Endlessly by C.V. Hunt


Pages: 183
Genre: Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Romance, NA
Format: E-book

So here’s my first C.V. Hunt book, I don’t remember how I discovered it, but it was free and self-published. It’s also her debut and I read this before her release of her latest book, Hell’s Waiting Room from Grindhouse Press. I do love me some bizarro, some post-apocalyptic, and some vampires. So of course, it’s C.V. Hunt and it’s vampires.

Endlessly is exactly what you see on the cover. Blood and eternity. One vampire and a human, they love each other endlessly. This supernatural world is filled with more than just vampires, so much that it felt all too real. I’ve never heard of or read a single YA fantasy writer that built a world with more than just vampires. So why is that such a great thing? Well, if vampires exist and hide in the human world, why can’t trolls and fairies and witches and immortals live there too? Why not bring all of fantasy and all of it’s wackiness into the real world? Why such a lack of creature diversity?

So basically the book is about a  vampire dude who is bored and lonely, he wants some female flesh and it got him in trouble once, and he’s about to do it again when he sees the aura of a beautiful incarnate. but that aura had a lot more than just what type of creature she was.

This book managed to avoid the “instalove” cliche that is so overdone in YA. This book also managed not to have a love triangle or it didn’t last very long. It also didn’t try too hard to be like “oh look at that bad ass vampire and his bad ass partner in action, they fight bad guys and make out real hard.” Okay they do make out real hard, they can’t get enough of each other, but then what would you expect of a romance vampire novel?

I will admit that I liked it, it’s better than Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick, that’s for sure. I loved the world that she built, it made me lift my eyebrows at its whole quirkiness. I know that most YA novelists want to write a fantasy creature that would cater to a teenage girl’s hormones, the monsters in here aren’t pretty. They do not sparkle or smell good. They are nasty and offend our human world. I liked that. They are also lonely and thirst for all of life’s joys and pleasures, just like all of us naturally greedy and bored humans. 

Endlessly is sort of a breathe of fresh air from the books that I have been reading lately. Although, I’m not sure if I will read the sequels since I am not a romance type. But I will look in to it and I’m reading C.V. Hunt’s book, Hell’s Waiting Room, and I am enjoying it, so you guys will see it soon on here. 

Rating: 3/5

Fat Man and Little Boy by Mike Meginnis


Pages: 416
Genre: Historical Fiction, Magical Realism, Literary Fiction
Format: Paperback
Published by Black Balloon Publishing
I won this in a First Reads Giveaway. Thank You!

Oh yes, this was the novel that took me way too long to finish, longer than any book below 600 pages. I shouldn’t be ashamed of it, but this is usually the type of book that I would devour in two weeks. Those who are college students, readers, and bloggers, you would probably know that those gaps of silence are usually because it’s a rough semester. This was a rough novel, with tiny patches of softness, little dots of hope in the middle of something wide and hard, something dark and dreary. Now that metaphor crap is out of the way, lets put a synopsis. If I try to write it on my own, it would be a disaster.

Two bombs over Japan. Two shells. One called Little Boy, one called Fat Man. Three days apart. The one implicit in the other. Brothers.

As you can already tell, this is going to be one weird trip, it takes place in a world that seems to be so off kilter in its sanity. Nobody seems to know why these guys exist and why they have all these weird quirks, such as not having real names and just acting plain weird, somewhat socially awkward. Fat Man is morbidly obese, Little Boy is forever a little boy. When people question, they never push any further, quickly accepting these two odd balls for what they are.

Here’s a funny story, during a break between classes, I was playing cards with some friends of my brother’s and one of them found the book interesting. I told them the little summary that you see in italics above. The reaction was basically “Wow that’s so cool and weird.” One of them said something that was basically along the lines of something like, I don’t remember to be honest, but the reaction was basically something like “So that’s why they couldn’t find the bomb,” or “That’s why nobody could see them.” Yeah, this funny story was a sham, but I do remember saying in the back of my mind, “Dude, it exploded into flames and ashes and smoke. What are you going to find other than destruction?” Then I realized that most people seem to make a lot of fun about this tragedy in war. People say they deserved it while playing a Nintendo 3DS and flipping Yu-Gi Oh! cards around, and watching anime. 

This wasn’t an easy novel to read, I read a chapter a day, sometimes a bit more, but I had to push myself, despite that I was fond of the novel. There were times where it wore me out and began to feel too heavy of a book, despite that it is less than 400 pages. There are a variety of reasons, which are college stress due to my lack of coping with stress, my constant reading of e-books over the summer which has caused me to become so adapted to it that reading physical books has become a rather heavy thing for me, and I just took too long with it. I am an impatient reader, I like slow books that take in the details, let things unravel. Let the character walk down the road and find shards of itself, let the world unfold itself. But I read slow, which is my fault, not always the book’s fault. 

