This book is actually a collection of short stories, and Eric is reported to be one of "today's most talented and challenging writers". I'll tell you what. He's got my attention. Weirdly, I can't say everything I've read so far is exactly to my taste. Where it gets weird is, I also can't say it isn't to my taste. It's different and interesting, a little disturbing, a little sad, and definitely not boring. The book's first offering is a poem. About God, I think. I'm not sure I get it, but then, I don't get most poetry that's more complicated than a limerick or deeper than "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day." I get romantic, I'm in love with your pretty, pretty face poems. Shakespeare I understand Eric Arvin? I am intrigued.
Prometheus is, well, a big phallus. And I think maybe about the futility of being the pretty guy everyone loves and leaves? Or being the guy who never keeps the pretty guy? Again, I'm not sure, but I thought about it, and I think the main thing is that I don't usually read to think. I read to be entertained. And yet, I didn't put the book down, because maybe I wanted to know more.
Tater 'n Purgatory is maybe a love story in a twisted and weird, but ultimately, strangely fulfilling sort of way.
Camera Phone gave me the heeby-jeebies.
Dismagic Planet is very, very sad.
And...that's as far as I've read since yesterday.
Book Talk isn't always about singing the praises of a book or a writer. Though sometimes it's about that, sure, it's not always. It isn't even about me saying I liked a book and you should read it. Sometimes, it's about me saying I read a book and you should too, because I can't tell you what it's about or if you'll like. It just won't be a waste of your time.
I don't go around reading books that make me think. I admit to being the kind of shallow reader that likes to be entertained, dragged into the character's drama and watch him deal, and see him fight and get his man and live at least something I can compare to a happy-ish ending. Occasionally, I stumble across a book that appeals more to my brain than my mushy other female sentiments. So far, I'd call this one a brain book. But also, my mushy female side isn't turning a lip and wandering off to look for shiny rainbow unicorns instead. I don't expect Mr. Arvin to guarantee me any unicorns with this collection, (unless they're the black, dubious kind who hide their rainbows in the dark light, perhaps) but I also am pretty sure I won't be reading anything he pens and labels as horror. That would just freak me out.
So, I'll keep you posted. I'm pretty sure this book will warrant a second entry, at least.