“If we do this, if you want my help with it, it isn’t some stupid selection process where we pick and choose a few hundred who we decide are worth it.  We just save everyone we can.”

 St. George– a.k.a. ‘The Dragon”–a.k.a. George Bailey (seriously?), is an ex hero.  Just a year before, he was the darling of humanity, saving the innocent from the not so innocent of Los Angeles and making headlines everywhere he went.  Whether rescuing a woman from being raped in an alley, smacking around some gang bangers on the prowl, or attempting to deal with a strange biological outbreak that re-animates the dead, he was the best at what he did.  And what he did was be a hero.  Invulnerable, invincible, the result of a freak lab accident, the Dragon kept the city from falling into anarchy, aided by a cadre of fellow super humans, all of whom developed their super powers in the recent past.

There was Gorgon, whose gaze would tap the life force of others and convert it into super strength.  Zzap, a cripple, confined to a wheelchair, capable of becoming a being of pure energy, blessed with all the powers of a God.  imagine the Sun with a personality.   Cerberus–a girl and her power armor.  The Regenerator—I think that one would be self explanatory.  And then there was Stealth, the supermodel vigilante, combining genius level intelligence with supermodel level sensuality.  

I did say ex heroes though, didn’t I? 

What happens to a hero when all he (or she) has vowed to protect is gone?  When the situation goes from bad to worse (to worst) and it’s no longer a matter of keeping humanity safe, but rather keeping humanity alive?  And what could possibly bring such a situation to pass? Peter Clines’ EX-HEROES explores that question. 

Yep, you guessed it…the answer is Zombies.

Bouncing back and forth between the times before and after the zombie apocalypse, EX-HEROES chronicles the exploits of those few super heroes that have managed to survive (they’re not the only “ex-heroes” in this story), trying to maintain a small enclave of humanity that remains uninfected.   Day by day they struggle against the hordes of undead clogging the streets of Los Angeles, ever watchful for the appearance of their undead brethren.  Dead superheroes have no control over their powers, but these ex heroes have them nonetheless.

At the same time, several of their members are trying both to trace the source of the outbreak and to find a cure (or at least a vaccine) for those who are left.  They’ve known for some time that if you die—you turn.  What they don’t know is that one of them has intimate knowledge of how the outbreak began.  Complicating their search is the competition, a loose coalition of former gangs united under the aegis of “the Seventeens” who have fought tooth and nail with the heroes for the spoils of a dead civilization.  So far, it’s a dead heat.

When my copy of EX-HEROES arrived in the mail, I got a little worried.  Wrapped in an almost amateurishly bound trade paperback, it appeared as though I had been snookered into reading another author’s self-publication.  Thank God I got beyond that.  What I found inside was a first rate blend of apocalyptic zombie fiction, combined with some good old fashioned super-heroism. 

When I say old fashioned, I don’t mean to imply that the heroes are black and white cookie cutter caricatures—they’re real people, simply blessed with extraordinary abilities.  As is the fashion these days, the lines between good and evil are blurred, and no character is without flaw.  Whether it’s Stealth’s lack of empathy, or the Regenerator’s apparent cowardice, Clines treats his superheroes as flawed beings–much like the rest of us.  Hell, some of them aren’t even likeable—but then who said superheroes had to be nice?

Of course, like every good zombie novel, there’s a twist, which I’ll leave you to get to on your own. 

Once you’re done with this zombies vs. superheroes mash-up, never fear.  The fun continues in Cline’s sequel, EX-Patriots.

“It is with a heavy heart that I take up my pen to write these the last words in which I shall ever record the singular gifts by which my friend Sherlock Holmes was distinguished.”~Dr John Watson.

Zombies are the least of the problems encountered in Sherlock Holmes and the Zombie Problem by author Nick S. Thomas.  Bad writing can usually be overcome by a decent plot, but sometimes you run into stuff like this:

“Shocked and in fear I stumbled to my feet and withdrew across the room, two more shots rang out from Holmes’ gun, one hitting the attacker in the shoulder, the other missing, it had no effect.”

 or this:

 “I ripped the cabinet open, taking up my recently purchased rifle, a wonder I now was pleased to have purchased just a few months before, an 1881 model Marlin under lever rifle, kept for this very type of situation which I had hoped to never face but prepared for anyway.”

Let me just say that if you’re not willing to write proper sentences, then I am not willing to read your book. 