The whole design of this novel is freaking awesome. The red and blue explosion looking graphic, the Fat Man and Little Boy in this white impact lettering. Then in the inside flaps, there is the Japanese letter for “remains.” The funny thing is, when I first discovered Black Balloon Publishing, Fat Man and Little Boy was actually the first novel that attracted my attention. 

But this novel sort of became my little friend for the first two months of Fall semester. With it’s delicate prose, speaking of guilt and a sort of miserable existentialism created by war. These two walk around on the Earth, knowing that they had committed the ultimate atrocity, and apparently the souls of all who had died are haunting them everywhere they go. So it’s sort of a metaphor of guilt, how your murders, your crimes will never leave, or history itself, since the bombs did change history, it forever haunts them. Then there’s the people that fate somehow connects them together. From the widow to the medium, two police officers accusing Fat Man of murder; anybody who has somehow been affected by the war or the bomb have somehow ended being connected to them, haunting them in a sense. 

Despite that this novel isn’t that long, there is so much to think about, to write about in this post. But I feel like it will go on too long, It has been awhile since I read the book, maybe a week or two, and my thoughts of it are floating around and they are hard to snatch. It will become a mountain of rambles for Fat Man to eat if he wants. It will taste quite bland.

One thing I will say for sure, Fat Man and Little Boy is a human in paper form that has somehow figured out the world’s pain and the inhabitants’ eternal loneliness. 

This novel is written in short chapters that feel like small little entries, little snippets of the duo’s short life. I would read one or two each day and then set it aside for awhile, and come back. This novel is bleak, any war novel is bleak.  Fat Man and Little Boy regret their ability to explode, suffering from watching them and absorbing the suffering from the suffering they committed. 

Despite the darkness, these guys are quite loveable. Fat Man, at first, is childlike and innocent, he is overweight and food is always the top priority. Apparently he is the little brother, but due to his looks and strength, he takes the role of big brother. Little Boy is the older one, with a mature mind and personality, most of the time, but he is the smaller one, and he can get away with childlike behavior, due to his short stature and doe eyed look. They are odd looking and they know that they are odd and they do everything to blend into mankind. Because unlike most of mankind, they were born from disaster, not human nature. They grow, despite already being grown, and they develop into these beings that can sort of hide this eternal guilt behind somewhere in the back of their skulls and into their shadows maybe, that seems to apparently be followed by whoever haunts them.

Then there’s the medium or Masumi. What I found that was so cool about this character is that he is a performer with two different identities, one who has a psychic ability that can see the dead and the other is just a drunk man. He’s probably my favorite other than the main two. He is this flawed, self-destructive, tragic character, and for some odd reason I’ve always tended to like those type of characters. There’ s just something that hits a chord with them. I am not a drunk man or a psychic,and I’m too young to drink, but this vengeful and beautiful character was just so bad ass and at the same time, you kind of want to join him and comfort him somehow, or just wallow in the misery with him.

Then there’s a pair of twins that I can’t remember the name of. Oh dear. I’m going to go look. The Hanway brothers. These two guys don’t regret exploding at all. What sick dudes. They didn’t hurt anybody, but still…

The characters in this book is what makes it alive. With its poetic and minamalistic prose, written in way that is like poetry, with short sentences forming a sort of pentameter? A rhythm? something like a quiet, ambient, minamalistic song. It’s hard to describe actually, I usually describe prose like this as airy, simple, but it’s simplicity brings out the beauty in it’s characters and it’s imagery of death and life’s little gifts. 

This book is probably one of the most self-loathing yet touching novels I have read so far this year. It’s so cynical but yet, with its magical realism, it brings in a sort of hope that shines a bit of light, despite all of the dust of remains, of humans who once were, destroyed by humanity’s animalistic actions. So I usually don’t do this in my posts but here’s my check list of things I liked about this novel:

1. Short chapters *check*
2. Nice prose that feels like poetry *check*
3. Wonderfully quirky characters that you love and feel connected to *check*
4. Beautiful fantasy magical realist stuff *check*
5. Historical fiction *check*
6. Emotionally engaging *check*
7. The book was left to cook a bit more in my brain.
Now that I thought about it while writing this, I ended up liking the book even more. This happened to me when I read Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro *check*

Rating: 4.5/5 

Update and Book Haul (This was supposed to be uploaded before the Andersen Prunty book post)

So just to keep this updated, here I am. This blog isn’t dead, it’s in college mode. I’m at a stressful period, but that doesn’t mean I am not doing anything related to this blog. I have three draft posts of reviews coming soon, if I get the time to write them. I’m getting some writing done, but I am not forgetting this blog, nope I am not, I am that much of a nerd. There are so many books that I am really excited to write about. But for now here is a small book haul.

