REVIEW: Cry Havoc by Jack Hanson

When I was a kid, I loved sci-fi, action-adventure novels, sword and sorcery and pulp. Come to think of it, that hasn't changed. About the only thing different is that I've read a bunch of literary novels since then that I'm sure have taken years off of my life.

Something else is different though. The action-adventure novels of my youth featuring a select group of men taking untold numbers of baddies are basically all gone. Fantasy, itself a genre, looks down on the sword and sorcery books that used to sell big numbers. Sci-fi, well...sci-fi just isn't as fun anymore. That's where Hanson comes in. Let me tell you, guys. Cry Havoc is FUN.

The dinosaur on the cover isn't a suggestion. You won't just find dinosaurs though. You'll find pirates, aliens, sword fights, and, most of all, well-drawn characters that you care about.

The plot follows four teens at the Ganymede Military Academy. As expected, they aren't quite ready for what's ahead of them. Enter Master Assault Sergeant Alexander Black to whip them into shape. I'll let you read to find out how that goes.

One of the best features of Hanson's novel is the world building. As the action is going on, you find out about the politics and histories of all the groups involved. It isn't how you might expect it to be. Hanson is writing fun, exciting science fiction but it isn't derivative of what's come before it. Its making its own statement in the tradition.

If you dig science fiction adventure that takes you to wild, incredible new places then here's your book. If you like Burroughs and Card and Weber, here's your book. Even better, there's more coming.

Finally, this is really relevant to nothing but I just wanted to say it. Hanson and this novel were victims of the Permuted Press debacle. You can read all about that through a Google search if you haven't. Suffice to say, they must feel like real assholes now that Hanson released this great book on his own. And they should.  Because they're assholes.

Screw you, Permuted Press.

REVIEW: The Last Projector by David James Keaton

I was going to take photos to put in this review. The book we are talking about, The Last Projector by David James Keaton, is one of the best looking novels I've ever seen. From the cover art, to the spine, to the new cinematic Broken River Books artwork, I think that the look of this thing alone should justify a purchase.

I'm not going to do that. You have Google, you can go to Amazon, you can see the photos for yourself and probably better ones than I could take. There's another reason though. I'm going to talk about the contents of this book. What I can't take a picture of. I can't take a picture because some of what is there isn't really there. But it is. Its more there than what is.

See how that sounds? Crazy. Insane. I sound like a hack that doesn't know what he's talking about. Maybe I am. Maybe I should just stop here.

Let me tell you a story though...

I had a nightmare. About this book. I have had this book on my shelf for some time and I've written earlier versions of this review which I felt didn't work. The Last Projector has been haunting me since I first picked it up. It haunts me even still, as I'm writing these words. What were we talking about? The nightmare...

The book was full of slugs and worms. Crawling, inching out of its pages. The cover had seemed to come alive, not unlike the hallucinogenic ARC of this title with the animated cover. But it wasn't alive so much, not like the video I saw. It was active, moving, and undead. All of the elements of the cover art were twitching and turning, the slugs and worms creeping and crawling, trying to pull me into its abyss.

I don't know what the hell this book is about. A few times I thought I knew maybe. I suppose its about a lot of things. It's about love and death and movies and music and pornography and video games and people and demons and paramedics and, hell, I don't know. You read it. You have the nightmares and the elation and the confusion. You let this book take you and drag you in and leave you bruised and feeling that there's no way you can describe what the fuck it did to you but, dammit, you need other people to see it. You need them to know what you know. Its worth knowing.

David James Keaton is a mad genius. This is his first novel but its less a novel than an experience. Its David Foster Wallace and and David Lynch co-directing a video game adaptation of a musical adaptation of a sci-fi horror fantasy porno. Its getting over a heartbreak by going to the cinema all alone and taking communion with the silver screen while enveloped by the darkness.

Its not something you've seen or read or heard or felt before and its something you desperately need to get. Right. Now.

REVIEW: The Life & Times of Innis E. Coxman

This book, you guys. THIS FUCKING BOOK! Have you ever read anything like this? No, you haven't.

I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm not supposed to start a review like that. Of course, you're not supposed to write a book like INNIS E. COXMAN. This sort of thing quite simply defies all the rules of literature and common decency. However, its a real good thing that Lester didn't play by the rules.

COXMAN is a kind of bildungsroman except I'm not sure that the main character learns anything. He sure as hell ain't no David Copperfield and Lester isn't Dickens. He's Mark Twain by way of Charles Bukowski. COXMAN tells the story of our protagonist from kid to criminal, jerk to junkie, and everything in between. This book is a comedy, a tragedy, a crime story, a story about drugs, a story about love and hate, a story about childhood and miseducation.