It’s a shame really, as the idea of Sherlock Holmes fighting a Zombie horde unleashed upon him by the nefarious James Moriarty is something I’m totally on-board with.  A great idea, but in this case so poorly executed that (for the first time ever) I could not finish the novel. 

That’s how bad it is. 

If you can’t write a page without a run on sentence, then I would suggest either a refresher course in grammar, finding a half decent editor–or a career change.

 Besides the generosity (and a deft hand with laser alarm systems), he’s a great author, especially if you’re a fan of mysteries with a touch–a heavy touch–of humour.

So, when he decided to try his hand at viral (well, lets call it medical) marketing, I said to myself, “oh yeah, I’m on-board.”

*note to Southern readers–”oh yeah” = “Hellz Ya!” 

It also helps that he’s showcasing a new short story collection.  Last time it was, Naughty: Nine tales of Christmas Crime, available as a Kindle ebook, and well worth the $2.99.  Actually, at that price, it’s a steal!  (see what I did there?)  From poisoned Fruitcake (really, is there any other kind?)and those who re-gift them to Santa’s abduction by the Soviets back in ’63, you’ll find yourself amused, entertained, and generally satisfied.

This time, it’s My Dog Needs Surgery: The Book.  As he himself put it:

Worst.  Title.  Ever. 

 Then again, it does have a certain efficiency.  His dog literally needs surgery:

“Yes, the above-mentioned “someone in need” is my dog. Her name is Amy, she’s three years old and she has luxating patella. That’s bad knees to you and me. How bad are they? Well, they occasionally pop out and go for a jaunt around Amy’s hind legs, and that’s not good. As you might have guessed from the title of the book, there’s only one way to fix this little problem — surgery. Expensive surgery.”

What better way to pay for expensive surgery than quick cash?  Steve went back through the archives and hauled out a collection of seven of his previously released short stories, plus some (seven) essays he calls, “humorous”  (no, the air quotes aren’t sarcastic–if he says they’re funny, they’re funny) and packaged them up for the low, low price of 99 cents.

Hey, is there even a “cents” sign on a keyboard?  I’ve never had to use it.

Anyhoo–win, win situation.  If you get your copy, you get a pretty decent deal, and his dog gets that much closer to paying her HMO  (actually, I have no idea how that works).  I just downloaded mine–what are you going to do?

While we’re at it, if you really want to help, just take a look through his catalog of work, whether it’s the Holmes on the Range series or his zombie stuff.  I imagine any royalties will help.  You can look for updates on Amy and Steve here.

This being the computer age, someone at Simon and Schuster (I think) got the great idea to put a trailer on Youtube.  And it’s awesome–for about 41 seconds.  Sharp dressed man, sexy lady, meeting on a rooftop–and then cracking open their copies of the book.  Lame.

We know it’s a book.  Throw in an explosion or razor studded bowler–something!

“So find a way.  Another way.  Do it like Holmes would.  Use your brain.”

Gustav tried to spin away with the shears, but I managed to hold him in place.

“It’s Holmes brought us here!” he roared. “The Method ain’t workin’!”

“It’s what we got!”

 ”It ain’t enough!”

The brothers Amlingmeyer are back in town!  That town being San Marcos, where Gustav once lived as a cow puncher, having loved and lost a girl named Adeleine.  She was a “soiled dove”, a working girl whose murder made less than any impact on the rough and tumble town, but plenty on the elder Amlingmeyer, who, having studied the “deducifying” ways of one Sherlock Holmes in the interim, has finally returned to town (his younger, and self-described, “handsomer” brother Otto in tow) to give her the justice she deserves.

San Marcos is not the town he remembers.  Proselytising bands of zealots roam the streets and law and order is the rule of the day.  Even the old whorehouse has been made over into a wallpaper shop.  Yet a good time is still to be had, those delving in the fleshly trade having been moved just outside city limits, beyond the reach of either God or his lawmen.

Yet lawmen are useless to the brothers Amlingmeyer.  Milford Bales, the local Marshal (and former friend of Gustav) wants them gone.  He has his own ideas as to what (or whom) befell Adeleine, and those suspicions fall (suspiciously) close to home.  Sheriff Rucker’s in the pocket of the pimps, Ragsdale and Bock, neither of whom wish the case to be re-opened.  Bad for business, you know.  Even Gustav is proving less than useful.  His normally well honed method has fallen by the wayside, and he himself is prone to conclusion jumping.  He’s off his game, and its going to take a clear head to sort things out.  Otto seems to have the only clear head around, so it’s up to him to step up and fill the position–before “Texas Jack” strikes again.

