My Things I Read During 2008. Let me show you them.
A Texas ghost story by one of the guys responsible for Beast and I Love Bees. Yes, it's as good as that sounds. A funny and scary book about family, music, dead folk, and irreparably screwing your life up. Highly recommended.
Overdramatic narration. Bit of a bait and switch. Still affecting and creepy. (Poor sad Aibo.)
HUH. Not entirely sure what to make of that.
So look, there's this guy Vethulf, from over in Arakensberg. Short temper; been snapping at Isolfr's friends all the time. Isolfr got fed up, and wound up kicking or tripping him or something.
Later, while Isolfr slogged beside the mare that Frithulf slept astride, he smelled blood and flinched sharply. And then looked up, realizing he had been more or less dozing on his feet, and felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Vethulf, the quarrelsome, the fleet-footed, Vethulf-in-the-Fire walked beside him, his gray wolf slogging more like a carthorse than a predator.
Vethulf said nothing at first, just thrust a stake into Isolfr's hand. One quarter of a skinned raw rabbit was threaded on the pointed end; the blood smirched Isolfr's mitten.
"No time to cook," Vethulf said. "But I didn't see any signs of worms when I butchered it."
The meat was still warm, steaming slightly. Frithulf woke at the voices and looked around blearily. "Are we attacked?"
"You're fed," Vethulf said. He gave Isolfr another bony fragment of meat on a stick—"for your shieldbrother"—and a whole unskinned coney for Kothran and Viradechtis to share.
He fell away into the column before Isolfr could blink the thought of thanking him into his bleary mind, and Isolfr looked up at Frithulf in supplication. "What was that about?"
"Stay pretty," Frithulf advised, through a mouthful of meat.
I was spending an inordinate amount of time trying to decide which one of the possible reviews of this book I cared to write, and then I remembered this scene and realized I could probably skip the review altogether.
No really, check it out: You've got the dirt, muck and hardship; you've got the hothouse social atmosphere of a warrior band; and you've got the persistent gender reversals that were the thing's original raison d'être.* (Look, see? He's the good girl who fascinates all the bad boys! He literally ends up dating the Leader of the Pack! Well, of the werthreat, at least. Seriously, how can you not love that.) It's good and it's clever; it deconstructs without biting the hand that feeds it. You should read it.
(Uh, fair warning, though: it is filthy dirty, so you need to show up to the party prepared for the viking gang bang. I am not kidding.)
It had a Kelly Link story I hadn't read before, so I went ahead and checked it out.
Cute artwork, irritating characters, dense and weirdly arranged text, deft and note-perfect eye for the bad behavior of the upper middle class, boring plot, weird cop-out ending. I think I like her short comics better? But damn, her art is great. Such an eye for expressions! So many sad-sack English people!
What a strange little book—a lighthearted farce about music, flowers, fairies, Crohn's Disease, awful ex-boyfriends, race relations, alcohol, and jerking off to sleazy phone-sex ads on the TV.
The unrelentingly breezy and cheerful tone was quite charming, but the book overstayed its welcome. After the 20th time the flower was stolen, I was more than ready to call it a day.
I don't know that I'd recommend reading all the way through Chaz's LJ (SO MANY COMMENTS), but I do rather like these characters. Looking forward to the "episodes."
Treasure hunters are advised that View ⇒ Page Style ⇒ No Style is your friend.
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* I can only say this because I cheated by reading both of the authors' Livejournals. You can play along, if you care to.
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