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Some of this novel is clumsy and a little repetitive, but the ferocity of Nesca’s writing is indomitable and covers weaknesses with something that approaches indisputable glory. He is a poet writing prose and dealing with material that is so close to him that he often struggles to manage it objectively. It is raw honesty from one of life’s damaged angels and worth your attention.
In The Writer Behind the Words Girard put her heart, soul, and her disappointments and discouragements into words that could help beginning writers see the disappointments they may face before they find out the hard way as Girard did.
With a hefty dose of humour, the reader is encouraged to consider the impact of what we do today on how the future might look. While the book isn’t didactic, and is often jocular, Williams makes it clear that whether or not the human race survives, and in what shape, is something that we have to imagine and work towards.
Out of this unpromising material, McCay built a stunning world of meticulously drawn nightmares. Although sometimes the drawing is hurriedly performed, it never lacks vigor and often the drawing is done with a zest that dwells on the mind of the reader as the best expression of fantasies that display breath-taking imaginative power.
Signed, Mata Hari is a beautifully crafted little book well worth a careful reading. Its prose is magical. Its story is compelling. Its characters are painted in all their flawed humanity.
I’ve been reading his blog for so long now that calling him Wheaton, or Mr. Wheaton is just as odd as trying to call my junior high teachers by their first names now that I’ve grown. From that standpoint, The Happiest Days of Our Lives reads for me less as an autobiography than as stories being swapped over beers by a couple of old friends remembering the Good Old Days.
Pratchett shows his usual flair – wonderfully Dickensian – for names. Lipwig’s girlfriend, a very abrasive young woman, is Adora Belle Dearheart. And the fun gathers in the last quarter of the book to reward the persistence of the reader.
The author is George Harvey Bone, the alter-ego of a traveller, foodie and all-round up-for-it type who seems to be one of those arch, silly British types, hugely endearing and a bit over-the-top who do it all with tongue in cheek, a nudge and a wink, and a pint in their hand. Reminds me of our John Murray authors, The Bart & the Bounder, and there might well be two people behind Mr Bone, it's hard to tell.
The photographs become everyone’s close people. The times and places become our own memories of what we’ve known, and been and where we’ve ended. It is, indeed, a long afternoon – and at the end of it is evening. Though this isn’t a fast novel to read, nor does it leave the reader with a denouement in any sense. Yet it is both beautiful, and powerful in its ability to draw out, like a great poem, the core meaning of a moment.
To cap off these colorful and brilliantly-written escapades, author McCrae sets them in short chapters with wit and panache not seen since Oscar Wilde’s time. Couple this with a prologue and epilogue set in a mental hospital and you simply won’t believe the twisted and perverse ending. It made my head spin just trying to figure out how the author—any author—could come up with something this good, this unusual, and this surprising.
"A haunting and absorbing narrative of trying self-discovery."
Some of this novel is clumsy and a little repetitive, but the ferocity of Nesca’s writing is indomitable and covers weaknesses with something that approaches indisputable glory. He is a poet writing prose and dealing with material that is so close to him that he often struggles to manage it objectively. It is raw honesty from one of life’s damaged angels and worth your attention.
In The Writer Behind the Words Girard put her heart, soul, and her disappointments and discouragements into words that could help beginning writers see the disappointments they may face before they find out the hard way as Girard did.
With a hefty dose of humour, the reader is encouraged to consider the impact of what we do today on how the future might look. While the book isn’t didactic, and is often jocular, Williams makes it clear that whether or not the human race survives, and in what shape, is something that we have to imagine and work towards.
Out of this unpromising material, McCay built a stunning world of meticulously drawn nightmares. Although sometimes the drawing is hurriedly performed, it never lacks vigor and often the drawing is done with a zest that dwells on the mind of the reader as the best expression of fantasies that display breath-taking imaginative power.
I’ve been reading his blog for so long now that calling him Wheaton, or Mr. Wheaton is just as odd as trying to call my junior high teachers by their first names now that I’ve grown. From that standpoint, The Happiest Days of Our Lives reads for me less as an autobiography than as stories being swapped over beers by a couple of old friends remembering the Good Old Days.
Pratchett shows his usual flair – wonderfully Dickensian – for names. Lipwig’s girlfriend, a very abrasive young woman, is Adora Belle Dearheart. And the fun gathers in the last quarter of the book to reward the persistence of the reader.
The author is George Harvey Bone, the alter-ego of a traveller, foodie and all-round up-for-it type who seems to be one of those arch, silly British types, hugely endearing and a bit over-the-top who do it all with tongue in cheek, a nudge and a wink, and a pint in their hand. Reminds me of our John Murray authors, The Bart & the Bounder, and there might well be two people behind Mr Bone, it's hard to tell.
The photographs become everyone’s close people. The times and places become our own memories of what we’ve known, and been and where we’ve ended. It is, indeed, a long afternoon – and at the end of it is evening. Though this isn’t a fast novel to read, nor does it leave the reader with a denouement in any sense. Yet it is both beautiful, and powerful in its ability to draw out, like a great poem, the core meaning of a moment.
To cap off these colorful and brilliantly-written escapades, author McCrae sets them in short chapters with wit and panache not seen since Oscar Wilde’s time. Couple this with a prologue and epilogue set in a mental hospital and you simply won’t believe the twisted and perverse ending. It made my head spin just trying to figure out how the author—any author—could come up with something this good, this unusual, and this surprising.
