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.

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Review: Jenny Pox by J.L. Bryan

Rating: 4.9 out of 5

The teen years. A time of awkwardness and confusion, of inner turmoil and the search for one’s self. Throw into this the pressures of school, the chaos of personal and family relations, and the conflicting messages when discovering of one’s own sexuality, and the stress multiplies. This is hard enough on a normal child, but imagine being someone who has a problem – a real problem such as a deformity, mental handicap, or social deficiency. Then the stress involved with simply growing up becomes that much more difficult.

In a lot of ways, this is the root of the conflict J.L. Bryan explores in his amazing horror yarn, Jenny Pox. He takes the pressures and cruelties of youth, adds in a dash of the supernatural, and what comes out on the other side is beautiful in its viciousness and odd innocence.

Jenny is a lonely child, growing up without a mother, with her alcoholic, depressed father the only loving adult in her life. Jenny is a troubled child, born with a striking physical deficiency – she can’t touch any living thing, lest they die a horrible death as a bane of sickness infuses their bodies…the Jenny pox. So she grows up in solitude, left to imagine what life would be like if she could only be like normal kids, playing, holding hands, kissing, knowing at least the first budding flutter of love.

Her life is spent avoiding people at all costs, and she at all times wears clothes that cover up the majority of her body – including gloves for her hands – that make her an object of ridicule. And when, as a younger child, she has a run-in with the ironically named Ashleigh Goodling, the daughter of the local preacher and a girl who will grow up to be her main foil, the resulting confrontation leads to her being an object of ridicule and fear.

For her part, Ashleigh is the mirror image of Jenny. Strong where Jenny is weak, outgoing where Jenny is introverted, Ashleigh embodies everything Jenny sometimes wishes she could be. Once they reach high school, Ashleigh becomes (of course) the head cheerleader, leader of the student body, and mouthpiece for abstinence and virtue. And this is where the not-so-subtle brilliance of the story lies, for though Ashleigh seems to embody all of the cherished Christian values, her purity is purely surface-level; a disguise to hide her quest for power and domination.

It seems Ashleigh has a “special talent” just as Jenny does – the ability to make people love her. As does Ashleigh’s boyfriend Seth, who can heal most any wound, superficial or mortal. It is in Seth that Jenny eventually finds a like-minded soul, and when she is able to get him out of Ashleigh’s scope of influence, she is allowed to grow as a character, to experience the exhilaration of physical contact and the joy of finally belonging.

The novel is set up much like Stephen King’s Carrie, with the cruel school children – and the rest of the townsfolk – pushing Jenny’s buttons until the final confrontation, when Jenny pretty much loses her mind. The carnage that follows is disturbing yet understandable, not the least of which reason being that Bryan successfully entrenches us in Jenny’s brain, allows us to feel her longing, pain, happiness, and confusion. So when she flips the switch and the story takes a turn down the path of ultimate darkness, though we scream out, no, don’t do that, we completely get why the poor girl goes down the path she does.

Jenny is the perfect metaphor for the everyday lost soul. Even those of us who were in places of popularity in our youths can relate to her much more than the malevolent Ashleigh. Yet this is not the only metaphorical device the author uses. His portrayal of Christian morality as a means of control and subterfuge is inspired; in a way, he’s saying that experimenting while growing up is natural, and that placing false restrictions on ourselves is done not by the ones experiencing the growth, but those wishing to capitalize on the confusion of youth, a way of building an army of likeminded individuals sympathetic with a certain cause, complete with all the prejudices, hatred, and influence that have been passed down through generations. Given the state of our culture today, this is downright frightening.

I think this aspect of the plot may be misconstrued by readers. In presenting us with the iniquity of fanatic belief, Bryan isn’t saying Christianity in itself is bad, but that the way the doctrine is warped and beaten into the heads of our children is dangerous. As a reader I appreciated the message, as a human I wished more people would take a deeper look and understand that diversity and individuality are what drives culture to accomplish great things.

Jenny Pox takes all the tropes of young adult fiction, tosses them in a pot, shakes them up, and then reorganizes them into something meaningful, a novel written for adults using children to explore the deeper reasoning behind our own intolerance. The kids are kids, acting in a way we all did in our youths, not presented as ideals but real people. You will find no damsels in distress here, no characters that derive their meaning from the opinions of the ones they’re infatuated with. Abusive relationships aren’t puffed up as being more than what they are, each character is in charge of their own self-discovery, and misogyny isn’t glorified. Even Jenny, in her weakest state, is a strong individual, one we all can sympathize and grow along with. Even the mystical aspects at the end of the book that set up the rest of the series, and the somewhat clunky execution of the final confrontation (the only reason this book didn’t get a perfect score) don’t take away from this.