Once again, Steve Hockensmith delivers a tale full of quirky characters, from Brother Landrigan, leader of the local parish, an autonomous sect known as the Shepherd of the Hills Assembly of the Living God (whew!  That’s a mouthful), to big Bess, a whore whose name is a bit of an understatement.  Then there’s the Krieger’s, local librarians/death portrait photographers, and of course, Ragsdale and Bock, “honest” businessmen by day, the western equivalent of mobsters by night.

Gustav and Otto are also a  pair of characters, one the illiterate follower of the Holmesian method (and partial to big whiskers, ten gallon hats and angry mumbling), the other an aspiring author and gentleman with a quick wit and flair for things genteel.  A study in contrasts, Cowboy Holmes and a jovial Watson.  

The Crack in the Lens is the fourth novel in the Holmes on the Range series, and the least “Holmesian” of the bunch.  But that’s the point of the novel.  Gustav has lost ”the method,” blinded by rage and grief and the desire for revenge, and it’s only when circumstances force him to follow the method that he’s able to recapture his rhythm and solve the crime(s).   I love a good mystery, especially a mystery where the culprit is not immediately identifiable, and in this, Hockensmith once again prevails.  An added twist, the addition of a Whitechapel connection, lends  a bit of intrigue to the novel.  Is Texas Jack a copycat, or the infamous Jack the Ripper, come to America to continue his spree in the relative anonymity of the open spaces of the West?

Another thing–generally, the rule of thumb when writing is to “show”, not “tell.”  But how does that work, when the narrator is telling a novel sized story?  In this case, pretty damn well.  Otto is not one for a lot of descriptive flair, but “tells” the story as if you were sitting around the campfire.  A lot of dialogue, not so much description.  That’s where the magic lies in a Hockensmith novel–witty banter rather than long-winded descriptions.

Steve Hockensmith is the author of the Holmes on the Range mysteries and both the prequel and sequel to Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.  He maintains a blog at www.stevehockensmith.com.

Nicely bookending (some pun intended) this wonderful piece of art was the cover of the sequel, Camera Obscura:

And now comes Angry Robot’s sneak peek at the third volume, The Great Game:

 Kudos to David Frankland on some fine artwork!

 Look for The Great Game to be on shelves late January, 2012.

Larry’s generated a lot of fans with this kick-ass series about a bunch of civilian contractors (read that as mercenaries) who help keep the world safe from those things that go “bump” in the night, and those fans propelled the second novel, Monster Hunter Vendetta to #27 on the New York Times bestseller’s list.  Pretty impressive.

He’s also a guy who’s not shy about promoting himself or his product.  Hey, why not?  Writers write for the love of the craft, but they’ve also got to eat.  So, about a month ago, he put out the call for all us MHI fans to put out the word, “if you’re going to buy the third installment, buy it the first week.”

Why the first week? 

It’s all about stats. 

From what I’ve read on the subject, the surest (and only) way to get on the NYT’s bestseller’s list is to sell a whack of books the first week after publication.  Larry does a better job of explaining it than I can:

 ”Now, on the preorder or release week thing, let me explain. Here is a little peek behind the curtain into the publishing industry.  This is a very competitive business. Making it onto a bestseller list spurs future sales and boosts your career. The biggest and toughest one to get on is the NYT. MHV made it to #27 when it came out.

Some of you may remember when I went around with an idiot about how this meant that I wasn’t a *real* bestseller. Let me break this down. The NYT is broken up into fiction, non-fiction, and young adult. We’re looking at fiction. The NYT only shows the top 35 fiction books in three categories. (hardcover, trade paperback, and mass market paperback).  So I’m competing against every paperback fiction book on sale in the country.   

This next part is important. It is based on books sold during that week.  So you can have a book that sells ten thousand copies in a week, and zero copies the rest of the year. That book will be a NYT bestseller. You can have another book that only sells a thousand copies that week, but sells a thousand every other week of the year. That book will sell way more copies than the first one, but it will not make the NYT.  That’s called velocity. 

The velocity part is why the release week (and the preorders that ship that week) are so very important.  A book will normally sell the most when it first comes out.  So, barring something that comes along later to cause a bunch of publicity (Movie adaptation, Oprah book club) you either make the list when you release or not at all.”

