The Suicide Motor Club, the new novel from Christopher Buehlman, is a lean, mean, souped-up, eight cylinder, four-speed race car of a book.
Archive for August, 2016
This month’s theme might be horror and the horrific, with the subtheme “Why am I reading horror when I usually don’t much care for it?” … The Nightmare Stacks is a direct sequel to The Rhesus Chart, which added vampires to the Laundry universe’s roster of spooky threats.
Ultimately, I think what strikes me most forcefully about Swanwick’s fiction, aside from his fresh yet historically resonant conceits, is its elegance and economy. Per the definition of the perfect short story, not a word is extraneous or wasted, not one element of plot inessential. The maximum effects are achieved with the minimum of prose.
We veer from the charmingly quotidian at what hour the newspapers arrive on the Silverberg doorstep to the loftily metaphysical: what are the meanings of age and time, where is the culture heading? Along the way, Silverberg offers commentary on his peers and literary ancestors…
Forrest Leo’s wonderfully demented and comical debut novel, The Gentleman, lies more towards this hazy end of the steampunk spectrum than elsewhere. You can interpret it as a straight historical novel of a farcical type, along the lines of the Flashman books… But there’s enough oddness, including ostensibly supernatural incidents and gadgetry riff of unreality, to push it just over the edge and into steampunk territory.
David Ayer’s Suicide Squad strikes me as a very meh kind of film a hodgepodge of characters and moments that work, and characters and moments that don’t work, tossed together in a story line that sometimes makes sense and sometimes doesn’t. [Still,] in contrast to Batman v Superman, [this film] is truer to both the contents and spirit of the comic books it is adapting…