What's In The Boox?
Hi Fellows
I've jus' finish'd
the
"Author's Preferred Text"
(I assume that means that the book
kick'd ass on The Book Club Guide;
which in itself,
is amazin',
as it feels like somethin' Straub & King would write
after they had "Chuck"ed in a handful of Nordic Casting Stones...)
of
Neil Gaiman's
'American God's'.
Lots of books you're ridin' a boat or flowin' down
the river,
but the swell
& undertow in this novel really captur'd me.
If you value these t'in's,
it won,
I think,
a
NEBULA
&
HUGO
award for Sci-Fi,
a
Bram Stoker,
for Horror,
&
a Locus Award
(for Fantasy)...
...an' it fits un(l)evenly
into any of these categories.
I found it really hard to put down.
Alot of the novel feels like something has
jus' dissov'd on your tongue,
after you've read it,
a synapse fire too late
or too early fo' you to catch.
Enuff.
It's epic,
& I really enjoy'd it.
I've also finally got around to readin'
"The Quiet American"
by
Grahem Greene.
Which I've pick'd up
&
put down many times.
I reckon it requires alot of attention.
The narrator write with a lack of PLUR
that SPLATT,CMB & GM couldn't cum
into a bucket with a bunch of eggs yearin',
but the fishes swim,
slowly
in the the heat of Indo-China,
then evaporate
leavin' a fine film of
concise prose,
easier on us all when we make
scrapin's
an' consume with scotch.
I'm now readin'
"The Historian"
by
Elizabeth Kostova,
a diff'rent take on the Vlad est. Impale Guy,
told throu the eyes of a girl tellin'
throu the eyes of heir Father.
It's intruigin',
an' feels like it might go somewhere
UnDead.
