. Madrigal is still with us and although her role is somewhat limited, she’s just as pithy as always, each of her “dears” just warming my heart, and her spirit is richly pepered throughout the novel. DeDe Halcyon makes an appearance, as does D’or. And Maupin augments the Barbary Lane family with Jake Greenleaf, an immensely appealing trans-man, Michael’s Ben, and Shawna’s adorable and patient boyfriend Otto. These are all welcome additions to the family, feeling as natural as the characters we’ve all known for year.
Now, I have read a few reviews that mention the conspicuous absence of Brian Hawkins (Mary Ann’s ex-husband and father of Shawna) and those who have read Michael Tolliver Lives know that the beloved Mona is no longer with us. But I never felt their absence in this novel because Maupin has expertly woven their spirits into the work. Mona is there…a large part of her spirit embodied in Shawna…and Brian is present as well, aspects of his personality richly resonant in two of the new characters. One might even spot a younger version of Mouse or, perhaps, a successor to Mrs. Madrigal.
In the end, Mary Ann in Autumn is still a love-letter to San Francisco. It’s still a wonderfully magical series that, I think, Maupin has reinvented for the new millennium. He shows us that you can indeed go home again, though that home will have changed and grown just as we have. Most importantly, he shows us that while 28 Barbary Lane may have become a single-family dwelling, its spirit is still strong. Because 28 Barbary Lane isn’t so much a time or a place, some clapboard building at the top of a set of rickety stairs…28 Barbary Lane is our “logical family,” the family we’ve created and carry with us always, no matter where we may be.
One of the most challenging and satisfying reads of recent years. The attention to detain, the dedication to character voice and the scope and breadthOne of the most challenging and satisfying reads of recent years. The attention to detain, the dedication to character voice and the scope and breadth of this novel are astounding. A modern classic and a must read....more
**spoiler alert** An engaging book about a young man and his father coming to terms with their sexuality at the same time. Adapted fairly faithfully b**spoiler alert** An engaging book about a young man and his father coming to terms with their sexuality at the same time. Adapted fairly faithfully by the BBC (I believe) into a movie starring Brian Cox....more
To be perfectly honest, if I were prowling the aisle of my local literary chain and came across this book on the shelves, I would hMy review from 2008
To be perfectly honest, if I were prowling the aisle of my local literary chain and came across this book on the shelves, I would have given a little laugh at the cleverness of the title; I might even have flipped it over to read the dust jacket. Ultimately, however, I would have passed it by without a second thought. Not my cup of tea, I would have thought. And I would have been so much the worse for having thought so. I didn’t know what to expect when I started reading this novel. I wasn’t sure if it would be a romance, a male/male bodice ripper, or a Pythonian take on erotica, all of which could have gone horribly wrong given the core premise. In the end, what I got was immensely satisfying….a deeply moving story of love, of friendship, of recognizing the things that make us different while still managing to find those commonalities that bind us together. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not a perfect novel and I do have a few gripes, but none are egregious and none detract from a story that is expertly told.
The plot is, at its core, a science fiction and fantasy staple. A stranger in a strange land, captured by those who don’t understand who or what he is, who has to find a way not only to escape his captors, but also some method of getting back home again. We’ve seen riffs on it in everything from Pierre Boulee’s La planète des singes to L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, and countless other novels over the years. What separates the wheat from the chaff in this genre, however, is execution and that is where I was an alien cat toy excels. It doesn’t suffer from the oppressive dystopia of Boulee’s work or the sometime sickly sweetness of Baum’s; instead, it finds a comfortable balance between those two classics. Pyr Temin is our stranger, a pilot who, on a routine inter-galaxy supply mission, runs into trouble with his engines and crash lands on U67809, a planet which had once been home to a seed-colony of humans that had gone missing some 500 years before. Surviving the crash, Temin determines that his ship was sabotaged and that the damage makes returning home on his own impossible. Depressed at the nearly inevitable possibility of never seeing his family — or his lover, Jeng — again and having few other choices, he sets his transmitters to loop an SOS and sets out into the planet’s brutal winter to find food and shelter. It isn’t long before Temin comes across some of the planet’s indigenous life forms, primate-like beings that he attempts to hunt, with slightly comic results. Yet, the hunter becomes the hunted and the primates scatter as a low growl fills the air. Temin has only moments to think before the huge claws are headed his way: of all the ways he was going to die on this planet death by giant cat wasn’t on the shefting list.