Pick up this book. Read it. Enjoy it. Think on it. It’s a great example of horror with heart, of a story that goes against the norm and uses the fantastic to heighten real events, real emotions, real experiences. Yes, I will say that I adore J.L. Bryan’s writing. This is the second book of his that I’ve read, and it seems with each experience, my enjoyment and appreciation for his style and message only grows along with the dazzling characters he’s created. He’s a writer to watch out for, to dive into, to explore.

This certainly won’t be the last book of his I’ll read, and it shouldn’t be for you, either.

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Review: The Haunted E-Book by J.L. Bryan

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

It’s a great feeling when you come across an idea you haven’t seen before, isn’t it? I mean, we’ve all read stories of haunted houses, haunted cars, even haunted people…but a haunted ebook? I mean, think about it for a second—even the term didn’t exist ten years or so ago.

Which makes the appropriately-titled The Haunted E-Book, written by J.L. Bryan of Jenny Pox fame, the first of its kind. This is a primacy that all writers yearn for but very few achieve.

On to the story.

Dee is a librarian in rural Georgia, a broken woman stuck in a place she doesn’t want to be simply because she wants to be close to the grave of her deceased friend Lilah. She spends her time reading her Kindle while trying to forget the fact her life’s gone nowhere in a hurry. Her loser townie boyfriend treats her like she isn’t there, which in fact reflects Dee’s view of herself. She’s a shell of a woman, a ghost wafting through the real world, hardly ever seen.

Strange things begin happening right away, when she downloads a book titled—yup—The Haunted E-Book. The book takes over her entire library of digital books, even inserting itself into other stories when she tries to read something different.

And this is where things get very, very interesting, because what we have here is a story within a story…within a story. Dee reads about Madison, who’s reading about Parker, who’s reading about Elaine. And in each incarnation, the person they’re reading about is reading a book called the same thing, only with the individual story being different. It sounds confusing, like looking into two mirrors at the same time and seeing the same image projected over and over again into infinity, but in fact, with the way Bryan constructed the story, it’s quite easy to follow.

The book follows the same pattern with every reader—so-and-so begins to be haunted by a mysterious, shadowy figure with letters stamped on his flesh, and who carries an iron composite stick with which he kills his victims. And how do you fall victim to this sadistic ghost?

Why, you stop reading.

Dee is thrust into the lives of the people she reads about, and her life at home falls apart. Then, following a familiar pattern with tales of hauntings, she is sent on a mission to discover the history behind the book, actually meets a few of the characters she’s read about (who turn out to be people just as real as her), and begins a daring chase in hopes of putting an end to the bad guy once and for all. In a way, it’s the story of one woman coming to grips with who she is, realizing her worth to both herself and the ones who loved her. And since this is horror, this epiphany comes when her life hangs precariously by a thread.

While the last third of The Haunted E-Book does follow a familiar pattern, the hows and whys of the plot make it refreshing. The evil presence behind the haunting is sinister in a subversive way, a “man” whose every action is made out of love—or at least his own twisted definition of it. He’s creepy and evocative of horror tales past, and his backstory, yet another book-within-a-book, is fascinating, as is the description of how he comes to haunt the books in the first place.

In all, I can heartily recommend The Haunted E-Book to anyone who enjoys reading an original, inventive horror yarn, complete with dismemberment, terror, and visceral thrills. It’s a hellride, the journey of one woman who wishes to be reborn while experiencing the most dreadful events of her lifetime. It will chew you up and spit you out, and by the time you read the final page, you’ll be left wondering if the words The End are truthful…or if it’s yet another vehicle of malevolence to lull us into a false sense of security.

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Review: A Dance of Death (Shadowdance Book III) by David Dalglish

Rating: 5 out of 5

I love David Dalglish’s books. There, I said it. Everything he’s put out I’ve devoured and raved about. From Weight of Blood, the introduction to his Half-Orcs series, to his new Paladins adventures, each story builds upon the next, further enhancing and enriching the world he’s created and presenting new conspiracies, enemies, and themes.

