ST Review: Burying Brian by Steven Pirie

This review originally appeared in Shock Totem Issue 4

Rating: 5 out of 5

When I read Digging Up Donald four years ago, I stated that it was the best book I’d read in the last twenty years, and I meant it. I’d known Steven Pirie for a long time through writers’ groups and other online venues, and knew he possessed a wit and charm that few others could match, but never in my widest dreams could I have guessed that a book written by someone I considered an acquaintance would possibly stand alongside the likes of Douglas Adams, Clive Barker, and the rest of my all-time favorites.

And yet it did, so when Mr. Pirie announced that he had written a second offering that takes place in the same universe, I eagerly requested a copy for review. As an odd happenstance (at least for me), I never once questioned if Burying Brian, this aforementioned second book, would reach the same heights that Donald did.

My assumptions weren’t wrong.

Burying Brian brings us back to Mudcaster, that odd little town sitting snug in the English countryside, where the forces of good and evil perform their seemingly never-ending dance of power. This time God has thrown his all-powerful self into the ring as well, because for some reason known only to God (He does work in mysterious ways), He’s stricken with the urge to head back down to Earth and live amongst the mortals yet again.

The Mother and The Father, the old (very old) lords of balance in Mudcaster, are aging, with The Mother verging on entering Grandmotherhood, which itself carries a litany of “changes”. Because of this, it’s up to their daughter Maureen and her husband, a ne’er-do-well simpleton named Brian, to set things right and stop the demons of hell from bringing about humanity’s Final Judgment.

Brian, in particular, has a large part to play, the biggest of all. In Donald he was a rarely seen character, more used to be the butt of brilliantly sublime sexual innuendo. He has come full circle once Brian begins, however, and he’s chosen to go on a quest, to learn all he can about the failings of the human race so he can properly defend the sins of man. His journey takes him from the dart competition at his local pub to the bowels of hell. His trip is long, often times hilarious, and always affecting. Being a bit of a damp lettuce, Brian many times suffers through his trials only to emerge on the other side with his innocence intact. Because of this, I couldn’t help but think of the themes presented in Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut, in which humans are said to have been cursed by their big brains and even bigger ideas. As Brian vividly displays on every step of his journey, when you live in a world of such unnecessary complexity, sometimes the simple answers, those we overlook, are the ones we should be seeking out.

On the whole, Burying Brian doesn’t just approach brilliance but completely surpasses it. The prose Pirie uses is clever, never dull, and brings about a sense of poignancy that does what the best literature is supposed to do – make you think. The world he’s created is vast, with layers of religious mythology piled on top of everyday existence, creating a setting that is equal parts mundane and fantastic. Common folks and jobs (such as undertakers) are expanded upon, given far-reaching implications and meaning in the history of the universe. He also uses “funny physics” to help drive forward the plot – something as routine as the sequence of the bingo balls at the local old-folks’ home have dire consequences to the order of the cosmos – further illustrating the absurdity of the unnecessary complexity we humans must deal with on a daily basis.

In all, I can once more say that Steven Pirie has done it. Burying Brian is more than an equal to his last book; it’s an indispensable companion to it. To this reviewer’s eyes, Pirie is the greatest writer of his generation. Burying Brian will excite you, make you laugh, and cause you to question all those mores we all hold as law, be it in regards to religion, science, sexuality, or marriage. Burying Brian is the best book I’ve read in a long time, and this author needs to be placed in the pantheon of other greats, alongside the likes of Bradbury, Vonnegut, Adams, Pratchett, and Robbins. This novel is well worth anyone’s time, and I give it fifteen thousand enthusiastic thumbs up.

Purchase Burying Brian in Ebook format at:






And in Paperback at:

Review: Dismember by Daniel Pyle

Rating: 5 out of 5

Last year, the offer was put out to me to review books for Shock Totem Magazine. Of course I gladly accepted, and immediately went out looking for material.

I didn’t have to look far. I’d reviewed Down the Drain, the fantastic novelette by Daniel Pyle, here in the Journal, and, knowing that he had a full-length novel out, I took a chance and requested a copy of Dismember from the author.

I am so glad I did.

Dismember is a special book, an oddity in the most wondrous of ways. It’s odd because it bucks the trend of “horror” without losing its niche in the genre, for horror isn’t always about slime-drenched creatures (or bathtub monsters) leaping out and torturing the innocent. No, when horror is done properly it deals with the more important issues, those that keep us commonfolk firmly entrenched in our lives, everything from family to death to the loss of personal freedom. When this happens, as it does in Dismember, the terrors on the page grab hold of you and cause your heart to skip, not because something might jump out of the darkness, but because it lets you know just how thin the thread separating life and death really is.

