I've moved this one, too.

Effective now, Metro Reading can be found at http://metroreading.alienredrum.com .

It's a (hopefully) slicker looking site. And I've already updated once!

Thanks for checking it out!

River shmiver. Bully is where it's at.

I first met JF Gonzalez at a book signing in Virginia, where he was doing a book signing with about seven other authors. I had picked up his book or short stories, Maternal Instinct, and the story of the same name blew me away.

A few months later, Survivor - a full blown novel based off the “Maternal Instinct” short story — hit my hands, and I blew right throw it.

Survivor, a family tale about snuff movies, a kidnapped woman and, well, survival, was intense as hell and showed that this guy wasn’t afraid to touch any taboo subject. I liked it.

So, when Gonzalez’ third novel, Bully, was announced, I immediately placed my pre-order. Weeks later, I had it in my hands and then I put it to the side. I was in the middle of two books at the time. You know how it goes.

After meeting Gonzalez again at another signing, I put Bully at the top of my pile so I could read it before HorrorFind — where he would be doing a reading appearance. The sweet thing about author appearances is, in my experience, they are always willing to answer any questions you have about their work. And, given the opportunity, I always ask questions. No, I have never asked “Where do you get your ideas?” That, hands downs, is probably the dumbest thing you can ask an author.

Anyway, I didn’t read the back of the book to see what it was about before I started it. Sometimes, with authors you know you like, it doesn’t really matter what the back of the book. It’s not going to stop you from reading it, and, like a movie trailer, the back of the book is sometimes misleading.

But about halfway through Bully, I did look at the back of the book. Because Bully wasn’t quite like Gonzalez’ previous work. It was more of a mystery than a mental beatdown.

Bully is the story of an innocent man set free as a decades old murder investigation is reopened, police corruption, dysfunctional families and things kids should never, ever see. The book mainly centers around Danny, a man who was tormented by Raul, the boy the now-innocent man was accused of raping an murdering. Danny knows much more than he’s telling the police, but Gonzalez makes you wait to hear his whole story. He drags it out so slowly — and so well — that if it were a movie, I’d be tempted to fast forward to the end. Very well done, sir.

The book cover calls it a cross Mystic River meets The Lords of Dogtown. The Dogtown is right on, because Gonzalez nails that 80s feel of skateboarding kids, but I think Mystic River is a bit off. Yes it has that feel as far as story, but Bully is a far better book than River. It has more heart, more soul and is a more enjoyable read. There’s another book that I would compare it to, but to put it here would be a spoiler, due to the book’s topic.

The one let down of the book is the ending. Well, the second ending. The final chapter, the epilogue I guess, is entirely too forced. It’s as if Gonzalez was tying up a loose end that didn’t need to be tied up, and going for either a setup for a sequel or trying for a shocking ending. But it doesn’t work because the book is perfectly fine up until that last chapter.

That doesn’t hurt the book, though, because it’s the best I’ve read from Gonzalez to date. But, when you read it — because you really should — just stop before the final chapter. If you do read that final chapter, think of it as an alternate ending as opposed to the real thing.

You can pick the book up at Amazon, and I highly recommend it. It’s $15, as it is not a trade paperback, but it’s well worth the money.

Sex, Blood and Rock 'n' Roll.

Horrorfind weekend has come and gone, and, once again, I am riddled with new authors.

I love Horrorfind. It's the only time of year I can completely dork out, and it's acceptable. Not that I have any problem dorking out any other time of the year.

I've been turned on to some pretty amazing authors at HF: Brian Keene, Jack Ketchum and JF Gonzalez, among others. And let's not forget awesome book companies like Cemetery Dance.

Well, this year I helped run the table for Timewarp Films, and at the table right next to Timewarp's was a woman pimping her first novel, "Sex, Blood and Rock 'n' Roll." Always one to support new authors (and always looking for any excuse to talk to hot women), I asked her about the book. Well, first I asked her if it was any good, then I told her to disregard the question before she answered. She laughed.

"It's about a dominatrix who becomes a serial killer..."

"Sold."

From Amazon:

Cassie Chambers, refugee from Middle America to New York's East Village, is a typical young woman, until she decides to become a professional dominatrix. When she is attacked by one of her customers and suffers a miscarriage, she decides to exact revenge on her male clients, enacting the murderous fantasies that have haunted her sleepless nights. In the tradition of American Psycho, Sex, Blood and Rock 'n' Roll is a shockingly graphic novel about the psychological development of a female serial killer, and a biting commentary on gender.

Now, that's just a little misleading.

Yes, there is a female serial killer in this book, but she doesn't really get her groove on until towards the end of the book.

But that's cool and the gang, because the rest of the book is so well written -- and uniquely written -- that I didn't feel cheated in the least.

Kimberly Warner-Cohen's style is one I've not read before. But her style really works, it's almost poetic.

Check this...

He's sitting alone on a worn brocade couch in Cafeggio, the place right off Bleecher with the hundred-year-old espresso machine. Shaggy black hair, green eyes haunted by his own shadows, looking like he survives on a deli coffee and Ramen noodles. Get my double espresso and pretend to look around though there are enough seats, slowly walk over. Illumination is coming from the fake gaslights, and the air is moist and sweet though it hasn't been raining out. Sit on the other end of the couch and rummage through my bag, pull out a wrinkled copy of On the Road. Ignore him and scan the pages, wait for it. When I put down the book to take a sip, he turns.

The majority of the book has this flavor, and it's a flavor, while admittedly takes a bit to get used to, really, really worked for me.

So, what is it about, if not a female serial killer -- as the back promised.

In a nutshell:

Girl takes job as dominatrix, starts to change, has a life-changing moment, starts killing men.

Good times.

