Powerful Pages - Armor by John Steakley (from 1984)

 

Powerful Pages - Armor by John Steakley (from 1984)

Armor is a tough book to review. Clunky and uneven to the point that it feels downright amateurish at times, it also boasts sequences that are nothing short of superlative. Even when it misfires, the book is involving, and the author manages to hook us on his colorful characters even when they veer toward caricatures and the non-stop action threatens to bludgeon us into tedium. It isn't easy to maintain the pace that Steakley sets, and it's hard to work on such a scale without shattering the ability to sustain belief. I don't think that Steakley ever drops the ball, but he comes damn close enough that I'm inclined to think that many may disagree with me on that front. In fact, some may determine that he drops the ball repeatedly. Armor hammers us with gruesome battles in an endless war and a steady tide of machismo with the volume turned all the way up. And yet there is a lot of insight into the psychology of war and the devious political mechanics of combat masquerading as industry. There is an attachment to the protagonists that doesn't waver but steadily mounts. There is a conclusion that ties a nice bow on the proceedings while posing new questions. At the end of the day, Armror is all about Felix, a man for whom death is a way of life, and Jack Crow, a rogue who is either the most dangerous man in the galaxy or an utter buffoon. If you enjoy their antics as much as I did, you will find a lot to enjoy with this overblown sci-fi yarn. At the same time, anyone yearning for literary prowess is apt to toss this one into the nearest trashcan. I'm going to recommend it with some trepidation--and a robust guarantee that none of my readers will find it boring. 

Final Grade: C+

Book Review - The Bazaar of Bad Dreams by Stephen King (from 2015)

Stephen King's latest is a collection of short fiction that may represent some of the author's best writing.  Stirring and insightful, The Bazaar of Bad Dreams is a rich offering that arrives complete with a profound assortment of chills, thrills, and chuckles.  Having said that, calling this collection a bit morbid is surely an understatement, and the supernatural elements at play are slight in comparison to many of King's most entertaining tales.  I really liked The Bazaar of Bad Dreams and I can't say that I disliked any of the short stories contained therein, though the 2 poems inserted in the mix provide little in the way of conflict with the author's assertion that he isn't much of a poet.  My favorite story was probably "The Little Green God of Agony" and "Morality" was surely my least favorite, but every piece of short fiction contained in the book had something to offer.  The prose was top notch and the strong characterizations and the depth that define King's incredible talent were on full display throughout.  With that in mind, I can't really complain about The Bazaar of Bad Dreams, though it must be noted that it isn't nearly as fun or as robust as either of his earliest collections, Night Shift and Skeleton Crew, a pair of treasure chests overflowing with dreadful horrors and fiendish delights.  In closing, The Bazaar of Bad Dreams is a fine collection that mostly favors contemplation over excitement and provides far more in the way of subdued reflection than stark raving terror.

Book Review - The Descent by Jeff Long (from 1998)

The Descent was a solid book with a somewhat lackluster conclusion that makes it difficult to rate.  On the one hand, the characters and the atmosphere were lively and entrancing, and I thoroughly enjoyed this one right up until the very end.  On the other hand, the climax was pretty weak and it left a bad taste in my mouth.  Long's prose is vivid and compelling, and The Descent surely qualifies as a genuine page-turner.  There were some truly horrific sequences embedded in the book, though it mostly served as a grim thriller masquerading as an adventure yarn that was equal parts Jules Verne* and Micheal Crichton.  I will note that those elements which mirrored Verne's work fared better than the author's attempts to channel Crichton, though Long still succeeded in enriching his text with more science and wit than many authors who deal with similar themes.  In truth, if I had enjoyed the ending a bit more, The Descent would have emerged as a top-notch affair that I would heartily recommend to anyone.  As it is, I still rate it as a solid and entertaining thrill ride that is worth taking, and I am pretty sure that many will enjoy it far more than I did.

*Long made no attempt to conceal the notion that in many ways his tale could be viewed as a modern take on Journey to the Center of the Earth.

Final Grade: B-

Short Attention Span Review - Salem's Lot (1979)

While the decision to go with a Nosferatu type vampire is a wild departure from Stephen King's novel, the 1979 television adaptation of Salem's Lot still succeeds in bringing that terrifying book to life.  There are other differences and this miniseries is surely vastly inferior to the vampire-filled pageturner that I rank as King's best, but it still has a lot going for it.  David Soul doesn't look anything like the main character that King described, a haunted writer named Ben Mears, but he excels in the role.  I think his presence is perhaps the most impressive thing about this adaptation, though the ghastly Marsten House is also beautifully realized.  The effects are solid throughout and the score is sheer perfection.  Soul is surrounded by worthy performers like James Mason, Bonnie Bedelia, Elisha Cook Jr., George Dzundza, and Geoffrey Lewis, among others.  In addition to putting together a nifty cast, this production also nailed the quaint setting of Jerusalem's Lot, a neat little town that is drained of all life by the horrors that lurk in this imaginative shocker.  When King wrote the book, he set out to bring Dracula to Maine, and that premise works as well on the screen as it did on the page.  The 2004 remake starring Rob Lowe was downright dreadful, but I'm a big fan of this 1979 spookshow from the mind of the most demented author of our time.  As with any of King's adaptations (and adaptations in general), the book is better, but Tobe Hooper's take on Salem's Lot is cool, creepy, and lots of fun.

