ISBN 978 0 06 125205 1
This book is just kind of beautiful. Don’t get me wrong, it’s no classic of literature or anything, it’s not even really culty enough to be a cult classic. But that’s almost part of the charm. I mean, I only had an inkling that it might be good because of Ellis’ comic writing, and the fact that I read his blog and he had been banging on about his second novel, Gun Machine, for a while there. Now, I know that being asked back to do another one is no guarantee of quality when it comes to writing… sometimes just the opposite. But after reading this one, I can see why they asked him back.
It’s pretty compelling. Okay, yes, I know, I have a weakness for the gross out, and there are bits in this book which are terminal gross out. Weirdly, it’s been compared to the Chuck Palahniuk story Guts, but I can’t really see it. I mean, Guts is almost medical-porn in its level of detail, and while there is a little of that in here, the whole motivation feels entirely different. It’s almost like, Ellis is faking a world-weariness through the character of Michael McGill that is just a thin veneer over something romantically, comically unpleasant. Read the rest of this entry
I’m going on a bit of a hiatus for November – like a damn fool-slash-epic genius, I’ve signed up for National Novel Writing Month. The plan is to finally write this novel that I’ve had stewing around in the old brain pan for about a year. It could have been a sign of uncanny foolishness, but I think that a bit of applied pressure is just what I need to at least have a good go at it.
So, have a lovely November without me. I’ll be slaving away over a hot goulash of raw idea while the Southern Hemisphere begins it’s shimmy into summertime, and any Northerners out there begin having dreams of snowshoes and mittens. But I’ll be back in December, with more random choices from the bookshelf and other junk as I see fit. I’ve just started reading Carlito’s Way by Edwin Torres in preparation for December, which is a teeny tiny little book, but should make for interesting reading, since I know that movie like the back of my hand.
Wish me luck then. I’m off. But I’ll see you again in December, slightly more deranged than usual. Hopefully it will be deranged with success rather than utter disillusionment, but you know, better to have tried and failed… blah blah blah. Ahh. Novel writing. Somehow I think I’ll fit right in.