The Escapist

Ok, that was a crap post. Let’s try this again…

Currently, I’m reading “13 Bullets” by David Wellington.

It’s a charming tale about an old man, and the blood thirsty killers with sharks’ teeth he has hunted for 20 years.

Lisa bought me Vampire Zero on Friday, not realizing that it is part of a series. After reading the back, I immediately ordered the first two books in Wellington’s series and now I’m reading 13 Bullets, the first book.

I’m a little over halfway through with it and it’s great. It’s not a hard read, full of action, and the characters are interesting. But what makes this a great book is something that happens in the three opening chapters of the novel… As a young man, one of our protagonists is about to be fed to a group of crippled vampires by the only vampire in the room currently capable of movement… And he has to rip the vampire’s heart out with his bare hands as the wound is closing up from the ineffectual bullets he had previously tried.

Ripped. Its. Heart. Out. WITH HIS BARE HANDS!

I’m in love with this book.

In the To Read Pile:

I’ve been reading The Somnambulist by Jonathan Barnes and I’m about half way through it. It’s a good story so far; the city is being threatened by a mysterious plot that only a part time investigator and stage magician can untagle. It’s a little bit like Sherlock Holmes meets Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. But it’s more than that. Barnes’ novel is full of deformed women in a specialty whore houses and corrupt government officials getting political advise from Mediums.

But what’s so remarkable about the novel thus far is the way the city is described. You can see the city streets twisting out in front of you, but you can also smell the noxious waves of human waste in the street and despair surrounding dockside opium dens.

The novel is written in such a way that I occasionally forget I’m not reading an Alan Moore script. It’s odd.