Final Grade: B

Though he looks nothing like the character that Stephen King described, David
Soul's work as Ben Mears is the biggest strength of this TV mini-series from 1979.

Short Attention Span Review: The Relic (1996)

It's an old story: a great book goes to Hollywood and becomes the basis for a lesser movie.  What can I say?  The best stories are told on paper and they can't always be transferred to the big screen without losing a little something along the way.  Sometimes they lose a lot.  Yet there are cases--like The Relic--where the book is so incredible that even a lukewarm adaptation makes for an entertaining show.  While it is surely a far cry from the book, to include the absence of the novel's main character and a far less impressive conclusion, The Relic still works in a variety of ways.  The mood and the sets are top-notch and the very idea of setting a creature feature in a museum (which is poised to debut a new exhibit entitled "Superstition") gives the picture a slick and creepy vibe.  The cast (Penelope Ann Miller and Tom Sizemore are the stars, and the wonderful Linda Hunt makes the most of her role) is on point and the direction c/o Peter Hyams is equal parts ominous and exciting.  Stan Winston provided a stellar design for the monster and most of the effects are solid.  The Relic also benefits from holding off on showing us the beast that roams the halls of the museum until the closing reel, generating a lot of suspense on the way to the grand finale.  Unfortunately, the biggest failing from the effects team comes during the climax of the picture, . . . and that's a real bummer.  Honestly, if there were no book to compare this film to and the final confrontation with the fearsome creature that causes so much havoc along the way wasn't bungled, this would be classic horror fare.  As it is, it's well worth a watch in spite of its flaws, and viewers who dig horror should be able to sink their teeth into this one.  It's not the horror movie equivalent of a good steak, but a decent burger will do in a pinch.

Final Grade: C

Great sets are among the movie's many strengths.

Journey of the Dead by Loren D. Estleman (from 2011)

Journey of the Dead is an interesting take on Pat Garrett's later years that aims to be something more.  Entwining Garrett's tale with the story of an aging alchemist in pursuit of the fabled Philosopher's Stone, Estleman tries to elevate the famous lawman's inevitable decline into a meditation on time and destiny.  To some extent the author succeeds, but I could have done without it; I don't feel that the alchemist subplot was necessary for those themes to be featured in the book.  In truth, the alchemist's role in Estleman's novel is exceptionally minor, and while Estleman is able to wring some thoughtful and hauntingly poetic moments out of this character's presence, it seldom feels like more than a gimmick or a distraction.  This is Garrett's story, glossing over his early years and his fateful date with his poker buddy Billy the Kid in favor of exploring his efforts to live up to his monumental reputation as he aged and society evolved.  When the book focuses on Garrett (as it does for the bulk of the tale--I would say that Book of the Dead is 95% Pat Garrett and 5% nameless alchemist), it is intriguing and complex, expertly depicting a man whose greatest skills are becoming less relevant as the times change even as his ambition grows.  He grapples with guilt and his own wants and desires, which are frequently foolhardy and self-destructive.  All the while, he remains compelling and likable.  I enjoyed Book of the Dead and I would recommend it to fans of this material, but I think I would have given it a better grade if it was a more direct exploration of Pat Garrett's waning years.

Final Grade: B-

Finders Keepers by Stephen King (2015)

The latest from Stephen King is the second entry in a new trilogy.  It boasts the unlikely trio of heroes who saved the day in the slick and entertaining thriller Mr. Mercedes, though they don't show up here until the second act is well underway.  This novel is really more about a teenage boy who bites off more than he can chew and a sadistic lunatic whose love for prose is only rivaled by his penchant for dishing out brutality with a total lack of remorse.  Oh, he also has a knack for blaming his mother and an old friend for every sick mistake that he makes in a life that is filled with such mistakes.  This book is tied to its predecessor in more ways than one and a creepy subplot serves as an intriguing bridge to the next chapter in this blood-curdling saga.  I liked Finders Keepers a lot; it's a genuine page-turner and the good guys from Mr. Mercedes are some of the most interesting heroes that King has provided us with in a while.  Yet I wasn't as keen on young Peter Saubers, the gutsy hero of Finders Keepers, though the villainous Morris Bellamy was equal parts compelling and utterly repulsive.  Peter was a bright lad who was capable of fine moments that clearly displayed the presence of grit and intelligence, but there were a few too many times when he made incredibly stupid decisions for my liking.  Sometimes panic or stress were to blame, but some of these miscues seemed necessary to advance the plot.  Of course, Peter was young and maybe I expected too much from him.  Additionally, I should note that even the best fiction is often reliant upon plot devices to a certain extent.  Regardless, Finders Keepers is a gripping read with a wealth of tension, some truly abhorrent moments, and several well-defined characters at its disposal.  It's not top-shelf Stephen King, but a good book from this titan trumps a great book from most authors.