Dismember is a brisk, almost meditative story of purity corrupted. The tale takes us on the twenty-three year journey of Dave Abbott, the only survivor of a terrible car accident that occurred while traveling with his family in the Colorado Mountains when he was seven years old.

Davy has lived a life of seclusion and fear since that day, trapped in a rickety old house by a twisted mountain man who is only called Mr. Boots. Very few details of Davy’s captivity are explained in the book, but you get the impression that Mr. Boots performed certain illicit acts on little Davy that society would most certainly not condone. I appreciated the lack of exposition in this regard, because I haven’t the desire (or stomach) to read the particulars of child abuse, be that abuse of a sexual nature (which the text suggests) or not. In fact, these circumstances are handled with style, using cursory hints dispersed through the story in flashbacks, which stick with you simply because of what we are not shown, for what our minds create to fill in the blanks is almost always more disturbing than overdone exposition.

The story picks up with Davy on his thirtieth birthday. It seems all those years in captivity haven’t done wonders for poor Davy’s sanity, because he’s hatched a plan to reassemble his dead family through any means necessary. Once this re-gathering begins, Pyle tells his story through five points of view: an eleven-year-old boy named Zach, Mike and Libby Pullman, a divorced couple trying to retain a sense of the familiar after the dissolution of their marriage, Trevor, the Pullman’s son, and Davy, himself.

Of all the different emotional threads in this novel, I found the interplay between the Pullmans to be the most fascinating. At last we’re given a divorced couple who show each other respect instead of filling the air between them with venom and petty discord. Sure, you can tell right off the bat why their marriage failed, but to them raising Trevor, their son, the correct way is paramount. Neither would ever even think of using their child’s adoration as a manipulative tool against the other, which is refreshing…and unusual in a usually cliché-riddled genre.

Despite this aspect of the plot, the driving theme of the entire book is the death and disfigurement of innocence. In a brilliant sliver of storytelling, the author contrasts Davy’s childhood terrors with the stresses he inflicts on Zach and Trevor after he abducts them. This phase of the novel reinforces Davy as a sympathetic scoundrel. On many occasions I found myself openly rooting for him to realize that what he was doing was wrong, because I realized that his state of mind wasn’t his fault. This is a guy who grew up segregated from society, under the watchful eye of a cruel guardian. His only education was through pain, and his only joyful memories are those that he experienced before he was seven years old, leaving a stunted and incomplete person. Even with the amount and degree of brutality he enacts on people, he demonstrates a massive capacity for love and thoughtfulness that actually makes his cruelty seem all the more brutal, for this is a man with psychological arrested development, and it isn’t his fault.

The differing points of view in this book were beautifully executed. The shift between the children and adults were convincing and real-to-life – the kids were kids, and the adults were sufficiently imperfect. The blood and gore is there, and it is vicious, but it doesn’t overwhelm, instead pulling you even further into the story and making your gut clench as you experience these frights alongside the characters. And the ending is a thing of beauty, as well. I was stunned by what happens, not necessarily because it’s laughable or frightening, but because it’s haunting in its unexpectedness (and simplicity). I won’t go into details, but let’s just say Daniel Pyle is a very brave man to end this book the way he did, for I’m sure there are some out there who won’t appreciate it.

This reviewer, however, thought it was brilliant.

To finish things off, I’ll say that Dismember is an unbelievably good book. It reads quickly, as I constantly wanted to flip the page just to see what happens next. It’s a story about life that centers on the mundane and how much we might overlook those simple pleasures given the freedom we’ve been blessed with. It’s a tale of the fractured soul and how much we rely on, and mimic, the family that sprouted us. But most of all it’s simply one hell of a ride, one that I am so glad I took. And for that, this reviewer must give Daniel Pyle some well-deserved congratulations on receiving only the fourth perfect score I’ve ever handed out.

Plot - 10

Characters - 10

Voice - 10

Execution - 10

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 50/50 (5/5)

(Reviewer’s note: A version of this review appears in Shock Totem #3)

Purchase Dismember in the following formats:

Paperback








Ebook

Review: The Gods of Dream by Daniel Arenson

Rating: 4.8 out of 5

All my life I’ve held the opinion that fairy tales come to us from the darkest depths of imagination. They are stories of suffering and grief wrapped up in a bundle of cutesy imagery, mythical beasts, and social disorder. They come as warnings: Little Red Riding Hood and Hansel and Gretel against the allure and dangers of child predators, Jack and the Bean Stock against the perils of experimentation and exploration without first understanding the consequences…and these are only a few examples. They are at their core disturbing, grim tales, meant to pass along a necessary social message.

