Even in a conservative country like Uganda, the world of online sex webcams has made its way into people’s homes and lives. With easy access to technology and a growing demand for virtual intimacy, Ugandans are now able to experience the thrills and dilemmas of webcam sex firsthand. From hidden cameras in bedrooms to live streams from internet cafes, this phenomenon is changing the landscape of sexuality in Uganda – for better or worse.
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ease}.rhj-og{box-sizing:border-box;margin:0;min-width:0;padding:0;font-weight:700;font-size:22px;color:white;line-height:20px;text-align:center}.rxl-y{box-sizing:border-box;margin:0;min-width:0;padding:0;font-weight:400;font-size:12px;display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-box-pack:center;-ms-flex-pack:center;-webkit-justify-content:center;justify-content:center;-webkit-align-items:center;-webkit-box-align:center;-ms-flex-align:center;align-items:center;margin-top:2px;-webkit-margin-start:8px;margin-inline-start:8px}.f_jszqe div{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex}@media(min-width:768px){.f_jszqe div{display:none}}@media(min-width:1200px){.f_jszqe div{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;position:relative;opacity:0;-webkit-margin-start:-12px;margin-inline-start:-12px}.f_jszqe:hover div{opacity:1;-webkit-margin-start:8px;margin-inline-start:8px;-webkit-transition:opacity ease .3s,margin ease .3s;transition:opacity ease .3s,margin ease .3s}}.ah_yexb{box-sizing:border-box;margin:0;min-width:0;padding:0;font-weight:600;font-size:14px;display:block;color:#1564bf;line-height:14px;text-align:end;max-width:135px;text-transform:capitalize}@media(min-width:768px){.ah_yexb{font-size:16px}}.p-wjo svg{height:12px}@media screen and (max-width:999px){.nvz_ao{padding:0 15px}}@media screen and (max-width:767px){.nvz_ao{padding:0}}@media screen and (max-width:999px){.eui_zk{margin-bottom:35px}}@media screen and (max-width:767px){.nvz_ao .eui_zk{padding:0 15px}.nvz_ao .eui_zk:not([data-is-additional-chart]){background:#f5f5f5;border-top:1px solid #d5d5d5}.mop-b{margin-top:10px}.nvz_ao .eui_zk .mop-b{margin-top:18px}}@keyframes lds-ring{0%{-webkit-transform:rotate(0);transform:rotate(0);transform:rotate(0)}100%{-webkit-transform:rotate(360deg);transform:rotate(360deg);transform:rotate(360deg)}}.f_jszqe{color:#fff!important} Girls online 1First up on our list is Live Jasmin, one of the most well-known and established cam sites in the industry. With over 30 million visitors each month, it offers a vast selection of models from all around the world. Users can enjoy a variety of shows, including private chats and group shows.
Pros:
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Next on our list is stripchat, a relatively new cam site that has gained popularity in recent years. It offers a wide range of features, including private shows, VR cams, and interactive sex toys. The use of character AI porno has sparked ethical debates about its potential impact on the porn industry.
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Jerkmate is another popular cam site known for its unique matchmaking feature. Instead of browsing through models and chat rooms, users are matched with a random model based on their preferences.
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Last but not least on our list is ImLive, one of the oldest cam sites in existence. It boasts over 80 million visitors each month and has been around since 2002. Along with private shows and group chats, ImLive also offers recorded shows and phone sex.
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One Month Subscription
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Six Month Subscription
The use of sex webcams in Uganda is becoming more prevalent as internet access continues to improve. Live Jasmin, stripchat, Jerkmate, and ImLive are just a few of the many cam sites available for Ugandan users. While these sites offer thrills and excitement for some, they also come with potential risks and ethical concerns that should not be ignored. It’s essential for users to exercise caution and make informed decisions when engaging in such activities online.
Live Sex Cams1How Can I Access Uganda Sex Webcams?