1. Boy, Snow, Bird by Helen Oyeyemi 


2. Crash and Burn by Michael Hassan


3. Drifting House by Krys Lee


The Warm Glow of Happy Homes by Andersen Prunty

Pages: 98
Genre: Bizzarro, Horror
Format: E-book
Published by Grindhouse Press
Borrowed from Kindle Library 

Halloween is coming soon, this week actually, and I read this. Not because it’s a horror book, well maybe that’s half of the reason. I’ve been looking at Andersen Prunty’s books for quite awhile, for reasons that are quite obvious, they are bizarre with lots of blood and guts sprayed everywhere. I am the biggest chicken you will ever know, my shadow can scare me in the middle of the night while walking to the bathroom. This is novella length and the cover is sort of nice on the eyes, nice colors, and it fits the morbid nature of this little book. 

It’s all centered around this guy named Barton, a drug addict, a complete psycho, with parents that don’t trust him and maybe they don’t love him either. he lives in a mansion by himself and he’s planning some crazy party called Mexico Frat Fun Land. During all of this party planning there’s some space birds flying around, rousing fear in neighborhood or maybe just Barton himself, and there’s this sound of ripping paper, and Barton is an asshole and two guys, Alex and Joe, and a girl, Ibbie, want to rob his mansion and leave their miserable jobs behind. 

This novel, based on the reviewers on Goodreads, seems to be getting compared to Bret Easton Ellis and Chuck Palahniuk, which I will admit I’ve never read books by, but I know enough to see where these influences are coming from. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but cringe at the icky stuff. Which was the point of this.

Barton is some spoiled rich White dude who obviously has some issues, really bad issues, and the drugs don’t do any better. He has no empathy for others, but yet he wants someone to love him more than just his money. But this sympathy for him washes away oh so quickly when he does the sick things that he does. He definitely sounds like he might be a sociopath or something worse. Seriously, people are probably walking androids to people like him. He’s a sad sack of flesh. Kick him.

Then there’s all this weird stuff happening and honestly was it an illusion from Barton’s point of view or was the world ending? Were these birds manifested from Barton’s desperation to leave this world and his desire to commit all of these evil acts that he does? That was my question for this book. Were these birds and hallucinatory sounds signs of his downfall? Am I overthinking this? Some questions are better left unanswered. I missed something?

This novella sort of reminded me of the The Dark Half by Stephen King, but this novella is a lot better in my opinion and Barton wasn’t possessed by a demon, he himself was a demon. 

I will say that I actually really enjoyed this little book. It’s so dang twisted, makes me cringe, and at the end of it all, humans will cry and run off to a salvation that doesn’t exist. It’s world that is all too bleak. Somebody like Barton will cry for help and yet get pleasure from the wicked deeds that they do. So, just so I won’t sound like a broken record, The Warm Glow of Happy Homes is a novella of some dude with false happiness and the realization of this makes him destroy everything in his path, because he’s a spoiled brat that wants everything, and can’t get everything, and well, the Earth sends a giant F-you missile at him. I have to say I love the cover. Is that weird?

Rating: 4.5

Weekend Reads: It’s October and I’m Not Reading Scary Books or Orange Books

Soon to Finish

Fat Man and Little Boy by Mike Meginnis


Pages: 416
Genre: Historical Fiction, Magical Realism, Literary Fiction
Format: Paperback
Published by Black Balloon Publishing
Sent to me by Black Balloon Publishing, I won it as a First-reads giveaway.

I will soon finish this lovely tome.

 Endlessly by C.V. Hunt


Pages: 183
Genre: Paranormal, Fantasy, YA/NA?
Format: E-book

I usually don’t do a theme for reading, but this year I decided to read something vampireish or horrorish, I don’t think this is horror. But supernatural creatures are present in horror movies and there’s blood. So why not? She has a new book coming from Grind House Press., it’s 99 cents on pre-order and comes out a day before Halloween. I need to go get it myself, it sounds like something up my alley.