This is what The Gods of Dream, written by Daniel Arenson, accomplishes. In spades.

The Gods of Dream is the tale of Cade and Tasha, twins from a never-disclosed, war-torn country, whose parents were killed during a bombing at a local market. They are forced to leave their home and travel to a new country, where they are alone, afraid, and despondent. Tasha hates life and has tried multiple times to end it. Cade does his best to support and coddle her, his own war-ravaged hands constant reminders of the past they left behind. He does everything he can to give his beloved twin a reason to live.

Well, they have one. For reasons never fully explained (and thankfully so), Cade and Tasha have been granted access to Eloria, the true land of Dream. In this reality they are Talon and Sunflower, children of the illusory wilderness, unscarred (both physically and emotionally) by their guilt, sorrow, and the horrors of their past. When in Dream they cavort like the free youths they should have been, before the real world cruelly tore all that away from them.

This carefree existence is not to last long, however, for it seems that Phobetor, the ruler of Nightmare, obviously the counterpoint to Dream, has set his sights on conquering the sleeping paradise. Cade is recruited into the fight, told he must defeat the evil prince, and heads out on a long, long quest. Tasha, for some reason left out of the original plan (actually there is a reason, though it’s never spoken, and that reason is sublime and necessary), sneaks in and joins her beloved brother on his journey, disguised as a mouse.

Along the way Cade and Tasha meet all sorts of strange and wonderful creatures. They are the gods of Dream, and they’re fantastic creations with roots firmly planted in Native American (or any other naturalistic culture’s) lore. Each resides in (and is master of) a certain location and aspect of Dream. These gods have lived for thousands of years, and they take it upon themselves to assist Cade and Tasha in whatever way they can.

The twins journey for weeks (possibly months) through the landscape of Dream and enter Nightmare. I could go on and on describing every step of their journey, but I won’t. This review would be ten pages long if I did that. Just believe that there are a great many plot points in the book that are worth mentioning, but what interests me more than anything are themes, and that’s what I’m here to discuss right now.

One of the first things I noticed when the chapters started shifting between events happening in Dream and Nightmare, respectively, was the paradigm of these realms. Just as Dream’s gods are constructs of the “real world” – elks, cats, lions, hippos, pandas, etc – so is the landscape. It is filled with earthly trees, grass, rivers, and gardens of flowers. There is a day and night. There are oceans and beluga whales. There is also a natural order to the land, represented in pockets that depict the seasons of Earth. The lands of Nightmare, on the other hand, are cracked and burnt in some places; in others, the ground is covered with what could be skin. The trees there are likewise fleshy, covered with eyeballs. The creatures that inhabit it are gruesome, beasts of fangs, spikes, hooks, fur, and bodies that don’t seem to follow a natural order (aka shark head on a wolf’s body, etc). These unsavory citizens carry themselves with utter hatred and intend to harm, and every emotion is taken to the extreme. To break it down, Dream is the land of balance and healthy imagination; Nightmare of radicalism and brooding darkness. Sure, at first glance one might say, “But doesn’t the existence of Nightmare balance out Dream?” And the answer to that would be no. Some of Nightmare’s inhabitants were born in Dream, and they were born the way they are – wicked, cursed, unsavory – and at least one was told he did not have to leave despite this. That, in and of itself, demonstrates that the world of Dream is evenhanded. Because of this, Nightmare is actually a weight that tips the scales toward darkness.

(Not to mention that Dream exists seemingly of its own accord, while Nightmare needs a motor. It’s powered by a subway system that runs beneath its soil. I won’t explain what this subway system is or how it operates, because I wouldn’t want to give that away, but trust me when I say it’s one of the most inspired and original ideas I’ve ever set my eyes upon.)

The creative inventions of the world aside, the emotional threads are spectacularly done as well, in fact more so. Cade and Tasha really feel like damaged souls. They’re full of doubt and guilt. Tasha is nearly pathetic in her unhappiness, and you pity Cade for how hard he tries, even while he’s doubting his every action. In every way it makes sense that these two were the ones chosen to save Dream, because they needed to be saved just as much. They needed to rediscover beauty even in the face of ugliness and evil. And I think that might be the main point: that there is splendor all around you, that if only you’d take the time to actually deal with the hardships that come upon you, you’d bust out on the other side realizing all you’ve had and all you could have. Tasha, herself, embodies this. She is small in soul and scope at the start of the novel. In this way, it’s no wonder that she chooses to be a mouse when she crosses into Dream. For she is afraid of everything, her fear and sorrow have made her as insignificant as a creature that makes its home in shredded bits of discarded paper. In this case, that discarded paper is her life, both former and present.