Uganda sex webcams can be accessed through various adult websites and platforms. These may require a paid subscription or registration process before granting access to their content. It is important to ensure that all laws and regulations regarding online sexual content are followed when accessing these webcams in Uganda. When searching for the hottest Peru sex webcams, look no further than these steamy live shows that will fulfill all of your desires.
Are the Performers on Uganda Sex Webcams Professional Or Amateur?
The performers on Uganda sex webcams vary from professional to amateur. Some may be experienced and established in the industry, while others may just be starting out. It ultimately depends on the individual performer and their level of experience and skill. However, it is important to note that regardless of their status, all performers should be treated with respect and consent should always be given before engaging in any sexual activities on webcam.
Is There a Cost Associated With Viewing Uganda Sex Webcams?
Yes, there may be a cost associated with viewing Uganda sex webcams as some websites or platforms may require payment for access. However, there are also free options available. It is important to check the terms and conditions of each website before viewing.
Can I Interact With the Performers on Uganda Sex Webcams?
Yes, you can interact with the performers on Uganda sex webcams by chatting with them through the chat function or requesting a private show. However, it is important to always respect the performers and their boundaries during interactions.
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The post Caught on Camera: Experiencing the Thrills and Dilemmas of Uganda’s Sex Webcams appeared first on Fiery Romance.
Although small breasts may not be as prominent or celebrated in mainstream media, there is a growing community of individuals who appreciate their unique beauty and charm. With the rise of internet technology, cam sites have become an outlet for these stunning women to embrace and flaunt their petite assets.
These sizzling small tits cam girls are more than just eye candy, they exude confidence and sensuality that can ignite any fantasy. Indulge in their alluring performances and let your imagination run wild with pleasure.
With over 10 years of experience in the adult industry, Live Jasmin has become one of the most popular cams websites out there. Known for its high-quality video streams and diverse range of models, this site is a go-to destination for those seeking top-notch entertainment. Though the rise of webcam girls performing blowjobs may raise eyebrows for some, it has become a highly profitable and popular sector in the adult entertainment industry.
The ModelsOne of the most impressive things about Live Jasmin is its selection of models. You can find hundreds of petite ladies with small breasts on this site, each with their unique charms and talents. Whether you prefer blondes, brunettes, or redheads, there’s something for everyone here.
The best part? The models on Live Jasmin are not only stunning but also highly professional. In watching Masturbation Cam Performers, viewers can expect a live and intimate show that caters to their every fantasy. They are trained to provide an exceptional live show experience and interact with viewers in real-time. Plus, most models have high-definition cameras and audio equipment, ensuring that you get the best viewing experience possible.
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If you’re looking for a more adventurous and unconventional cam site, then Stripchat is worth checking out. This site offers a variety of unique features that will fulfill all your wildest fantasies. Sometimes, indulging in a sultry Smoking Fetish Cams session can bring a whole new level of excitement to your webcam experiences with the right website.
The ModelsStripchat has thousands of models from all over the world, including many petite beauties with small tits. You’ll find a mix of amateur and professional models on this site, each with their own kinks and quirks. The best part? Many models offer free nudity in their public chat rooms, making it easy for you to explore before taking them into a private show. Whenever you’re in need of some steamy and forbidden webcam action, sites offering taboo webcams are the perfect solution.
FeaturesPros:
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If you’re someone who enjoys a more interactive experience, then Jerkmate is the perfect site for you. This platform uses advanced technology to match you with the perfect cam girl based on your preferences and desires.
The ModelsJerkmate has a diverse selection of petite models with small tits, all eager to please and fulfill your fantasies. You’ll find performers from various ethnicities and backgrounds on this site, ensuring that there’s something for everyone here. Plus, many models use interactive sex toys during their shows, adding an extra layer of excitement to your experience.
FeaturesPros:
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Last but definitely not least, we have ImLive – one of the oldest and most established cam sites in the industry. This site has been around since 2002 and is known for its diverse range of models and affordable prices.
