Search
Jayme (18 KP) rated Underwater in Books
Mar 28, 2018
Plot (1 more)
Emotion
Contains spoilers, click to show
Marisa Reichardt’s debut novel Underwater is a compelling account of a teenage girl’s struggles with agoraphobia caused by a traumatic shooting taking place in her high school. The book intended for a young adult audience follows Morgan as as she tries to cope with several adversities in her life, primarily the fear of leaving her apartment. Morgan was content with wearing the same pajamas everyday while she did her schoolwork online and ate grilled cheese for lunch until a boy her age named Evan moved in next door. Evan showed up on Morgan’s door step smelling like the ocean, reminding her of summer and everything she missed outdoors. With help from Evan, her psychiatrist, her mom, and her little brother Ben, Morgan is able to finally confront her fears and take necessary steps toward recovery.
I found myself connecting to Morgan more than any other character within the book, and that connection began early on in her description of the day her younger brother was born.
"I think of Ben on the day he was born, all chubby and pink and bald. … I think of the newborn Ben next to my mom’s hospital bed and rocking him under dim lights while he slept in my arms. I fall asleep to the feeling of a love I never knew until my brother got here."
Being the youngest in my family and having no experience with anyone I knew having children, I was especially excited when my only sister got pregnant with her first child. I sat in an uncomfortable chair across the room from my sister’s hospital bed for thirteen hours while she was in labor. When she was finally ready to push, I stood at her side giving words of encouragement, and she even gave me the honor of cutting my nephew’s umbilical cord. I remember the warmth of my tears as I heard my nephew cry out, sucking in his first breaths of air. I left the hospital shortly after his delivery, allowing my sister to get some rest. I returned a few hours later and held my tiny nephew in my arms for the first time. I love plenty of people in my life, but it wasn’t until I watched my newborn nephew as he slept swaddled in the hospital-issued blanket that I fully understood the depths of the love I was capable of producing. The astonishment I felt holding my precious nephew can be compared to the feelings Morgan had toward her brother the day he was born.
What I found to be most fascinating about this book is the way the author tackles the problem of school shootings in a way that humanizes the shooter and his victims. Instead of making the shooter out to be a merciless attacker, he was demonstrated as a victim of neglect among his peers who deserves forgiveness for his mistakes. There have been one hundred and seventy-four school shootings in America since the year 2003. School shootings are a recurring issue in our society.
"Before Aaron’s Facebook was disabled, news outlets released photographs from his profile. They found the worst ones. The ones that painted the picture of a kid who was angry and alone. They interviewed neighbors who said Aaron spent weekends tinkering in the garage. His mom revealed Aaron had been in therapy since middle school. His dad revealed he kept guns in the house. For protection. From the world. Not from his son. Those were guns Aaron brought to school onOctober fifteenth. … And the only person who could give us answers, who could tell us why, was gone."
The media is quick to make the shooter out to be a monster instead of acknowledging the idea that people make drastic decisions, like one of shooting up a school, because they have no one to turn to.
Other personal accounts of shootings have been written, but there is nothing like this fictional demonstration of the aftereffects of such occurrences. Misty Bernell, the mother of a student killed in the Columbine High School shooting taking place in 1999, wrote the book She Said Yes: The Unlikely Martydom of Cassie Bernall as a way of commemorating her daughter and spreading awareness of the lives lost in the tragic massacre. Reichardt manages to establish a point of view that allows readers to show empathy toward a victim in the shooting the same way Bernell does without downplaying the internal struggles Aaron, the shooter in the novel, may have been experiencing.
The successful manner in which Reichardt explores a real-time societal issue from a unique perspective provides enough grounds for me to recommend the book. However, I was also able to find many characteristics that made me feel invested in the well-being of the each of the characters within the novel. Morgan works especially hard to go outside in order to see her brother perform in his kindergarten play, the psychiatrist meets with Morgan for free because the psychiatrist wanted Morgan to know she was being heard, Evan offering his old prepaid cell phone to Morgan so they could send text messages to communicate the problems Morgan was too afraid to talk about out loud, and the way Morgan’s mother compromises with Morgan and attempts to understand her feelings. Each character demonstrates selflessness and unconditional love while maneuvering through a situation where love and support are crucial to the mental health of everyone involved. Reading about people who truly care about each other and work to build each other up in a difficult time instead of worrying only of themselves is refreshing.
I found myself connecting to Morgan more than any other character within the book, and that connection began early on in her description of the day her younger brother was born.
"I think of Ben on the day he was born, all chubby and pink and bald. … I think of the newborn Ben next to my mom’s hospital bed and rocking him under dim lights while he slept in my arms. I fall asleep to the feeling of a love I never knew until my brother got here."
Being the youngest in my family and having no experience with anyone I knew having children, I was especially excited when my only sister got pregnant with her first child. I sat in an uncomfortable chair across the room from my sister’s hospital bed for thirteen hours while she was in labor. When she was finally ready to push, I stood at her side giving words of encouragement, and she even gave me the honor of cutting my nephew’s umbilical cord. I remember the warmth of my tears as I heard my nephew cry out, sucking in his first breaths of air. I left the hospital shortly after his delivery, allowing my sister to get some rest. I returned a few hours later and held my tiny nephew in my arms for the first time. I love plenty of people in my life, but it wasn’t until I watched my newborn nephew as he slept swaddled in the hospital-issued blanket that I fully understood the depths of the love I was capable of producing. The astonishment I felt holding my precious nephew can be compared to the feelings Morgan had toward her brother the day he was born.
What I found to be most fascinating about this book is the way the author tackles the problem of school shootings in a way that humanizes the shooter and his victims. Instead of making the shooter out to be a merciless attacker, he was demonstrated as a victim of neglect among his peers who deserves forgiveness for his mistakes. There have been one hundred and seventy-four school shootings in America since the year 2003. School shootings are a recurring issue in our society.
