Sean
There's really no such thing as a casual Rush fan. If you're a Rush fan, you know that Tom Sawyer and Spirit of Radio aren't their best songs. If you're a Rush fan, you know all about how those three guys are consummate musicians and songwriters. You know they have a wicked, strange sense of humor, but at heart, they remain polite Canadian boys from a small Toronto suburb.
The one thing you don't know as a Rush fan is much of their personal lives. Those three guys (especially drummer Neil Peart) always knew how to draw a line in the sand between “work” and “home.” Their private lives remained largely private. Neil wrote a few books about traveling the world by bicycle and motorcycle before his untimely passing, but they were really travelogues, insights about his experiences on the road and not so much backstage stories or tales of the three Stooges traipsing the countryside in their ongoing musical cavalcade. So, for Geddy to sit down and pen a monumental 500+ page journey that starts with his parents surviving concentration camps in WWII and arriving at where he is now, a semi-retired 70-year-old musician, father, and grandfather, is an applause-worthy feat. In MY EFFIN' LIFE, the esteemed master of the bass shows that he ain't just a musician by penning a funny, thoughtful, sometimes irreverent, and wonderfully heartfelt journey through his life and the music Rush brought to the world.
I have long been a rabid Rush fan, amassing all the records, watching the live concerts, buying bootlegs of concerts, etc...–you name it, I'm that guy. I have always said that my life could be largely encompassed by two bands: Rush and Marillion. To get his insights into the band's history, particularly the writing and recording processes of all their records has been something special. In my mind, this is the equivalent of Beatles fans getting that extended film from Peter Jackson last year.
Because Rush has always been a fairly low-drama band that was more concerned with the music than with rockstar lifestyles, there aren't a lot of explosive reveals in this book, but ol' Ged doesn't shy away from the difficult topics. Firing their original drummer, John Rutsey (and Rutsey's eventual passing when he was only 55) is one of those tough parts. The drug use and alcohol issues in the band, while they never really got in the way of the music, were a prevalent part of the book. And the most interesting and telling parts are when Ged details how his marriage struggled because the life of a touring musician is just not the most conducive career for marriage or raising a family.
Still, the overriding theme that comes out of this book is the loyalty and friendship of the main triumvirate, but also their long-time road crew, many of whom began the same journey with them in the beginning and remained in their traveling circus until the final show. That speaks to the brotherhood of the music that they all believed in and were willing to sacrifice for. It's a big reason that Rush endured, and why people gravitate to their music. They did not compromise artistically. They remained true to their vision and each other.
MY EFFIN' LIFE is easily the best book I've read this year. It's easily one of the better music autobiographies I've read. It's not going to change anyone's life. It does serve as a beautiful companion piece to a fifty-year career in the music industry.
Thanks for the music, boys. It was a helluva ride.
I don't usually review books that I think aren't that good, but I figure Baldacci is a big enough name that
A) If he sees this, it won't hurt his feelings, and
B) He won't see this.
I'd never read a Baldacci book before, but I got the audiobook for this one a few days ago and played it in the car while on my long days at work. The prose doesn't sizzle, but it's competently written. There are a lot more adverbs than I'd care to hear, and he uses a lot of hamhanded dialogue attribution he didn't need. (He's probably big enough that his editors cut a lot less than they would with a new author because it pads page counts and makes for a more expensive book...) It really bothered me that there is no cursing in this book, too. In scenes where military dudes with guns are in a standoff with each other, you better goddamn believe there's going to be cursing.
(In a scene where a military dude pours himself a bowl of cereal, there should be cursing to make it realistic. My friends who are in/were in the military seem to be completely incapable of forming a sentence without cursing.)
This is the sort of book that makes me really question why I can't get an agent and publishing deal if they're producing tripe like this. I might be biased, but I'd rather read one of my books than this thing.