Final Grade: B

The Onion Field by Joseph Wambaugh (from 1973)

I greatly enjoy Joseph Wambaugh's work, but his non-fiction books hit me a lot harder than his fiction.  Truthfully, my favorite fiction novels by this cop-turned-author are titles like The Choirboys and The New Centurions, books which seem to be a bit more authentic than some of his more robust offerings.  It's not that he doesn't write well, and I can see where his more entertaining yarns could represent a much-needed departure from the darker territory he tends to cover in his efforts to chronicle actual events.  Yet there's a potency to his non-fiction that cannot be equaled.  I'm being 100% sincere when I say that I can't imagine any author from any era writing a better account of a crime or the efforts of the police to combat the lesser elements of our society.  His impeccable research, his keen understanding of human nature, and his ability to present such tales from all angles are all downright inspiring.  Few writers can tell such stories with Wambaugh's amazing attention to detail without bogging the prose down.  Like Fire Lover, The Blooding, or my personal favorite, Lines and Shadows, The Onion Field is never anything less than riveting even as it digs deeper and deeper into a sadistic crime and the incredibly complicated trials that followed.  At once a deeply personal tale of loss and guilt, it also stands as a powerful rebuke of the legal process.  Those who feel that the courts are far more interested in the rights and the welfare of criminals will only be further embittered by this haunting tale of a fine system gone mad.  A noble cop is killed in cold blood and the guilt of the responsible parties is never in doubt, yet the efforts of the defense to prolong and even sabotage the ensuing trials transform a burning quest for justice into a genuine fiasco.  Sadly, there are moments when the courtroom proceedings become so absurd that the passages wherein the author details those shenanigans wind up being somewhat comical.  The Onion Field has it all: a wealth of drama, powerful characterizations, and a heartbreaking combination of destiny and tragedy.  It is a remarkable piece of writing that is ripe with emotion and will leave readers asking difficult questions and pondering monumental issues.

Final Grade: A+

Dark Gold by David Angsten (from 2010)

"Like Benchley's Jaws, David Angsten's debut will once again chase swimmers out of the water."  That's the quote from James Rollins featured on the cover of this book.  I don't necessarily want James Rollins to be burnt to a crisp, but in a perfect world, anyone who compared something like Dark Gold to Jaws would immediately burst into flames.  Dark Gold is more likely to scare readers out of the bookstore.  My work hasn't reached a large enough audience to hold much sway as of yet, but I'm offering up a better quote for future editions of Dark Gold: "If Peter Benchley had suffered some sort of massive head trauma and written a book while dealing with severe headaches and chronic confusion, he might have produced something like Dark Gold--with a better ending."  I don't have to be compensated.  Take the quote and do the right thing: prepare future readers for the mind-numbing descent into stupidity they are about to endure.  Look, black magic, buried treasure, and sea creatures are right up my alley.  I am the target audience for this kind of material.  I'm also willing to admit that the premise was engaging and I initially liked many of the characters, though they grow more and more tiresome as the tale grew more and more insipid.  Yet the wealth of stupidity that punctuated the dull last act would have made even the finest novel seem like an insult to one's intelligence.  Even prior to the idiotic finish, the main character's absurd ability to survive even the most severe injuries was growing rather tiresome.  Every other chapter ended with this dolt's apparent death, and before the foolish climax mercifully drew to a close, I was hoping and praying that this buffoon would finally perish.  Alas, he survived, and the book hinted at the possibility of a sequel--and that's easily the scariest thing about Dark Gold. 

SPOILER ALERT: Don't read this last tidbit if you're still thinking about setting sail on this voyage into idiocy.  I don't want to spoil the book for anyone because I don't dig on spoilers, but I really don't want you to have to read this turd either.  If you think I'm being too hard on Dark Gold (and the conclusion in particular), all I'm saying is this: there's a sequence where our main character is swallowed by the sea creature at the heart of the tale, hangs out with an old chum in its gullet, and then escapes from the creature's mouth to prolong the miserable climax.  That's Dark Gold in a nutshell for you. 

Final Grade: DO NOT read this shit. 

How's that for a Final Grade?  Seriously, I gave it one star on Goodreads because the site wouldn't allow me to give it no stars. 

Baller excerpt (Warning: Adult Content)

Baller revolves around a suspended NBA player and an old friend of his who earns a living starring in pornographic videos.  These unique pals are attending a private party at a posh resort in the mountains when a blizzard rolls in.  The lights go out, a murder is committed, and things quickly spiral out of hand.  None of the prestigious guests who have gathered at WinterCrest are safe.  A game with no rules is being played and deadly gifts have been scattered throughout this remote retreat.  Can our pair of unlikely heroes figure out who is responsible and save the day, or will they suffer a gruesome fate?

Here's a neat little excerpt from Baller that details what happens when a party guest who is up to no good stumbles upon one of the deadly gifts mentioned above:

An excerpt from Baller (Warning: Adult Content)           

Tommy shrieked.  He didn’t know what he had expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t a nest crawling with massive hornets.  To make matters worse, by opening the box he had disturbed an amber vial that had been rigged to spray.  He had been doused with a colorless liquid with an obnoxious smell.  Though Tommy couldn’t have known this, the chemical was known as 1-Pentanol.  It was the primary ingredient in the liquid commonly known as “hornet alarm pheromone,” and it was driving the big insects crazy.  Like many of their social peers, hornets can attack with the strength of the entire nest, identifying their prey with the pheromone.  

