Bradley Sands

I 1st encountered Bradley Sands when we friended each other here on GoodReads. I had little or no impression of him. His picture seemed somewhat nondescript. Then I met him in Boulder when I was there to guest lecture & perform at Naropa University. I didn't get much of a chance to meet him there b/c I was so distracted but we did get a chance to talk a little & he seemed enthusiastic & friendly. I still had no idea of what his writing was like.

THEN he sent me this bk c/o my friend Amy show more Catanzano. I get a fair amt of bks given to me, I don't necessarily expect to like them all. Sometimes I'm a bit worried I won't like them at all & that then I'll be faced w/ writing a negative review since I review every bk I read here on GoodReads & try to always review them honestly. SO, imagine my relief when I started reading this & not only liked it but liked it more & more the more I read it. It's funny, surprising, fairly original (or, at least, I'm unaware of its milieu), & well-written. & he's not a one-trick pony: he explores a variety of techniques.

There're puns galore - such as "peanutbutterfly net". There're lively similes: "His body vibrates like a caffeinated poodle humping its favorite chew toy." Wonderful pun-based plot twists: "He sits on the floor of his bedroom, trying to balance his budget so he can afford a mattress. The window opens and a woman in a scat burglar suit ski-do-be-bops through it. Lost in the realm of her impeccable scatting abilities, she doesn't notice that someone in the room is hyperventilating. She steals the floor and is halfway to the pawnshop before she discovers she's committed a kidnapping. Their eyes meet, go out for dinner and a movie, and REALLY hit it off." All this & more in just the 1st story: "Abridged Version".

The author makes appearances throughout - such as in "Terror in the Haunted House": "Bradley waits until Crispin's skull is one crunch away from shattering before briefing you on his condition" & in "Jared Bruckheiny": "He responds by yelling, "Bradley Sands fall down - take one" and slams his head between the black and white agony of a clapboard."

Other recurrences include things like No Girls Allowed - vodka, a corporation, & a magazine. There're locations like the Humperdumper Yogurtarium and Toilet Paper Boutique; Cheesequake & Moonsylvania. The Encyclopedia Orangutannicas makes at least 2 appearances. All of these contribute to establishing Bradley's alternate universe.

Sands' world is a rollicking grotesquerie full of cartoon violence & what I like to call schizophrenic humor - where the figurative is turned literal & vice-versa. There're probably other writers out there like him, maybe even a whole underground scene, but if there're any better than him at this I'd like to have them called to my attn so I can read their work. The closest writer I can think of at the moment is Rupert Wondlowski, whose work I also like, but I think of Rupert's work as more 'poetic' & Bradley's as more fictional.

Sands' world is like a ghost bus that you had to take home from yr job at the fast food restaurant for kiddies where you had to clean up more puke than you'd ever imagined possible. It was late at nite, you'd fallen asleep on the bus, it'd crashed in a freak accident w/ the entire replacement shift for people going into a similar job. You'd woken up, not realized that you were dead & everyone around you was Bradley Sands in a different form of drag. You wondered where the party was & asked everyone what yr name was but they only laughed at you.

I liked this bk so much that when I was recently fotoed in bed for a "secretly famous" section of a nascent magazine I made sure to be fotoed reading "My Heart Said No, But The Camera Crew Said YES!" May that contribute to a steady stream of new readers for Sands. & may I read more by him. Amen. show less

Flash fiction is a weird animal in literature. It can be so short that it doesn't allow meaning to enter into anything unless the author knows what they're doing. Still, in the right hands flash fiction can be a brilliant vehicle to get the point across quickly.

Sorry I Ruined Your Orgy by Bradley Sands is a collection of flash fiction and prose poetry that engages in a lot of experimentation and pushes the boundaries with how far an author can play with the rules before the narrative, even a show more very brief narrative, falls apart.

To start, you'll notice something right away: Most of these stories are very brief, in some cases being only a short paragraph long. Sorry I Ruined Your Orgy is kind of like Robot Chicken: The Novel (which doesn't exist; it's just a personal dream of mine). You get quick cuts of things that seem to be completely random with an occasional longer story, although nothing that's really that long. From the Pope getting sued to a war that breaks out over greeting cards, this covers everything that has nothing to do with each other and somehow makes them relate. Some stories even have some touching commentary on real-world perspectives, like how a child can see their parent as invincible.

You might notice how above I said that it pushes the boundaries before a narrative falls apart. In this book, Sands walks that line very carefully, and the way he describes everything as though it's the most normal stuff in the world adds to that effect. I found myself almost hearing these stories read to me in a deadpan fashion. While a few of the stories were a little off, none of them actually crosses that lines into total collapse. Some of these stories straight-up shine. It was a really fascinating experience to read this book. There are a lot more gems than stinkers here.