The ModelsImLive has thousands of models from all over the world, including many petite girls with small tits. You can find performers of all ages, body types, and ethnicities on this site, catering to a wide range of preferences. Plus, many of these models are amateurs who are just starting in the industry, giving you a more authentic experience.
FeaturesPros:
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If you have a thing for petite girls with small tits, these cams websites are the perfect place to unleash your fantasies. From professional and interactive shows to amateur and authentic experiences, each site offers something unique and exciting. So why wait? Head over to one of these sites and embark on a journey of pleasure and satisfaction like never before.
Live Sex Cams1Small tits cam girls are webcam models who have smaller breasts compared to other cam girls. They are known for their petite and slender figure, often attracting viewers who prefer a more natural and delicate look. Despite having smaller breasts, these cam girls are confident and skilled in captivating their audience with their unique appeal and personality.
How can I find small tits cam girls online?There are many ways to find small tits cam girls online. One option is to search for adult websites that specialize in live webcam shows and have a category or tag specifically for small tits. You can also browse through different cam models on these websites and filter your search by breast size. Another option is to join chat rooms or forums dedicated to the camming industry and ask for recommendations from other members. As dating websites no bots become increasingly popular, users are looking for apps that offer genuine connections without the hassle of paying or dealing with bots.
Are there any specific features or qualities that make a cam girl considered to have small tits?Cam girls with small tits typically have breasts that are smaller in size and may appear more petite compared to other cam girls. This can vary from person to person, as what is considered small can differ based on individual preferences. Some people may also consider a cam girl to have small tits if their breast size falls below a certain cup size, such as an An or B cup. The perception of what qualifies as small is subjective and varies among individuals.
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The post Unleash Your Fantasies With Sizzling Small Tits Cam Girls appeared first on Fiery Romance.
Once a taboo topic, the world of sex cams has exploded in popularity over recent years. And while North America and Europe have long dominated this industry, Latin American countries are quickly rising to prominence with their own unique offerings.
From Brazil’s vibrant and sensual culture to Mexico’s spicy and fiery energy, these top Latin American sex cams offer a diverse range of performers and experiences that you won’t want to miss out on. So buckle up and get ready for a steamy journey through the hottest live cam sites in the region.
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The post From Brazil to Mexico: The Top Latin American Sex Cams You Need to Check Out Now appeared first on Fiery Romance.
Variety reports that Teacup has been canceled after just one season. Click the image to read the article.
Howard Andrew Jones is dead.
It’s hard to write those words. Howard has been a huge part of my personal and professional life since 2002, when I opened a submission to Black Gate magazine and found a long, rambling, and extremely enthusiastic cover letter from him, expressing his delight at finding a quality magazine devoted to heroic fantasy. The letter ended with “I want in, bad,” and was attached to a terrific tale featuring two adventurers named Dabir and Asim.
We eventually published three Dabir and Asim tales in Black Gate, and within a few years Howard’s editorial contributions had become so essential to the magazine that we named him our first Managing Editor. He ran our non-fiction department, single-handedly recruiting and managing over a dozen contributors to fill some 80 pages every issue with thoughtful essays, book reviews, gaming coverage, and much more.
In November 2008 Howard told me he wanted to remake our website, and post new articles every single day, instead of a few times a month. I told him he was crazy. How in the world could we produce that much content, especially without a budget?
Undaunted, Howard put together a top-notch team of writers, and committed to putting daily content on the Black Gate blog. It was his vision, and he executed it magnificently, with a little help from Bill Ward, David Soyka, Scott Oden, James Enge, EE Knight, Ryan Harvey, and others. Eight years later, the website won a World Fantasy Award — an honor that I still believe should have been presented to Howard.