Baldacci basically created another ultra-Mary Sue main character along the never-do-wrong, always-wins mold of Jack Reacher, Mitch Rapp, and Peter Ash, complete with tragic backstory. Atlee Pine hits all the high notes of a cookie-cutter action hero. The murder of her twin sister sent her on a path to the FBI because she wants to make sure all families have the closure she never got. She's an Olympic-level weightlifter, expert MMA practitioner, and all-around better-than-you athlete. She's tall and well-built, but like all good female main characters, she doesn't think of herself as beautiful, but yet she attracts the attention of the ex-Special Forces Green Beret stud (who is old-fashioned and humble before her). In the course of this book, Atlee fights Russian army guys, a North Korean assassin, and a couple of would-be rapist rubes, handling them all with relative ease.
She's everything that's wrong with this genre of fiction.
In spite of that, I didn't bail on this book because she was compelling enough that I was interested to see where the story went.
Baldacci wrote one of those twisty-turny thrillers that gets so caught up in the twists and turns that it forgets to be realistic. It's a big-screen action movie that would get lambasted for its silly plot and cardboard characters. It goes from a mystery about a dead mule and a missing hiker at the Grand Canyon to a bizarrely thought-out plot to start a war with North Korea, with a bunch of crazy stops in between.
Yet, this is a best-selling series.
Why?
I don't get it.
My Abe & Duff Mystery Series was written specifically to be the antithesis of books like this. Abe and Duff aren't going to win any fights, they're ugly and they know it (and everyone else knows it), and they're not going to be the envy of others. They are grounded in reality. They might make some quips and banter a bit, but that's about it. They joke–because I don't think I've ever had a conversation with anyone for more than a few minutes without making some sort of attempt at levity. No one wants to be friends with a person who is always serious. Life is serious enough. Make a joke already.
I honestly don't get jealous of other authors. I always say a high tide raises all boats, and clearly people must like this series because it seems to be quite popular...but, when I see a book like this get a lot of success, I really start to wonder, “Why not me?” because I don't think this book was all that good.
I think I'm going to put this book into the same realm as I put things like Reality TV Singing Shows and Taylor Swift–they're popular, sure, but popular doesn't mean “good.”
There are far better books out there and more deserving authors.
If it's fall, that means Craig Johnson is back with another trip around Absaroka County, and I'm here for it.
After the events of the last book, HELL AND BACK, where Walt found himself in a weird half-world of supernatural events and eternal darkness, Johnson is back to the formula that makes Walt Longmire one of the most readable mystery series out there: Wyoming, good banter, and a solid, non-supernatural mystery that ties in a seventy-year-old murder to a series of events in the present day.
Like all Longmire books, the heart of the book is Walt's easy-going, but pragmatic approach to solving crime. Sprinkle in some wisdom from Henry Standing Bear or some foul-mouthed jibes from Vic Moretti, and you've got a winning combo.
I tore through this book in three days. Would have done it in two or less if I didn't have to work. Any time spent in Absaroka County is a good time, and I'm glad to see Johnson return to form after the departure from reality in the last book.
THE LONGMIRE DEFENSE is a worthy entry into Johnson's long list of hits.
As a writer, I'm known for a post-apocalypse survival trilogy and a trio (so far) of mystery novels. They've sold modestly well, but neither of those is my preferred genre. I am, and have always been, a fantasy novel lover at heart. It is my great hope to not only write a good fantasy novel someday, but I have also been long-fascinated with trying to write an atypical fantasy novel more concerned about what daily life is like in a world populated with magic, creatures, and high fantasy. I've never been able to crack that code, though.
Travis Baldree perfected it.
LEGENDS & LATTES is a perfect book. It's cute. It's clever. It's unexpected. And it's sweet with a heart that swells to a breaking point. I'm envious. I want more.
Travis took a silly idea and turned it into a book with as much at stake as any farmboy-who-must-save-the-world swords'n'sorcery novel. The main core of characters are as endearing as any book I've read in years. And the idea that Viv, the adventurer who tires of adventure, finds a new cadre to adventure with, even if that adventure is just making coffee and pastries for customers, is wonderful.
I can't recommend this one enough.
There's an elegance to Michael Connelly's writing. No fancy prose. No unnecessary words. Like his principal characters, it's terse and gets the job done, but there's a real pro's prose at work. I always enjoy reading his books. The grit and realism make the words hit harder, and they make the impact of the scenes stronger.
