Twenty tasty morsels, served over easy.
A collection of short stories featuring the seedier side of life by one of the country’s best crime writers.
“Fabergé eggs they ain’t,” Child admits in the foreword, and he’s right. These are unfancy little eggs—to stretch the metaphor—that don’t overshadow his novels, and yet they satisfy our innate craving to read about other people’s failings and misadventures. Some of them end in twists that harken back to O. Henry, such as “Ten Keys,” where a drug-running escapade ends in a surprising way. It also has the book’s best line: “He was a white guy…the product of too many generations of inbred hardscrabble hill people, his DNA baked down to nothing more than the essential components, arms, legs, eyes, mouth.” “My First Drug Trial” is also like that, with a last line that pops off the page. In “The Bodyguard,” a guy is hired to protect a young woman who is the high-value target of a rich and prominent couple. A nice twist at the end makes the bodyguard doubt himself, and the reader might smile. And then, in “The Greatest Trick of All,” there’s a professional killer who can nail you from a thousand yards and thinks he can’t be stopped. Said “greatest trick” is getting paid twice for a hit, but in this case, he might be mistaken. Most of the stories won’t keep you on the edge of your seat, but they’re easy, brief explorations of the darker nooks and crannies of humanity. But one story takes a sad turn into the past: In “New Blank Document,” a freelancer is assigned to write a sidebar about the brother of a modestly accomplished Black American artist living in Paris. The crucial, heart-rending story has to do with the fate of a second brother not everyone knows about; think Jim Crow. Finally, the title tale features a narrator you’d never want to meet in real life.
Twenty tasty morsels, served over easy.Pub Date: Sept. 3, 2024
ISBN: 9781613165669
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Mysterious Press
Review Posted Online: Sept. 28, 2024
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 1, 2024
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.
Are we not men? We are—well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z(2006).
A zombie apocalypse is one thing. A volcanic eruption is quite another, for, as the journalist who does a framing voice-over narration for Brooks’ latest puts it, when Mount Rainier popped its cork, “it was the psychological aspect, the hyperbole-fueled hysteria that had ended up killing the most people.” Maybe, but the sasquatches whom the volcano displaced contributed to the statistics, too, if only out of self-defense. Brooks places the epicenter of the Bigfoot war in a high-tech hideaway populated by the kind of people you might find in a Jurassic Park franchise: the schmo who doesn’t know how to do much of anything but tries anyway, the well-intentioned bleeding heart, the know-it-all intellectual who turns out to know the wrong things, the immigrant with a tough backstory and an instinct for survival. Indeed, the novel does double duty as a survival manual, packed full of good advice—for instance, try not to get wounded, for “injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you.” Brooks presents a case for making room for Bigfoot in the world while peppering his narrative with timely social criticism about bad behavior on the human side of the conflict: The explosion of Rainier might have been better forecast had the president not slashed the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey, leading to “immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System,” and there’s always someone around looking to monetize the natural disaster and the sasquatch-y onslaught that follows. Brooks is a pro at building suspense even if it plays out in some rather spectacularly yucky episodes, one involving a short spear that takes its name from “the sucking sound of pulling it out of the dead man’s heart and lungs.” Grossness aside, it puts you right there on the scene.
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.Pub Date: June 16, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-9848-2678-7
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine
Review Posted Online: Feb. 9, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK TO SCREEN
It's being called a novel, but it is more a hybrid: short-stories/essays/confessions about the Vietnam War—the subject that O'Brien reasonably comes back to with every book. Some of these stories/memoirs are very good in their starkness and factualness: the title piece, about what a foot soldier actually has on him (weights included) at any given time, lends a palpability that makes the emotional freight (fear, horror, guilt) correspond superbly. Maybe the most moving piece here is "On The Rainy River," about a draftee's ambivalence about going, and how he decided to go: "I would go to war—I would kill and maybe die—because I was embarrassed not to." But so much else is so structurally coy that real effects are muted and disadvantaged: O'Brien is writing a book more about earnestness than about war, and the peekaboos of this isn't really me but of course it truly is serve no true purpose. They make this an annoyingly arty book, hiding more than not behind Hemingwayesque time-signatures and puerile repetitions about war (and memory and everything else, for that matter) being hell and heaven both. A disappointment.
Pub Date: March 28, 1990
ISBN: 0618706410
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Review Posted Online: Oct. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 1990
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