"Before Aaron’s Facebook was disabled, news outlets released photographs from his profile. They found the worst ones. The ones that painted the picture of a kid who was angry and alone. They interviewed neighbors who said Aaron spent weekends tinkering in the garage. His mom revealed Aaron had been in therapy since middle school. His dad revealed he kept guns in the house. For protection. From the world. Not from his son. Those were guns Aaron brought to school onOctober fifteenth. … And the only person who could give us answers, who could tell us why, was gone."
The media is quick to make the shooter out to be a monster instead of acknowledging the idea that people make drastic decisions, like one of shooting up a school, because they have no one to turn to.
Other personal accounts of shootings have been written, but there is nothing like this fictional demonstration of the aftereffects of such occurrences. Misty Bernell, the mother of a student killed in the Columbine High School shooting taking place in 1999, wrote the book She Said Yes: The Unlikely Martydom of Cassie Bernall as a way of commemorating her daughter and spreading awareness of the lives lost in the tragic massacre. Reichardt manages to establish a point of view that allows readers to show empathy toward a victim in the shooting the same way Bernell does without downplaying the internal struggles Aaron, the shooter in the novel, may have been experiencing.
The successful manner in which Reichardt explores a real-time societal issue from a unique perspective provides enough grounds for me to recommend the book. However, I was also able to find many characteristics that made me feel invested in the well-being of the each of the characters within the novel. Morgan works especially hard to go outside in order to see her brother perform in his kindergarten play, the psychiatrist meets with Morgan for free because the psychiatrist wanted Morgan to know she was being heard, Evan offering his old prepaid cell phone to Morgan so they could send text messages to communicate the problems Morgan was too afraid to talk about out loud, and the way Morgan’s mother compromises with Morgan and attempts to understand her feelings. Each character demonstrates selflessness and unconditional love while maneuvering through a situation where love and support are crucial to the mental health of everyone involved. Reading about people who truly care about each other and work to build each other up in a difficult time instead of worrying only of themselves is refreshing.
Chris Sawin (602 KP) rated The Suicide Squad (2021) in Movies
Oct 6, 2021
Its adult humor is also incredibly poignant (2 more)
Blood and gore is Troma levels of insanity
King Shark and Polka Dot Man
Not as fun on repeat viewings (1 more)
Is a little too similar to Guardians of the Galaxy
I'm a Motherf@#$ing Superhero!
You could probably get away with calling James Gunn’s The Suicide Squad an R-rated version of Guardians of the Galaxy, but it isn’t entirely fair or correct. It’s a complicated comparison much like Gunn’s status with Marvel Studios that allowed him to make the film in the first place and whether or not The Suicide Squad is a sequel or a reboot to David Ayer’s 2016 film.
Gunn has always had a knack for getting gory or gross or raunchy if the opportunity presented itself. The Suicide Squad almost feels like a clean, strike that, blood-splattered slate for the filmmaker. Gunn had complete creative control while making The Suicide Squad and it shows; not only in its graphic content and excessive vulgarity, but also in the characters Gunn chose to be in the film. Nearly everyone has been replaced from the previous Suicide Squad film except for Captain Boomerang (Jai Courtney), Colonel Rick Flagg (Joel Kinnaman), Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie), and Amanda Waller (Viola Davis). The new characters are mostly unknown or barely known villains, which makes the fact that nearly all of them are expendable all the more intriguing.
While Guardians of the Galaxy and The Suicide Squad are two different films, there are some undeniable similarities. The cast of The Suicide Squad is insanely stacked, but you have to know by now that three quarters of these characters die in horribly gruesome ways. Witnessing who lives and who dies is half the fun of the film, so that won’t be spoiled here. But The Suicide Squad has a team of five characters that are grouped together and featured more than anyone else. It’s a lot like how Guardians began with Star-Lord, Gamora, Drax, Rocket, and Groot. These five characters also end up being the ones you love the most.
Gunn also has a thing for taking a group of assholes and giving them meaning. In the tenth season of South Park, Eric Cartman meets Bart Simpson face to face. Bart has always been a troublemaker and a prankster, but Cartman ground up Scott Tenorman’s parents, slapped that ground parent meat in some chili, and made Scott eat his own parents. The comparison between Guardians and The Suicide Squad is a lot like the difference between Bart Simpson and Eric Cartman. The Suicide Squad features straight up murderers, demented psychopaths, and whatever the hell Weasel is.
Not unlike his other comic book film work though, Gunn typically takes what would be unlikable characters on their own and finds a purpose for them once they’re with other outcasts that they can relate to. There is a ton of heart in The Suicide Squad. You fall in love with King Shark because he’s trying to read books upside down and use one of his fingers as mustache as a brilliant disguise, but you don’t feel for him until he reveals that he’s never had a friend. Sebastian, Ratcatcher II’s go-to rat, is adorable because he waves at, offers leaves to, and flocks toward Bloodsport even though he’s afraid of rats. There’s still this camaraderie in The Suicide Squad. It may be broken and gory, but it’s still camaraderie.
There are some unusual choices that Gunn made with The Suicide Squad though. They originally wanted Will Smith to come back as Deadshot, but supposedly cast Idris Elba to replace Smith in the role. Then they backtracked and made Elba Bloodsport. The odd thing is that both Bloodsport and Peacemaker are exactly the same as Deadshot. Peacemaker seems to be a bit crazier, but both characters have a thing for making anything a weapon in their hands and having precise aim. Bloodsport is even doing everything in the film for the sake of his daughter. It gives Warner Bros a chance to bring Smith back as Deadshot down the line, but having all three characters in the same film would be serious overkill.
Harley Quinn’s action sequences in The Suicide Squad are better and more satisfying than anything Margot Robbie has done with the role. Polka Dot Man is low-key the coolest character of the film despite seeing his mom in every person that he meets. Many will likely point to the blood, the gore, and all of the F-bombs shouted mostly among teammates as Gunn cleansing his Marvel/Disney palette so to speak. However, the major difference is Starro. Starro is a giant blue and purple starfish with an eyeball in the middle of his body. He is essentially a kaiju, but he shoots miniature versions of himself out of his armpits which latch onto people’s faces, kills them, and turns their corpses into zombie-like slaves that do his bidding; all while Starro gets bigger and bigger in the process. The abridged version of this starfish heavy explanation is that Starro is fucking terrifying. The entire world is basically on the verge of bowing down to a Godzilla sized starfish that has the ability to shoot armies of himself out of his Goddamn armpits! The MCU featuring a monster or creature of any kind that is that scary is slim to none.
