King Rat by China Miéville

Two nights ago, on a whim, I picked it from my 'must read' stack. King Rat by China Miéville. It's been ages since I've been so drawn in and captivated by a fantasy novel. Urban fantasy. Gritty, witty, horrific, wondrous, funny, and awe-inspiring. There is so much of myself in the book, in Saul, and so much of Bobby (reemul) in King Rat.

A review of the book on-line that I agree with:

( Read more... )

Thinking about Whitley Strieber and Nancy A. Collins.

Two authors whose fiction has spoken to me through the years:

Pre-alien-abduction-crap Whitley Strieber (why o! why on Earth did he abandon good, solid urban fantasy/horror stories for Art Bell alien abduction pablum? Sadly, it's a cash cow, the alien abduction shtick). He did recently try to revive his fiction career with two sequels to one of my favorite books, The Hunger, but... I don't know if he tried too hard, or what. I haven't read the third installment because the last few chapters of the sequel pissed me off so much.

The sequel, The Last Vampire, was so amazing, sucked me in like his old works, until the last three chapters. The characters suddenly said and did things totally unlike their established selves, to such an extreme I wanted to physically damage the book. It was excruciating, to be so enthralled and then insulted for investing in the characters.

So I guess Whitley should stick with his lame alien niche. I tried to read Communion back when it came out, but it bored the stuffing outta me *shoves guts back in*. It's really a shame, because his older works are still modern, fresh, and vibrant: The Wild, Wolf Of Shadows, The Hunger, Cat Magic. Thankfully there are still a few of his older works I've yet to read, so I can pretend that they are new. >;-)

---

Nancy A. Collins drew me in with the vampire character Sonja Blue. What's amusing is that I've never been a fan of vampires. When all my friends were obsessed with Anne Rice's vampire chronicles back in the late '80's, I forced myself to read a few and they didn't do it for me. The character Lestat pissed me right off, despite so many of my friends swooning over him.

I desired a strong, tough as nails, witty and dangerous heroine. I was 16, out for a walk at night (five months prior to getting a wheelchair), and I had five bucks. So I went to the 24 hour Circle K and thumbed through the new horror paperbacks. Sunglasses After Dark was there, the cover stark white with a Nagel-esque panting of a woman wearing sunglasses in the center. I read the back with a critical eye, fearing more boring, depressing vampire fodder like Anne Rice's. The cover seemed to look at me, so after twenty minutes of indecision I bought it.

And damn was it worth it!

From that moment on, I devoured every book and short story I could find of Nancy's. I was thrilled by the werewolf books Wild Blood and Walking Wolf, all the adventures of the character Sonja Blue (she's my favorite female hero in many ways--I both want to be her and to fuck her. Freud would have a field day with that one! >;-)

Avenue X, the collection of short stories only available through mail order, was a brilliant divergence from the Nancy I'd become used to. Great stuff!