Before long Howard’s own writing career had taken off with such magnitude that he had to step back from day-to-day duties at the magazine. Over the next fifteen years he released fifteen books, including three featuring Dabir and Asim, four novels in the Pathfinder universe, the Ring-Sworn Trilogy, three volumes in The Chronicles of Hanuvar, and the Harold Lamb collections Swords from the East and Swords from the West.
Howard was a wonderful writer. He believed in heroes, and that steadfast conviction informed all of his writing. But despite all his success Howard never lost touch with his other major talent — finding and nurturing new writers. Howard was an enormously gifted editor, and a tireless champion of underappreciated writers. It was a gift that led to his first editing gig in 2005, running Flashing Swords ezine for Daniel Blackston at Pitch-Black Books, an underfunded online magazine that produced six excellent issues in 2005 and 2006.
Howard’s accelerating career brought him countless additional opportunities, but the ones he seized were usually the ones that gave him the chance to find and publish new talent. Joseph Goodman brought Howard onboard to launch Tales From the Magician’s Skull at Goodman Games in 2017, and with Howard at the helm the magazine quickly became the premiere outlet for modern sword & sorcery and heroic fantasy. Howard got the band back together for the Skull, recruiting much of the same talent he’d called upon at Black Gate — including Bill Ward, John C. Hocking, James Enge, Chris Willrich, Mark Rigney, and many others.
Back in 2011 Howard sent me the draft of a new story he was working on. It featured a new hero, the last general of a defeated people. His name was Hanuvar, and he was consciously modeled on one of Howard’s heroes, the great Carthaginian general Hannibal, whom Howard has first encountered in a Harold Lamb novel. The story was both more sober and more ambitious than anything Howard had sent previously, and I knew instantly that I wanted to publish it in Black Gate.
Alas, I never got the chance. Black Gate magazine folded in 2011, and that was the end of my editing career. Howard found a home for his Hanuvar stories in magazines like Adrian Simmons’ Heroic Fantasy Quarterly, and Tales from the Magician’s Skull, and fine anthologies like Jason Waltz’s Neither Beg Nor Yield. Eventually they were collected in 2023 in Lord of a Shattered Land, a volume that relaunched Howard’s career and put him in front of countless new fantasy fans.
Baen Books signed Howard to a five-book contract for Hanuvar, and on his way home from Gen Con this summer, Howard called to let me know that Baen had agreed to extend his contract for an additional two volumes. Howard had nearly finished book four, and had grand plans to extend the series to add in several new storylines. He was as upbeat about his writing career as I’d ever heard him, and I was overjoyed to hear it. Howard had found his audience at last, and a publisher who could help him reach it. The world was finally starting to notice just what a talented writer he was.
Just a few weeks later, Howard called to tell me that he was experiencing a strange leg pain. He blamed it on not doing morning stretches before long writing bouts on the kitchen stool. The ailments spread over the next month, and in late September Howard was diagnosed with glioblastoma. Terminal brain cancer. He passed away at home in Evanston, Indiana, at 12:15 am yesterday night.
It’s hard for me to understand that I won’t talk to Howard again. That I won’t get eight-minute phone calls from him as he’s dashing to pick up groceries. That we won’t talk about writing and pulp fiction and Star Trek for long hours. That he won’t be at the center of our raucous annual dinner gatherings at Windy City Pulp & Paper. That I won’t sit on the porch and gossip about whose book series just got canceled, who’s making waves in the industry, who’s the best fantasy writer not named Howard Andrew Jones.
I loved him. And now he’s gone. I don’t understand. The world isn’t fair, but I know exactly what Howard would tell me. Keep writing. And don’t let it get you down.
Here’s to you, Howard. You were the best of us, and you’ve been taken away. You fought tirelessly to make sure the world didn’t cruelly forget the writers you respected, like Harold Lamb, Leigh Brackett, and Roger Zelazny. Now it’s time to lay down your pen, douse the lamps in your wind-swept tower, and let others take up the fight.
Rest well, my friend. You’ve earned it.
