Orlov had been putting the finishing touches on a newly upholstered couch when the phone rang. He picked up on the second ring. When K began to talk, Orlov flipped a switch near the base of the phone to scramble the signal and encode the conversation.
It’s Bladerunner, with some pure James Ellroy style noir magic. A joy to get lost in. I can’t wait to go back!
Man of the World is out now with All Due Respect, who are purveyors of mighty fine low life literature. Brazill’s book felt a bit like if Guy Ritchie had directed The Ladykillers (1955 version)… It’s a Brit-Grit belter laced with music to die for. Concentrated razor-sharp dialogue, lyrical dynamics and poetry are all in …
Continue reading “REVIEW: Man of the World by Paul D. Brazill”
Love + Hate in Rain City
‘BLEAK, STARK AND BRUTAL…’
‘Lyrical-poetry and prose mixes
with the blood down harsh
I didn’t notice his shadow next to me at first. And it could have passed for my own reflection in the mirror behind the bar — seeing double was nothing new. The air about him was the same as mine: tainted.
The tree looked like just another tree. The birds still sang. Insects still flew. The breeze still moved through the place. How could something so fucking ugly happen somewhere so beautiful and not change a single fucking thing?
‘The alien doctor wouldn’t be anything like Dr. Patel. Jeremy’s doctor was caring and kind; he just liked to talk. No needles, no knives, no painfully invasive probes.’
‘Juniper’s scorched Ballardian landscape is populated with rich, broken and searingly ominous characters.’
‘Beautifully uncomfortable — too believable in its dark subject matters.’
He sat and smoked and gazed out of the murky window at Coney Island. The boardwalk. The beach. The ocean. He had been holed up in the hotel room for days now and it felt as though the room was gradually expanding as he felt himself diminish. It felt as though he was being slowly …
Continue reading “SHORT STORY: A Last Look From The Half Moon Hotel by Stephen J. Golds”
In her college days at Barnard, Patricia Highsmith was steeped in Marx, Freud, and her budding writing career. She quickly became disenchanted with the first of these and later claimed to mistrust the second, but many of the dark roots of the writing we know so well first appeared in the pages of Barnard Quarterly …
Continue reading “FEATURE: The Roots of Ripley by K. A. Laity”