Ryan McFadden

Brian Garside is an evil person. So evil, I’m registering the domain stopbriangarside.com (well, actually, I tried, but someone had already taken it).

Last night (Sunday) he said, ‘hey, why don’t you come over for dinner?’. I said ‘fantastic…Char won’t mind us just dropping in unannounced?’.

No, he said. Then reconsidered and said ‘okay, tomorrow’.

By tomorrow, he meant ‘never’. SOB. He said he’d have to bail. Wait a minute, you can’t bail when you’re the host. SOB again!

So here we are, now with no dinner.

Paige, in her hunger pains, has taken up heroine, as hungry people are apt to do. She is a shell of her former self. She has pawned all her puppies for another hit. Very sad. A spiral of madness (a quick spiral, which is amazing because she’s normally a dawdler).

Cordy, too small to use a needle, decided to drink herself silly. Not with booze. No, with water. The UNFILTERED water. The LEAD water. All that lead has stunted her development. Now, she has the intelligence of a 14 month old.

Kari has decided that since I can’t provide for her, she’d pick up someone from the food bank who can.

And what about me?

Well, I’m just hungry.

Damn you, Garside. Damn you to hell.

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Kari must’ve noticed I was getting old. You know, the enlarged prostate, my inability to reproduce, the liver spots on my face, and that I like to say ‘whipper-snapper’. So she decided to throw me a party to celebrate my 35th birthday. She must be getting old too, because Friday wasn’t actually my birthday.

She did a fantastic job. With the lies, the deceit. She’s really good at it (that’s a compliment). Kari even got my mother to lie, which is impressive.

So she had my Mom come over to babysit, while we went to Moxies for a few drinks and some appetizers. When my mom called to tell me to ‘come home because the kids are sick’ I sprung into action and ordered another drink. Of course, with 35 people packed into my house (which has no AC)…guess it got a little warm in there. Hehe.

When they finally yelled ‘Surprise’ I beat the first person to death thinking that death squads had taken over my house — it was the whole flight or fight thing. (okay, it was flight…I ran like a little girl).

There were a good amount of people here. Tons of food. And booze. John, as usual, was on the BBQ. My Dad and Sylvia told me they were taking the kids in the morning so that I could sleep in (score!). Of course, that turned out to be a lie…but I still decided that a few extra drinks were in order.

I knew I had probably reached my limit when my mom asked me what I was going to do the next day and I replied ‘Hookers and Blow’. Hmmm, my mom didn’t appreciate the comment (but my Dad did).

So a big thank you to all the attendees…and for all the lies, broken promises, and deception. Because, that’s what makes a party, right?

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Maw of the Defilers — the second novel I wrote and one that I still have a soft spot for. I think the story was pretty cool, and it blended aspects of high fantasy with horror.

I sent the first chapter and the synopsis off to Kunati Press here in Canada. Their process is different than other publishing houses. It is read by three people. If all three give it a thumbs up, then they ask to see the rest.

On Friday, they asked to see the rest. So off it goes to them.

Now, before anyone gets excited, the chances of Maw finding a home at Kunati are extremely slim. Not because the book sucks (I’m quit fond of it) but more because I don’t know if it’s their cup of tea. While they only publish commercial fiction (a rarity for Canadian publishers), they have a drive to publish cutting edge (think Fight Club). And sadly, Maw of the Defiler isn’t like that (think Pirates of the Caribbean).

It’s action/adventure with some themes of destiny versus determination — but nothing too crazy. So I’ll send it off, and I’ll probably hear back in three months.

Still, it’s the first positive news I’ve had in a long time…so I’ll take anything I can get.

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Writing

This is one of those books that was recognized by many as one of the finest fantasy books in the last fifty years. Of course, as I was reading it, I realized it could’ve been a GREAT book. One of the best fantasy novels ever written. But there wasn’t enough story to sustain such a massive bulk (I’ve never read a 600 page book that was so long).

There was lots of good stuff in there. His ability to create new races, new monsters(especially noteworthy are the Remade, former humans who are recreated with spare parts, or rearranged –usually as some form of ironic punishment) is unrivaled. New Crobuzon, his city, is so richly detailed that you could actually believe this was a real place.

He fell in love with his city. The novel (especially the first third) was more travelogue than story. Even in the final climactic battle scenes, he’s still describing the architecture, social and economic backgrounds of the neighborhoods. I found that I could skip entire pages and jump back into the story without any problems (at one point, I actually skipped ahead 25 pages and found the characters in exactly the same situation).

As for his language — again, loved it and hated it. Some passages were so beautifully described. High literary value. Then others…his language bloated…perhaps a little too in love with a thesaurus. Words like immolated, susurrus, effluvia, inchoate…were rife on every page. I know, I know, he probably likes those words, maybe even uses them in everyday speech, but they pull me right out of the story. And his love of adverbs — arrrrgh! Example: “It plunged absolutely precipitately into the water”. Sure, that’s only two extra words, but do that for every sentence, and you’ve just added 100 pages to the book.

The story boils down to a very simple concept — a scientist unwittingly unleashes a horror upon the world. Said scientist now must hunt down horror. The End.

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Books Reviews

com·pe·ti·tion (kŏm’pĭ-tĭsh’ən) – Noun

1. The act of competing, as for profit or a prize; rivalry.
2. A test of skill or ability; a contest: a skating competition.
3. Ecology The simultaneous demand by two or more organisms for limited environmental resources, such as nutrients, living space, or light.

On Friday, Paige was entered in the 100 Meter dash. Thirty nine entries. Six and under. Paige, being three, was one of the youngest but she knows age is not a barrier. The kids prepared. Eye of the Tiger blared over the loud speakers as runners stretched and prepared. Then, it was time. Not a sound as the kids got into their stances. Sweat dripped off noses, eyes focused toward the finish lines.

In their crouch.

The crack of the pistol. The initial surge, the danger zone. Paige could get swept up. I hoped she remembered my teachings (throw those elbows!).

Wait, is she holding hands? WTF? The first wave hits the finish line. Second wave hits the finish line. Third wave. Then the stragglers. Then comes Paige, holding hands with Aidan. She finishes 39th. Out of 39 (though because they were holding hands, I think it actually means she finishes tied for 38.)

So racing isn’t for her.

As a parent, I’m undeterred. She will be victorious, at something. Perhaps she’s just a small fish in a big pond. I’ll go where the pond is smaller.

Ailsa Craig and the The Turtle Races. She’s not a turtle, so she can’t enter that race (they just wouldn’t listen to reason). But they had two competitions that were right up her alley: cookie stacking and ice cream eating.

Genes. This one was all about genes. And Kari and I are all about the ice cream and cookies. She’ll be a natural.

Competing against kids twice her age in the stacking competition, Paige held her own (once again throwing elbows). She cheated well (good for you, girl!) and finished second in her heat to a girl twice her age.

I made sure everyone in the crowd realized how Paige finished second despite the massive handicap (organizers obviously had it out for us).

Ice Cream Eating — she was BORN for this. Sadly, I think the bright lights got to her. She choked. Not literally. Figuratively. She just couldn’t compete against the others eaters. Perhaps it was the pre-game fries, ice cream, or freezie. But she didn’t bring her A game.

The reward for coming in second and then bombing out of the ice cream eating contest? She got to eat the ice cream using the cookies as a spoon.

Yes, the life of a natural athlete — the road less traveled.

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