Its the sort of book that features a restaurant whose name has been changed to Awful Spouse. Its the sort of book that you'll talk to your friends about over a beer. Its the sort of book you could imagine was written over a beer or two. Its a modern piece of folk art and its trashy as shit. I sincerely, deeply loved it.

That brings me to my final point. This book was self-published. I can't see it getting a release any other way. This would definitely be hard to pitch to someone. Of course, now that its out all the small presses and publishers who aren't afraid of something new should look to R.P. Lester. I hope to see much, much more from him.

I wouldn't have seen COXMAN if I had taken the typical old, stodgy asshat approach to self-published or indie works though. This book has been published in spite of being unpublishable and my book shelf is better for it.

Get yours immediately.

REVIEW: Tussinland by Mike Monson

Greetings everyone,

A number of books of come my way in the past few months that I have really enjoyed. However, since that time I have released the first issue of my magazine Dark Corners, begun compiling the second issue, and started writing a few novellas. As such, this blog has been neglected more than I'd like. I'm going to try to change that now.

Today we are looking at the first novel from one of the best pulp writers working today: Mike Monson. As I'm sure you are aware, Monson is an editor of the amazing magazine All Due Respect. ADR recently expanded to form ADR Books. I reviewed their first release which was a double feature of novellas by Pablo D'Stair and Chris Rhatigan called you don't exist. Now ADR Books is releasing a novel by the great Mike Monson, Tussinland.

I was fortunate to be able to have a look at an early draft of Tussinland. As I've said, Monson is one of my favorites and so any opportunity I have to read something new from him, you better believe I'm gonna take it.

Tussinland is Monson's best work yet. I seem to say that with every new release but it keeps being true. The novel tells the tale of Paul Dunn, a TV-obsessed loser who is addicted to Robitussin. He is the chief suspect in the murders of his soon-to-be ex-wife and her lover. Of course, given that he's such a loser, you can probably imagine that something is up. And brother, something is indeed.

That's the skeleton of Tussinland. Of course, this is Monson so you'd better strap yourself in for one hell of a ride. The world of Tussinland is a world of drug addiction, social media addiction, sex addiction, and incredible violence. Also, Frosted Flakes.

Monson packs so much into this book that not a single sentence is wasted. If you have liked anything from him before, you are going to love this. He has only gotten better in time. Particularly, his depiction of social media in this novel and the obsession with Facebook, the internet and smart phones is better here than anywhere I've seen these topics handled in fiction. The result is very original.

Like all the best pulp fiction, Monson's books are not realistic. Instead, they have a sort of hyper-realism. All the best pulp guys do it. Greg Barth is another notable example. Monson takes all the things you know exist in the world but don't want to think about, cranks them up to eleven, and shoves them in your face.

Tussinland is dark and hilarious. Its over-the-top. It grabs you by the nuts and refuses to let go until the end. Even now, some months after having read it, it has stuck with me. It'll be one of my favorite reads this year.

Go and buy. Read and enjoy. Then, the next time you sign into Facebook or comment on an article, think about Paul Dunn and his fucked up little story.

INTERVIEW: Max Booth III

While the verdict is still out on Max Booth III's success in Pulp Survivor, he managed to answer a few questions while waiting for his potential doom. I have decided it would be best to share his answers with you since this may be the last anyone hears of poor Mr. Booth...

1) What the hell did you do?

I accidentally wrote the greatest novel of the last ten years. It’s called The Mind is a Razorblade, and already people are jumping off bridges after reading it because it’s just that goddamn good. At least, that’s what I’m choosing to believe.

2) Why the hell did you do it?

It was completely unintentional. One day, to kill time, I started cutting out letters from newspapers and randomly gluing them to my wall. Eventually, the letters formed a novel.

3) What criticisms do you have of the pulp scene today? How do you feel about "pulp" as a descriptor of your work?

I don’t have many criticisms, to be honest, mostly because I’m not that deep into the pulp scene, I don’t think. I try not to put any labels on my own work. That’s up for the audience to decide. If my readers think my writing is more pulp than anything, then maybe they’re right. As long as they keep buying my books and reading them, I don’t care what you call my writing. Pulp is good, though, because [deleted orange juice joke].

4) You recently wrote a supposedly humorous but potentially insulting piece about the works of Stephen King? What the hell is wrong with you? That man's a fucking icon.

All I did was pen an accurate summarization of each one of King’s novels. Then people got pissed off because they thought Dean Koontz wrote The Stand. I don’t know why they think that. King obviously wrote The Stand. What I’m really surprised is the lack of people calling me out for forgetting to include King’s magnum opus: Rosemary’s Baby.

