Jason Parent’s Eight Cylinders captures a sort of grindhouse action/horror vibe that I appreciated a great deal. We’ve got a story about crime, cars, creatures, confusion, and condemnation in the middle of the desert…and if that doesn’t appeal to you at least a little bit, there’s probably something wrong with you. Comparing it to movies and other visual mediums, as I usually do, it’s a little bit Tremors, a touch of From Dusk Till Dawn, a good bit The Road Warrior, and a dash of the old show The Prisoner (or maybe, for those who never watched that one, Lost). If you were to toss all of that into a blender and add a splash of cosmic horror, you’d end up with something along the lines of Eight Cylinders. This story had me invested as soon as Seb began using a novelty Magic Eight Ball glass eye to make his decisions for him as he sped away from Vegas after a deal gone exceedingly bad. Criminal and “bad guy” that he might be, Seb is particularly relatable as a protagonist, and you can’t help but cheer him on as he races through the desert multiple times throughout this short tale. The attention to detail concerning cars, trucks, and ATVs through the narrative gives one the impression that Parent is a bit of a gearhead at heart, or certainly one who spent some quality time researching this tale with gearheads…and that comes through clearly with Seb’s absolute love for his Dodge Charger and his appreciation of other vehicles in the narrative. Joe Hempel’s narration is excellent, and I’ll surely be watching for other titles he’s provided his voice talents to. My sole complaint about this story is that it felt a little rushed at times like we were racing from one point to another without getting enough time to really experience where we were.
Thirty years after its original publication, Robert Jordan’s The Eye of the World remains as timeless and captivating as it was when it first came out while I was still in my pre-teens. Following in the footsteps laid by previous epic fantasy series from authors like J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, and Terry Brooks, Jordan’s Wheel Of Time stands as a someday classic series of epic fantasy in its own right, though it does borrow elements from those earlier works. That’s a petty complaint to level against Jordan’s books since his doing so was far less dramatic and obvious than Terry Brooks’s borrowing from Tolkien with major elements of The Sword of Shannara. Nothing we read is truly original and written in absolute isolation from the books and stories that inspired the author. It’s this same understanding that makes it easy for me to also enjoy Terry Goodkind’s series, The Sword of Truth, which transparently borrows some elements from The Wheel of Time as well as from those earlier epic fantasy series. Following Rand and his friends from their humble but auspicious origins in Emond’s Field in the Two Rivers district to the horrific landscape of the Blight as they’re led by Moiraine and Lan is as exciting now as when I was a child, though I find myself relating more to characters I’d not related to as strongly when I was a younger reader. That is a sign of a great author indeed, that the novel can still appeal to readers (albeit differently) when they’re young men and when they’re adults in middle-age. This book (and the subsequent series) is a coming of age tale as much as it is a thoroughly engaging fantasy, exploring the nature of fate/destiny and the cyclic nature of civilization, society, and (within the series) time itself. I’ve never read the concluding few novels of this series nor the prequel to The Eye of the World, and I thought it might be appropriate to listen through the audiobook recordings of the books I’ve already read, to catch myself up to where I need to be. The narration provided primarily by Michael Kramer and occasionally by Kate Reading (when Nynaeve is the focal point of the chapter) is immersive and successfully propels the story forward. It’s a different experience to hear this book in a different voice than the ones in my head. Michael Kramer manages to breathe life into the characters of Rand al’Thor, Matrim Cauthon, and Perrin Aybara in the way they deserve. This is a relief, seeing as how he and Kate Reading are the narrators for at least the first five books of the series (those are the ones I’ve purchased from Audible so far).
