Book Review: My Life as A White Trash Zombie by Diana Rowland

As I may have noted in passing a few thousand times before, I'm a fan of all things zombie.

Not all things zombie.  I should have said nearly all things zombie.  Because for every good zombie movie or good zombie book, there are half a dozen real stinkers just dying to sneak into your bookshelf or your Netflix queue.

Happily, the book My Life as A White Trash Zombie by Diana Rowland is firmly in the good zombie group.  I snarfed this one down in a mere two days, because I had to know what happened next.  Who turned heroine Angel into a zombie?  Why did they turn her?  And how is she going to obtain the ingredients for her strict new diet without (ahem) learning to embrace her inner Romero?

This is NOT your typical zombie novel.  There is no undead rising.  No one is trapped in a mall.  Not a single cliche shambles past.  Angel appears normal to everyone around her, as long as she feeds on human flesh every few days.  Working in a morgue allows her the chance to do so without the usual zombie marauding.  and since the author has actually worked in a morgue setting, the details make Angel's day-to-day life come alive, so to speak.

What truly stands out about White Trash Zombie is Angel's journey from living deadbeat to undead upright citizen.  Seeing someone die and then manage to turn their train-wreck of a life around was an inspired theme, and I applaud Diana Rowland for taking the road less traveled.

If you're a fan of zombie fiction, I'd rate My Life as A White Trash Zombie as a must-read.  Better than 'Breathers!'

Also available in print.

Enjoy!

Belated Movie Reviews

I've seen a few movies the last few weeks, but didn't get around to savaging  reviewing them until now.  So, in no particular order, here are my thoughts:

CONAN THE BARBARIAN

RATING:  Zero fractured skulls out of a possible 10.  No, in fact, this movie was so bad it owes me three fractured skulls.
Good points:  No one has since tried to make me watch it again.
Bad points: Everything between the opening title sequence and the credits.  This movie was so monumentally awful it spoiled movies playing nearby.  The acting careers of people who haven't been born yet are even now being destroyed just because they share initials with the poor unfortunates who appear in this film.  Even the font used in the credits is doomed.
Plot summary: Conan hits a lot of people, the end.
Compare to: Painful rectal inflammation, prolonged visits by religious zealots, poorly-maintained public restrooms.
Comments: I'm not even sure these people were aware they were making a movie.  Between the blurry, too-dark 3D photography and the deafening but largely incoherent soundtrack, I thought for a few awful moments I had somehow been sucked into the turbofan of an airborne 747.  Sadly, this was not the case, and I was forced to endure well over an hour of nonsensical grunts and random slo-mo sword-fights.  Oh, and the sneering.  Conan sneers a lot, which I suppose he was well within his rights to do, since I shelled out fourteen bucks for two tickets to this cinematic nightmare.  Buried somewhere in the muddle of jumping and rolling and slashing there was a pitiful scrap of a revenge-story plot, but, undernourished and ignored, it starved to death  halfway through the thing, leaving behind a series of disjointed and uninspired brawls that sent several members of the audience wandering away in open disgust. See it only if the gun being held to your head is bigger than a thirty-eight.  Take your chances with a head wound if it's anything smaller.



PRIEST


RATING: Eight screaming vampire heads out of ten.  Not quite perfect, but not far from it.
Good points: Takes the best elements from classic Westerns and combines them with a new twist on vampirism.  Stylish and imaginative.
Bad points: Minor plot quibbles.  For instance, if humanity waged a thousand years of war against the vampires and ultimately won, would we really set up vampire 'reservations,' even in the wastelands?  I don't think so.  I mean, why?  The vamps probably aren't going to sit around playing pinochle and peacefully reliving the good old days, are they now?
Compare to: High Plains Drifter, Pale Rider, Near Dark, Chuck Norris.  Not any Chuck Norris movie, just the Man himself.
Comments: This movie oozed style.  The world looks lived in -- well, not so much lived in as kicked around, wounded, and sent limping down a trash-choked alley.  The dialog is straight High Noon western, as is the look of the thing.  You've got dusty frontier towns and leather and sweaty, gun-totin' townsfolk.  Sure, they're riding jet-powered motorcycles instead of piebald mares, but the spirit of the Old West is very much alive here.  You've got your honest lawman, your flawed hero looking for redemption from a world that let him down, your black-hat villain with his big stomping boots and his villainous grin.  Look, just watch this one.  It's a good movie.



