Wow, it's been a long time since I blogged! I guess I've been busy. I'm probably going to do some retrospective book reviews - I've read a good few in the past 3 months, although nothing from my 'Coming soon...' list.
Some good news, we got tickets for Monday night's Prince concert in Croke Park. Yeay!
Some bad news, the gig was cancelled last Thursday. Boo!
I'll give a proper update on what's been going on for the past few months later too, when I've more time. Just couldn't leave the blog as it was for another day.
These volumes pick up the tale of Lucifer Morningstar from when he left his kingdom of Hell in the capable administrative hands of the angels Remiel and Duma (in Neil Gaiman's masterpiece, the Sandman). On the whole, this is fan-freaking-tastic, BUT (and I promise I'm not giving anything away here) given story's trajectory, there is really no other way that it can end and that's a pity. Sometimes, I wish these things could go on forever, but I suppose they wouldn't be as good then. Let's just say that there's no fear of Lucifer jumping the shark, even though he could if he wanted to!
Snow White is sent to the Caliph's court as Fabletown's emmisary and finds herself having to entertain him in order to keep her head. Scheherazade learns her lessons from the mistress of story-telling...
About as interesting as it sounds, so not very. Unfortunately, I will have to try and wade through this again because I couldn't bring myself to read the whole thing. In the interests of fairness, there will be no star rating until then.
So, it's a good while since I read this. I know that I had tried to read it before and given up (Chapter One was very familiar), which is never a good sign. All in all, not a bad read. Popcorn for the brain. Not as funny as the first one, but not entirely terrible either.
This is not something that I have done since I started this reviewing business, but sweet Christ, I could not read this book. I'm sorry. I tried. I kept plodding along with it in the hopes that I'd get into it, but no joy. The story is tragic, even worse, it is hopeless; the protaganists have no redeeming qualities, because their mother has fucked with their heads so badly; the sex is simultaneously prolific, profane and completely devoid of any heart or heat. I suppose that it's a feat to be able to write something so filthy without any eroticism whatsoever. Whatever. It wasn't enough to keep me turning the pages. Maybe I'll give it another go in a year or two... but for now, Houellebecq: nil points.
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