Normally, when I’m reviewing an audiobook, I wait until the end to comment on the quality of the narration. I have to make an exception here. Mikael Naramore’s narration of Vronsky’s fantastic history of serial killing is perhaps the most perfect match-up I’ve ever witnessed in an audiobook. The most important element is that he so perfectly captures the wry, often sardonic humor of the author. I was disappointed to see that Naramore didn’t further narrate other titles from Vronsky, because there’s no chance in my mind of another narrator embracing and conveying the strange blend of casual discourse and in-depth history lesson to be found in all of Vronsky’s texts. I’ll surely give the other audiobooks a chance, as my significant other and I listen to these while we’re out adventuring, but I feel a sense of disenchantment in advance that is unfair to the other narrators who’ve worked on Vronsky’s books. Sons of Cain: A History of Serial Killers from the Stone Age to the Present is a mouthful of a title, to be sure, but it’s a fitting title for such a densely packed deep dive into the history of serial killers throughout recorded civilization. Spending a period focusing on the development of the triune brain, as proposed by evolutionary neuroscientist Paul D. MacLean in the 1960s (which, while oversimplified based on our current knowledge, is still a rather useful tool for understanding the way our brains work and how they sometimes malfunction), Vronsky discusses the four Fs that defined the existence of early man (and still define the existence of most life as we know it). Feeding, Fucking, Fighting, and Fleeing are still the core behavioral motivators underlying our daily lives, but with trappings of civility and leisure tossed into the mix. There’s some analysis of why and how homo sapien became the dominant hominid and the potential role of necrophobia in that success. There’s surely some strong argument in opposition to his theories and hypotheses regarding how and why early man survived while other competing branches of the same evolutionary tree did not, but none of them are any more likely to be valid or accurate. It’s all conjecture and educated guesswork when we’re talking about things like that. From there, we move on to the meat of the book, detailing early records of “lycanthrope” lust murders from early history, evaluating these past instances through the lens of the present, and applying our current understanding to these things. It’s truly fascinating and well worth the time, reading or (in my case) listening to Vronsky’s meticulous considerations of mass murder cases from centuries ago. Arguably, the most rewarding aspect of this book is the author’s discussion of Diabolus In Cultura, the combination of cultural factors and arrangements that contributed to the growing numbers of serial killers and the periods wherein we’ve experienced surges of what we would classify as modern serial killers. It’s never one thing, isolated from other elements, but rather a concatenation of sorts that produces a surge of individuals prone to that sort of behavior. Fair warning, as the end of the book approaches, and Vronsky is discussing the “Golden Age of Serial Killers” here in America, spanning from the mid-1960s through the 1990s, there are some rather long lists involved. They can become more than a little tedious but are essential to capturing a full understanding of what he’s trying to convey. That was the one section of this book where I’d have preferred to be reading rather than listening to the narration.
Matt Serafini’s Ocean Grave is a much larger story than I could have anticipated. When I say it’s larger, I don’t mean in page-count or anything, but rather all of the elements involved in the narrative. There is a lot more to this story than it seems like there could be, and somehow it still works. It manages to add some social commentary into the mix as well, as the best fiction usually does…involving international relations, the Western world’s obsession with a sanitized tourism-focused exploration of untamed locales, and the widespread impact of poverty in third-world nations. This book has something for anyone who enjoys adventure…a honeymoon retreat plagued by secrets, treasure hunting, pirates, soldiers of fortune, a centuries-old mystery, inhuman creatures, and a seemingly unstoppable sea monster. Even with all of these elements, Ocean Grave never feels particularly disjointed or difficult to follow. One thing I will say is that, if you get to know a character within this narrative, you can expect them to have a 70/30 chance of dying before the tale is complete…and it won’t be some noble, glorious death. This story is real-to-life, in that the characters aren’t unnaturally lucky or imbued with the almost superhuman ability to survive the impossible conditions they face. Like those of us in the real world, most people don’t survive extreme situations involving modern-day pirates and warlords…and when you add in a monster lurking in the ocean depths, no one walks away unscathed. The narration from Sean Duregger is clear and professional. He does an excellent job of providing characters with distinct voices and accents (where appropriate). One bit of warning, if you, like me, get tired of hearing the term “CIA spook” over and over again during one of the earliest chapters of the book, don’t worry…that repetitive nature doesn’t persist through the rest of the story. It took me a lot longer to finish listening to this audiobook because I stopped it near the end of that particular chapter precisely because that repetitive terminology was driving me mad. I wish I’d just powered through it because the story is excellent after that.
