3.5 stars, really. Chosen for ONTD's 2017 book challenge for January: a book that is being adapted into a movie or TV show in 2017.

We start off with our nameless biologist recounting past events, vague details of the grueling nature of an expedition to the mysterious Area X and her three nameless colleagues (a surveyor, an anthropologist and a psychologist, all women). The narrator never seemed to question the many things about the expedition that were withheld by her mysterious government benefactors: the nature of the border between her "world" and Area X, what the devices that they all carried were or what they detected. She simply noted her ignorance and moved on. I found this incredibly odd, but thankfully that is addressed as the novel progressed and not left as a weird quirk of personality.

Months and months of hypnotic suggestion built into their survival and weapons training. They were made into Bucky-like specialist soliders, of a sort, with activation words for compliance rather than aggression. The title comes from the tigger word to "help induce immediate suicide".

I liked the eerieness; the atmosphere was a little distant in the beginning, but it builds slowly and subtly as the group finds a tunnel (or tower, as our narrator keeps insisting) that is not on the map. Things go downhill from there, in weird and horrifying ways. There were clues scattered throughout that led me to believe that I couldn't entirely trust what the biologist was recording - she even makes oblique mention of it in the end.

The words in the tower and the overall spoopy tone have a very Lovecraftian vibe:

The fact that said tower is legit a living organism they're clambering around in doesn't hurt either.

.

... forms that never could be writhe for the impatience of the few who have never seen or be seen...

I'm not sure how well this will translate to screen, but I look forward to seeing Jennifer Jason Leigh as the suspiciously sinister psychologist. However, the less said about Natalie Portman playing a self-contained, introverted scientist, the better.

Creepiest phrase found in Area X:

There shall be a fire that knows your name, and in the presence of the strangling fruit, its dark flame shall acquire every part of you.

3.5 stars.

While checking to see if Mr. Farnsworth had posted any updates on his newest book for the Nathaniel Cade series, I found this instead. A former CIA agent-turned-private contractor who can read minds? Tell me more!

(Sidebar: I have always felt that mind reading would be a far more annoying ability than a useful one for the ordinary person. John calls it "audible smog", which seems apropos.)

Our main character is named John Smith, so it's almost as if he were born for this kind of life. He's an orphan, a former ward of the state with a string of abusive foster homes throughout his childhood. I'm starting to think that there's not a single character in action-adventure books that doesn't have a Tragic Past, so he's not special there, either.

Overall, an enjoyable afternoon's reading. The prose had a conversational tone and I found the way Farnsworth used technology metaphors to describe mental discipline (firewall) and automatic responses (subroutines) to be appropriately blatant, considering the plot.

Whenever John mentioned his CIA training or missions, all I could imagine was the title card to The Men Who Stare At Goats: "More of this is true than you would believe." #conspiracyhat

After seeing many film and tv adaptations and finally reading the source material, I have made one conclusion: Sherlock Holmes and John (or James) Watson are madly in love. Their connection is quickly made and strengthened by their work together.

Watson is complimentary to Holmes from the very first and Sherlock is visibly affected by his admiration.

My companion flushed up with pleasure at my words, and the earnest way in which I uttered them. I had already observed that he was as sensitive to flattery on the score of his art as any girl could be of her beauty.

Their mutual regard only deepens as the story moves toward the resolution. Watson is very observant of Holmes' expressions and moods, moreso than any standard flatmate would be after such a short acquaintance.

It was a bit of a ride to go from Lumberjanes to this, but under everything else, they have a common thread of the strength of friendship between girls and women.



But the bar fights are all Rat Queens. Foul-mouthed and violent, the Rat Queens are ladies after my own heart. My favorite one of them changes depending on the panel; they're all great, fully-realized characters. This volume starts out as we discover that someone is trying to kill the mercenary companies in the town the Rat Queens reside in, after they narrowly escape their own trapped quest, complete with a black-clad assassin. The Rat Queens do their best to investigate discreetly, which is basically an impossibility for them. Betty solves it accidentally while the rest of the react to a new, different threat.



fuckin' gary.

I was asked often to read Drummond's part in English class. Drummond swore occasionally and at the time, I found it delightfully scandalous to say such things in front of an authority figure.

Also, some things with science and monkeys and, oh yeah, the absolute lack of separation between church and state that the United States is still plagued with to this very day.

Am I going to love a book with a main character who reacts to news of zombies with a resigned sigh and a heft of his sword? Yeah, probably.

I added this one to my list because of the constant reviews about how incredibly brutal the prose was, because I'm a bit of a violent barbarian that way. Egar fighting ghouls in the first twenty pages certainly made a vivid impression:

The first runner took the lance full in the chest and fell back, punched along with the velocity of the horse's charge, scrabbling and spitting blood. Egar reined in hard, twisted and withdrew the lance, quadrupled the size of the wound. Wet, rope-like organs came out on the serrated edges of the blade, tugged and tore and spilled pale fluids as he ripped the weapon clear.

Maybe I have grown to inured to violence because of the murder porn I have watched and read on the regular; The Steel Remains is more descriptive than other books of similar plot are, but I'm still not rearing back in horrified disgust. Maybe I just have different triggers than moist organs.

There are three different stories here that seem unconnected except by the past shared between the characters as veterans of a war against alien (but not extraterrestrial) invaders. As we move along between personal betrayal and mysterious Gods (Egar), investigating a burned village (Archeth) and attempting to recover a distant relative legally sold into slavery (Gil), the threads of the narrative start to form the tapestry of an alarming concept: immortal dimensional dwellers and old gods have come to call. And everything goes to shit. My favorite!

Honestly, my biggest complaint is the rotating POVs between the three main characters. It's not the fault of the book, which I think executed it very well, but mine as a reader. When I'm ~in the zone~, it's hard for me to switch gears like that. That's why it took me three tries to finish Game of Thrones. This worked out better because Gil, Egar and Archeth eventually meet up, their varied journeys conspiring to bring them to fight together once more.

And in the end, Gil kills the "monster" only to become the monster himself.

Katurian: But you said he would be fine. You gave me your word.

The screaming stops.

Tupolski: Katurian. I am a high-ranking police officer in a totalitarian fucking dictatorship. What are you doing taking my word about anything?

Despite the topic (fiction writer gets picked up by the police, questioned about the themes of his work in connection to local child murders), this play is hysterical. And, you know, horrifying. I want to see this on stage.

I still don't quite get Dee. Her estranged (?) husband showing up doesn't clarify things.

But on the other hand, we see Violet's backstory in this volume and meet her hero:



Out of all the people to survive an interdimensional being attack, it had to be fucking Gary.

What kind of names are Johnnypateenmike and Babbybobby? I can't tell if they are exceptionally Irish or just absurd (which may just be a point in the favor of Irish anyway).

Considering the title, be warned of some pretty explicit ableism throughout the play. Also, a whole lot of eggs.

EILEEN: I heard you did drop all the eggs on the egg-man the other day, Helen, broke the lot of them.

HELEN: I didn't drop them eggs at all. I went pegging them at Father Barratt, got him bang in the gob with fecking four of them.

EILEEN: Sure, pegging eggs at priest, isn't it pure against God?

HELEN: Oh, maybe it is, but if God went touching me arse in choir practice I'd peg eggs at that fecker too.

Billy's story was secondary to how much I enjoyed reading Helen be wild. With her eggs and her brother's "fecking telescope".

#uselessreviews