All of this is sad yet beautiful to read, and I have to admit that on more than one occasion I found myself getting teary – especially at the beginning and end of the book. The middle is where the action is, and it is wonderful, but let me tell you…the emotions that run through these opening and closing segments are just about perfect. We see Tasha staring at her bandaged, scarred wrists, and we sob for her, when it would be very easy, if the work wasn’t crafted as well as it is, to say, “Just get it over with, already.” The writing helps in this regard, with flowing sentences and vivid description. Really, I can’t say enough good things about it.

So why, one might ask, did it not receive a perfect score? (Yeah, I have to be a little bit critical.) Two reasons. First of all, author Arenson has a habit of repeating things, important points that need to be remembered (such as the reminders that Cade and Tasha have to save Dream…or else.) Now, I get that, but I thought it was done just a tad too much. I understand that this is the author’s style, however, and it really doesn’t distract from the story. The second is the character of Phobetor, the ruler of Nightmare. His repartee his demon wife is eerily similar to the interplay between a pair of characters in another one of Arenson’s books. Now, I almost didn’t mention this, but I felt the need to, if only to assure readers who’ve read the author’s other works that these sections are short and few. In fact, there are only two scenes that actually have both characters in them. However, they’re both towards the beginning of the book, and I want to tell any who might notice that the characters are, in fact, quite different, as the meat of the tale bears out and their interactions cease. I wouldn’t want anyone to put the book down because of something minor such as this.

On a whole, The Gods of Dream is a very impressive, nearly impeccable work of art. It’s The Neverending Story meets The Dark Crystal meets The Odyssey. It surges in parts, lingers in others, and always leaves the reader with the impression that they’re taking in something important. It teaches a lesson about pain and what it takes to withstand it. It shows how important life is, how important love is, how important family is, be them blood or otherwise. It takes you on its journey of imagination and leaves you both panting and sighing at the fantastically bittersweet, yet hopeful, ending.

In other words, it’s magnificent. And I have a sneaking suspicion The Gods of Dream is going to end up being one of the best books I read in 2011. It gets the highest recommendation from me that a single book could possibly ever get.

Plot - 10

Characters - 9

Voice - 10

Execution - 9

Personal Enjoyment – 10

Overall – 48/50 (4.8/5)

Purchase The Gods of Dream in ebook format for the:

JOA Book of the Day

JENNY POX
by J.L. Bryan

-------------------------------------------------------------

Jenny has a secret. Her touch spreads a deadly supernatural plague. And she can't turn it off.
She devotes her life to avoiding contact with people, until her senior year of high school, when she meets the one boy she can touch, and falls in love.

But there's a problem--he's under the spell of his devious girlfriend Ashleigh, who secretly wields the most dangerous power of all.

Now Jenny must learn to use the "Jenny pox" she's fought to suppress, or be destroyed by Ashleigh's ruthless plans.

***

The sequel to Jenny Pox will be available by summer 2011.

Winner of a Red Adept Indie Award: #1 in Horror for 2010.

Selected by Geeks of Doom for Top 10 Urban Fantasy and Horror Books of 2010

If you enjoy Jenny Pox, you might enjoy books by Stacey Wallace Benefiel and Amanda Hocking.

Purchase Jenny Pox in ebook format at Amazon or Barnes and Noble

REVIEW SNIPPETS

This is one of the best novels of the year I’ve read so far, and I absolutely enjoyed every minute of it. The ending has a satisfying resolution, and I think that Bryan is one of the most talented writers I’ve had the privilege to read. - Hellnotes.com

This book has it all: teenage angst, sex, drugs, hiding an evil agenda disguised as a religious quest, evil cheerleaders. - Bewitched Bookworms

This story is intensely emotional, brilliantly told, and absolutely worth reading. - Supernatural Snark

NOTE FROM THE JOURNAL

This is a book that's been on my "wish I could read if I had the time (or if the author submitted to me)" list for a long time now. I'm a sucker for horror and Buffy-esque stories, and everything I've heard about this book is that it's very close to emotionally perfect. Friends whose opinions I trust have told me it's one of the best, if not the best, book of the recently departed 2010. So to say that I'll eventually be getting around to reading it would be a severe understatement. It should be on your list, too.