With this book, Harry Bosch is all but done with the game. When Renee Ballard gives him a chance to go after his white whale, Finbar McShane, Harry can't resist. He joins Ballard's Open-Unsolved Cases Unit as a volunteer and starts the legwork to find the man who murdered a family with a nail gun and buried them in the desert nine years ago.
Like the rest of Connelly's work, the book is compelling and moves at a brisk clip. Unlike the rest of Connolly's work, it really feels like Harry Bosch is closing in on the end of not just a series, but the life he's lived. It feels like this could be Bosch's penultimate journey. It feels like Connelly is setting up Bosch's jaunt through the literary world to end once and for all.
All good things must come to an end, and Bosch is included in this. It wouldn't make sense for him to be written by anyone else, and after 30+ books with Bosch, this might be setting up the great cop's finale.
I, for one, will be sad to see him go, as Connelly's books are something I look forward to every year. Give me at least one more ride around LA with Bosch, Mike, and then I'll be ready to close his case.
As a child of the late '80s and early '90s, I was heavily influenced in my own life by classic rock, hair metal, and eventually the Seattle scene (although I would argue the Minneapolis scene was as good, if not better than Seattle in some aspects in the early and mid-90s).
I was never a Nirvana “fan,” although I liked their stuff. I owned Nevermind, of course. (Who didn't?) And I always admired Dave's drumming ability. I also knew he was a little different. I remember the SNL promo commercial Nirvana did when they played SNL the first time. Dave, with his mousy hair and slight frame, stood stock-still and psycho-stared at the camera during the whole promo. I knew it was being done because they told him to just stand there and say nothing, and this was his way of complying, yet performing. I knew at that moment there was something more to Dave Grohl than met the eye.
When Nirvana ended, I saw the emergence of the Foo Fighters, and I hoped for the best for Dave. It seemed like he was doing the right things. Their videos on MTV were always great. The songs were catchy. I still wasn't a fan, though.
That came about over a course of time when Dave's undeniable charm and work ethic eventually wore more me down. Slowly, I started amazing Foo records now have the whole collection. I'm a booster. I'm a supporter. They're doing things the right way. When Dave came out with this book, I always knew I'd read it eventually, but like so many things of this nature, it just got put off for a while.
This book is written with the same high-energy charm that Dave exudes in interviews and on stage. There is no pretense with this guy. What you see is what you get, and that extends to writing. For a high school dropout with a manic sense of energy, this book comes across without any sort of writer bullshit. There's no fancy prose. There are no deep metaphors or similies. Dave delivers the goods with a straightforward approach. And, like the man himself, the prose is likable. It's easygoing. It's a good read.
It makes you wish you could be one of the guys in the band, and that's about the highest level of praise I can give it.
It's an enjoyable read, although it feels like it only scratches the surface of some things. It leaves you wanting more. When I hit the end, I realized I'd gladly read Volume 2 of this if Dave ever decided to write it, and if he does, I hope he goes into more detail and delivers some insight into some events. If there's a single knock against the book, it was written like he didn't want to offend anyone, and that makes for a superficial feeling tome.
Still, I enjoyed every word. I hope Dave writes more. More songs. More books. Just keep delivering, Dave. You've earned your accolades the old-fashioned way.
Alex Bledsoe is one of my favorite writers. Guy knows his way around some tasty, easy-to-digest prose. In “Dandelion,” Bledsoe puts his considerable gifts with words to work on the interesting and horrible idea of demonic possession.
In the end, I think the fear of possession comes from the idea of losing control. If I were looking for a theme in this book, I'd say it was control. The idea that something inhabits us and causes us to lose control of our minds, of our bodies–that's is terror right there. Demons just a convenient idea that represents that loss of control, and this book uses those ideas to great effect.
