Two new books
Well, ‘new,’ I don’t know — I’m just seeing them anyway. And one I’ve been waiting for, I don’t know, feels like ever, but a few months anyway:
New series editor, and King, I mean, he knows what a good story’s made of, or from, or with. Bad thing is, I’m into this other book-reading thing right now, that’s going to keep my nose out of this book for at least a couple of months, maybe even until January or so. Still though, like a deer you hit with your your truck then mount on the wall trophy-style, I’ve got this one, anyway, don’t have to keep trolling those backroads with my brights on.
|The other, I didn’t even know to wait for, but it looks supercool, even if/though I tolerate the Austen novels poorly, probably just in some lame attempt to project proper ‘masculinity’: LOST IN AUSTEN. It’s a Choose Your Own Adventure. And, paging through, that’s really and actually and truly (to say nothing of ‘perfectly’) what it looks to be. Very exciting. Now the infection just needs to spread to other genres, other authors.|
( too, oddly, though I guess I can only really mean ‘oddly’ if I’ve read the book, and know this doesn’t apply, but, anyway, this comes up when I search Google Images for “Lost in Austen” )
Also, if I get the nerve, I’ll maybe post this little bullet-point journal-thing I kept while writing the Three Day Novel over Labor Day Weekend. Was a ball. Result: The Long Trial of Nolan Dugatti. I even still like it, which is rare for anything I ever write.
And, the zombie novel: about to start pecking away on it some more. Labor Day weekend sucked every bit of ink out of me, and I haven’t been to quite enough movies yet to recharge. There’s 3:10 to YUMA and BALLS OF FURY and SHOOT EM UP and maybe even DEATH SENTENCE and THE BROTHERS SOLOMON. Unless of course I just wind up catching SUPERBAD over and over and over again. A distinct possibility. As for BECOMING JANE, and in spite of that LOST IN AUSTEN: not much chance. I prefer my costumey movies to involve pirates when possible, and for all the internal struggles to be conveyed not through coy glances and pouty eyes and suggestively improper manners, but dragons and swords and guitars, or — but I’m dreaming now — hockey masks.*
* Like, something along the lines of ‘Jason vs. Dickens,’ which can end with London burning, or some bridges falling down, or a man with a particularly thin shell tipping off the edge of some wall.