The next time we see Temin is several day later, after he has been made a pet in the home a Kadit, the matriarch of a clan of Daiyne, the cat-people who inhabit this world. Temin is not, Kadit has decided, an ideal pet, far too boisterous and too much trouble for her. She convinces her son, Gredar, one of the clan’s older and most respected males, to take the odd looking “jopa.” Reluctant at first but always obedient to his mother, Gredar takes the naked and frightened Temin into his life. And this is where the story truly begins.The author cleverly uses short segments of each chapter to alternate between Gredar’s point of view and Temin’s as each tries to assess the other. Here the author avoids the Rashomon effect, sidestepping a storytelling method that has become somewhat of a cliché in literature and films. The author wisely chooses not to use the change of POV as a literary trick of rehashing what has come before, but rather as a device to keep the story moving at a smooth pace.
The result is that we see the characters through the other’s eyes, each scene building on the one that came before it. Gredar is fascinated by his new pet, by his intelligence, his hairless features which are strangely alluring. Temin, on the other hand, is terrified of these giant cats and his oversized “prison” and is intent on escape; yet, he also recognizes in Gredar a gentle, intelligent soul who is treating him better than his previous “owners.” The structure provides the reader with an almost bird’s eye view of the delicate dance that goes on between our two protagonists as they learn that they may not be so terribly different from one another. Soon, a tentative trust is born and slowly it begins to give way to a friendship that is mutual, far deeper than a master or his pet loving the other. However, while Gredar is away for a time, he entrusts the care of his “pet” to one of his grooming mates — the arrogant and impulsive younger male, Filwui — who mistreats Temin in one of the most vile ways possible.
The author captures Temin’s sense of betrayal and Gredar’s attendant guilt in heartbreaking, yet utterly realistic ways. There’s palpable sense of loss after this incident, a mourning of the near destruction of the trust that has slowly built between Gredar and Temin. But rather than let it lapse into a malaise that only fuels Temin’s desire to escape and turn the piece into a hollow action-romp, the author uses the event to bring the two characters even closer together when Gredar discovers that Temin has a language all his own. The journey of the two as they discover each other’s words is exquisite in every way, leading the characters to a fuller understanding of one another. After a time, the readers find themselves knowing Gredar’s language and slowly and quietly, the dual POVs meld together flawlessly as the barriers between them fall away.
Will Temin’s lover Jeng ever rescue him? Will he ever see his home and his family again? Or has he found a new home, a new family, a new lover?
Okay, so let’s start with the gripes, minor though they be. At the beginning of the story, Temin believes that his ship had been sabotaged, and wisely the author doesn’t dwell on this as it isn’t really essential to the story at hand. However, later in the novel it is revealed that the ship was indeed sabotaged. The resulting scene is rather expository in nature, an almost forced tying up of loose strings that was a bit of a disconnect for me. Personally, I felt that aspect of the story — and the expository scene — either needed to be excised from the story or integrated as a significant plot element.
As for Temin’s lost lover, Jeng, he is a presence always in Temin’s mind; yet, I didn’t really know enough about him — or his life with Temin — to really feel what the loss of him meant. He really was a bit of a ghost of a character for me and given that the author lovingly crafts such vivid characters in Temin, Gredar, Kadit and their feline family, the result is that when the possibility arises that Jeng might come looking for Temin, I instinctively didn’t like the character…without ever having met him. But, as I said these are minor, minor flaws.