List by Matthew Roberson Blog Tour

Why, hello there. Here’s a blog tour I’m participating in. Welcome to the blog, Matt Roberson.  Thanks for stopping by! That dog looks either really sad or angry…

Synopsis—Vignettes of a middle-class American family told through lists, each reflecting their obsessions, their complaints, their desires, and their humanity.
A suburban family of four—a man, woman, boy, and girl—struggle through claustrophobic days crowded with home improvement projects, conflicts at work and school, a job loss, illnesses, separation, and the wearying confrontation with aging. The accoutrements of modern life—electronic devices and vehicles—have ceased to be tools that support them and have become instead the central fulcrums around which their lives wheel as they chase “cleanliness” and other high virtues of middle American life.
List of lists in List: A Meta-List
1) There’s a dedication list, and a list of acknowledgments. (Those are to be expected.)
2) Then there’s the list of ways to die, from a man who’s not sure he doesn’t want to.
3) There are lists of chores no one wants to do.
4) Lists of complaints from honestly aggrieved individuals.
5) There are lists of items to purchase.
6) Of steps to take.
7) Jobs to get done.
8) There are lists of things characters wish they could say or force themselves not to think
8a) And treats they might give themselves—as rewards (duly earned).
9) Lists of health problems they’d better keep an eye on.
10) There are lists of schedules, and amounts due, and items owned.
11) Lists and lists and lists of things to worry about.
12) Lists of days passed.
12a) Of people known.
12b) Of memories understood and not.
13) There are lists of observations
13a) And sometimes even understandings
13b) (but they mostly come too late).
14) Before all’s said and done, there’s a list of the author’s other publications.
15) Last, of course, there’s a list of other writers who think you should read List.
If you missed yesterday’s tour stop, jump over to [PANK] to read an interview about the content of Matt’s novel. Tomorrow, the last stop is The Next Best Book Club blog, where List is examined in the context of Generation X turning 40!

Matthew Roberson is the author of three novels, 1998.6, Impotent, and List, and the editor of a critical book, Musing the Mosaic. His short fiction has appeared in journals such as Fourteen Hills, Fiction International, and Western Humanities Review. He teaches at Central Michigan University, in Mount Pleasant, Michigan.

salt. by Nayyirah Waheed


Pages: 254
Genre: Poetry
Format: E-book

Poetry is coming back to the blog, time to celebrate, silently, behind the computer screen. I’m not sure how I discovered this, but it was indeed a wonderful one. A random chunk of gold in the bottom of a bucket, that random shiny quarter in the middle of the sidewalk. But cheesy metaphors to the side, salt. with it’s minamalistic aphorisms, salt. is a rare type of poetry that can pick out your very feelings, with two short sentences. In the sprawling paragraphs with no spaces, she writes out these short stories that I thought were poems, more like prose poems, but they can be short stories, flash fiction to be more accurate. But most of this long chapbook consists of small little poems that were probably written on napkins, the margins of notebooks, maybe even on the palm. 

But some of these poems really did get to me, since they contained thoughts that I think of everyday, my insecurities, an anger, a feeling of misunderstanding and isolation that people, especially Woman of Color who have assimilated and had to reclaim their identity or heritage or those who felt inferior. There was one poem that reminded me of that day I went Walmart and found skin bleaching cream and I knew that people with Vitiligo and other skin disorders used it, but I also knew that those with dark skin would bleach themselves white, and that made me sad. Being mixed race, I do not fit in anywhere, I am either too Asian for African Americans and Latino Americans and I am too “different” or “American” for Asian people. 

White people think I am Filipino because they assume only dark skin Asians are Filipino, but yet I have seen Chinese people who were darker than me. I am African American And Puerto Rican, I am expected to be “cool”, loud, outgoing, dancing salsa, blasting the latest new hip-hop music, but I do not have any of those stereotypical traits. Instead I have the stereotypical traits that are typically associated With Asian Americans, quiet, introverted, likes video games, cares a lot about her grades. But I was raised with mostly Latino culture, even now, Hispanic food, Spanish music, learning Spanish. I never reclaimed my Chinese heritage until later in life, I was ashamed of it when I was younger, due to the stigma towards Asians as being invaders (yellow peril, red scare), having no emotion, docile or submissive, dog eaters, anything you’ve probably heard of. But we all have to be strong, even at out weakest moments, because we know that showing a slight sense of insecurity will let those in power prevail. But it’s not only focused on race, there is a lot about being a woman and struggling with not only your cultural identity, but with gender and sexuality, where woman are expected to fit an unreal expectation, to serve men, and not to achieve their own individuality. I can relate to her poetry a lot, which is why it warms my heart so much.

 I don’t have much to say, most of it will be random ranting, but I will definitely read more poetry from her.