This agitated bunch was composed of some extremely large hornets, some over two inches long with heads as big as one of the rotund man’s fingernails.  The fat hornets were burgundy in color and they had thick yellow bands on their swollen abdomens. 

He reached for the lid, but it was too late.  They were coming for him, quickly vacating the box and buzzing angrily as they swarmed toward the startled man.  He abandoned his perch on the bed and screamed.

The alcohol in his bloodstream had made him jumpy.  Without thinking, he raised his weapon and fired three quick shots at the hornets that had taken flight before he emptied the clip in the box. 

He may have killed a couple of them, but that was debatable.  One thing was certain, he had definitely agitated all of the survivors even further.  Tommy flung himself at the door, knocking it open and slamming it so hard that it didn’t latch and instead rebounded back toward him, the hornets gliding through the opening.

“Son of a bitch!”  He screeched.

He turned and jumped for the stairs, landing awkwardly and flailing for balance.  He lost that battle and went tumbling down the staircase with a series of muffled shouts.  In addition to accumulating an array of bruises on his torso, he sprained his left ankle, tweaked his left knee, and nearly dislocated his right shoulder in the process. 

As he tried to stand, collapsing to his knees with a moan, one of the hornets finally caught up to him, stinging him on his hand as he flailed at it.  Another hornet stung him on his forehead.  The pain was instant and Tommy squealed even as he clapped his hand down on the hornet, trapping it against his flesh.  The little fucker stung him again and even bit him as he started to squash it, the bulging abdomen crunching loudly as yellow fluid that looked like mucus oozed out. 

Tommy seethed as he ground the hornet into mush.  Another hornet stung him on the back and he flailed again, disrupting the angry horde.

“Motherfuckers,” he roared.  “You dirty little motherfuckers!”

He dove and rolled, scurrying toward the money stowed by the front door.  The hornets continued to bear down on him, attacking as one, a buzzing monstrosity that thrived on rage.  One of them stung him on his lower back and he screamed again.  The stings were agonizing, far more painful than any that he had ever suffered before. 

Tommy was clawing his way forward, screaming.  He grabbed the money and thrust his shoulder into the door, knocking it open as he lunged out into the cold.  He slammed the door, spittle flying from his lips, but two of the hornets were out there with him, zipping around his face as he ducked and fell, sinking into the snow. 

The hornets were obviously disoriented by the cold and the gusting wind, but they were still coming.

“Damn you!  Damn you to hell!”  Tommy was in great pain and he was losing it.

He ripped his jacket off and used it like a whip, downing both of the vicious insects with a single clumsy strike.  He beat the jacket against the snow and stomped the area in which the hornets had fallen, dancing on their corpses as he trampled them, burying the big bastards in the compacted snow.

“You don’t like that shit, do you?  No, you don’t like that at all.  Lousy motherfuckers!  What in the fuck is going on here?  Son of a bitch!” 

For a few minutes he could do nothing but pace, furious, his body running so hot as a result of his fury, the multiple stings, and the booze coursing through him that he didn’t notice the brutal wind or the frigid cold. 

He was lost in a flurry of emotion, his beautiful plan marred by a situation so absurd that he couldn’t believe he had fallen for it.  Worse yet, even though he had been effectively victimized by this ridiculous scheme, he had no idea as to the intention behind such a ludicrous ploy.  He still had the fucking money and no one was moving in to take it at this, his greatest moment of weakness. 

Was it mindless terror?  A sick joke with no greater meaning?  That wasn’t likely.  It seemed like too much of a coincidence on this particular night, the night he had made his play and took his rightful place in this world.

Tommy was pondering what to do next when Lamont Fields finally eased the big double-deuce into the driveway.  Tommy was so out of sorts that he hadn’t even heard that gigantic machine’s engine rumbling as it approached.

Fields stepped out to greet him, concerned by his grave appearance.  “Damn, man, you all right?”

“No,” Tommy fumed.  “I am not all right.  I am not all right at all.  I am very, very pissed off right now.  As a matter of fact, I am so pissed off that if I were you, and I liked having my teeth in my mouth, I would probably just shut up and get back in the fucking truck.  And I probably wouldn’t say another word tonight if I damn well didn’t have to.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, I-“

“I said shut the fuck up and get back in the fucking truck!  Mouth closed, asshole!  Do you understand?”

Lamont could only look perplexed.

“Answer me!  Do you understand?”

“But I-“

Tommy slapped him.  Hard.  Fields wasn’t a man accustomed to such treatment and the indignation in his eyes was hard to miss, but Tommy couldn’t have cared less.  “Nod your motherfucking head, asshole.”

Lamont glared at him, but Tommy knew his place in the grand scheme of things and he was unafraid.  “Do you understand?”

Fields took a step back and nodded his head.