In lesser hands, this story could have been reduced to an entertaining, yet vacuous story. But Somerville weaves in immensely likeable characters in Temin and Gredar, who are so richly drawn that you forget they are of different species. Both are dynamic characters, funny and frightening, unique and sympathetic. And each exudes a sensuality about them that never feels forced…it is simply at the core of their beings.
Somerville’s devotion to her characters doesn’t start and end with the leads. Each of the characters is equally full, from the authoritarian Kadit, to the loveably obsessed clan historian Martek; even Filwui escapes the cardboard-potential that villainy so often entails. Each character is multi-faceted and their motivations — while not always approvable — are completely understandable. The result is that we as readers are given a depth of character and emotion that I haven’t seen much of in the limited amount of fantasy/science fiction I have read of late.
The world building Somerville undertakes is equally impressive. Without resulting to purple prose or the tedious technicalities of layout, she crafts Ptane (the planet’s proper name) and the Daiyne village with such detail that you can see it all perfectly in your head.
Like all good sci-fi/fantasy there is some social commentary in the novel as well. Somerville’s depiction of a matriarchal society and its political structure are deftly drawn, and the story has much to say about the state of the human animal — both through her depiction of Temin and the Daiyne. However, while some writers in the genre insist on hammering home their “message,” Somerville is content to use a very light hand, allowing the reader to take what they will from the piece.
Now for those who like a little sex with their romance, you will indeed find it here and I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. I’m rather a prude when it comes to sex, but I freely admit I found the sexual encounters to be intriguing and very, very hot. So hot, I was almost, honestly, a little disturbed by my reaction to it. I think the effectiveness of these scenes is largely credited to the emotional realism of the relationship and the characters that Somerville has created here. The sex is not in any way gratuitous or full of bumbling lusty fantasies. It is fluid and loving and languorous. Best of all, it serves a purpose and was exactly where I wanted the characters to be at that moment.
While all of the piece is well done, where the novel excels the most is in the stunning creation of the bond between Gredar and Temin and the resulting friendships between Temin and the rest of the clan. The result is an honest to God love story, set in a fantasy world, yet grounded in the very real, believable human emotion of the “human” family. There’s a timelessness to I was an alien cat toy, and while there may be no place like home, Somerville — with love and humor and pathos — reminds us that our family, our home, is most often what we make of it....more
If Alfred Hitchcock were alive today and desired to “re-imagine” his 1948 classic “Rope,” he’d want Robert Dunbar to write the screenplay. Guaranteed If Alfred Hitchcock were alive today and desired to “re-imagine” his 1948 classic “Rope,” he’d want Robert Dunbar to write the screenplay. Guaranteed.
Dunbar starts his impressive collection off with “Getting Wet,” a moody, tension-filled piece that does indeed measure up to my all time Hitch film, with Dunbar’s Con and Tim evoking the controlling Brandon and the nervous, needy Phillip. But this isn’t some re-tread of familiar material as, really, the two stories share little in common other than two fascinating lead characters and the realistic and dangerous relationship between them. Quite frankly, if anything, this is “Rope” with crack heads, and is completely and utterly engrossing.
When I finished this first story I knew I was in for a great ride with this collection and I wasn’t disappointed. Throughout the book, Dunbar maintains the tension, and creates some really wonderful characters that you want to visit with again. And that’s good, because in some cases the characters do come back to haunt you in other stories. Personally, I was happy to see Con and Tim reappear in “Are We Dead Yet?” which gives us even more insight into their characters and relationship. It serves as a prequel of sorts, but stands beautifully on its own.
Dunbar masterfully creates emotional reality just as well as he creates atmosphere, and each character in each story is brimming with emotion. Whether it’s a young man who deeply needs to protect his abusive brother in “High Rise,” or a Mother who will do anything to protect her children in “Gray Soil,” these are very real, human beings (even when they’re not) in extraordinary circumstances. In fact, if I could narrow it down to one theme that seems to run through this entire collection it is the overwhelming sense of need that appears to drive each character. There is something that they don’t just simply want or desire. There is an insistent need that drills into their bones and it is so palpable that it becomes almost an additional character in each of the stories. This is especially true with the boys in “Like a Story,” characters that indelibly etched in my mind. For me, the collection works the best when Dunbar sticks closest the the realistic emotional core of the characters. Lucky for us, he does that consistently.