Now we come to A Dance of Death, the climactic work of the Shadowdance series – which, strangely enough, are really stand-alone novels masquerading as a series. And I will now say, as I seem to after virtually every Dalglish book, that he’s once more raised the bar, making this reviewer swoon, sway, and cheer with each swing of the sword (or thrust of the dagger).

This time around, we find Haern, fully entrenched in his role as King’s Watcher, being led out of Velderan by a copycat killer in the town of Angelport, miles away from home. This mimic kills seemingly indiscriminately, leaving behind Haern’s old calling card, the bloody, traced eye, one he hasn’t used in years.

Haern, along with Alyssa and Zusa, head south. There are other bad things going on in Angelport – a fight with the elves over the woodlands, the proliferation of a new, powerful drug that is spreading through the streets, and the infighting between the merchant lords, who own the boats, and the lord of the land, who is slowly losing control of everything. Into this mix is thrown the Wraith, Haern’s much-too-talented, unwanted protégé, which pitches everything into a great big smorgasbord of murder, conspiracy, deceit, and political intrigue that brings the city to the brink of war – both with the elves and amongst themselves.

For the first time, Dalglish introduces a plot that is truly mysterious and isn’t concluded until the very end. While all of his books possess tremendous character development – and are usually carried by it – this one actually uses the plot itself, the mystery, to drive the story forward, using the previously stated character development to enhance the story, making the characters come to even more life than they already are. We understand Alyssa’s doubt, Zusa’s anger, Haern’s guilt, because each step of the way we’re shown why they feel what they’re feeling.

And they aren’t the only characters spotlighted here. We’re also reintroduced to Torgar, from way back in book one, who serves as the master of the guard for the Keenans, the Trifect members who reside in Angelport. We also get further insight into Madelyn Keenan’s character, who, let’s just say, is one of my favorites in the whole book, maybe the whole series. We also get inside the head of the Wraith, this mirror of a creation whose goals and actions don’t quite match up.

This is a book filled – and I mean filled – with meaning and thematic exploration. Everything from drug trafficking to environmental preservation to the question of how far is too far when it comes to the use of violence in making the world a better place are explored. Haern, for his part, is left to question his own motivations, to doubt his every action. He’s presented with a man much like himself, one that kills ostensibly at random, with no thought given to whether his victims deserve their fate or not. All of which leads Haern to wonder, what makes me so much better than him?

Because of this fact, there are no true heroes in A Dance of Death. What we cheer for when we read are incomplete people – in other words, fantasy representations of actual, real people experiencing the type of trauma – gang violence, drug dealers, vigilantism – that are found in any city across the world. All of which makes me repeat something I’ve said many times before: David Dalglish is not a fantasy author. He’s an author, period; one whose words would mean just as much if they were set in Chicago or Paris or Los Angeles as they do in Velderan…or Angelport.

The bottom line is this: A Dance of Death is a great, great read, a much more than worthy offering to close out a fantastic series. The characters are great, the story even better, and it has enough twists to make your head spin. We even get to see elves portrayed being not-so-elflike – you know wise and mystical and peaceful and all that – which I absolutely loved. There is heartbreak and anger, betrayal and gut-wrenching decisions, as well as some rather inspired deaths. I heartily recommend it, as I would all of the author’s books, and can honestly say I hope he gives us more of Haern’s story in the future, because there has to be more to tell.

Yeah, this is pretty much the perfect novel. You won’t be disappointed. And if you are, that’s on you, not the work.

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Review: Suspense (Spencer Nye Trilogy Book 1) by Jason Letts

Rating: 4.7 out of 5

In certain ways, Facebook has become an integral part of my life. I spend way too much time on it, conversing with friends, making connections, sometimes simply passing the time. It’s become a useful tool, but also a slightly frightening one. If you were to think about how connected everyone is through these bits of data flowing invisibly all around us, it would be very easy to come up with a nightmare scenario where we not only use programs like this as a tool, but they become necessary to continue our way of life, a world where without social networking, the whole of society would be lost.

Jason Letts took this scenario, fleshed it out, and in a flash of unique and original storytelling created Suspense, the first book in his Spencer Nye Trilogy. To say I was impressed with what he came up with would be a grand understatement.

Suspense centers around the exploits of the girl for whom the series is named, Spencer Nye herself. She is a gritty character, full of anger and distrust. She is also a diehard, one who will do anything – even kill – to protect and defend the image and life of her Idol.