Short Attention Span Review: The Shining (1980)

 

I'm a big fan of Stephen King and The Shining is one of his darkest and most powerful novels.  My respect for the book initially kept me from appreciating this wonderful film from one the greatest directors ever, Stanley Kubrick.   If I had written this review a decade ago, I may have given this one a "C" or worse.  Truthfully, if one reads King's book and then views the film expecting a faithful adaptation, disappointment is on the horizon.  Kubrick took the basic premise from the novel and did his own thing with it, making a great many substantial changes along the way.  Yet time and my appreciation of quality filmmaking have dramatically softened my stance on this landmark horror movie from 1980.  Despite taking a different approach to the material, Kubrick delivered one hell of a fright flick that is greatly enhanced by Jack Nicholson's most impressive performance.  The energy and the menace that he brings to the role of Jack Torrance is legendary.  I know some think he hammed it up a bit too much, but I can't criticize his work here.  Who has seen this film and somehow managed to avoid quoting it at some point?  Anyone?  Okay, give me an example of a scene in the picture where Jack isn't entertaining as hell.  Go ahead, I'll wait.  No, it isn't a nuanced performance that plumbs the depths of an alcoholic's descent into madness, and I understand why that ticks some people off.  Let's just not ignore the fact that it's a brazen take on a demented character that is incredibly intense and wildly compelling.  Opposite Nicholson, Shelley Long also delivers the goods as Wendy, and it's her excellent portrayal of a battered wife, a role that is ripe with torment and misery, that serve to embellish Jack's reckless abandon and his demonic zeal.  It's also this disparity that pulls the audience in, heightening the struggle taking place in the creepy hotel.  Speaking of the Overlook--man, is this film atmospheric or what?  The cinematography is amazing, the music is full of dread, and the sets are wonderful.  The end result is an ominous and scary film bolstered by rich performances and a director who was a true master of his craft.  It may not be faithful to the book, which is an iconic terror yarn, but this visionary film is also a legitimate masterpiece.

Final Grade: A

This is what you get when you make out with strange women in haunted hotels.

Playlist/Soundtrack for my Current Project

 I know, I know, it's en vogue for artists to tell people all about the music they're listening to while they work these days.  Forgive me for being trendy, but I had an urge to share.  I'm currently nearing the end of my fifth novel, currently titled 101 Nights of the Rougarou.  Ever since I wrote Trailer Park Trash & Vampires, people have been asking me if I would ever pen a story about werewolves.  In a way, this current project is just that, though much I like did with vampires, I'm doing things a bit differently.  The rougarou itself is a bit different from the werewolf, though there are similarities.  There are also several variations sprinkled throughout the folklore pertaining to this particular beast, so that gives me a lot of room to maneuver.  I like that.

Anyway, like many, I like to listen to music while I work.  I've always thought it was a good idea to listen to a fairly consistent mix while I work on a project to maintain a certain mood, so I actually create soundtracks for each of my projects.  I have always been a very visual writer, and I think my work would lend itself well to film, so I proceed accordingly.  Each of these playlists starts with a song I imagine playing over the opening titles and ends with a song I would like to hear played over the credits.  The rest of the music suits the mood and flow of the piece.  Often, there will be songs that are tied to specific scenes.  Finally, since I favor big third acts, you may notice that things build to a crescendo toward the end of the playlist.

So, for those who are interested, here is my soundtrack  for 101 Nights of the Rougarou:

"Sniper At The Gates Of Heaven" by The Black Angels

"I Can Almost See Them" by Tomahawk

"I Am A Man Of Stone" by The Toadies

"Human" by Elastica

"Mama Told Me Not to Come" by Three Dog Night

"Connected" by Stereo MCs

"Caress Me Down"  by Sublime

"Blood On Our Hands" by Death From Above 1979

"The Hives Are Law, You Are Crime" by The Hives

"Adrenalize" by In This Moment

"Silver Queen" by Philm

"Lobster" by Bender

"Smoke a Little Smoke" by Eric Church

"Aisha" by Death In Vegas

"Nervous Shakedown" by AC/DC

"Psychotic Break" by Jerry Cantrell

"The Talking Horse" by The Melvins

"Boom" by Soulfly

"Hush" by Tool

"Adeadenemyalwayssmellsgood" by Future of the Left

"Exhale" by Kylesa

"Stillborn" by Black Label Society

"Bury Me" by Helmet

"Evil World" by Powerman 5000

Mr. Mercedes by Stephen King

It's not often that King writes a straight up thriller, but like everything else, it's something that he excels at.  Mr. Mercedes is a nifty ride with a nice mix of intriguing characters, startling violence, and mystery, and it all comes together in a satisfying climax.  Often, when King offers up such a book, it's a little darker than most similar offerings.  While there are some gruesome bits and some explicit material in Mr. Mercedes, I thought it was gentler than much of King's work.  Having said that, it still has bite, and anyone who picks it up will be turning pages in a frenzy as they get closer and closer to the finale. 

What I'm Working On Now: Baller

I'm currently putting the finishing touches on a novel called Baller.  When I'm done, I'm sending it to Andrew Necci, my trusted editor, and my dear friend Mal Rorrer will dream up a cover.  It's exciting to be at this stage of the game with another project, and this represents another cross-genre yarn, something I'm growing rather fond of.   

Baller is essentially my take on an Agatha Christie mystery, though the end result is (of course) something entirely different.  The protagonists are a basketball player named Luke Wilson and a porn star who calls himself Devil Wood.  Luke is currently serving a suspension, and he has invited his old friend to join him at a private party his former agent is hosting.  The party is set at WinterCrest, a quaint resort in the mountains.  A snowstorm keeps many on the guest list from attending, and those who arrive find themselves snowed in.  Still, it's a beautiful place, and things are going well right up until the host gets murdered.