The Suicide Squad is an uproarious extravaganza filled with grotesque nom-noms, full-on naked dick shots, and John Cena in tighty-whities and it’s is the most fun you’ll have with an R-rated comic book film in a theater (or at home with HBO Max) since Deadpool. It’s the first comic book film to come along in a good long while that’s charming because of how weird it is. As a final note, stay/watch after the credits. James Gunn and John Cena are doing an 8-episode Peacemaker TV series for HBO Max due sometime in 2022, so that may or may not be teased in some capacity.
Gunn has always had a knack for getting gory or gross or raunchy if the opportunity presented itself. The Suicide Squad almost feels like a clean, strike that, blood-splattered slate for the filmmaker. Gunn had complete creative control while making The Suicide Squad and it shows; not only in its graphic content and excessive vulgarity, but also in the characters Gunn chose to be in the film. Nearly everyone has been replaced from the previous Suicide Squad film except for Captain Boomerang (Jai Courtney), Colonel Rick Flagg (Joel Kinnaman), Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie), and Amanda Waller (Viola Davis). The new characters are mostly unknown or barely known villains, which makes the fact that nearly all of them are expendable all the more intriguing.
While Guardians of the Galaxy and The Suicide Squad are two different films, there are some undeniable similarities. The cast of The Suicide Squad is insanely stacked, but you have to know by now that three quarters of these characters die in horribly gruesome ways. Witnessing who lives and who dies is half the fun of the film, so that won’t be spoiled here. But The Suicide Squad has a team of five characters that are grouped together and featured more than anyone else. It’s a lot like how Guardians began with Star-Lord, Gamora, Drax, Rocket, and Groot. These five characters also end up being the ones you love the most.
Gunn also has a thing for taking a group of assholes and giving them meaning. In the tenth season of South Park, Eric Cartman meets Bart Simpson face to face. Bart has always been a troublemaker and a prankster, but Cartman ground up Scott Tenorman’s parents, slapped that ground parent meat in some chili, and made Scott eat his own parents. The comparison between Guardians and The Suicide Squad is a lot like the difference between Bart Simpson and Eric Cartman. The Suicide Squad features straight up murderers, demented psychopaths, and whatever the hell Weasel is.
Not unlike his other comic book film work though, Gunn typically takes what would be unlikable characters on their own and finds a purpose for them once they’re with other outcasts that they can relate to. There is a ton of heart in The Suicide Squad. You fall in love with King Shark because he’s trying to read books upside down and use one of his fingers as mustache as a brilliant disguise, but you don’t feel for him until he reveals that he’s never had a friend. Sebastian, Ratcatcher II’s go-to rat, is adorable because he waves at, offers leaves to, and flocks toward Bloodsport even though he’s afraid of rats. There’s still this camaraderie in The Suicide Squad. It may be broken and gory, but it’s still camaraderie.
There are some unusual choices that Gunn made with The Suicide Squad though. They originally wanted Will Smith to come back as Deadshot, but supposedly cast Idris Elba to replace Smith in the role. Then they backtracked and made Elba Bloodsport. The odd thing is that both Bloodsport and Peacemaker are exactly the same as Deadshot. Peacemaker seems to be a bit crazier, but both characters have a thing for making anything a weapon in their hands and having precise aim. Bloodsport is even doing everything in the film for the sake of his daughter. It gives Warner Bros a chance to bring Smith back as Deadshot down the line, but having all three characters in the same film would be serious overkill.
Harley Quinn’s action sequences in The Suicide Squad are better and more satisfying than anything Margot Robbie has done with the role. Polka Dot Man is low-key the coolest character of the film despite seeing his mom in every person that he meets. Many will likely point to the blood, the gore, and all of the F-bombs shouted mostly among teammates as Gunn cleansing his Marvel/Disney palette so to speak. However, the major difference is Starro. Starro is a giant blue and purple starfish with an eyeball in the middle of his body. He is essentially a kaiju, but he shoots miniature versions of himself out of his armpits which latch onto people’s faces, kills them, and turns their corpses into zombie-like slaves that do his bidding; all while Starro gets bigger and bigger in the process. The abridged version of this starfish heavy explanation is that Starro is fucking terrifying. The entire world is basically on the verge of bowing down to a Godzilla sized starfish that has the ability to shoot armies of himself out of his Goddamn armpits! The MCU featuring a monster or creature of any kind that is that scary is slim to none.
The Suicide Squad is an uproarious extravaganza filled with grotesque nom-noms, full-on naked dick shots, and John Cena in tighty-whities and it’s is the most fun you’ll have with an R-rated comic book film in a theater (or at home with HBO Max) since Deadpool. It’s the first comic book film to come along in a good long while that’s charming because of how weird it is. As a final note, stay/watch after the credits. James Gunn and John Cena are doing an 8-episode Peacemaker TV series for HBO Max due sometime in 2022, so that may or may not be teased in some capacity.
Mandy and G.D. Burkhead (26 KP) rated Hottest Blood: The Ultimate in Erotic Horror in Books
May 20, 2018
Shelf Life – Hottest Blood: The Ultimate in Erotic Horror is Neither of Those Things
(I’m gonna go ahead and throw a disclaimer on up here: You are about to read something that deals with purportedly “erotic” subject matter. If you don’t like the sound of that word, you might wanna go elsewhere. If it’s actually-erotic things that offend you, though, you’ll be fine.)
