In between procrastinating and writing reports and the like, I’ve done a bit of reading. I have given up on The Angel of Darkness. It’s not that I don’t like it – it’s interesting and well written and all that, but it’s so goddamn long and there’s a whole lot of other books I’m hanging out to read (Randomly, Caleb Carr’s dad was Lucien Carr – one of the Beat Generation, he hung out with Kerouac and William Burroughs. This may explain some things. Hrrm.) So, it’s gone back on the virtual shelf while I read some other stuff like “Trigger Warning” by Neil Gaiman and “Resistance” by John Birmingham which both had the advantage of being fast paced and action-y with explosions and the like, coupled with a decent degree of squicky disturbance.
Ok, Trigger Warning was light on with the explosions, and most of the stories weren’t exactly fast paced. But squicky? Yep. Bit squirmy? In places, definitely. The title comes from those earnest warnings at the beginning of stories and articles and letting people know there might be something they don’t like or find upsetting contained within the pages. To be honest, I personally find those warnings to be bit of a wank, like those “here be monsters” signs on old maps warning of who knows what lies beneath. (Apologies of sorts to those of you who appreciate those warnings. You can continue to be suitably warned and I shall continue to be mildly irritated by them. And yes, I have things that I don’t like to read about, and yes, I have *issues* but bloody hell, I do not want to be warned at the start of every bloody thing I read that the contents may disturb, if I come across something that presses my buttons, I move right along. Life is too short. But that’s just me and I am digressing. As usual)
Back to Trigger Warning. It’s short stories, which is good when one is accidentally reading a book in between another book. Some of the stories feel like snippets of longer stories, and some of them are completely satisfactory on their own. My favourite is the one about the uninventor, and the story in the world of American Gods. Roughly a month after I finished it, these two stories are the ones that have stuck with me the longest. I think I prefer Mr Gaiman’s longer fiction generally, but there’s nothing wrong with this collection at all. I’m looking forward to the next one. Whenever that may be…
(Ironically, the most viscerally unpleasant reaction I’ve ever had to reading something came from reading one of Mr Gaiman’s books. It was a kids book, and not something one would expect. I took something from the experience, and have continued to read and love Mr Gaiman’s books.)
And now, onto The Dave.
Complete with actual monsters.
Resistance is the second in the Dave Hooper trilogy. Dave is still a dick, however, in amongst the sexy times and the biffo with the monsters and Dave following his dick instead of listening to other people, Dave is starting to develop a hint of self awareness (and I don’t think he really likes what he sees.) This trilogy really feels like a bigger book in three parts, and I cannot wait for part three. There’s a character who’s name escapes me (Tinder? Trinder? because the book is in my room along with my own sleeping monster, I can’t go and check) anyway, what ever the hell his name is, Tommy Lee Jones should play him in the movie. The monsters are still monstrous, and they’re learning the ways of the food and how the food has evolved a tiny bit since they last walked on the earth. And they’re quite funny, these grumpy and outraged monsters.
I love these books. they are so totally and outrageously ridiculous, you can’t help but snigger like a grubby school boy the whole way through. It’s a beer and pizza kind of book and there’s absolutely nothing at all wrong with that! There’s explosions and fighting and neck beards. What’s not to love.
I think that means I’ve read nine and a half books in 12 weeks. That’s some kind of record since BC*, I reckon. Aside from the three months I spent commuting, that is – when I think I read three books a week for three months!
*BC = Before Children. I’m old. Not that old!