At this point, our basketball player and porn star have made the acquaintance of Vincent Sanchez, a fearless detective who is also on the guest list.  In fact, they are seated together when the murder takes place.  Vincent looks to Luke and Devil for help and they quickly find themselves swept up in a sinister plot that will become a nightmare for all involved, bringing a frenzy of mayhem and death to WinterCrest.  Can these unlikely heroes survive a number of cold and calculated attacks and uncover the killer's identity before it is too late?  Who is the savage predator at work?  Why is this lunatic preying on the guests stranded at WinterCrest?   

Baller is equal parts mystery, thriller, comedy, and it also has a potent dose of horror in the mix.  I've gone from cross-pollinating horror and comedy or suspense and comedy to birthing a four-headed monster.  The book is surely my most entertaining offering yet, and my revisions are going well.  It isn't often that I speak about my work until I'm finished, but I'm close enough to dish out some details in this case--the first draft is complete--and I wanted you to know what I've been doing when I haven't been writing for RVA or working on movie stuff.  I do my best to share those things with you and I figured now was the time to tell you a little about Baller.  I think the book is hilarious and I don't feel that the comedy is in any way negating the impact of the other genres that it toys with.   It will be interesting to see what you guys think when it is released.  It is very possible that we'll see it in print before the year draws to a close.

Just Another Day in the Life . . .

Sat up until 3:00 a.m. working on my new book and editing an old video project that I'm finally committed to bringing to life--it's a long story.  Anyway, I had a nice workflow going: I would tweak my video as needed and while I waited for the adjustments to render I would bring up Word and type like a madman.  I had a blast with it; I love editing, which I've always considered phase two of directing, and I'm really enjoying the new book that I'm working on.  Last night I wrote the first big bloody horror scene of the book, and those segments are always a lot of fun to work with. 

Then I got up this morning and made pancakes for the fam, and now it's time to do it all over again.  I think an artist is at their best when they're truly enjoying what they're doing.  I hope that's the case, anyway, because I had a great time yesterday and I'm looking forward to another day in the life today.

Jaws by Peter Benchley

I'm reading Jaws.  Again.

Seriously, my paperback is held together by scotch tape and love at this point.  I have a hard time deciding which of the books I hold so dear is actually my favorite.  It's probably the book you've read the most, right?  If that's true, it's either Jaws or 'Salem's Lot.  Either way, the heat of summer is here and I'm hanging with Brody and Quint once again.  I'm happy to hang with Hooper whenever I watch the movie, but he's kind of a prick in the book.  For those who don't know, I'm not offering up any spoilers (unless Hooper being a dick counts) but the book is rather different from the movie.  There are more deaths, there are entire subplots that didn't make it to the cinema, different characterizations, and most importantly, a completely different (and superior) climax.

Recently, I concluded a review of Dan Brown's Inferno by noting that Inferno = Shitburger.  That was accurate.  On a similar note, Jaws = Goldburger.

Inferno by Dan Brown

Several years ago, two of my friends convinced me to read both Angels & Demons and The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown.  I must confess that I knew of the properties and I wasn't really that keen on reading them, but after weeks of peer pressure, I relented.  Honestly, I really liked those books.  I also greatly enjoyed The Lost Symbol when it came out.  I waited until Inferno hit paperback to snag a copy and I finally got to read it last week.  It took the better part of a week for me to finish the book and for those who have seen me zip through four or five books (or more) in a week, that is likely criticism enough.  It's true, I didn't like Inferno.

In fact, let's be brutally honest.  Inferno sucks.  It boasted a flimsy plot, enough coincidences to ruin any thriller, enough absurd twists to ruin any three thrillers, and it also featured some terrible storytelling.  There was one sequence that Brown revisited over and over again for dramatic effect; I honestly groaned the second or third time he did so, and by the time the book (thankfully) drew to a close, he had probably revisited this particular sequence some 15-20 times.  I would recommend Angels & Demons, The Da Vinci Code, and The Lost Symbol to most readers.  I wouldn't recommend Inferno to anyone.

Inferno = Shitburger



 

Under the Dome (Quick Take)

I haven't blogged about this yet, but I'm really digging the Under the Dome series airing this summer on CBS.  I was a big fan of the book, so I was excited to hear that the project was being adapted for television.  Additionally, I'm enjoying the way that the show is using the source material as a guide and not a bible--much like AMC's The Walking Dead .  Much of what I read about in the book is represented, yet there are enough critical differences to give it a different trajectory.  Essentially, this means that even though I've read the book, I'm not really sure what's going to happen next at any point on the show.  I know that many King fans are greatly displeased about this, but I think it allows everyone to be surprised anew as the tale unfolds.

I wonder what the next book or comic to take a similar approach will be?

Anyway, if you're a fan of drama or suspense, or if you enjoy stories where people dealing with dire circumstances realize that their peers pose the greatest threat to them, you should be watching Under the Dome too.

