Butcher Bird

It was fun, but boy was it sloppy. I'm pretty sure one minor incident accidentally happened twice at the end. Things happen rapidly and often without logic or transition. A few bits were rote cliches, and occasionally the dialogue was, as well.

But, hey, it was full of neat stuff and amusing characters. Good enough.

first line: "'They say that when your head gets chopped off, it can still see and hear for a few seconds, so I'll have to go with beheading,' said Spyder Lee to Lulu Garou."

Really fun -- irreverent and imaginative, like what you'd get if Christopher Moore were to write a cross between Neverwhere and To Reign in Hell. I believe Kadrey intends this to be the first book in an urban fantasy series populated by angels and demons, creatures of myth and magic, and the pierced-and-inked (sub)culture of San Francisco. I plan to keep an eye out for any future Dominion novels.

I went through, and maybe still am in, a cyberpunk phase. One title that keeps coming up over and over again is Metrophage by Richard Kadrey (1988)

"one of the quintessential 1980s cyberpunk novels," going on to describe "a gritty acid-trip through an ultraviolent L.A. where nothing is what it seems.... Alongside novels such as [William Gibson's] Neuromancer and Lewis Shiner's debut novel Frontera, Metrophage helped establish the cyberpunk aesthetic: relentless, paranoid and playfully cynical."

I still haven't gotten my hands on a copy, but I did grab his latest book, "Butcher Bird". And it has dampened my enthusiasm. I didn't like this book. It had demons, hidden realities, hell, tattoos, hot deadly chics, and a secret cadre of evil men show more in suits. And somehow... I still didn't like it.

You've got Spyder Lee, the tattoo artist who accidentally picks a fight with a demon in a bar one night.
You've Lulu, Spyder's best friend who he has known for years. But after surviving said fight with said demon, he sees her with new eyes. And he's drawn into her mysterious, hidden reality.
You've got Shrike. She's a hot chic who is a mysterious deadly assasin as well. ...well of course she is.

Only once have I seen an author make his "warrior chic" a big socially awkward troll of a woman (George R.R. Martin). And even though I didn't find myself picturing her in a leather bikini, I found that take so refreshing.

What kills me, and maybe this is where my strong reaction comes from, is that there are all the elements for a great story. But they just aren't there.

From page one, Kadrey takes the stance that he is cooler than you. He knows more about the counter culture than you, he's more bad ass and yet more artistically sensitive than you. And you know what, that might be true. But it makes for a bad book. I just very strong got the feeling that this entire novel is Kadrey's little counter-culture wet dream. He is Spyder. A character who tries to be every cool cliche
at once, and fails. And Shrike is the ninja-clad Lara Croft that kadrey jerks off to at night.

I bet he has a friend that very closely resembled the mostly useless sidekick Lulu.

Kadrey tried very hard to make his characters anti-heroes, anti-cliches, anti-society, anti-everything. But he missed the mark. We've had all these anti characters already. And here we are, coming back to the

place i feel personally insulted. I usually love these anti characters. You wouldn't have to do much to

get me to fall in love with an anti-character.

"The night before he went to London, Richard Mayhew was not enjoying himself. He had begun the evening by enjoying himself: he had enjoyed reading the good-bye cards, and receiving hugs form several not entirely unattractive young ladies of his acquaintance; he had enjoyed the warnings about the evils and dangers of London, and the gift of the white umbrella with the map of London Underground on it that his friends had chipped in money to buy; he had enjoyed the first few pints of ale; but then, with each successive pint he found that he was enjoying himself significantly less; until now he was sitting and shivering on the sidewalk outside the pub in a small Scottish town, weighing the relative merits of being sick and not being sick, and not enjoying himself at all."

That's all it takes, and I love Richard Mayhew. Richard Mayhew could start eating babies in the next paragraph and I'd still love him. Hell, I want to have Richard Mayhew's baby. (He's from Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere)


Here's the opening to Butcher Bird, you tell me if there's a difference in tone, or if I'm being too sensitive about it all.

'They say that when your head gets chopped off, it can still see and hear for a few seconds, so I'll have to go with beheading,' said Spyder to Lulu Garou.
Spyder Lee was drinking shots of Patron Anejo tequila with Lulu, his business partner, at the Bardo Lounge just off Market Street in San Francisco.
Lulu looked into her empy glass and thought for some time, took a drag off her Marlboro Light and winked at the woman tending bar. 'Being beaten to death,' said Lulu. 'Badly. I don't mean like with a baseball bat or rebar so you're out cold, but something small.' She crushed out her Marlboro in the ashtray the bartender slid in front of her. 'An eight ball in a sweat sock. That'd give your killer a good workout'."

Overall, it's not a bad book, it's not a good book. It would have been a classic middle of the road book. Except for this posturing that may have been there, or I might have imagined. show less

I went through, and maybe still am in, a cyberpunk phase. One title that keeps coming up over and over again is Metrophage by Richard Kadrey (1988)

"one of the quintessential 1980s cyberpunk novels," going on to describe "a gritty acid-trip through an ultraviolent L.A. where nothing is what it seems.... Alongside novels such as [William Gibson's] Neuromancer and Lewis Shiner's debut novel Frontera, Metrophage helped establish the cyberpunk aesthetic: relentless, paranoid and playfully cynical."