I like short story compilations because you get a variety of content that’s just as easy to breeze through if you have the time as it is to get to a stopping point and put down if you don’t. I like horror fiction because it usually involves the super-natural, which interests me, and intense emotional responses, which are almost always a good thing in writing. And I like eroticism because I am a warm-blooded human being with a pulse. However, on the whole, I do not like Hottest Blood.
I wanted to, I did. Look at that cover. It’s equal amounts scary and sexy, both in completely safe, PG-13-at-most kind of ways. Unfortunately, Softcore Succubus here is both the scariest and the sexiest thing about this book
Bluntly analogized, you know that feeling you get when you come across something on the internet that disturbs and/or disgusts you, and then you learn that there’s a dedicated group of people that gets off on it? Most of the stories in this book are that feeling captured in words.
Case in point, the story “Damaged Goods” by Elizabeth Massie, which as far as I can tell is about a couple of physically abused, emotionally damaged, developmentally stunted kids somewhere around their early teens who live with a religious fringe cult being led out to a field to have sex with each other while a nameless U.S. President watches and masturbates before both kids are drowned in a river by their preacher/pimp caretaker.
Or there’s “Mr. Right” by Chris Lacher, which tells the story of a college student named Russ who has a secret fetish for the deformed women in the freak show at a nearby carnival – a fascination which leads to him getting held down and forcibly raped by a group of unwashed subhuman mutants, which the detailed descriptions make sure you understand are completely revolting to all five senses. The story ends with him being dumped out behind the fairgrounds while a small, legless girl happily informs him that this is how all carnival workers reproduce, and he can look forward to seeing his own mutant rape-spawn in the show next year.
Or there’s “Abuse” by Matthew Costello, which simply shows us how the arrest of a Peewee Herman surrogate goes down in an adult movie theater before ending with another man jerking off with the cold, dry, severed hand in his pocket as he contemplates getting a new one to replace it.
The tone of these three are pretty much par for the course for the rest of the book: thoroughly disturbing, and sex is involved, but the disturbing feeling stems from revulsion rather than fear, and the sex bits are so far on the other end of the spectrum from erotic that it feels like the authors are trying to punish their readers for even expecting to be aroused in any way.
Of course, I said myself earlier that intense emotional responses are “almost always a good thing in writing.” By that merit alone, this book technically succeeds; in fact, if it had billed itself as shock fiction instead of erotic horror, I’d begrudgingly give it a medal in its class. The “aw, what the hell?!” moments are not as artistically executed as, say, a Chuck Palahniuk read, and they tend not to have as much depth to them, but strictly in terms of making you wish that you could unread words, they get the job done.
But that isn’t the job that Hottest Blood was hired to do, and that’s not what it put on its resume. It said it was going to “heat the blood and chill the mind,” and promised that “terror never felt this sexy!” It would have been more appropriate to say that “sex never felt this terrible.”
All of that said, if you abandon any hope of seeing anything resembling erotica or horror (scary horror, anyway), there are a few stories in here that are decent reads – mostly because they try to say something with their subject matter rather than use it to see how thoroughly they can ruin the idea of sex for the reader. To give a few quick nods of approval:
Nancy Holder’s “I Hear the Mermaids Singing,” which opens the anthology, is a dark and modern re-imagining of “The Little Mermaid” that brutally points up the drawbacks to throwing away your whole life and family in order to pursue someone that you know nothing about outside of a few fleeting glimpses and lustful inner fantasies.
J.L. Comeau’s “Black Cars” is the narrative of a high-class chauffeur as he tells his passenger an increasingly mysterious story about a couple of his regular customers, culminating in a creepy twist payoff that, in retrospect, actually makes it count as a legitimate horror story, and a decently gripping one at that.
And “Safe at Home” by Steve and Melanie Tem, while decidedly and disturbingly unsexy, at least has good reason to be; it’s a short character study of a young woman who’d been molested as a child, and the lasting and complex psychological damage resulting thereof that prevents her from having any normal social life or relationships, even with someone whom she legitimately likes, someone who knows what’s happened and sincerely cares for her.
So for the handful of intriguing stories that don’t make you quit (or wish you had) mid-read out of revolted disappointment, I can’t completely condemn Hottest Blood. If you want to test your own threshold for repulsion but are understandably hesitant to use online image searches to this end, I heartily recommend it.
If you are legitimately turned on by the idea of a man eating a woman alive and then gestating her alien spawn inside his own bloated body until his head detaches and crawls away (“How Deep the Taste of Love,” John Shirley), I suppose I still heartily recommend it, though I do so from a safe distance.
If you want to read one of the few stories involved that aren’t horrible, I heartily recommend trying to find them on their own somewhere else first.
But if you want “the ultimate in erotic horror,” stay the hell away. Softcore Succubus is a trap.
I like short story compilations because you get a variety of content that’s just as easy to breeze through if you have the time as it is to get to a stopping point and put down if you don’t. I like horror fiction because it usually involves the super-natural, which interests me, and intense emotional responses, which are almost always a good thing in writing. And I like eroticism because I am a warm-blooded human being with a pulse. However, on the whole, I do not like Hottest Blood.
I wanted to, I did. Look at that cover. It’s equal amounts scary and sexy, both in completely safe, PG-13-at-most kind of ways. Unfortunately, Softcore Succubus here is both the scariest and the sexiest thing about this book
Bluntly analogized, you know that feeling you get when you come across something on the internet that disturbs and/or disgusts you, and then you learn that there’s a dedicated group of people that gets off on it? Most of the stories in this book are that feeling captured in words.
Case in point, the story “Damaged Goods” by Elizabeth Massie, which as far as I can tell is about a couple of physically abused, emotionally damaged, developmentally stunted kids somewhere around their early teens who live with a religious fringe cult being led out to a field to have sex with each other while a nameless U.S. President watches and masturbates before both kids are drowned in a river by their preacher/pimp caretaker.