5) I bet you're pretty happy with yourself, aren't you?

Well, yes.

6) What is next for Max Booth III?

I’m currently working on a new article titled “50 Reasons Tyler Perry’s House of Payne is better than Doctor Who”.

GUEST BLOG: Pulp Survivor with Max Booth III

Greetings everyone,

Welcome back to The Pulp Chronicler. I took a brief hiatus in order to edit, format and publish the first issue of my new pulp magazine. That being done, its time to introduce you to a new ongoing feature here at The Chronicler.

It is called The Pulp Survivor and will act as a kind of pulp fiction game show in which a writer that I have reviewed here will do a guest blog based on a scenario that I give them. The scenario will be related in some small way to their work and will be a situation that they have to survive. They'll write up a guest blog detailing how they plan to live. First up, The Mind is a Razorblade author Max Booth III.

The scenario:

You awake after having mysteriously fallen unconscious in a hotel room. There is a letter and a briefcase on the bed. The letter informs you that twenty years in the future you will become the leader of a rebellion that will save mankind from an eternity of enslavement by murderous cyborgs. In order to prevent you from becoming the savior of mankind, the cyborgs have sent a warrior back in time to destroy you. He looks like Charles Bronson. He sounds like Bobcat Goldthwait. He is staying AT THE HOTEL! You find the briefcase is filled with bunny slippers. Each slipper is stuffed with all the one dollar bills that it can hold. What do you do?

What say you, Mr. Booth?? What's it gonna be?

Max runs into the bathroom to take a leak. This lasts many minutes. He wonders how long he’s been unconscious. His head is killing him and his stomach feels like an empty pit. He needs food. He needs cake.

Max returns to the bed and collects the cash, then puts on the funny bunny slippers. Adjusting his clothing in the mirror, he leaves the hotel room and ventures down to the lobby. He approaches the front desk guy, who is busy typing away on a laptop.

“Excuse me,” Max says, interrupting the front desk guy’s porn session, “but I really want some cake. Direct me to the closest cake place.”

The front desk guy groans and points in a random direction. Max follows.

Eighteen minutes later, Max arrives to a shop called LET THEM EAT CAKE. He enters the store. There is cake everywhere. Max throws all of his cash at the cashier and demands “all the cake”. He is given a small slice of something fruity and delicious. Max takes his cake and finds a booth at the end of the shop. He does not think about cyborgs. He does not think about time traveling assassins. That shit’s all in the future. Right now he has cake, and that’s all he cares about. Sure, someone is trying to kill him, but cake shops are safe grounds. Nobody would ever spill blood in the presence of motherfucking cake. That would be a sin, and Cyborg Jesus would not approve.

Well played, sir. Or is it?? You decide. I leave his fate in your hands, Pulpsville. Is Booth going to make it out alive with his delicious diversion or will the cyborg be Maxed out on Booth Cake? Leave a comment here or on Facebook and let me know what you think.

Til next time, friends and fiends. Stay classy!

REVIEW: The Mind is a Razorblade by Max Booth III

One of the most exciting things about indie authors and small presses in the scene today is that their fiction is allowed to be more original, more bold, more unique than anything being released by the big guys. As evidence, I present to you Mr. Max Booth III...

I'm a little late to the party when it comes to Booth's fiction. No matter, though, as I shall christen this month Max Booth III Month. What does that mean? Well, nothing, I just like making stuff up. However, a few cool things will be happening here at The Chronicler because of it. I'll review his novel Toxicity, I'll interview him, and the man himself will be stepping through our door to begin a series of guest blogs I am calling Pulp Survivor. Today, however, is all about Razorblade, his newest book. Let's have a look...

The Mind is a Razorblade will recall sci-fi neo-noir films like Dark City. If you like that sort of thing, you should go right now and buy this book. However, don't feel that you are going to be prepared for what is in store for you because of that comparison. You are not going to read another book in 2014 like this one.

Max Booth III takes you on a journey built with the stuff of your nightmares and injected with a triple dose of noir, sci-fi and the deepest, darkest comedy. From the first page — hell, the first sentence — Booth assaults your senses with paranoia, action, and terror and he never lets up. The Mind is a Razorblade is a novel about love, identity, spiders and demons — and it will kick your ass.

You will want to follow the main character to see what happens next to him. You'll feel sorry for the poor bastard as things just get wilder and wilder. Booth is a genre-blender, not content to be pigeonholed. This novel comes very highly recommended. If you like your fiction bold, different and fun, Max Booth III is your man and The Mind is a Razorblade is your book.

Go get it. Tell 'em I sent you.