The Scoop on Trailer Park Trash & Vampires (plus an excerpt)

What's my novel about?  Well, it goes something like this:

War erupts between the living and the dead in this unholy romp pitting a ragtag band of misfits against a new breed of vampire. These creatures of the night aren't dapper fiends seducing lovestruck damsels, they are soulless monsters that thrive on carnage and prey on the innocent. Sex, drugs, and violence reign supreme in this gruesome struggle where nothing is sacred and everyone is fair game.
Sink your teeth into Trailer Park Trash & Vampires, a depraved plunge into pure mayhem laced with dark humor and drenched in blood.

. . . . .

When I set out to write this book, I had two goals in mind.  First, I wanted to do something new and different with vampires, and given the popularity of this sub-genre, that was a tall order.  However, I think I succeeded.  My vampires aren't bothered by crosses or garlic, they don't turn into bats, they don't sleep in coffins, and they may not dig the sun, but they can endure it.  They don't even have fangs.  By placing them in a trailer park and showing these fiendish creatures struggling to survive in our modern world, I think I was able to present a different side of these terrors, and I actually feel that their vulnerability makes them even more unpredictable and dangerous.

Secondly, I wanted to have a huge climax.  Who doesn't?  Seriously, nothing is more disappointing than a gripping tale with a lackluster finish, and I wanted to offer up an explosive conclusion in TPT&V.  The end result was a saga that simmers, slowly building momentum until boiling over in a bloody battle that encompasses the last third of the book.

Currently, the book has a 5 star rating on Amazon courtesy of 15 reviews.  Here are a few choice excerpts from those reviews:

"If you are looking for the glitzy hollywood-pretty vampires, which politely and quietly feed and sip upon the high society of Europe, and then delicately wipe their lips with a lacey wet-nap and break for tea and biscuits to discuss Faulkner --- look elsewhere."

-Mal Rorrer

"What Mr. Wayland has done here is to portray vampires the way I believe they should be portrayed, violent and animalistic. These vampires don't sparkle in the sunlight, they rip your throat out and laugh about it as you bleed to death.  The human characters in this story are no less entertaining that their inhuman counter parts. The collection of outcasts thrown together in this trailer park are all unique in their own way and each of them contributes something to the story (even if it's nothing more than acting as a vampire happy meal.)"

-Brandon Bowles

"Mr. Wayland has done away with the aristocratic bloodsuckers of Eastern Europe and replaced them with gritty, primal, and at times surprisingly human monsters. The author not only reinvents the vampire genre, but also creates characters that are powerful and easily related to. Readers will quickly forge bonds with the blue collar residents of Little Drop and their satanic assailants. Black humor abounds in this highly imaginative and blood-soaked romp through Anywhere, USA. If you are tired of the same old one-dimensional rehashed horror clichés then I strongly suggest you pick up a copy of this book."

-Erin Sprinkle

"Think Pulp Fiction meets the Evil Dead Trilogy.  There's plenty of action, insanity, and, of course, sex to keep any hot-blooded reader (vampire or human) hooked."

-William Brust

Additionally, I always envisioned releasing TPT&V as an illustrated novel, and I was able to partner with Chris Visions, an amazing talent, toward that end.  Here's one of the spectacular pieces of grisly artwork he provided for this edition:

Lastly, I didn't think this blog would be complete without an excerpt, so here's one of my favorite sequences from the novel.  This is the second chapter from the big finale, Part Four: Come Hell to Earth.  Here, our hero, Lennie Prescott, a drunk who was once a hell of a basketball player, is under attack.  Vlad, the oldest and most powerful of my vampires, has declared war on the people of Ryker's Trailer Park, and he's looking to kick his campaign off by taking Lennie's head.  Lennie has other ideas . . .

chapter 2: war

1

                                                                                                        

Lennie Prescott found himself dancing with the devil in the eye of the hurricane.   

The rain was pounding down in swirling sheets, stirred by the gusting winds.  The nightmare ride that had started back when the strangers took the trailer on Lot 9 had reached a fearsome crescendo.

      The big vampire was after him and it was on as it had never been on before.  Prescott was moving before his mind actually acknowledged the need to flee.  The big vampire was bearing down on him and Lennie was running, his sore muscles answering the call of duty.

     This then would be either his finest hour or his last.  God knew he was going to try, but if he was a betting man-

     But it was better not to think of such things, it was better to move.  It was better to take hold of the doorknob and thrust the door open, slamming it behind him as he rushed into the camper.  Don’t stop!  Prescott wouldn’t allow himself any time to take pride in the seconds he had earned.  Pride meant death and he knew it. 

     Anything other than allegiance to the battle would result in failure. Lennie grabbed the couch, the ugly piece of shit couch that no one could ever like, and the adrenaline coursing through him boosted his strength.  He was able to thrust the ravaged piece of furniture against the door, wedging it shut with a single monstrous shove.

     But Vlad wasn’t coming through the door.  The vampire dove through the kitchen window, rising up amidst the shattered glass with a grace that would have seemed more at home in a ballet as the camper rocked violently.

    “Motherfucker,” Lennie said.  The beast was no more than six feet away.

     Vlad brushed himself off gleefully and offered the teacher a big smile.  “Howdy, neighbor.” 

     For an instant, Lennie thought he was going to faint.  His legs went rubbery and he wavered on his feet.  A single thought kept him alert: Toby. 