FRIGHT NIGHT (2011 Version)


RATING: Eight screaming vampire heads out of ten.  Again, not quite perfect, but a great movie anyway.
Good points:  Doesn't take itself too seriously.  David Tennant plays Peter Vincent.  Yes, that David Tennant, of Dr. Who fame.  Also, this movie is not 'Conan the Barbarian,' which in itself is a very good thing.
Bad points: Okay, you're a vampire who has survived for centuries by feeding on the blood of the living.  You've seen war.  You've seen pestilence.  You've seen hundreds if not thousands of attempts by humans to strike you down.  But have you never seen a ten dollar wristwatch?  No?  And it never once occurred to you that having some method of determining the time of the sunrise might be worth checking into?  No?  Well okay then.
Comments:  Yes, 1980s vampire killer Charlie Brewster gets a 21st-century reboot in the remake of the classic Fright Night.  This time around, Charlie makes his home in Las Vegas, which also seems inviting to his new next-door neighbor, who isn't the least bit interested in gambling.  Nosey Charlie soon knows too much, and fanged hilarity ensues.  My favorite character was Peter Vincent, who is a Vegas stage magician in this version of the story.  The movie is fairly faithful to the original, but about that I will say no more.  I won't call this a horror movie, because it never really went for the jugular, but it was a fun way to spend an afternoon, and I don't really ask much more than that from remakes of 80s flicks anyway.  Give it a look.  

E-signing e-books on e-ink e-readers.

The future has arrived.

It's not the future I expected or hoped for, because instead of bringing me flying cars and Mars colonies and teleport pads, the future just slouched in, looked around with bleary eyes, and started complaining about his lousy data service with AT&T.

I think we can pretty much forget flying cars.  Ever.  We'll be lucky if we don't all wind up walking through some Mad Max leather-n-rubble post-apocalypse ruinscape on our way to trade old cans of beans for dirty  water at Bartertown.

But one thing I can do, people, is finally sign all my e-books digitally so you can view the inscription and signature (and the book cover, rendered in stunning grey-scale e-ink) right there on your Amazon Kindle e-reader.

How, you ask, your heart racing in rapt anticipation?

You merely click your way to www.kindlegraph.com and click 'Request Kindlegraph' under the appropriate cover of my book.  The 'signed' page will be delivered to your Kindle via the dark magic of the Whispernet before you can say 'egregious self-promotion.'

Is that all there is to it, you ask, incredulous?

Heck no.  You also have to stick Kindlegraph's email address in your 'Manage My Kindle' page on your Amazon account, or your Kindle will refuse the email from Kindlegraph.  Doing that is easy, though -- it just takes a couple of clicks.  A how-to page is here.  Make sure you don't skip Step 5!

It's easy and fun.  So if you want me to inscribe your electrons, head on over.

We can do this while we wait for the Future to get some rest and shave and maybe get started on the Mars colonies.

Adventures in PC Migrations

I've been stuck in computer move mode for the last few days.  My faithful but aging Dell XPS entered his retirement, where he will serve as a backup machine and step back into the fray if, Cthulhu forbid, my shiny new homebuilt job has issues.

All my writing files were swapped over to the new machine first, of course.  Then photos, various programs, and of course music, which is still a work in progress.

But I've now got a sweet dual-monitor setup, which means I don't have to squint and lean any more.  And the new homebuilt rig has a quad-core processor so I can run as many things as I please, all at the same time.  I predict this will allow me to confuse subject/verb agreement 38% faster than ever before!

I have to say Windows 7 has been a pleasant surprise.  I haven't foamed at the mouth or punched the keyboard in rage a single time, which is quite different from the last time I moved a whole system from one hardware platform to another.

I've been asked why I don't work on a Mac.  Nothing against Macs, really, it's just that A) you can't get decent games for the things and B) I want to swap out my own parts and I don't even know where to buy a Mac motherboard, for instance.  Do Macs even have motherboards?  Or do they run on the captured dreams of unicorns and a single tiny gleam from Steve Jobs' eye?  Not sure, but I don't think NewEgg sells either.