TLC Mart (which is basically an amalgam of Walmart) is the center of demonic activity in the book. The department store giant comes to the sleepy town of Somerton and pretty soon, it kills off the rest of the town. Where once the town controlled its own destiny, now they hand that destiny over to TLC Mart. The teenagers in the book whom the demons prey upon are the embodiment of the struggle for control. Teenagers in general want to be seen as adults, in control of their own lives, but they're still kids, prone to doing stupid kid things, which often includes losing control (even without demonic assistance) in ways that manifest as cruelty. Cruelty is often the lowest form of control. It's a method used by small minds to wrench back a modicum of the feeling of control, and the more it harms someone else, the more control they feel. The men in the book are often controlled by women because the promise of sex is a strong currency of control. Knowledge can be a unit of control, and the knowledge of good and evil, or the knowledge of unspoken truths control others. Even the themes of religion manifest as control, like the charlatan preacher Brother Knode controlling his revival meetings as a well-orchestrated stage show to separate the gullible of the town from their money in much the same way that large-scale megachurches and their charlatan pastors prey upon the gullible in modern society–“Salvation is free–but to get there will cost you cash.”
Control is a powerful motivation, and it's a powerful source of fear. We all crave control and fear the loss of it. This novel uses that fear as its root and makes you worry about the darkness that might be unnoticed in our neighbors. In a horror novel that takes a painful look at dying southern towns and the cruelty people visit upon each other, Alex Bledsoe controls a tight, terrifying narrative that walks a fine line between southern noir and a classic tale of demonic possession. It is a book that opens with a bang and doesn't let up until the horrifying, chilling end.
The Orville feels more like Star Trek: The Next Generation than anything coming out of Star Trek's canon in recent years. The philosophical debates and the adherence to a idea feel very much in line with the stuff Brannon Braga was kicking out in the late 80s and early 90s. There should not be easy answers to questions raised in any debate, and there is always a lot more gray than black and white.
This novella was meant to be an episode of the new season The Orville: New Horizons, but due to COVID and other things, they ran out of time to film it, so Seth MacFarlane converted the script to a novella and tossed it into the world as a fairly-priced eBook.
After reading it this afternoon, it's a shame they didn't get to film it because it would have made a helluva an episode to watch.
I don't want to give away spoilers, but even non-fans of the show are in for a treat with this one. And the issues it brings up are–sadly–still very relevant to today's political climate.
For three bucks, this is more than worth the time.
I read Just a Geek years ago.
The annotated version is nice because it really shows how 20+ years of age and wisdom can change our perspective on things we once held as true.
The jumping back and forth between the text and annotations got wearisome after a while, but luckily this is a book you can feel free to read an entry and walk away from at any time. If doesn't demand page-turning like some books or narratives. Each essay is a quick, easy read.
I like Wheaton's prose. I hope he does some more fiction work in the future.
Stephen King writes a crime novel from a hitman's point of view.
Typical King prose, solid and readable. The characters were interesting. The story itself got a little slow at points. Probably could have hacked 50-100 pages from this thing and still had a banger of a story.
All in all, not my favorite of his works, but definitely a solid entry. I'm kind of enjoying King's work in the world of crime fiction. It's definitely not as interesting as his horror stuff, but I find it in some ways much more readable.
You know, this is a solid entry in what appears to be a very successful series. That said: I liked the characters, but the prose annoyed me. It's competently written, but just not for me. I can understand its appeal, though. Winspear is a fine writer, it's just not my bag.
It's one of those sorts of series that I'm not going to read any of sequels, but if/when this gets made into the inevitable BBC mysteries series, I'll watch the hell out of it.
Another standard jaunt around Joe Pickett's world. No real criticisms. CJ Box knows what's he's doing.
My only real beef when it comes to books like this are when the sleuths (or those around them) start doing superhuman stuff, or dealing with things that would have multiple arms of the extended government crashing down on them.
The B-story with Nate Romanowski was compelling in this one, but a little over-the-top.
This is an easy contender for “Best Book I'm Going to Read This Year.” I was glad to know that Jerry Bruckheimer has already optioned this book for Paramount, because it is instantly cinematic, and it's going to make a great film.
SA Cosby takes two bottom-of-the-social-ladder everyman types, puts them together in a dark buddy action/revenge plot, but manages to make it about so much more than just two guys from opposite sides of the tracks in a small, poor town getting revenge on the men who killed their sons.