I still haven't gotten my hands on a copy, but I did grab his latest book, "Butcher Bird". And it has dampened my enthusiasm. I didn't like this book. It had demons, hidden realities, hell, tattoos, hot deadly chics, and a secret cadre of evil men show more in suits. And somehow... I still didn't like it.

You've got Spyder Lee, the tattoo artist who accidentally picks a fight with a demon in a bar one night.
You've Lulu, Spyder's best friend who he has known for years. But after surviving said fight with said demon, he sees her with new eyes. And he's drawn into her mysterious, hidden reality.
You've got Shrike. She's a hot chic who is a mysterious deadly assasin as well. ...well of course she is.

Only once have I seen an author make his "warrior chic" a big socially awkward troll of a woman (George R.R. Martin). And even though I didn't find myself picturing her in a leather bikini, I found that take so refreshing.

What kills me, and maybe this is where my strong reaction comes from, is that there are all the elements for a great story. But they just aren't there.

From page one, Kadrey takes the stance that he is cooler than you. He knows more about the counter culture than you, he's more bad ass and yet more artistically sensitive than you. And you know what, that might be true. But it makes for a bad book. I just very strong got the feeling that this entire novel is Kadrey's little counter-culture wet dream. He is Spyder. A character who tries to be every cool cliche
at once, and fails. And Shrike is the ninja-clad Lara Croft that kadrey jerks off to at night.

I bet he has a friend that very closely resembled the mostly useless sidekick Lulu.

Kadrey tried very hard to make his characters anti-heroes, anti-cliches, anti-society, anti-everything. But he missed the mark. We've had all these anti characters already. And here we are, coming back to the

place i feel personally insulted. I usually love these anti characters. You wouldn't have to do much to

get me to fall in love with an anti-character.

"The night before he went to London, Richard Mayhew was not enjoying himself. He had begun the evening by enjoying himself: he had enjoyed reading the good-bye cards, and receiving hugs form several not entirely unattractive young ladies of his acquaintance; he had enjoyed the warnings about the evils and dangers of London, and the gift of the white umbrella with the map of London Underground on it that his friends had chipped in money to buy; he had enjoyed the first few pints of ale; but then, with each successive pint he found that he was enjoying himself significantly less; until now he was sitting and shivering on the sidewalk outside the pub in a small Scottish town, weighing the relative merits of being sick and not being sick, and not enjoying himself at all."

That's all it takes, and I love Richard Mayhew. Richard Mayhew could start eating babies in the next paragraph and I'd still love him. Hell, I want to have Richard Mayhew's baby. (He's from Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere)


Here's the opening to Butcher Bird, you tell me if there's a difference in tone, or if I'm being too sensitive about it all.

'They say that when your head gets chopped off, it can still see and hear for a few seconds, so I'll have to go with beheading,' said Spyder to Lulu Garou.
Spyder Lee was drinking shots of Patron Anejo tequila with Lulu, his business partner, at the Bardo Lounge just off Market Street in San Francisco.
Lulu looked into her empy glass and thought for some time, took a drag off her Marlboro Light and winked at the woman tending bar. 'Being beaten to death,' said Lulu. 'Badly. I don't mean like with a baseball bat or rebar so you're out cold, but something small.' She crushed out her Marlboro in the ashtray the bartender slid in front of her. 'An eight ball in a sweat sock. That'd give your killer a good workout'."

Overall, it's not a bad book, it's not a good book. It would have been a classic middle of the road book. Except for this posturing that may have been there, or I might have imagined. show less

I went through, and maybe still am in, a cyberpunk phase. One title that keeps coming up over and over again is Metrophage by Richard Kadrey (1988)

"one of the quintessential 1980s cyberpunk novels," going on to describe "a gritty acid-trip through an ultraviolent L.A. where nothing is what it seems.... Alongside novels such as [William Gibson's] Neuromancer and Lewis Shiner's debut novel Frontera, Metrophage helped establish the cyberpunk aesthetic: relentless, paranoid and playfully cynical."

I still haven't gotten my hands on a copy, but I did grab his latest book, "Butcher Bird". And it has dampened my enthusiasm. I didn't like this book. It had demons, hidden realities, hell, tattoos, hot deadly chics, and a secret cadre of evil men show more in suits. And somehow... I still didn't like it.

You've got Spyder Lee, the tattoo artist who accidentally picks a fight with a demon in a bar one night.
You've Lulu, Spyder's best friend who he has known for years. But after surviving said fight with said demon, he sees her with new eyes. And he's drawn into her mysterious, hidden reality.
You've got Shrike. She's a hot chic who is a mysterious deadly assasin as well. ...well of course she is.

Only once have I seen an author make his "warrior chic" a big socially awkward troll of a woman (George R.R. Martin). And even though I didn't find myself picturing her in a leather bikini, I found that take so refreshing.

What kills me, and maybe this is where my strong reaction comes from, is that there are all the elements for a great story. But they just aren't there.