So now that I'm all set up it's time to get back to work on the new Markhat novel.

Oh, one last note.  My fictional steamboat the Brown River Queen is based on a real steamboat, the American Queen.  Turns out the American Queen is being relocated to nearby Memphis, Tennessee, where after a year of renovations she will ply the muddy Mississippi as a cruise boat.  I plan to visit her, and see how close I got in describing the real thing.  Sure, the American Queen won't be stoked by ogres or be lit by magic, but otherwise they're much the same.

SyFy Channel Makes More Wise Decisions

Remember a show called Farscape?


Anybody else love Stargate Universe?


Well, if so, you can add Eureka to the list of good shows the SyFy Channel has canceled.

I'm pretty pissed about it, too.  Sure, the science on Eureka was often, um, well.  Wrong is such a harsh word.  But I didn't mind, because the show was funny and bright and able to wink at itself.  It had engaging characters, all well-written and masterfully portrayed.  It was entertaining, and I'm not the easiest guy to entertain.

And now it's gone, because some blubbering dunderhead at SyFy decided it was too expensive to produce.

I'm sure it was expensive.  Quality usually is.  And I wouldn't be so angry about the cancellation if I had any confidence that Eureka would be replaced by something other than a lame supernatural reality show or a half-assed reboot of some obscure 80s failure.

Or, Chthulhu forbid, more wrestling.  


This just in --

(AP)  An interview with SyFy Channel executives regarding the cancellation of 'Eureka' revealed that the network is moving toward a "drunker, more violent, criminally-insane demographic" which prefers shows centered around "wrestling, improbably large reptiles, and frequent appearances by semi-nude WWF celebrities liberally covered in body oil."


"We understand that some Eureka fans are upset, but frankly we don't give a crap," claimed one executive. "Have you seen my drink?"


"Isn't sci-fi supposed to be about giant snakes anyway?" asked another, as he fumbled with his bong. "Giant snakes and that Tiffany chick, right? Super."


The show destined to replace 'Eureka' in its Monday evening time slot, 'WrestlerSnake EXTREME," is already in production and will begin airing early next year.

London Burning

All my British friends are aghast at the violence sweeping parts of London tonight.  From what I see on Twitter, mobs are setting shops and homes aflame after looting them.  They're using Blackberry phones to coordinate their attacks, and I've also seen rumors that the rioters are targeting witnesses who tweet about it with Twitter's location feature.

The mob is composed of the ever-popular generic 'youth.'  The rioters call themselves protesters, angry over a police shooting.  Everyone else calls them looters, because anger over a police shooting is hard to equate with stripping the shelves of the nearest Best Buy before charging off to find a tennis shoe store.

The British police have thus far been over-run or reduced to standing around watching the flames.  Which might beg the question 'Why don't cops have guns?' but since I'm not British I suppose that's really none of my business.

I do wish all my British fans and friends safety and peace.  I hope you all emerge from this mess unscathed, unlooted, and un-arsoned.

These are difficult times.  I fear that before it starts getting better it's going to get a lot worse, for all of us.

Stay safe out there.

Google +, Boom or Bust?

I've spent about two weeks on Google+, which is of course Google's attempt to unseat Facebook as the most popular social networking site around (MySpace was last seen loitering, unkempt and alone, in a pawn shop parking lot on Detroit's notorious Eight Mile).

I like Google+.  I like the idea of sticking this person in one circle, and this other person in another, and knowing that people in my Work circle, for instance, won't see the endless stream of 'buy my book' begging I inflict upon my Fans circle.

There's also none of this adding friends business.  Facebook forces you to send potential 'friends' a friend request, which they must accept before any other communication commences.  With Google+, I just add any name I want to any circle I want (and you can create your own), and if that person gets tired of my inane ramblings they can quietly block me.  I'll never know it.  No muss, no fuss.

Google+ has just as many -- more, really -- bells and whistles as FB.  Better ones, too.  And you know what Google+ does not have?

Farmville.  Mafia Wars.  None of that.  I haven't been pestered by a single game app.  No one has encouraged me to 'Click here to see real pictures of Casey Anthony killing Osama bin Laden!'


I haven't seen a single poorly-worded exhortation that I repost some sophomoric bit of patriotic doubletalk or all-caps religious dogma.

