I read this to see if it would shed light on one of the most unique dinner conversations I've ever had. It did, by the way. Quotes:- There's a reason humans peg-out around eight: prose fatigue. It looks like organ failure or cancer or stroke but it's really just the inability to carry on clamberi...
Frankly, I found Tallula Rising a disappointing sequel to The Last Werewolf. I've read quite a bit of Glen Duncan and I would put this at the bottom of the pile. Like Duncan's other works, Tallula Rising is a fast-paced and gripping thriller with plenty of blood and gore, oodles of sex and a heal...
I don't care for this style of writing. I couldn't even finish the book.... Last Werewolf #2 and throw in more vampires.
I know several people for whom a novel is just a story -- something to be distilled to its barest essentials and then ingested summarily. To me, though, a novel is much more than the sum of all its parts -- the plot, the characters, the language, the ambience. A novel is something that you need t...
”Once upon a...Time, you’ll be pleased to know--and since one must start somewhere--was created in creation.What was there before creation? is meaningless. Time is a property of creation. What there was was the Old Chap peering in a state of perpetual nowness up His own almighty sphincter trying ...
The individual’s odour at this moment—your odour facing death—is cruelly sweet, an ecstatic tension before the snap that throws us into attack. I leaped over the table, over agog Alan’s head, and at the end of my parabola opened Sue’s belly with a contemptuously casual downward swipe. She sank to...
- to tell all.All? Some. I'm toying with that for a title: Some. Got a post-millennial modesty to it, don't you think? Some. My side of the story. The funk. The jive. The boogie. The rock and roll. (I invented rock and roll. You wouldn't believe the things I've invented. Anal sex, obviously. Smok...
The last woman was a young dark-haired prostitute in Barcelona he’d paid extra to lie with him for an hour postcoitally, his nose in her downy nape. Just lie here? Yes, if that’s okay. She’d been palpably uneasy, as if affection was an edgy perversion, but what could he tell her? He was astonishe...