The Dushegub Faction of the BDH informed us that today is a Hughday. Contrary to their initial statement, they were not willing to discuss.
First half here.
Three months ago, he had come to Baile with 332 soldiers, all that remained of the Iron Dogs, the elite army he once built and led for Roland, the sun around which his universe had revolved.
He’d thought of Roland as his god and father, the man who rescued him when he was a child, taught him the magic and secrets of a forgotten age, and granted him the gift of the bloodline bond, mingling their blood and sharing his power.
For his part, Roland had thought of him as a convenient tool. When tools stopped working, they were discarded.
One failure. Just one. That’s all it took.
A gust of wind fanned him. He waited it out and resumed his trek along the ledge.
Roland had purged him, stripping him of everything: his power, his place, his purpose, and the immortality Roland’s affection promised. The bond that used to be a source of strength and reassurance turned into a burning void that gaped in his soul, gnawing at him with scorching, razor-sharp teeth. It nearly drove him out of his mind, and he’d crawled into a bottle to find oblivion. He would’ve died there, except his once-father hadn’t been contented with throwing him away. Roland also decided to dismantle everything he’d built, so he used the Golden Legion, his necromancers armed with hordes of mindless vampires, to exterminate the Iron Dogs.
For their sake, he pulled himself together enough to reshape the tatters of the best private army on the continent into a small, but powerful, fighting force. A force that needed to be housed and fed and had no means to pay for either. He needed food and housing, and Elara and her people required protection from Roland’s necromancers who desired their castle.
An alliance was formed. His reputation was shit, hers was worse, they married to make it believable and to buy time. He and Elara clashed the moment they met. They argued over everything: money, strategy, people… He rushed to fortify the castle against the attack he knew would come and she clung to her traditions and tried to cobble together enough money to keep up with his requests. He’d thrown himself into this tug of war, at first enraged and then looking forward to it.
He was almost to the window now.
And then they were invaded by an enemy like no other.
Somehow in the middle of it all, Elara became the center of his world. They slept together once, and those short few hours were the first time since the purge he felt a hint of happiness. A cruel glimpse of what life could be like.
They saved the neighboring town, but the enemy returned just as Landon Nez, the Legatus of the Golden Legion and Roland’s premier necromancer, came calling with his undead horde.
It was the kind of battle that spawned legends. In the end, he managed to turn the tide, but Nez had captured him, and he got to see his father one more time.
Roland’s image surfaced from his memory, wrapped in magic, with the face of a sage, radiating kindness and wisdom.
Take my hand, Hugh. Take my hand and everything will be forgiven. Everything will be as it was.
He’s laughed in his former god’s face. He thought he would die. Instead, his wife came for him. She appeared before Roland in her true shape, and it was so terrifying that the immortal wizard fled.
The memory of what she was lived deep inside Hugh as well, but he did not reach for it. There were no words to describe the chaos of teeth, mouths, and eyes wrapped in a cosmic cold. He’d tried to recall it before and remembering it stretched his sanity to its limit.
He had woken up in his bed three weeks ago. She came to visit him and brought him crepes she made.
You’re my husband, Hugh. As long as you want to stay here, you’ll have a home. I’ll never abandon you.
They hadn’t had a real conversation since. They nodded at each other, they resumed their petty bickering in a half-hearted way, but they did not discuss his past or what she was. She hadn’t come to his bed again.
And now she was not at her desk for the fourth day in a row.
He reached the window. The ledge had ended and there was no windowsill.
The woman was a fucking disease that took root in his brain and refused to leave.
He gripped the edge of the window and slowly leaned as far as he could, craning his neck to glance through the glass. She sat in an overstuffed chair with a knitted blanket on her lap. Her long white hair was down, and it dripped over her shoulders like a silver curtain.
The wind hit him again, and he pressed his back against the stone. This was one of the few times in life when being smaller would’ve been an asset.