Do I think Google+ will send Facebook packing anytime soon?

No.  But I do see a migration of some of FB's users to Google+.  A lot of people may find the relative lack of lame game apps and tee-hee joke reposts refreshing.

In fact, a mass migration of FB users to Google+ might be a bad thing, because it would inevitably bring Farmville and the like right along with it.

I still have a couple of Google+ invitations left.  Email me at franktuttle@franktuttle.com if you'd like one.  If you're already on Google+, say hi to me there!  Just make sure you talk to me -- there's another Frank Tuttle there.  He's a photographer, and a good one.

I'm also trying to become more active on Twitter.  Look to the right of this blog post - somewhere over there you'll find a FOLLOW ME button.  Click it if you're interested!

Edits Away!

The final edits for The Broken Bell are done and away!

Which is good.  Final edits done, I've seen an absolutely stunning sneak peek of the book cover -- it's been a good weekend to be a writer.

Tonight, I'm going to eat some vanilla ice cream with chocolate on top.  Karen and I will watch Leverage and Falling Skies.

And tomorrow, I'll start another book.

Writing is work, make no mistake.  There were times I almost threw in the proverbial towel.  But days like this make all the work worthwhile.

For everyone who's bought a Markhat book, thanks!  I hope you've enjoyed reading them.  I got an email today in which the sender asked if I planned to keep writing Markhat books.

The answer to that is a resounding yes.

Take care, all, and look for The Broken Bell in December!

Sneak Peek at All the Paths of Shadow

All the Paths of Shadow is due out in September of this year.  You can't see me right now, but I'm throwing confetti and blowing into one of those New Year's Eve noisemaker things.  I believe announcements about book releases deserve a bit of celebration.


Now I am happy to direct you to the following link, which leads you to a peek at the cover!

All the Paths of Shadow is here, at Cool Well Press site.  The cover is by Anne Cain, the same brilliant artist who did several Markhat book covers (you can see them here and here and here).  I love the way she can capture the mood of the book with her covers, and the way she slips important items from the story into each.

Oh, and if anyone is wondering -- is that brooding rangy fellow in the trench coat and the hat in the Markhat covers me?

Why yes, yes it is.  And when I say yes I mean no, I am lying through my keyboard, because I could wear the best hat in the world and never look that could.  But that's the magic of fiction.

So go, check out the cover for All the Paths of Shadow, and the other books Coming Soon on the Cool Well Press site too.

Time to start saving those pennies!

Hummingbirds and Random Images

The image above is of a mimosa tree bloom.  We have a big mimosa tree in the backyard, and every summer those blooms call every hummingbird from a hundred miles around.

Watching dozens of hummingbirds dart and weave and twist and turn amid the branches of that mimosa tree makes standing out in the heat almost worthwhile.  There must be ten thousand fat lush blooms on that tree, but all the hummingbirds do is fight over the same two dozen blooms.

There's probably a moral or some deep cosmic truth buried in that statement.  Or maybe hummingbirds just like to fight.  It's hot and frankly I don't care to ponder the matter further, but I thought a few of you might enjoy the picture.  That subtle glow that seems to emanate from the bloom's heart?

That's either a glimpse of the very life-force that infuses all living things, or I took the photo with the F-stop set wrong.  You decide.

I sent the edits for All the Paths of Shadow off last week, so I've spent this weekend working on a short story for a horror anthology coming out later this year.

Honestly, I was a little worried that I'm no longer able to even write short stories.  As far as I can tell the last time I wrote an actual short was in 2004 or so, which in writer's years equals 2,752 fortnights, or 12,000 half-penny furlongs.

A long stretch, in other words.

But I'm happy to report that things are going quite well with the short piece, which is entitled The Knocking Man.  I'm halfway done, the story is appropriately creepy and spooky without being overtly gory, and I think no one is going to expect the ending (though by this point the reader will think they've got it figured out, though they don't).  So I'll get my first short piece in years out well before the deadline.  Hopefully it'll be good enough to make it into the anthology.

And then it's back to the novels!  Markhat and Darla are getting impatient.  They heard something about a trip down the Brown River on a luxurious gambling boat and they're eager to get underway.

Me too.