What is this all about, you ask? Diehards? Idols? Well it seems that in Letts’s brilliant new universe, the general world populace uses a program called Connect – the most powerful social media ever invented, accessed through nodes implanted into peoples’ skulls – to, well, keep themselves connected. They float through life only half-existing in the real world, spending the rest of the time immersed in the data that flashes in front of their eyes, reading up on the latest trends, what their friends are up to, or just perusing. I found it to be a quite disturbing visual the first time I read a scene depicting this, representative of a world where the flesh is at times looked at as a hindrance.

A good chunk of society also uses Connect to keep up with their Idols – basically folks who’ve gained so much popularity, so many followers, that they’ve become, in a certain sense, godlike. All six of the Idols live in a fortress on a hidden tropical island, to keep them safe. And the animosity between the diehards for each of them is frightening. They’re constantly at war, constantly killing each other, with the end game being to elevate their Idol to an even higher level. It’s a scary thought.

The specifics of the society the author created are interesting, even beyond the whole social networking angle. There is no more industry, as anything anyone would ever need is created simply by pressing a button on something called a molecular synthesizer. There is no more crime – other than diehard-on-diehard violence – as why in the world would you have to steal if it everyone had everything they wanted and money no longer existed? And people get around by using terminals that transport them from place to place in the blink of an eye, simply by pushing numbers into a keypad.

In a lot of ways you could look at this and think, that’s not so bad. On the surface, this society is bordering on a utopia, but with the loss of personal freedom that comes with everyone knowing what’s on your mind at all times, and the amount of fanaticism the Idols create, it steers in the opposite direction and becomes pure dystopia. With a lack of purpose, a lack of direction, it leads folks to act irrationally, to search for meaning in a world that, in truth, means absolutely nothing.

The story itself is an adventure, as Spencer and her friends, a cyborg named Jetta and a programmer named Patch, seemingly uncover a plan to take out the Idols – including theirs, the actor Cleary Mintz. This leads to a great many action sequences and a rather ingenious plan, thought up by the three friends, to turn Spencer, herself, into an Idol and fix the situation from the inside.

What follows is a great amount of intrigue and a further exploration into how this whole world started in the first place. There is mystery, paranoia, and a hint that the direction society has taken was orchestrated by something wholly not of this world. And in the middle of all this is Spencer, the unstable teenager whose only desire has ever been for her life to have meaning.

This is a very good book, folks. Suspense is resourceful and technical, a mix of science fiction and dystopian fiction with a truly original premise. Though written for a young adult crowd, it’s definitely been created for an older audience. There are scenes of violence, confusion, and at one point a rather inspired scenario of sexual exploration while not in one’s own body, experiencing the sensations from the opposite viewpoint. The book is obviously not perfect – what book is? – but it’s more than worthy of your time and energy. In fact, I’ll go a step further to say this particular work of fiction may be important, as well. It allows us to look at our own actions, how much time we spend on the internet “connecting” with people while ignoring those who are standing right beside us, and urges us to find balance.

It’s a difficult tightrope to walk, and the author shows us what might happen if we fall off. Brilliant.

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Review: Fourth Reich Rising (Jack Shepherd Mystery Thrillers) by Tom Schwartz

Rating: 1.3 out of 5

I have struggled with writing this review for a few weeks now. I know what I want to say, but the hard part is figuring out how to say it in the most gentle way possible.

Fourth Reich Rising by Tom Schwartz is a very strange book. It starts out interestingly enough – with a prologue introducing us to Eric Goering, son of Hermann Goering, and offering a very haunting statement on the purpose of the Third Reich and plans put in place by those who’d constructed it to reform the idea if ever the Nazis lost control of the power they’d built. It was this prologue that pulled me in and made me want to review the book.

However, after this prologue, everything goes downhill. What we have here isn’t a novel, but an outline for a whole series of novels.

The story goes something like this: The children of all the former Nazi leaders and their remaining families come together, led by Erich, to facilitate the recreation of the Reich. The history is explained – in mind-numbing detail – of how they go about this, from college all the way up until present day. Then there is a cruise ship, upon which are mystery writer Jack Shepherd and his friends. The ingenious plan by the new Reich is to smuggle a nuclear warhead from the Ukraine, stow it away aboard the cruise vessel, detonate the bomb in New York Harbor, and all the while create enough “chatter” to blame the whole shebang on Iran and the Saudis, then organize all the white supremacists in the US and bring the government down.