So, what does all that mean for us fans of the series?  It means, if you’re going to buy the book, or are just thinking about it, get off your duff and buy it NOW.  You’ll be doing yourself (and him) a favour.  If you’ve never read the books and are simply looking for something new in the horror/fantasy/awesome stuff category, you can’t go wrong picking up all three.  Hours of monster hunting fun.

Now, before I get accused of being a shill, let it be said that I’ve already bought my copy of Monster Hunter Alpha and am waiting impatiently by the mailbox for it to arrive, so there’s no conflict of interest or monetary gain/kickback or whatnot.  I’m hopping on the viral marketing bandwagon because it’s a good idea (from a marketing standpoint), because they’re great books (if you’re into that sort of thing), and as a fan, I’d like to help out.

 If you’d like more insight into Larry Correia’s books, views, and publishing schedule, check out  his blog at Monster Hunter Nation.

Orphan is his namesake, living one step from the streets of what in any other age would be called Victorian England, but with the coming of Les Lezards and the subsequent fall of the house of Hannover, mad King George (the lizard) has the throne.  It is an age of wind and steam, man and automaton, order and anarchy, the last embodied in the form of a terrorist named, “The Bookman.”

When Orphan’s paramour Lucy is killed in one of the Bookman’s attacks, Orphan is devastated, but after an encounter with inspector Adler (Irene) and the Byron simulacrum, he learns that death may not be all there is, and that what small hope there is of recovering his beloved lies in running the Bookman to ground.  Barring that…vengeance.

There are many forces at play in his majesty’s empire: Prime Minister Moriarty and the Lizards; Mycroft Holmes’ shadow government floating high above London in their black airships; the Turk, an automaton among automatons who yearn for the translation, a device that they hope will make them equal to their fellows of flesh and blood; and of course, Orphan.  All believe the Bookman (or his death) holds the answer to their various problems and that Orphan is a tool to be wielded in that pursuit.

Yet when Orphan finally finds the Bookman, he is offered a choice.  Help his nemesis to stop Les Lezards from launching a device into space that may be mankind’s salvation (or doom) and Lucy shall be returned, hale and unharmed.  Don’t help, and Lucy is lost forever.  Really not much of a choice for a young man in love.

From the heart of Britannia to the depths of the Caribs, Orphan journeys on his mission, beset by danger and double dealings, culminating in one final meeting with the Bookman, which will either see Lucy returned to him or  the destruction of that which the Bookman covets the most.

The Bookman is everything one would want out of a Steampunk novel, blending both science fiction and fantasy, historical and fictional personages, all with a twist on the original source materials.  Irene Adler is now an agent of Scotland Yard, Moriarty is Prime Minister, and Jules Verne is both author and adventurer.  Lord Byron is a simulacrum, Karl Marx a revolutionary, and then there’s  Orphan, who has a greater role to play in the Empire than ever he could guess. 

Sometimes though, it felt as though the writing had a tendency to meander.  I spent a lot of time reading of Orphan wandering the streets of London moping about his lost love when (for my part) I’d rather just see the story advance.  It’s not really wasted narrative, but sometimes slowed the story to a crawl.  Tidhar also has a habit of skipping forward in the narrative and writing scenes in retrospective.  There is a moment near the end of the novel where Moriarty and Orphan come face to face…and next you know Orphan is on the run with no real explanation of what happened.  When it does get explained, what seems like it should be a pivotal moment simply comes across as trite.

There is also surprisingly little interaction with the lizards during the course of the novel, but the one time we meet one, it is a pirate named Wyvern, and he is entirely unforgettable.  More lizards please!

As for the Bookman and Les Lezards, when their background is finally revealed, I was pleasantly surprised to find that what was at first a fantasy novel had somehow morphed into science fiction with fantastical elements. 

The Bookman does leave a little too much unfinished by the end of the novel, but also leaves the reader (at least this one) with a desire to read more of Orphan’s exploits and to explore the Universe Lavie Tidhar has created.  Luckily for us, it is the first of a series of three, continuing with Camera Obscura  and the forthcoming The Great Game.  All in all, The Bookman is a wonderful novel and what minor flaws I’ve mentioned are just that– minor.

Lavie Tidhar maintains his own blog if ever you’d like to check out what’s new in his world.

     I love a good Western.

     I love Canadian Authors.

•      I love book trailers.

Looks like a trifecta!