Dunbar also gives us some nice moments of dark humor with “The Folly,” an out and out laugh from me in “Saturday Night Fights,” and anyone who has ever attended a comic book/sci-fi/horror convention will surely see some familiar faces (perhaps even their own?) in “Explanations,” which had me smiling all the way through despite the very dark center of it.
What I also appreciate about Dunbar’s work is that it is challenging. Dunbar doesn’t talk down to his readers, nor is he going to hold their hands through the stories. There may be times when the reader goes “wait, what the hell is going on?” but that has a wonderful effect of keeping the reader slightly off kilter as all the pieces come together in a satisfying conclusion.
The collection ends with “The Moon (Upside Down),” a wonderfully quiet piece of work, that evokes Armistead Maupin’s “Tales of the City” had those Barbary Lane characters been infused with a little darkness, a smidge of tarot, and an almost fatalistic outlook on life.
In the end, this collection will challenge you, move you, and make you hold your breath. It’s dark fiction, it’s horror, it’s character study, it’s literary fiction. And it’s damn good.
I’m late to the party with this novel (released in 2006) and boy am I sorry it took me so long to stumble upon it. Take a slasher flick, mix in a dashI’m late to the party with this novel (released in 2006) and boy am I sorry it took me so long to stumble upon it. Take a slasher flick, mix in a dash of Agatha Christie and a pinch of Ghost Story while folding in really interesting, rich characters, and the result is a novel you can enjoy while curled up in bed on a cold winter night or on a beach somewhere as you tan away your summer vacation.
From beginning to end this novel is fun, giving those of us raised on 80s slasher films a nostalgic feeling in our chests while adding a dimensionality one didn’t usually get in those same films. In short, Liaguno (who would go on to win a coveted Stoker Award as co-editor of Unspeakable Horror: From the Shadows of the Closet) has given us something to love without having a reason to be embarrassed for loving it.
Liaguno clearly loves his slasher films and there is plenty of homage here, but what Liaguno does so well is expand upon that formula and the tropes within it. Instead of brainless teens that we never really care about getting slaughtered left and right, he gives us adults, each of them haunted by their collective past as part of The Literary Six, as well as by ghosts of their own making since the Six went their separate ways. There are secrets and sweaty liaisons and infidelities. The result is a group of really interesting characters with fascinating back stories…and we know we’re going to see each of them get picked off…one by one…in very gruesome ways…in an abandoned hotel…on an isolated island…on New Year’s Eve. What could be more fun?
But Liaguno doesn’t limit his homage to just slasher films. There are references to various literary figures in the horror world as well, moments which are evocative of the long history of horror and dark fiction. With a deft hand, Liaguno weaves all this together with a nice, sharp prose and an eye for detail. When he describes the cold and the twists in the road leading to the hotel, you feel the nip of the wind and the snap of every twig as the ice slices through them. There’s a wonderful cinematic feel to this novel and the result is an atmospheric piece with genuine creepy moments and many out and out heart-stoppers.
And what I also love is that there is a gay presence in this novel. Gay characters were pretty much absent in the films I grew up watching, and Liaguno rectifies that here, not only giving us a gay character (or two?), but writing interesting guys and a little steamy action here or there. It’s nice to be represented in a genre you happen to love. But what happens to the gay character? Does he live. Do they die? Hmmmm….you’ll have to read to find out.
If I had one nit to pick, it would be those passages where the POV switches to that of the “crazed murderer” tended to interrupt the pace of the piece for me. But this is a minor, minor gripe because these passages also added to that cinematic feel that makes me all warm and cozy. In the end, what Liaguno delivers in this novel is exactly what is promised…a good time interrupted by indiscretions of youth…and a garden implement or two....more
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