Or there’s “Mr. Right” by Chris Lacher, which tells the story of a college student named Russ who has a secret fetish for the deformed women in the freak show at a nearby carnival – a fascination which leads to him getting held down and forcibly raped by a group of unwashed subhuman mutants, which the detailed descriptions make sure you understand are completely revolting to all five senses. The story ends with him being dumped out behind the fairgrounds while a small, legless girl happily informs him that this is how all carnival workers reproduce, and he can look forward to seeing his own mutant rape-spawn in the show next year.
Or there’s “Abuse” by Matthew Costello, which simply shows us how the arrest of a Peewee Herman surrogate goes down in an adult movie theater before ending with another man jerking off with the cold, dry, severed hand in his pocket as he contemplates getting a new one to replace it.
The tone of these three are pretty much par for the course for the rest of the book: thoroughly disturbing, and sex is involved, but the disturbing feeling stems from revulsion rather than fear, and the sex bits are so far on the other end of the spectrum from erotic that it feels like the authors are trying to punish their readers for even expecting to be aroused in any way.
Of course, I said myself earlier that intense emotional responses are “almost always a good thing in writing.” By that merit alone, this book technically succeeds; in fact, if it had billed itself as shock fiction instead of erotic horror, I’d begrudgingly give it a medal in its class. The “aw, what the hell?!” moments are not as artistically executed as, say, a Chuck Palahniuk read, and they tend not to have as much depth to them, but strictly in terms of making you wish that you could unread words, they get the job done.
But that isn’t the job that Hottest Blood was hired to do, and that’s not what it put on its resume. It said it was going to “heat the blood and chill the mind,” and promised that “terror never felt this sexy!” It would have been more appropriate to say that “sex never felt this terrible.”
All of that said, if you abandon any hope of seeing anything resembling erotica or horror (scary horror, anyway), there are a few stories in here that are decent reads – mostly because they try to say something with their subject matter rather than use it to see how thoroughly they can ruin the idea of sex for the reader. To give a few quick nods of approval:
Nancy Holder’s “I Hear the Mermaids Singing,” which opens the anthology, is a dark and modern re-imagining of “The Little Mermaid” that brutally points up the drawbacks to throwing away your whole life and family in order to pursue someone that you know nothing about outside of a few fleeting glimpses and lustful inner fantasies.
J.L. Comeau’s “Black Cars” is the narrative of a high-class chauffeur as he tells his passenger an increasingly mysterious story about a couple of his regular customers, culminating in a creepy twist payoff that, in retrospect, actually makes it count as a legitimate horror story, and a decently gripping one at that.
And “Safe at Home” by Steve and Melanie Tem, while decidedly and disturbingly unsexy, at least has good reason to be; it’s a short character study of a young woman who’d been molested as a child, and the lasting and complex psychological damage resulting thereof that prevents her from having any normal social life or relationships, even with someone whom she legitimately likes, someone who knows what’s happened and sincerely cares for her.
So for the handful of intriguing stories that don’t make you quit (or wish you had) mid-read out of revolted disappointment, I can’t completely condemn Hottest Blood. If you want to test your own threshold for repulsion but are understandably hesitant to use online image searches to this end, I heartily recommend it.
If you are legitimately turned on by the idea of a man eating a woman alive and then gestating her alien spawn inside his own bloated body until his head detaches and crawls away (“How Deep the Taste of Love,” John Shirley), I suppose I still heartily recommend it, though I do so from a safe distance.
If you want to read one of the few stories involved that aren’t horrible, I heartily recommend trying to find them on their own somewhere else first.
But if you want “the ultimate in erotic horror,” stay the hell away. Softcore Succubus is a trap.
Hadley (567 KP) rated Stranger Things: Suspicious Minds in Books
Jun 10, 2019
The first novel adapted from the Netflix series hit 'Stranger Things' is an astonishing work of art. Viewers of the show may be familiar with Eleven's mother, Terry Ives, which this book surrounds. Along for the ride are a few important characters that weren't mentioned in the series: Alice, Gloria and Ken - a self proclaimed psychic - all of which meet because they signed up for a human experiment at Hawkins National Laboratory, where each are given doses of LSD every week. This quickly tells readers that the book is not recommended for anyone under the age of 14.
Although the series has more than one book, and no end in sight, Bond was only chosen to do this novel. 'Suspicious Minds' is categorized under Young Adult books, but with the heavy Vietnam content, it's not considered that many young adults today can actually relate with this story or even understand the devastating effects of a looming draft hanging over the heads of young men throughout America in the 1960's. But Bond does a wonderful job in relating the emotional state of this era through our main character, Terry. Another subject that Bond does a fantastic job of explaining in 'Suspicious Minds' is the taboo of being a pregnant, unwed mother in this era, something that seems to be making headlines again in the States nearly 60 years later.
Bond shows us a young Dr. Martin Brenner, with neatly styled brown hair and an almost unlined face, as well as a more lively Terry Ives (which only season 2 has shown a very short flashback sequence of Terry being mobile before her dreaded consequence from being associated with the human experiments). We find out that the reason Terry volunteered for the experiment is due to her father's service in WWII, and wanting to make the world a better place. Bond brings in the other important characters, who also volunteered for the experiments, quickly bonding the four as friends for life.
As far as characters go, these four are written very well. Although Terry is the main character of 'Suspicious Minds,' we get to see from the viewpoints of all people, including Brenner. Bond gives the reader a short background on what LSD is and where it came from when the time comes for the experiments to begin. Brenner doesn't really explain why he gives LSD to the volunteers, but only that it is part of a secret experiment. Even when Terry is placed in a sensory deprivation tank, he doesn't reveal anything to her, and Bond does a great job of keeping the characters enough in the grey area of knowing that it's believable. Even at one point, when Terry begins to suspect something strange from the experiments, she keeps the belief that whatever is going on at Hawkins Laboratory must be important: " 'But you can't see it's important?' Terry leaned in close, and they kept their voices down as other students walked past. 'They just called up the school and told them to give me Thursdays off and I'm getting credit for it? They're tying our grades to doing this. And no one asked any questions. They just agreed. I have to keep going.' " Bond eloquently keeps the mystery going.