Ike Randolph, who is Black, and Buddy Lee, who is white, are not great people, and they know it. Ike is a former gang member who did some time. Buddy Lee is a white trash hick who also spent some time in the Graybar Hotel. They're older. They're set in their ways. They're coarse. They're unrefined.
And they each have a gay son. And those sons are married to each other.
Much to Ike and Buddy Lee's disappointment.
However, when those boys are murdered, Ike and Buddy Lee make an unusual partnership to set about finding out who murdered their boys, and to vow revenge on those that did it.
Along the way, Ike and Buddy Lee learn about themselves, and why their relationships with their sons went so wrong.
Expertly paced with excellent dialogue, this book was riveting. It unfurls in your mind in full 70mm Surround-Sound, just waiting patiently for its big screen debut.
While this is far and away a five-star book, I still had some knocks with Cosby's prose. For instance, the phrase, “Ike sucked his teeth” feels like it appears about 40 times in the book, to the point where it gets comical. Also, Cosby likes to shoehorn big similes into his work. As a writer and editor myself, I would have hacked out about half of them because he does it to reckless abandon.
However, the dialogue is where this book shines. Cosby has a finely tuned ear for the cadence of rural Virginia and Ike and Buddy Lee come alive in their exchanges with other characters, particularly in their quieter moments with each other when they discuss their sons.
This is a book about revenge. And there's a mystery element to it. But the themes of repression and redemption, and the overarching theme of acceptance will hit home. The finale is big and painful, and the denouement is sweet and closes the story perfectly.
This is one you won't want to miss.
I'm not sure what to think. The logical side of me wants to give it one star because it's a mystery novel, with a real corker of a mystery, but that mystery's conclusion is...unique. (Without giving anything away.)
Now, I know the point of the book is the storytelling itself. And I know that King connects the book to his Dark Tower series in several ways. And I know that King purposely made the story's ending and connections to the Dark Tower painfully ambiguous on purpose. But it does not make the ending any less frustrating after riding through the tale for 18 chapters.
The storytelling in the book is a masterclass, though. Told through dialogue of two old-timers to a young cub reporter, there is no real action in the book–at least not in the present reality of where the story is being told. The characters spend the majority of the book sitting and chatting. But the action is told through the dialogue and lets you truly construct the tale in your mind. The use of vernacular is thorough, but never too heavy. The Maine accent comes through in the men's speech, but never to the point of annoyance.
This was a different sort of story, and told from a unique point of view. It's not going to be everyone's cup of tea, though.
I know a lot of people love Stephen King. I also know a lot of people don't. I'm not a true King fan by any stretch (although I do believe his book on writing/memoir is one of the finest guides to being a better writer I've ever seen), but I do enjoy some of his work. I've also disliked some of his work.
LATER is a book that's clearly not King's best work, but it's definitely compelling and definitely readable. It's a combination ghost story, horror story, and crime story–although it really doesn't oversell any of those. It's all those things, but not any of those things singularly.
The crime in the book is minimal and comes in at the end. The horror is also minimal, aside from a few gory descriptions, one or two literary “jump scares”, and a lingering possibility of what-might-be. The ghosts are constant through the book, but with the way they're treated, it's organic and interesting, not overly scary.
The characters are compelling. The story is interesting enough to keep you turning pages. The work itself is a solid tale.
LATER is not going to go down on any list of King's top ten books, but it is definitely enjoyable. It's worthy of a read. And would I read a sequel? Yes. Absolutely.
On a secondary note, I listened to this one on audiobook (as I sometimes do), and Seth Numrich was the narrator. His narration was excellent and a considerable reason I enjoyed this book as much as I did. I don't know that I would have liked it as much as I did without the narration.
After you've written as many Joe Pickett novels as CJ Box has, it's important to keep them fresh. NOWHERE TO RUN succeeds on this front. By starting off the novel with the “bad guys” and putting Pickett deep into a high stakes game of cat-and-mouse, it's not a slow build mystery to a big a conclusion like his other books.
However, Box is smart enough to know that readers are not stupid, and that bad guys are rarely bad guys without a reason. Figuring out why these guys are the way they are is half the fun.
This was a worthy addition to Joe Pickett's considerable legacy.