The strength of this book is Warner-Cohen really manages to change the character believably. There was a natural transition from cool chick (pre-dominatrix gig) to fucked-up bitch. Well, natural as can be expected when someone starts to slaughter people. But it's, as mentioned, believable. And that's key.

If there's a weakness in the writing, it's that Warner-Cohen is almost too good with the gore. She is obviously not a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am type of author. She'll sit her victim in front of you, and slowly and methodically dismember, maim, penetrate and torture him. Admittedly, there were parts I had to skim over because, fuck, man, I was too pussy to really read it. Last time that happened, Gonzales was fucking with a baby in "Survivor." And, like "Survivor," "Sex, Blood and Rock 'n' Roll" is not over-the-top gore. Yes, it's there. Yes, it's hard to read. But it's also well written and fits with the book. But if Warner-Cohen would ease up just a bit, she will reach a much broader audience.

Now, that said, there aren't that many parts in the book I had to glaze over. Maybe two or three. And, admittedly, it's hard for me to read about a guy getting raped by a dildo. But it's never "hey look how gross I can be!" It always fits the story, and it never felt forced or contrived.

But, on the flipside, Warner-Cohen can write a mean sex scene. Intense and erotic. And fucking hot.

I'm looking forward to her next novel. Her style isn't for everyone, but those who dig it will really love it.

I'm buying it for some friends.

Cemetery Dance and service.

A couple months ago, Cemetery Dance offered their kick ass coupon book.  $79 for coupons that guarantee at least three limited edition books (all you pay is shipping and handling!).

Well, I mailed my check for Mondo Zomibe on Wednesday and, I shit you not, I got my book on today (Saturday).

That, to me, is just stellar service.  Something I've grown accustomed to with Dance.

Order from them.

Evanovich is one of few exceptions.

For the most part, I cannot enjoy a mystery novel written by a woman.

Yeah.

How's that for an opener?

Okay, I'll rephrase:

There aren't many women who can write a good mystery/detective/hardboiled novel in the vein of Elmore Leonard, Robert Crais or Michael Connelly.

Patricia Cornwell used to be really good, but she lost her touch. It was right about the time when she started worrying more about one character's lesbianism and another character's love life instead of concentrating on the story. I want to read a mystery, not a fricking soap opera.

So I gave up on her.

I've tried a couple other female authors, and it always seems to be the same problem: they can't write a man. Either that, or they put crappy ass relationship side-stories in the mix that I don't care about. Men don't care about the caressing in the middle of murder mystery.

But, as with anything, there are exceptions and Janet Evanovich is one of them.

I've read her Stephanie Plum series up to Hard Eight and, let me tell you something, every damn one was good. Because Evanovich doesn't fuck around with lovey dovey shit. Yes, there are romances, but they are so screwed up they always turn out amusing and never bore me. Her character is goofy and funny and Evanovich's writing is witty and razor sharp.

Now, by all means, I'm not saying women can't write a mystery novel. Lord no. But not the type I enjoy.

And, hell, I'm very open to suggestions if you got someone I should read to prove me wrong. Please do. I'm always looking for new authors.

Shoedog has bark and bite.

Another book I picked up at the aforementioned bookstore was an early novel by George Pelecanos called Shoedog.

Shoedog tells the story of a mysterious drifter, Constance, trying to find his place in the world. Picked up hitchhiking, he enters a world of violence, and he seems to fit right in.

Like all of the other books from Pelecanos I've read, this one does not fail to entertain. Certainly part of is his works take place in D.C. and the surrounding areas, so I'm familiar with some of the places. But there's more.

Very few authors not only have a voice, but also a rhythm. Michael Connelly has Jazz. George Pelecanos has Soul.

And it's all good music.

The Devil in a Blue Dress hates whitey.

It's been a while since I updated this damn thing, but it's not for lack of reading, but lack of time.

My father found a bookstore in Columbia a couple weeks ago, and I ended up walking out with $40 in books, Devil in a Blue Dress by Walter Mosley being one of them.

I had seen the movie of the same name staring Denzel Washington and Don Cheadle (who stole every damn scene he was in), so I had a pretty good idea what the book was about.

Surprisingly, from what I can remember (I last saw the movie about a year ago), the film was pretty faithful to the book. The book, of course, was better and Mosley's got a pretty good style about him that I like.

The one thing I didn't like about the book (and it actually hurts it, some), is how much Easy Rawlins, the main character, distrusts whitey. Okay, fine, I get it. White people aren't trustworty. Stop shoving it down my throat.

I can credit it to the time (it takes place in the late '40s IIRC) when racism was a much bigger, visual, part of America and I can credit it to the character, but honestly, give it a rest already.

That is not going to disuade me from reading more of Mosley, though, because based on my first outing with him, he really does have a stellar voice and I'm more than willing to overlook the underlying hatred of the honkey for another book or two.

But if that is an underlying theme, I will unfortunately put him down.

Two Minutes was about how long it took me to finish.

About a week or so ago I finished The Two Minute Rule by Robert Crais.

This was the first Crais novel I have read where it isn't an Elvis Cole novel. For that very reason I had some misgivings before I started it. I mean Cole works, why fuck with a recipe?

Well I'll be damned if I didn't enjoy Rule as much as I enjoyed Crais' Cole novels. The man is a damn good writer.

The book centers around a bank robber, Max Holman, who is getting released after a 10-year stint in the pokey. One of the things he wants to do is meet his son, Richie, who he's not seen at all since he went to prison.

But, unfortunately, his son--a cop--is murdered the day before Holman is to get out. And to complicate things, things aren't what they seem.

Holman takes it upon himself to find out why his son was murdered. And he gets help from the unlikeliest of places.

You can check out audio of Crais reading from the first chapter here.

An excellent, excellent read.