Click here to listen.The Two Mikes are neither shaken or stirred by Cherie Priest's Boneshaker. The guys held out hope for the promise in its premise but in the end they preferred to be yellow-gased and thrown over the wall. Sorry.
It Is Cocktail Time
Yellow Sap
One shot Rye Whiskey
1/2 shot Galliano
Put in a rocks glass with ice and finish off with orange juice or even pineapple juice.
End Music: Wanda Jackson's Shak'in All Over
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3 comments:
Ouch. Y'know, that one kind of smelled of high concept when I read about it in Weird Tales. I'm much more interested in horror written by oddball writers with obscure obsessions and eccentric writing voices.
Well, let me reiterate Tim Powers' Three Days to Never as a suggestion, which is availabe for a penny plus shipping at that Amazon reseller link.
A very interesting treatment of remote viewing in dreams, undertaken by the Mossad, and especially of the act of viewing our world from a fourth-dimensional perspective.
And maybe you can explain the plot to me.
And I'll second that Ligotti request. I urge you to read some of the Ligotti interviews online. A disturbed, unhappy man who nevertheless has a lot of self-understanding and is enormously intelligent. These email interviews of works of art in themselves.
May I make a suggestion? Pick out a couple of passages from the book under discussion to read aloud for the podcast. I think it will prompt memories and insights from you guys, as well as open up the issue of prose style, upon which you infrequently comment.
Looking forward to the Shirley Jackson discussion. Must be one of the few novels ever written about agoraphobia.
In his book Here at the New Yorker, Brendan Gill tells of lunching with Ms. Jackson and her husband. Both obese, they polished off their meals, commented how good they were, and ordered second meals.
I think Horror writers should be compulsive, tortured souls like that.
Odd, Blogger ate my comment.
Boneshaker kind of smelled focus-grouped when I read about it in Weird Tales. I'm more interested in odd authorial voices than in rippin' good yarns these days. This doesn't sound particularly rippin', for that matter.
I'd like to renominate Tim Powers' Mossad-remote-viewers-chasing-around-Southern-California-sometimes-detouring-into-the-fourth-dimension tale, Three Days to Never. Wildly creative, weird, and I'd love someone to explain the plot to me.
It's available for a penny plus shipping at that Amazon link.
I just read Tim Powers is going blind! Has to read with a magnifying glass! Like Jack Vance...
I second the Ligotti book, too. Maybe his masterpiece. I urge you to read one or two of the Ligotti interviews online. A brilliant, disturbed, unhappy man who nevertheless has great self-knowledge. Writing makes him physically nauseous after an hour. His new non-fiction book of philosophy is hard going, but occasionally quite darkly funny.
A suggestion: that you read a passage or two of the book being discussed when you do the podcast. I'm sure it will spark comments and memories from you guys. And it will open the issue of prose style, upon which you infrequently comment.
Looking forward to the Shirley Jackson book. Surely one of the very few novels about agoraphobia.
Brendan Gill, in his memoir Here at the New Yorker, tells of lunching with Ms. Jackson and her husband.
Both obese, the couple polished off their lunches, agreed they were good, and ordered second meals.
I think horror writers should be compulsive, tortured souls like that.
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