This mystery is even interesting to those who know what happens in the end. In 'Stranger Things,' Terry is introduced as a comatose woman in a rocking chair- who happens to be Eleven's mother. We have never met Gloria, Alice or Ken. The three become very close to Terry, and they all somehow escape from Brenner's grasp, but they also end up joining in Terry's pursuit of getting Eleven/Jane back to her mother. Fans of the show might be left asking what happened to these three enjoyable characters? I haven't seen any plans for a part two of this story, so we may be left not knowing what happened or if the three are even still alive today (in the Stranger Things' era). Even more enjoyable is the random use of J.R.R. Tolkien's 'The Lord of the Rings,' where in one scene, Alice and Terry decide to name their small group 'The Fellowship of the Lab.' Any veteran reader will be happy to see a classic brought up in a newer book of today.
And also of interest, fans will recognize a little girl who is frequent throughout the story: Eight a.k.a. Kali. We never get to see through Kali's perspective, but the reader does get to see the multitude of her abilities. For instance, Kali is able to scare personnel in the lab by causing the hallucination of tidal waves inside the building, only to stop when Brenner (or Papa to her) gives her her favorite sweet: Hostess cakes. Other than that, Kali is like any child; she throws tantrums and rebels from her Papa, sometimes to the laughter of the reader.
One point, Terry even meets with Kali in her LSD induced state: " Terry shook her head. 'There can be. He's just a man. He can't know everything.' She paused. 'Does he hurt you? Papa?' Kali frowned, but she didn't answer. 'If he does... I can help you.' Terry had to make her understand. The little girl shook her head. 'I don't think so. I might be able to help you, though.' A field of yellow sunflowers grew up around them. A rainbow arcing over the golden tops." Terry, understandably, begins to scheme about how they can help Kali to escape the lab.
Bond does a great job of transitioning between Terry's point of view to the other characters' viewpoints. We get a young woman named Gloria, who has a secret obsession with comic books (especially X-Men). A hippie-looking man named Ken, who claims he is psychic, but just happens to have a lot of hunches that come true. And last, but not least, another young woman named Alice, who shows up in grease covered overalls and curly black hair, explaining that she works for her uncle's garage and that she loves machines. These three are delightful to read about, and the story would be boring without them.
This book was the perfect novel to answer questions fans may have had about Eleven's mother. Bond writes smoothly and easily enough that you may find yourself wanting to read just one more page before setting the book down for the evening. She drags you into the world of the 1960's and helps young readers to feel the emotional time that it was for women like Terry. But with only a few inconsistencies here and there, 'Suspicious Minds' leaves us wanting more. If you are a fan of 'Stranger Things,' I say that this is a must-read! Highly recommend!
Although the series has more than one book, and no end in sight, Bond was only chosen to do this novel. 'Suspicious Minds' is categorized under Young Adult books, but with the heavy Vietnam content, it's not considered that many young adults today can actually relate with this story or even understand the devastating effects of a looming draft hanging over the heads of young men throughout America in the 1960's. But Bond does a wonderful job in relating the emotional state of this era through our main character, Terry. Another subject that Bond does a fantastic job of explaining in 'Suspicious Minds' is the taboo of being a pregnant, unwed mother in this era, something that seems to be making headlines again in the States nearly 60 years later.
Bond shows us a young Dr. Martin Brenner, with neatly styled brown hair and an almost unlined face, as well as a more lively Terry Ives (which only season 2 has shown a very short flashback sequence of Terry being mobile before her dreaded consequence from being associated with the human experiments). We find out that the reason Terry volunteered for the experiment is due to her father's service in WWII, and wanting to make the world a better place. Bond brings in the other important characters, who also volunteered for the experiments, quickly bonding the four as friends for life.
As far as characters go, these four are written very well. Although Terry is the main character of 'Suspicious Minds,' we get to see from the viewpoints of all people, including Brenner. Bond gives the reader a short background on what LSD is and where it came from when the time comes for the experiments to begin. Brenner doesn't really explain why he gives LSD to the volunteers, but only that it is part of a secret experiment. Even when Terry is placed in a sensory deprivation tank, he doesn't reveal anything to her, and Bond does a great job of keeping the characters enough in the grey area of knowing that it's believable. Even at one point, when Terry begins to suspect something strange from the experiments, she keeps the belief that whatever is going on at Hawkins Laboratory must be important: " 'But you can't see it's important?' Terry leaned in close, and they kept their voices down as other students walked past. 'They just called up the school and told them to give me Thursdays off and I'm getting credit for it? They're tying our grades to doing this. And no one asked any questions. They just agreed. I have to keep going.' " Bond eloquently keeps the mystery going.
This mystery is even interesting to those who know what happens in the end. In 'Stranger Things,' Terry is introduced as a comatose woman in a rocking chair- who happens to be Eleven's mother. We have never met Gloria, Alice or Ken. The three become very close to Terry, and they all somehow escape from Brenner's grasp, but they also end up joining in Terry's pursuit of getting Eleven/Jane back to her mother. Fans of the show might be left asking what happened to these three enjoyable characters? I haven't seen any plans for a part two of this story, so we may be left not knowing what happened or if the three are even still alive today (in the Stranger Things' era). Even more enjoyable is the random use of J.R.R. Tolkien's 'The Lord of the Rings,' where in one scene, Alice and Terry decide to name their small group 'The Fellowship of the Lab.' Any veteran reader will be happy to see a classic brought up in a newer book of today.
And also of interest, fans will recognize a little girl who is frequent throughout the story: Eight a.k.a. Kali. We never get to see through Kali's perspective, but the reader does get to see the multitude of her abilities. For instance, Kali is able to scare personnel in the lab by causing the hallucination of tidal waves inside the building, only to stop when Brenner (or Papa to her) gives her her favorite sweet: Hostess cakes. Other than that, Kali is like any child; she throws tantrums and rebels from her Papa, sometimes to the laughter of the reader.