It was going down and Toby was defenseless.  Well, maybe not defenseless, as sharp as he was, he probably had a better chance of getting through this than Lennie did.  But he was outmatched.  They were all outmatched if they went at it alone.

      All these thoughts raced through his mind in no more than a second and then it was just like before, he was moving before he had decided to take action.

     The vampire started laughing.

     Lennie moved the couch just enough to open the door and dashed outside, pulling the door shut carefully and letting up at the last moment so that the locking mechanism didn’t catch as Vlad lunged after him.  The storm was picking up and the moisture on the ground made it hard to keep his footing, but he battled for traction. 

Prescott waited a beat and kicked the door open on the oncoming vampire, catching him high on the forehead with the aluminum frame.  Vlad stumbled backward, spitting curses. 

It was familiar, this motion without thought, this inspired drive that came from being called upon in the heat of battle.  His life was in jeopardy and part of him was petrified, but part of him was thrilled to be a keg in the machine once more.  There had been games when he felt like this, contests where the heated competition had triggered moments where his primitive nature took hold and his body and spirit merged, excluding his mind from the proceedings. 

It was as though Lennie’s intellect became an observer in such situations.

A jagged bolt of lightning arced across the sky as the vampire leapt outside with a fearsome roar.  Lennie made a U-turn and used his momentum to pitch himself toward the broken kitchen window.  He knew such a leap wouldn’t be nearly as easy for him as it was for the beast, but he thought it was possible. 

He was cut on his forearms and his belly as he went through and he slammed down on the tile floor awkwardly, but by some miracle, he came to his feet quickly, his momentum carrying him across the room.  He crashed into the tiny kitchen table he kept against the wall and sent the chairs clattering to the floor.  Without hesitating, Lennie bounded into the living room, shoving the couch forward, using it to barricade the door a second time.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Vlad groaned.  He ignored the window this time and patiently made his way around the camper, looking for a back door but finding only a tiny ventilation shaft. 

Lennie went to the gas stove and turned all the eyes on “HIGH,” pinching off the pilot lights with his thumb and index finger.  He ripped open drawers until he found a lighter and put it in his pocket.  He could smell the gas in the air and it made him think of the family cookouts he had enjoyed as a youngster.

His mind had yet to catch up with his body.

Well, there you have it, the inside scoop on my baby, TPT&V.  If you enjoyed this, I promise you that you'll have a great time with the book.  I strongly believe that fiction should exist solely to entertain, and no one will be bored with this novel.  Thanks for taking the time to read this blog, and I hope to see you at the trailer park!

Click either of the following links to buy the version you prefer:

6 x 9 Paperback - $8.99

Kindle Version - $1.99

Warning: Explicit Content

The Shark is Still Working: The Legacy and Impact of Jaws

It's Shark Week, so while many of you are soaking up all the marine action airing on Discovery, I spent this morning watching the latest documentary on the pop culture phenomenon that is Jaws.  The Shark is Still Working: The Legacy and Impact of Jaws is a feature-length documentary that was included on the 2012 Blu-Ray release of my favorite picture.  I hadn't taken the time to view this collection of never-before-seen footage and interviews with the cast and crew, partly because I've seen so many of these things.  Heck, I've even read numerous accounts of the film's production, release, and most importantly, the impact the movie has had on the industry at large and the legions of fans who still adore it.  I found this documentary to be the best of the lot, and I was amazed at just how moving this making-of feature was.

Now, I could go on and on about the movie, and anyone who knows me well has probably heard me do so on multiple occasions.  Yet I'm going to direct my attention to The Shark is Still Working, which was a truly emotional experience for me.  Obviously, anyone who loves the film is going to grow wistful when thinking about the key figures involved who are no longer with us, namely Peter Benchley, Robert Shaw, and Roy Scheider, but there was so much more to this documentary.  I don't know if I can adequately describe how much impact hearing about the ultimate fate of the Orca had on me.  Seeing how Martha's Vineyard has been shaped by the movie and witnessing how the making of the film is still celebrated there was also profoundly touching.  There are many great movies, just as there are many great books, yet the scope of this particular piece of art's legacy transcends both mediums.  It's a global experience, and the legions of devotees who still cherish Jaws give it a revered spot in our society than cannot be understated.

The documentary was riveting, capturing Peter Benchley's efforts to write the story, the studio's efforts to turn the property into a motion picture, the making of the film, and the unbelievable reception that followed.  To this day, many people still harbor potent feelings on both sharks and the ocean based on Jaws.  To this day, our interest in sharks and the popularity of such material still serves to enrich the storied history of one of our most beloved tales.  The Shark is Still Working does a fantastic job of exploring how the story came to be and probes the fascination and wonder Jaws has spawned for several generations of people--not just Americans, but people all over the world.  It was a magical ride, and I can honestly say that few stories have struck such a chord with me.  Surely, I've never been so moved by a documentary about the making of a film, and that's both a credit to everyone involved with this feature and the film and book that launched the phenomenon.

If you are a fan of Jaws, (and seriously, who isn't?) you owe it to yourself to sit down and spend a little time with The Shark is Still Working.  I thought it was positively mesmerizing, and it only served to reinforce my love for a story that is proving to be timeless.