From page one, Kadrey takes the stance that he is cooler than you. He knows more about the counter culture than you, he's more bad ass and yet more artistically sensitive than you. And you know what, that might be true. But it makes for a bad book. I just very strong got the feeling that this entire novel is Kadrey's little counter-culture wet dream. He is Spyder. A character who tries to be every cool cliche
at once, and fails. And Shrike is the ninja-clad Lara Croft that kadrey jerks off to at night.

I bet he has a friend that very closely resembled the mostly useless sidekick Lulu.

Kadrey tried very hard to make his characters anti-heroes, anti-cliches, anti-society, anti-everything. But he missed the mark. We've had all these anti characters already. And here we are, coming back to the

place i feel personally insulted. I usually love these anti characters. You wouldn't have to do much to

get me to fall in love with an anti-character.

"The night before he went to London, Richard Mayhew was not enjoying himself. He had begun the evening by enjoying himself: he had enjoyed reading the good-bye cards, and receiving hugs form several not entirely unattractive young ladies of his acquaintance; he had enjoyed the warnings about the evils and dangers of London, and the gift of the white umbrella with the map of London Underground on it that his friends had chipped in money to buy; he had enjoyed the first few pints of ale; but then, with each successive pint he found that he was enjoying himself significantly less; until now he was sitting and shivering on the sidewalk outside the pub in a small Scottish town, weighing the relative merits of being sick and not being sick, and not enjoying himself at all."

That's all it takes, and I love Richard Mayhew. Richard Mayhew could start eating babies in the next paragraph and I'd still love him. Hell, I want to have Richard Mayhew's baby. (He's from Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere)


Here's the opening to Butcher Bird, you tell me if there's a difference in tone, or if I'm being too sensitive about it all.

'They say that when your head gets chopped off, it can still see and hear for a few seconds, so I'll have to go with beheading,' said Spyder to Lulu Garou.
Spyder Lee was drinking shots of Patron Anejo tequila with Lulu, his business partner, at the Bardo Lounge just off Market Street in San Francisco.
Lulu looked into her empy glass and thought for some time, took a drag off her Marlboro Light and winked at the woman tending bar. 'Being beaten to death,' said Lulu. 'Badly. I don't mean like with a baseball bat or rebar so you're out cold, but something small.' She crushed out her Marlboro in the ashtray the bartender slid in front of her. 'An eight ball in a sweat sock. That'd give your killer a good workout'."

Overall, it's not a bad book, it's not a good book. It would have been a classic middle of the road book. Except for this posturing that may have been there, or I might have imagined. show less

I felt like I am part of the target audience for this book. On the other hand, I felt like the book did a bit too much poking about that: “Hey! This is a book just for people like you! Who like tattoos! And bars! And are into mythology and fantasy! You’re badass and cool! Check it out!” Yeah, ok. Unfortunately, I sort of felt like the ‘cool’ stuff was a veneer laid over a fairly typical and not-that-riveting quest fantasy. Who the characters were didn’t really affect or inform what happened to them.

Spyder, a tattoo artist, is hanging out in a San Francisco rock & roll bar with his lesbian buddy Lulu when he gets attacked by a demon. He’s rescued by a blind ninja swordswoman, (Shrike, the ‘Butcher Bird’ of the title) show more but after the attack realizes that he can now see the supernatural reality that most humans are unaware of. The streets of SanFran are filled with grotesque and bizarre beings; and even if this sight could be viewed as a gift, it feels more like going crazy.

For reasons that seem somewhat contrived, Spyder, Lulu and Shrike have to band together for a quest through Hell to retrieve a McGuffin, in return for which a probably-evil witch has promised to help them. Along the way, there are some vivid and memorable scenes - I’d say the visuals are the best part of this book. (Some had a very Gaiman-esque feel). However, the plot itself just didn’t have the tension I felt it ought to have had.

I did enjoy the book – I just didn’t feel like it lived up to its full potential. I believe this was the author’s first novel; I’d definitely be willing to try another by him. show less

Although I normally enjoy traditional fantasy books, urban fantasy is more hit-or-miss for me. In my somewhat limited experience, urban fantasy books often have less clearly-defined world building and more of what feels to me like inexplicable chaos. I prefer the worlds I read about to have clear rules and logical, consistent cause-and-effect relationships. This helps me feel like I understand everything that’s going on. Sometimes, when I read an urban fantasy novel, I think to myself, “This must be what it feels like to be on drugs.”

Butcher Bird had some of that inexplicable chaos. Scenes were described that contained a mish-mash of crazy and random imagery, and events occurred that weren’t entirely explained. There were show more chapters throughout the book that dealt with the mythology which helped serve as an explanation for many of the things that occurred in the main story, but there were still some unanswered questions and some “huh?” moments, especially near the climax of the story.

In spite of that, I really enjoyed this book. Maybe it’s because I thought the story was so interesting, or maybe I was just in the right frame of mind to not be bothered by a little chaos. Most likely it was a combination of those two things. In any case, I had trouble putting the book down. I kept wanting to read “one more chapter” to find out what would happen next. The characters were also interesting and likeable, if a little messed up in the head! show less