One point, Terry even meets with Kali in her LSD induced state: " Terry shook her head. 'There can be. He's just a man. He can't know everything.' She paused. 'Does he hurt you? Papa?' Kali frowned, but she didn't answer. 'If he does... I can help you.' Terry had to make her understand. The little girl shook her head. 'I don't think so. I might be able to help you, though.' A field of yellow sunflowers grew up around them. A rainbow arcing over the golden tops." Terry, understandably, begins to scheme about how they can help Kali to escape the lab.
Bond does a great job of transitioning between Terry's point of view to the other characters' viewpoints. We get a young woman named Gloria, who has a secret obsession with comic books (especially X-Men). A hippie-looking man named Ken, who claims he is psychic, but just happens to have a lot of hunches that come true. And last, but not least, another young woman named Alice, who shows up in grease covered overalls and curly black hair, explaining that she works for her uncle's garage and that she loves machines. These three are delightful to read about, and the story would be boring without them.
This book was the perfect novel to answer questions fans may have had about Eleven's mother. Bond writes smoothly and easily enough that you may find yourself wanting to read just one more page before setting the book down for the evening. She drags you into the world of the 1960's and helps young readers to feel the emotional time that it was for women like Terry. But with only a few inconsistencies here and there, 'Suspicious Minds' leaves us wanting more. If you are a fan of 'Stranger Things,' I say that this is a must-read! Highly recommend!
It’s about 6 weeks since I finished season 3 of this incredible show from Netflix. I have been putting off writing about it, because I wanted to let it settle. And also because I have a hell of a lot to say about it. I am gonna try and be comprehensive, without giving too much away in terms of spoilers. I am going to assume you have seen some of it, or have heard the hype, at least. If you haven’t got around to it yet, then all I can say is: what are you doing with your entertainment life? Get on it, now! It is as ubiquitous as Breaking Bad, The Sopranos, or The Wire, and sits comfortably in that group for consistent quality and lasting impressions.
Season one first aired in July 2017. I heard good things very quickly, albeit with some hesitation. It was dark, sometimes literally, utilising a trademark washed-out effect visually, that instantly gave it a bleak feel, which was not to everyone’s taste, but I loved. General consensus had it that the writing was great; the situation and concept drew you in from minute one. In fact, I believe the first episode is one of the best pilots seen in the last decade, bar none. It made no bones about what we were to expect from the start: intelligent dialogue, a lot of tension and a hefty chunk of jaw-dropping brutality.
Jason Bateman has enjoyed a remarkable career in the last ten years, putting behind him a patchy child-star and B actor tag, to emerge as the go to guy for deadpan comedy pathos, rivalled only, perhaps by Paul Rudd. Ozark is Bateman’s show in many regards, fulfilling his ambition to produce and direct as well as act, and he is a superb central pivot to the show, as hard nosed accountant turned drug cartel puppet, Marty Byrde. He excels in all three roles on every level, and if you are a fan of his lighter work, chances are you will fall head over heels for his dubious charm in Ozark.
But, whilst he is the lynchpin of the show, and a compelling character in every subtley drawn way, there is so much more to the show than him. Laura Linney, as his initially timid wife, Wendy, is never less than interesting. Perfectly cast, utilising her skill for portraying strong yet flawed women at every turn; she grows into a character so full of contradictions and conflicts, that you change your mind whether you like her or not almost episode to episode. Time will tell, but she may yet emerge in season 4 as the most fully realised character in the show, depending on how her arc ends. The potential is huge, and despite a CV of solid roles over the years, this could be the defining work of her career. It’s already close.
Then there are the kids in this very modern nuclear family, Charlotte and Jonah, played by Sofia Hublitz and Skylar Gaetner. These characters could have been set decoration in lesser hands, but in this show they are given the chance to grow and become pivotal to the ongoing story in remarkable ways. There is nothing stereotypical about either of them, and the two young actors more than rise to the challenge of matching the more experienced pros. Many a show has been ruined by miscast youths that can’t match the more sophisticated adult content, but I remain impressed by these two, both as characters and actors. Again, they have the scope to go into very fascinating places within the story when season four emerges.
The true strength of the show, however, may lie in its consistently solid output of great supporting characters. Julia Gartner, as older than her years redneck with ambitions to rise above it, Ruth, has garnered all the plaudits, quite rightly. You grow to like her in usual ways. At first mistrusting her and then ended up 100% on her side. At times, she is the only one making sense and making the right decisions. The continual ways she is forced to grow up fast and bounce back from traumatic situations is so beautifully handled, that when she does show her vulnerable side it is at once shocking and heart- rending.
A lot of characters come and go; some forever, much quicker than you anticipated… for the sake of non spoilers, I won’t go into a who’s who here, but many meet a very sticky end, and it isn’t always who you think it will be. Especially by season 3, which largely drops the dark filter on the camera lens, but cranks up the body count exponentially, you start to feel that no one is safe, and anyone can go at any minute. Except, when they do, and why they do, is so well interwoven into the plot that you forget to look for the sucker punch and are still left with your jaw hitting the floor.
There were moments on season three where I was actually talking to the screen, begging certain characters not to do what they were doing; a sure sign of complete emotional investment. A big part of that was the addition of Tom Pelphrey as Wendy’s brother, who from the start puts a genius new spin on the family dynamic, becoming intertwined in interesting and ultimately devastating ways. His character takes a while to warm up, but by mid-season he is guaranteed to be your favourite person in it. And in episode 9, he delivers a monologue and a performance that I would quite honestly say is one of the absolute best things I’ve ever seen in a TV show.
I was moderately outraged then, to see he wasn’t rewarded with at least a nomination for the 2020 Emmy Awards. An oversight rather than a snub, for sure, but when Bateman, Linney and Garner all got nominated and he didn’t it felt like a real injustice, and a lot of online vitriol reflected that. Such a shame, especially if it turns out to be the best work he ever does – and I can’t imagine anything better, but who knows where he will go from here.