This is the second collection of assorted poetry from John Baltisberger I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing. This time, it was in audiobook format rather than chapbook, as In Service of Slaughter had been. There’s a good variety for anyone who enjoys horror and poetry in combination, though it is a bit on the short side, being adapted from a chapbook. Baltisberger performs his own narration, which makes the experience more personal and intimate than I suspect it would have been from a third-party narrator. “Nameless Leviathan” stands out for the simple fact that he layers his voice multiple times to create an effect similar to the verse/response effect one might experience in a church or temple. It creates a more chant-like quality rather than feeling like a straightforward piece of poetry, and I enjoyed that a great deal. The limerick included is entertaining, for being so gruesome…but limericks, by design, are always amusing in a strange way…something to do with the rhythm and sing-song quality of the style.
When people think of Warhammer 40K, it’s often in terms of large-scale warfare and military maneuvers/strategy. The tabletop game and the video games have often been more focused on those elements of the Warhammer 40K universe, so it makes sense that this is the thing first coming to mind. We all first imagine the indomitable space marine in their hulking power armor wielding a chain weapon or some absurdly massive firearm. Eisenhorn: Xenos by Dan Abnett provides us with a more intimate, character-driven exploration of the Warhammer 40K universe, and it’s a great thing. Following Inquisitor Gregor Eisenhorn as he seeks to unravel the convoluted threads of a mystery involving ruling families, rogue traders, alien species, and Chaos Marines is an exciting ride indeed. With dire consequences looming on the horizon if Eisenhorn fails in his mission, we feel the tension all too vividly. The narration from Toby Longworth for the audiobook edition is amazing as he brings to life the character of Gregor Eisenhorn as well as his compatriots and antagonists. An already captivating narrative is made all the more gripping with the harsh tones and grave articulation of this narrator.
Jeremy Bates’s Run is a fast-paced, intense story with an underlying message of how we as a society have dropped the ball concerning mental health for our former military personnel. Our protagonist, Charlotte, is a prime example of Murphy’s Law being in full effect. Her parents were murdered when she was a child and then her high school sweetheart returns from a series of traumatic deployments overseas (one of which terminating in multiple lives lost by those beside him) with psychosis that pushes at the very edge of worst-case scenario PTSD. During a camping trip that was intended to help Luke find his balance, he lashes out and severely assaults two of Charlotte’s friends before attempting to harm her as well. We flash forward from there to a year later with Charlotte attempting to move on with her life, dating a new guy, and focusing on finishing school…and then Luke reappears after being released from prison. Everything takes on a staccato quality from there, as Luke becomes increasingly paranoid and violent, his instability culminating in an act of violence befitting only those we consider terrorists. It’s a short read/listen and it’s well worth taking the time to do so. The audiobook is narrated by Jenna Green, someone I consider a friend, an individual I’ve known for a great many years–since we worked together once upon a time at a local television affiliate. The quality of her narration is superb, and I’m not saying that because I’m biased. I feel entirely confident that I have recommended her to other writers who are looking for a woman to narrate their audiobooks in the future.