Now this is all well and good, and as outrageous as it sounds, I’ve read pretty entertaining books that have presented much less believable scenarios. But the writing is so robotic and tedious, it is, like I said, an outline more than a novel. Even the “fun” scenes involving Shepherd and company come across as completely emotionless. Here’s an example passage from the text, so you can see what I mean:

Tonight they all ordered lobster. These were one-and-a-half pound Maine lobsters with drawn butter and crab stuffing. Jack said, “People, we can’t have lobster without wine,” and he signaled the wine steward. “Three bottles of Schwartenkatz Rhine, please.” As usual, the service was great and the wine went down easily. When it came time for dessert, no one was interested until Judi spotted baked Alaska on one of the tables next to them.

“I can't take any more of this. I’ll have to buy a new wardrobe,” exclaimed Bob, but he ate his entire dessert anyway.

And this is seriously one of the more exciting segments. The entire book reads this way, only often time even more stilted.

Another major gripe – the supposed main character is, of course, Jack Shepherd, mystery writer. Hell, his name’s on the subtitle. Two problems with this. #1, he’s flat as unleavened bread. (But then again, all the characters are, so why should he be any different.) #2, he appears in literally one-third of the book, at most. That’s right, most of the story deals with the reformation of the Reich, the plans of the Reich, how the Reich kill people, how they spread fear in rather simplistic ways, and so on. It becomes more than tedious. At certain points I started wishing I was reading my son’s accounting textbook instead.

With all the being said, the reason I’ve waited so long to write a review is that I appreciate Tom Schwartz’s point of view. Especially toward the end, when all these outlandish and excruciatingly boring plot points come together, the author is able to write more freely, to illustrate his rather beautiful perspective of the world to us in a touching, albeit slightly naïve-sounding way. I appreciated that, and thought that maybe the book could be saved if he could only hold on to that tone and stretch it out a little longer. But no, soon we’re back with the Reich as they try to escape the authorities after Shepherd helps thwart their plans (in possibly the most ridiculously overstated part of the book.)

There is also the strange tendency the author has to start just about half his chapters in present tense, introduce a huge block of dialogue, and then – bam! – the rest of the chapter is in past tense. It’s seriously one of the most odd and baffling conventions I’ve ever seen, in any type of literature.

I could go on, but I’m going to stop here. I don’t want to keep piling it on, which I feel like I’m about to do. All I have to say about Fourth Reich Rising is this: Tom Schwartz is a man with a lot of good to give the world, a lot of ideas about community and nationalism and religion and loving your brother. He’s defended our country in the military and is an upstanding, thoughtful individual.

He just can’t write. At least not yet.

Agree with me? Disagree? Buy the ebook if you wish, and let me know:

Where on earth has the Journal gone?

Come tomorrow, it will have been exactly one month since I've posted a review on this site. Oh, the horror! I'm here to inform you that I've not left you stranded, my few readers. Rather, I've simply been quite busy.

On January 5th, 2012, I will be releasing the 3rd installment of The Rift, "Death Springs Eternal." In other words, it's been crunch time over in these parts. The beginning of the book stifled me a bit, as I wanted to take it in a bit of a different direction from the previous book, "Dead of Winter." Because of this, my numerous other projects have taken a backseat - reviewing being one of them.

This does not mean to say that I have stopped reading. I haven't. Not in the slightest. In fact, there are five - count 'em, five - books that I still need to craft a review for. I've been pushing them back, as reviews take me usually about an hour or so to write and I've been paranoid about not meeting my deadline. However, I seem to be back on track, so the next review will appear this coming Wednesday, October 26th. The books to be reviewed go as follows:

Fourth Reich Rising by Tom Schwartz
Suspense by Jason Letts
Dance of Death by David Dalglish
The Haunted Ebook by J.L. Bryan
Jenny Pox by J.L. Bryan

Also, in case anyone hasn't noticed, I've removed the submissions page from this site. That's right, I'm no longer accepting submissions. At all. I'll take suggestions, but from now on I will be reading what I want to read. I think part of the reason I've lost a little bit of interest in the reviews is that there have been quite a few books I've started, and then stopped reading after a few pages because they weren't very well written or just didn't interest me. What's the solution? Why, to read what interests me, of course! So that's the way it'll be from now on.

So, that's it for today. Take care all, and see you this Wednesday.

- RJD