From the author’s website:

“Hermann Kermit Warm is going to die. The enigmatic and powerful man known only as the Commodore has ordered it, and his henchmen, Eli and Charlie Sisters, will make sure of it. Though Eli doesn’t share his brother’s appetite for whiskey and killing, he’s never known anything else. But their prey isn’t an easy mark, and on the road from Oregon City to Warm’s gold-mining claim outside Sacramento, Eli begins to question what he does for a living–and whom he does it for.”

Man, no kidding.  Having your dog explode can sure mess with a dude’s head.  Yet that is far from the weirdest thing that happens in David Wong’s sadistically, hilariously, horrifying(ly) great novel, John Dies at the End.

I finished this novel a couple of weeks back, but still feel like I have a hangover.  The good kind, like when you wake up after a night of drinking, roll over, and there’s a beautiful brunette lying beside you.  The kind of hangover that’s worth it.  Having said that, trying to describe this book, hell, even just a brief synopsis, seems an impossible task.  Bear with me–maybe I should start at the beginning.

So, there’s these two dudes, David Wong and the aforementioned John, living the lives of your average twenties.  McJob down at the video store, partying in their spare time, trying to meet hot chicks that are willing to, if not have sex with them, at least talk to them.  Well, Dave is–John doesn’t seem to have much of a problem in that department.  He’s in a band, and as we all know, when you’re barely out of your teens, shit like that seems cool.  Especially to the ladies.

John also likes to party, never having seen a drug he’s been unwilling to try.  After what might be called the “worst trip in history” courtesy of a Rastafarian drifter (whose magic tricks are suspiciously convincing) they meet at a local bush party, life for these two slackers will never be the same again. *Note to reader–never put your buddy’s used syringe in your pocket.

You see, the drug,”soy sauce,” doesn’t just mess you up–it breaks down the wall between Universes and makes a laughingstock of the rules of time.  Oh, and it’s alive.

Next thing you know, both Dave and John are down at the police station answering questions from some very perturbed cops trying to explain why they have five dead (gruesomely dead) and four missing, courtesy of  a party they know John was at.  Dave is tripping pretty good, reading the cop’s mind (Morgan Freeman, he calls him) and worrying about Jennifer Lopez (real name, not the actress), the girl he has a crush on and also one of the missing.  At that point, “Morgan” steps out of the room (apparently John has died and it’s not even the end) and Dave realizes the other cop is not what he seems.  Being attacked by a mustache (yep, you read that right) will do that to you.

From there it’s a blistering ride as Dave manages to escape the jailhouse, return to the scene of the crime, find a dog (who at one point appears to be possessed by John), get shot, get abducted to Vegas with the other missing by an acolyte of “Korrok” (more on him later), witness the creation of a wormhole to another Universe and manage to close the wormhole with the help of a preacher turned magician (Dr. Albert Marconi) and a stirring rendition of a song by John’s band Three Armed Sally: “Camel Holocaust.”  That’s just the first act.

Korrok is the villain of the tale, either an elder god along the lines of Cthulu…or a sentient biological computer run amok in an alternate Universe.  Either way, it wants into our Universe and if Dave, John, and a few other players cannot thwart its plans…well, we’re all fucked.  Korrok has agents everywhere, known as the shadow people, has replaced many of the residents of “Undisclosed” with what can only be called replicants, and an acolyte with the charming nickname of “Shitload” trying to advance its agenda of Universal domination.  All of them.

Of course, there is a girl, Amy, the one-handed sister of big Jim Sullivan (deceased) and probably the only reason Dave will do his best to save the world–not that he knew this when he first met her.

I’m not doing justice to the story with this abbreviated synopsis, but it’s just too convoluted to sum up succinctly and there’s no need to spoil the fun for you.  I will say that John Dies at the End meanders at times, and reads like just a bunch of stuff that happened to these two dudes, although technically it’s Dave telling his story to a skeptical journalist.  Having been written haphazardly as a series of blog posts since 2001 and ballooning into a 466 page book by the time of its publishing, it seems an understandable complaint–and yet bears no relevance to whether the reader will enjoy the novel.

From start to end it’s a huge mindf*ck (sorry, I can’t think of a better term), and every time you think you’ve got your head wrapped around the storyline, something happens to make you question where the hell this is going and what actually happened before.  I was within a hundred pages of the end of the novel and began to get worried that there was no satisfactory way to tie up the loose ends in the amount remaining.  Really worried.

And then he did it.

One spoiler…if John dies at the end, then it’s not at the end of this book. David Wong claims to be hard at work on the sequel but for now we’ll have to be satisfied by the upcoming movie.