Tim Lebbon

Dear Holy Diary,

Please never let me reach the point in my career when I feel that I must validate myself as a "literary" writer by producing overwritten, pretentious claptrap. Please let me always find contentment in being the best at whatever it is that I truly am - and if that's simply a pulpy horror writer of dubious literary merit, then may I accept my fate with grace.

Amen.

Two stories here:

"Papa", by Ketchum, is the stronger of the two, and is only ten pages long. A man is mistaken for show more Hemingway and invited back to a guy's apartment to partake in some absinthe. This literary tale likely holds little of interest for the average Ketchum fan as it has ZERO horror/weird tale elements, but at least it feels honest in its telling. Ketchum has a strong sure voice, and I fault him not a bit for whatever inspired him to write this tale that would be right at home in the pages of the New Yorker magazine.

"Bleeding Things" by Lebbon is a different matter entirely. It absolutely reeks of desperation, and I can picture the author wearing a t-shirt that says "take me seriously!" in a big bold font across the chest. Some would say it's beautifully written, and if your aspirations as a reader involve a trip down Erudite Lane then you might not mind perpetuating the fraud on display here. The language is flowing and beautiful at first glance, but it doesn't take long for the baroque facade to disintegrate into the gaudy and garish. This confused tale of war-torn Berlin, a woman who drinks absinthe and bleeds gold, strives for the sublime and achieves the absurd. show less

I’ve always been a fan of last person(s) left in the world stories, but most tend to focus on the sad, haunting melancholy of it all, infused by madness and grim finality.

Tim’s latest novella doesn’t entirely stray from that and the concept is vaguely reminiscent of Aldiss’ slightly bleaker Greybeard, but whilst the horror touches it on occasion, he mainly chooses to infuse his tale with a beautiful layer of hope and reflection. This is the story of Rose—the last of us all. But, show more this is not the story of how it all ends.

A truly beautiful novella and ranks amongst his very best, possibly even his finest. Frankly I don’t know how he ever raises the bar after each book, but somehow he does it and continues to amaze and wonder with his creativity. This is no exception.

I don’t gush often over a book, but this one of the year’s very finest releases that I stayed up late to finish and is a destined classic which I encourage others to read show less

Third person past, multiple POV.

This is probably the best of the series so far. Although the trope of the 'mysterious derelict ship' has gotten to be kind of cliche, this was an interesting take on that trope. River gets a chance to shine, and more is revealed about her and her potential. The opening of the novel, with Mal winning a star map in a poker game, was a nice nod to the Western genre with a sci-fi twist. I do miss Book and Inara--I feel like their characters haven't been explored show more as much as they could be, and they have a lot of potential.

I enjoyed the various character combinations when the crew splits up to investigate the ship (no! don't split up the party!), especially the Kaylee/Jayne team. Overall, an enjoyable read for a fan of the series. show less

Okay. Here's the deal: You get to go back in time to fix the worst, awfulest thing you've ever experienced. You have to go through some rancid goo to get there, and it will stick to you. But you get to change something that's shredding your insides every day of your life.

Do you do it? Who could resist, right?

After reading this book, I'd say you'd hesitate a good long while before answering. Change comes only at a price. Prices have a way of changing, even though you think you know what they show more are. Ever bid on something at an auction? Do you honestly think for an instant about the commission, the taxes, the shipping, the added insurance, that winning the auction will entail?

No you don't, and don't lie, it's not nice.

Max the forty-year-old falls in love with Gabrielle the nineteen-year-old. (Ewww, right?) She loves him right back, passionately and completely. Right up until she screws another man and Max walks in on it.

Oh, poor duped oldster. Sniff boo hoo, at least you got some nineteen-year-old...uhhh, well. So what do you do? Run away, go home, leave your job in New Orleans to go back to (grim, unpleasantly stuffy) Boston.

Four months before Katrina. Which kills Gabrielle.

And back comes Max to bury the woman he loves, the woman he'd do anything at all to save, to rescue, to ask "why?" of (and the answer is never, ever one you want to hear, why do people insist on asking it?). He meets Ray, a old man with a proposition: Follow this map of moments, this guided tour of New Orleans's magical history, and you'll land up at a Moment where you can save Gabrielle's life! She'll be alive! Isn't that what you want, Max?

Oh, be careful what you ask for lest the answer be yes...for getting what we ask for isn't always (ever, in my actual experience) for the (personal) best. Max gets a chance to see the hidden magic that sustains New Orleans, and he gets to put right some very basic wrongs, and the price he pays is breathtakingly high.

And I will bet you large sums of money that he'd do it all again. He's that kind of a guy. It's the reason I liked spending my rainy, gloomy Friday with him, and I'll bet you would too. show less