"Andrew Smith (Winger; Grasshopper Jungle) pens a phenomenal novel about life's many detours, told in the unforgettable voice of an epileptic teenager with heterochromatic eyes (one blue, one green) and a strange history. When 16-year-old Finn Easton was seven years old, a dead horse that was being transported to a rendering plant fell "one hundred sideways miles" off a bridge and landed on Finn and his mother. The impact broke Finn's back and killed his mother. His epilepsy, which he may grow out of, is a "souvenir" of the accident, and if he does grow out of it, he suspects he may miss the way the seizures empty the words out of his head. Finn measures the world in miles instead of minutes, because he believes "distance is more important than time." His crush, Julia Bishop, a Chicago transplant living with her aunt and uncle because of a devastating secret, admires Finn's perspective on life. The moment he meets Julia, Finn wonders "how many atoms from the same calamities out there in the universe our body shared.... Maybe my right hand and her left hand both came from the same supernova." Julia, ever astute, gets why Finn named his dog Laika, is patient with him during his wild mood swings when he's returning from a "blank out" (seizure) and, most importantly, she loves Finn back. Which makes it crushing for both Finn (and readers) when Julia must return to Chicago--the very place where she was victim of a tragedy that makes Finn wish he "could push the world back all those miles with my bare hands and make it change direction," even if it means they'd never have met. Throughout the novel, Finn suffers from an identity crisis as he questions whether or not he's the product of his father's bestselling cult-classic novel, The Lazarus Door, starring a protagonist with the teen's name, heterochromatic eyes, seizures, and scars identical to the ones he has on his back from his post-accident surgery. So Finn sets out on a road trip with his best friend, the memorable Cade Hernandez, to figure out the ending to his story, when an unexpected accident rewrites their future. Smith's sly commentary on today's school system ("designed to make us all the same," in Cade's words) intertwines with the story of Finn's desperation to break out and be different--not a reproduction of anyone's expectations. The well-rounded supporting characters and the Southern California setting make for a welcome departure from the usual glitz of Los Angeles life. Hilarious and wise, 100 Sideways Miles is an addictive and panoramic read about the intersecting--and divergent--paths that lie ahead. Breathtakingly good."

"I would say that Nick Cave is the greatest artist of my generation. I saw The Birthday Party about ten times and they only lasted a few years. I was lucky. I went to see them opening for Bauhaus, by accident. They blew Bauhaus away. I was like, ""What the fuck is this?"" There was this man in a vicar's dog collar, slapping the front row with a bible and a bass player wearing an Australian corked hat. They were fucked – they were more fucked than Iggy and I had given up looking for people more fucked than Iggy. I think The Birthday Party were the only band where Nick Cave was matched by other characters as big as he was. The Bad Seeds are a great band but Tracy Pew and Rowland Howard matched Nick Cave, which takes some doing. I was so lucky to have seen that band. I followed them around and saw them degenerate due to heroin abuse. Then, I watched Cave's transition into The Bad Seeds and I still thought he was a fascinating human being. I could have put The Birthday Party's second album, Prayers On Fire, on this list, but it is pretty unlistenable for most people. I chose The Boatman's Call because it was the first time he allowed himself to get really vulnerable through his love songs. I think it is a masterpiece and shows the breadth of his talent. There are five or six love songs on that record that are as good as Leonard Cohen's. It is a remarkable record. I have met him a number of times. Once, I pretended to be a journalist and interviewed him. He was probably still strung out on heroin and we nearly got into a fight. He threatened me and I didn't back down. A few weeks later, he found out who I was and then slagged off James in the NME. It didn't make me love him any less. It was just who he was at the time. I think he is still very damaged and hurt from his dealings with the press. He's been through the Amy Winehouse/Pete Doherty thing, where the press are sitting like vultures, waiting for him to die. I can imagine that he has coloured his view of journalism. I had a dream about Nick Cave on the night I got married, in which he told me his secret, magical voodoo name. I have never had the opportunity to tell him what his secret, magical voodoo name is, but I hope to one day. I guess that Nick Cave may hate James, but I don't care. I recognise his genius and I love him and wish him well."

"Tales Of Terror were this band from Sacramento. Unfortunately this record hasn't physically been reissued yet. They came through Seattle and played a show. It was random, nobody had heard of them, they hadn't got a record out. It was at an all-ages venue where you'd just go for something to do and this band came on and destroyed the place. And this was probably around '84 so at that point I was kind of looking for other things besides hardcore, which I was much more into a year or two previously. Green River had started at this point and I was trying to do something a bit differently, and this band came out and among the covers they played they did 'Search and Destroy' and 'Spanish Castle Magic' and everyone in the band was just an awesome, crazed musician. The singer would do backflips and land on his feet and by the end of the set all of them except for the drummer were wrapped up in cords. Somehow they all got tangled up and it didn't seem like something pre-planned, it was the natural course of events for that particular show. They were just wild, wild dudes and unfortunately a couple of them are dead now, and one of them is severely debilitated due to too much drugs, which is kind of a bummer. They were the kind of people who were just up for everything and they'd push whatever boundaries and envelopes there were. Supposedly they would carry a blender with them and they'd just put whatever in the blender. They'd go to someone's house, find the alcohol and weird shit from the fridge and put it in and then they'd drink it. I even heard they would put dirt in it. I don't know if that's true, it seems a little over the top. They were a great band that unfortunately only lasted for one record. The only flaw of that record is that it starts off with a cover of 'Hound Dog' but once they kick into their own songs after that it's a fantastic fucking record. It's really super loose. The record seems like you can almost hear them getting drunker and drunker as everything continues. Green River covered one of their songs from that record - a song called 'Ozzie' - we didn't do it nearly as good but... we did it. They were a big influence in our approach to live performance. Unfortunately I don't have the limberness and the wherewithal to do that now. There was one crazy Mudhoney show at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London where everybody tried to fit up on stage."