As far as bizarro fiction goes, it definitely qualifies. Believe me, nothing about any of these stories qualify as normal. In fact, that might be a bit of a sticking point for some. While collections of short pieces could be a good introduction for someone into the bizarro genre, I can't recommend this for newbies. Some of this is so bizarre that it would likely leave the uninitiated confused, if not send them straight to the looney bin babbling about Tao Lin with golden eyebrows.

A volume worth your time, this book is recommended but only for those that already have a little bizarro under their belt or might already be unhinged enough the get Sands' special brand of madness, and if you do then please seek help. The small size of the stories make it easy to read and take a break whenever you need to, but the stories may still be too surreal for the uninitiated. And even for the initiated, it's not perfect and not every story will be for everyone. While good, this book is completely non-traditional and experimental, so be warned. Personally, I happen to like more experimental fiction, and even when it doesn't always work, I still respect the author for trying something new.

Sorry I Ruined Your Orgy by Bradley Sands earns 4 ape smoothies out of 5. show less

If strong language including the use of the taboo 'F-word' in print sends you screaming with horror to the bathroom where you'll frantically wash your eyes, ears and possibly the dirty taste in your mouth out, this dainty tale should be avoided. For those sickos who are still reading...slap on the rubber gloves and get messy with the mash-up action hero, Rico Slade. Let's see if you can name or rather, recognize all the American action icons that make a cameo appearances in this psychotic show more break from reality. What happens when therapy goes horribly wrong? Hollywood is in serious trouble! Fan fiction fun for the whole dysfunctional family! show less

This is a book you will either love or hate. I don’t think there can be much gray area. The reason for this is because this book relies on a teenaged narrator, a particularly stupid teenaged narrator whose brain is given to repetition. Lots of repetition. I suspect a real teenager would find this book interminable. But if you can remember yourself when you were annoying as the day was long, yammering about ANARCHY and hating everyone around you because they were norms, you may find Artie show more Pendragon as funny as I did.

This book is a retelling of the King Arthur story using ridiculous suburban schmoes in the place of heroic figures. Excalibur is a remote control and Camelot is inside a television. When Artie’s father dies and his mother marries his uncle, no one can work the television until one night Artie uses the Excalibur 3000 to navigate the TV and his entire family finds themselves sucked into a netherworld wherein actors really are inside the television. Artie has to engage in a struggle against his stepfather and little sister as he hunts for the Holy Grail. Can he save the land in the television? Can he achieve his goal of anarchy? Can he get his wife back from his stepfather and take his place as the rightful ruler? Will his struggles be so silly that it makes the mythos of Arthur seem like little more than the backdrop to a Bill and Ted film? The only question I will answer for you is the last one and I think you know what the answer is.

As I mentioned earlier, this book is told from the perspective of an irritating and somewhat uninteresting teenager, a teenager upon whom fate has thrust greatness of sorts. Through showing examples of Artie’s thought processes, I can demonstrate how simple and repetitive he is and, in my opinion, utterly hilarious. Here’s a scene wherein he is watching his younger sister playing in a soccer game:

I sit in a folding beach chair on the sidelines, watching my little sister play out on the field. The chair is uncomfortable. A strip of polyester fabric is poking me in the ass. I do not like to be poked in the ass. But it is worth being poked in the ass. It is a really great pee wee soccer game. It is total anarchy, super-retardo anarchy awesomeness. It is the most anarchist thing on Earth.

Oh wait, I forgot about riots in the streets.

But riots in the streets don’t have little girls picking up clumps of grass out of the ground instead of defending their goal, little girls chasing butterflies instead of the ball, little girls tripping over the ball, little girls kicking the ball into the wrong goal, little girls calling their opponents cuntbags, little girls screaming as they run away from the ball.

Riots in the streets don’t have soccer moms. Riots on the streets don’t have soccer dads. Riots on the streets don’t have riots between soccer moms and soccer dads over pee wee soccer games. Riots in the streets are over real world issues. Real world issues are fucking lame.

I say it out loud, “Real world issues are fucking lame.”

This is a long quote but I throw it out here because it’s a litmus test. If you find this particular style of writing annoying, you will want to stop reading here and give this book a miss. But if you find this strangely charming and exactly like the tiresome kid you sat next to in health class, the one who scrawled Anarchy! symbols all over his Trapper Keeper and quoted Metallica lyrics back before they “sold out” and totally did not give a fuck, you’ll enjoy the rest of this book. And this really is the bulk of the book – the Arthurian myth as filtered through the mind and life of a kid who will remind you a bit of Dermott from The Venture Brothers. There are the usual fantastic elements that accompany bizarro books but this book is quite simple in its execution – teenage dirtbag as King Arthur.

You can read my entire discussion here: http://ireadoddbooks.com/tv-snorted-my-brain-by-bradley-sands/ show less