By the end of season 3 I felt exhausted. Each episode is slightly over an hour long, but can feel like you just watched a self contained movie. The quality certainly feels that way. I was both elated and shocked by the way it was left on a cliff edge, and relieved that I could take a break from it now. Although, waiting potentially up to two years to see how the story ends now seems like a long wait.
And it will be the end, one way or another, as the production announced season four will be the last, however stretching from 10 to 14 episodes, divided into 2 halves of 7; a trick Breaking Bad also did in its fifth and final season. I love that idea. Knowing the finish line is coming, rather than having it stretch out for years until the ideas and the momentum have long run out. Dexter springs to mind: a show that should have ended two seasons earlier, for sure.
I can really only see two ways it can go from here: either everyone dies, and that seems quite likely right now, or they win big. There simply is no inbetween I can imagine that would be satisfying. And I’m on the fence which I will prefer… The only certainty is that I will be very excited indeed when it comes around. And shows that make you feel that way are rare. In the meantime, I’m gonna watch a lot of comedies. I need a laugh after this…
Season one first aired in July 2017. I heard good things very quickly, albeit with some hesitation. It was dark, sometimes literally, utilising a trademark washed-out effect visually, that instantly gave it a bleak feel, which was not to everyone’s taste, but I loved. General consensus had it that the writing was great; the situation and concept drew you in from minute one. In fact, I believe the first episode is one of the best pilots seen in the last decade, bar none. It made no bones about what we were to expect from the start: intelligent dialogue, a lot of tension and a hefty chunk of jaw-dropping brutality.
Jason Bateman has enjoyed a remarkable career in the last ten years, putting behind him a patchy child-star and B actor tag, to emerge as the go to guy for deadpan comedy pathos, rivalled only, perhaps by Paul Rudd. Ozark is Bateman’s show in many regards, fulfilling his ambition to produce and direct as well as act, and he is a superb central pivot to the show, as hard nosed accountant turned drug cartel puppet, Marty Byrde. He excels in all three roles on every level, and if you are a fan of his lighter work, chances are you will fall head over heels for his dubious charm in Ozark.
But, whilst he is the lynchpin of the show, and a compelling character in every subtley drawn way, there is so much more to the show than him. Laura Linney, as his initially timid wife, Wendy, is never less than interesting. Perfectly cast, utilising her skill for portraying strong yet flawed women at every turn; she grows into a character so full of contradictions and conflicts, that you change your mind whether you like her or not almost episode to episode. Time will tell, but she may yet emerge in season 4 as the most fully realised character in the show, depending on how her arc ends. The potential is huge, and despite a CV of solid roles over the years, this could be the defining work of her career. It’s already close.
Then there are the kids in this very modern nuclear family, Charlotte and Jonah, played by Sofia Hublitz and Skylar Gaetner. These characters could have been set decoration in lesser hands, but in this show they are given the chance to grow and become pivotal to the ongoing story in remarkable ways. There is nothing stereotypical about either of them, and the two young actors more than rise to the challenge of matching the more experienced pros. Many a show has been ruined by miscast youths that can’t match the more sophisticated adult content, but I remain impressed by these two, both as characters and actors. Again, they have the scope to go into very fascinating places within the story when season four emerges.
The true strength of the show, however, may lie in its consistently solid output of great supporting characters. Julia Gartner, as older than her years redneck with ambitions to rise above it, Ruth, has garnered all the plaudits, quite rightly. You grow to like her in usual ways. At first mistrusting her and then ended up 100% on her side. At times, she is the only one making sense and making the right decisions. The continual ways she is forced to grow up fast and bounce back from traumatic situations is so beautifully handled, that when she does show her vulnerable side it is at once shocking and heart- rending.
A lot of characters come and go; some forever, much quicker than you anticipated… for the sake of non spoilers, I won’t go into a who’s who here, but many meet a very sticky end, and it isn’t always who you think it will be. Especially by season 3, which largely drops the dark filter on the camera lens, but cranks up the body count exponentially, you start to feel that no one is safe, and anyone can go at any minute. Except, when they do, and why they do, is so well interwoven into the plot that you forget to look for the sucker punch and are still left with your jaw hitting the floor.
There were moments on season three where I was actually talking to the screen, begging certain characters not to do what they were doing; a sure sign of complete emotional investment. A big part of that was the addition of Tom Pelphrey as Wendy’s brother, who from the start puts a genius new spin on the family dynamic, becoming intertwined in interesting and ultimately devastating ways. His character takes a while to warm up, but by mid-season he is guaranteed to be your favourite person in it. And in episode 9, he delivers a monologue and a performance that I would quite honestly say is one of the absolute best things I’ve ever seen in a TV show.
I was moderately outraged then, to see he wasn’t rewarded with at least a nomination for the 2020 Emmy Awards. An oversight rather than a snub, for sure, but when Bateman, Linney and Garner all got nominated and he didn’t it felt like a real injustice, and a lot of online vitriol reflected that. Such a shame, especially if it turns out to be the best work he ever does – and I can’t imagine anything better, but who knows where he will go from here.
By the end of season 3 I felt exhausted. Each episode is slightly over an hour long, but can feel like you just watched a self contained movie. The quality certainly feels that way. I was both elated and shocked by the way it was left on a cliff edge, and relieved that I could take a break from it now. Although, waiting potentially up to two years to see how the story ends now seems like a long wait.
And it will be the end, one way or another, as the production announced season four will be the last, however stretching from 10 to 14 episodes, divided into 2 halves of 7; a trick Breaking Bad also did in its fifth and final season. I love that idea. Knowing the finish line is coming, rather than having it stretch out for years until the ideas and the momentum have long run out. Dexter springs to mind: a show that should have ended two seasons earlier, for sure.
I can really only see two ways it can go from here: either everyone dies, and that seems quite likely right now, or they win big. There simply is no inbetween I can imagine that would be satisfying. And I’m on the fence which I will prefer… The only certainty is that I will be very excited indeed when it comes around. And shows that make you feel that way are rare. In the meantime, I’m gonna watch a lot of comedies. I need a laugh after this…