Thomas R. Clark has crafted an interesting tale with Bella’s Boys. It’s a little bit American Psycho, a larger bit of cosmic horror, and a lot of splatterpunk erotica. The reason I mention the novel from Bret Easton Ellis isn’t only because of the fixation on music and the almost overwhelming attention to detail associated with said music throughout the novella–but that does have something to do with it–it’s because this novella captures something of the 1990s dive bar, metalhead scene in the same way American Psycho satirized the white-collar, predatory capitalist world of the 1980s. At the same time, Bella’s Boys certainly depicts graphic acts of sex and violence (often simultaneously) with the same unrelenting and unfiltered lack of concern so many readers enjoyed from Ellis’s novel. The afterward, providing a glimpse into the author’s life and the real-life snowstorm that inspired the blizzard taking place within the novella, was a nice touch. It’s fun and entertaining to see just how much of the story was pulled from a piece of Clark’s own life. I would certainly hope none of the people trapped in the house they were trapped in during the real blizzard ended up being converted into conscious bits of fecal matter…but maybe the truth is stranger than fiction? The short story, Prey for Change, attached to the end is a tantalizing glimpse of a world that melds Viking society, werewolf mythology, and something reminiscent of the army of the dead from Game of Thrones. I would read more of that story, for sure. Since I listened to the audiobook edition of Bella’s Boys, a comment on the narration is in order. It’s almost unfortunate that the sole weakness with this edition of the book is the quality of Allyson Wentworth’s narration. This isn’t to say the narrator does a bad job of it, but there was a certain flatness to elements that seemed like they merited a bit more passion or at least spirited delivery. From what I can see, she has only narrated a couple of books thus far, and it could be due to this being the beginning of her career as an audiobook narrator. Please don’t let my personal opinion on the narration dissuade you from checking out the book in whatever format most appeals to you. I sincerely doubt even my favorite audiobook narrators were at the apex of their craft when they started.
Samantha Kolesnik’s True Crime is a gritty deep dive into an abusive household and the horrible consequences of that abuse. It’s all the more awful for the plausibility of it. Suzy’s only escape from the horrific emotional, physical, and sexual abuse from her mother–and boyfriend(s)–is reading True Crime magazines that she’s fixated on. Her only allies in the cruel childhood she’s experienced are her older brother, the emotionally detached Lim, and the unseen girl, Alice, held captive in the basement by Suzy’s mother, speaking to Suzy only through the heat registers. Little does she know that she and her older brother, Lim, are soon to create their own story befitting her favorite magazine…as she smashes an ashtray into her monstrous mother’s head…and that is only the beginning. As Suzy evades justice and Lim winds up in prison for the murders no one imagines Suzy could have been involved with, we find ourselves wondering if she can be rehabilitated with a second chance and a clean slate. The animal freakshow scene was deeply upsetting and made me want to attack the spectators as well, and the later scene where Suzy discovers the dogs made me sad too. Acts of cruelty and violence against animals do more to get under my skin than the same sort of violence perpetrated against people. It seems that Suzy and I have that in common. Jennifer Pickens expertly narrates the audiobook edition of the story, capturing the equal measures of naivete and cruelty of Suzy’s first-person narrative.
I grew up in an abusive household in a rural region. This story hits close to home for anyone with that sort of background. While it was my father, rather than my mother, who levied the abuse, it doesn’t change much. That the abuse from my father was physical rather than sexual isn’t much of a difference. The sexual abuse, instead, came from a slightly older girl who lived next door and who saw a six or seven year old boy as a suitable way to learn about the differences between boys and girls.I wanted to include a little warning, in case anyone is triggered by these sorts of things.
God’s Eye: Awakening is what you might expect from Aleron Kong, but with higher stakes and with zero fucks given, much like our nascent god, Zero Fell. Until volumes seven and eight of The Land, we didn’t really see much by way of consequences for the protagonist or his closest allies. This is clearly not going to be the case with the Labyrinth World novels. As much as Zero Fell begins his journey on Telos with generous sponsors and an appearance of a potentially–charmed–new life, that illusion is thoroughly shattered by the end of this first volume in the series. Where the story of The Land is firmly rooted in a basis of standard RPG fare, God’s Eye establishes just as much of a basis in RTS as in RPG gaming. It’ll be interesting to see how this plays out as future volumes are released and Zero more firmly establishes himself as a god in this new world. Aleron Kong infuses this story with the same irreverent wit, pop-culture homage, and character-building you’ll be familiar with if you’ve enjoyed his previous work…but with a lot more violence and with a faster pace than the slow build-up to a major conflict we experienced with The Land. This book manages to be darker, coming off the heels of the eighth book of The Land (which was substantially darker than the earlier installments, though that darkness really started taking root near the latter half of volume seven)…so that should serve as a warning for anyone who’s just looking for a fun read with light-hearted fantasy excitement. The audiobook is competently narrated by Luke Daniels and I look forward to hearing more narration from him as this series progresses.