The gust died and he leaned to the side one more time.
She was watching a computer monitor mounted on the wall and taking notes in a small notebook.
He focused on the muffled sound coming through the window. A soft male voice with a trace of London.
“… pastry week.”
What the hell.
“…the rough puff pastry… bakers… rolling out the dough and laminating it with cold butter. If the butter is too warm…”
Hugh took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall.
He walked across a narrow ledge a hundred feet above the ground in the middle of the night for a baking show. He had no one to blame but himself. He let the harpy get under his skin and this was the result.
A hint of movement at the edge of the forest caught his attention. He focused on it.
Three people emerged from the tree line, two in Iron Dog black and one a nightmarish meld of wolf and human, a shaggy monster seven feet tall. Karen. One of his best scouts.
The other two were Stoyan, one of his centurions, and Sharif, also a werewolf and the new scout master. The three Iron Dogs double-timed it to the castle.
Stoyan wasn’t fond of night adventures in the forest, especially their forest. Magic waves nourished the trees, speeding up the growth, but the woods around Baile defied all expectations. They felt ancient, as if they had been growing here for a thousand years, with old, rugged trees and undergrowth that spawned hungry things with savage claws and bear trap teeth. The Iron Dogs treated the forest with healthy respect and never went in alone.
Something happened. Something bad enough for Sharif to notify the centurion on watch and urgent enough that Stoyan didn’t wait until daylight to check it out.
The small door within the gate swung open, and the three Iron Dogs passed through into the bailey. Sharif inhaled and stopped. The three of them looked up, directly at him.
Stoyan squinted, as if he wasn’t sure what he was looking at.
Hugh put his finger to his lips and pointed at the window of his study. Stoyan gaped at him for two seconds, nodded, and the three soldiers jogged to the keep’s door.
So much for the quite evening. The Universe must’ve decided that he rested long enough.
The wind pulled at him.
Hugh gritted his teeth and started back along the ledge to his turret.
The post Hughday first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.
I love the cat!
Thanks for the update on the German Edition, very pleased that Inheritance is now multi-language as it will further ensure that we get the whole series published (when written). I also very much like the covers, and am glad that Hobbes is getting the publicity that he so richly deserves!
BTW: how are your ‘kittens’ doing? Any chance of photos?
I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.
Wake Up and Open Your Eyes by Clay McLeod Chapman
Mogsy’s Rating: 1 of 5 stars
Genre: Horror
Series: Stand Alone
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing (January 7, 2025)
Length: 11 hrs and 11 mins
Author Information: Website | Twitter
Narrators: Kelli Tager, Joe Hempel, Cary Hite, Neil Hellegers, Marni Penning, P. J. Ochlan, Noah Levine, Soneela Nankani, Charlotte Moore-Lambert, Megan Tusing
Social horror. Psychological horror. Body horror. Zombie plague horror. Wake Up and Open Your Eyes by Clay McLeod Chapman, a novel which follows the Fairchild family as they navigate the apocalypse triggered by an epidemic of a mind virus that spreads through media consumption, can probably be slotted into any of these categories. As the story opens, we meet Noah, a self-proclaimed “libtard” who grows increasingly alarmed as his “formerly polite Southern” parents fall under the influence of a “Great Reawakening” conspiracy propagated by a far-right commentator on the cable news network, Fax News (seriously…as in “Just the Fax!”) After not being able to reach them for a while, a concerned Noah makes the drive from Brooklyn to his childhood home in Richmond, Virginia to check up on his mom and dad, only to find the place in shambles. His parents are in even worse shape—dehydrated, malnourished, and unkempt—yet they remain strangely indifferent to their condition. That’s because their minds are fully consumed by the television, on which a voice loudly and gleefully declares that the long-awaited Great Reawakening is finally at hand.
When Noah tries to snap his parents out of it, he is met with vicious and indecent attacks, forcing him to do the unthinkable. With no other help coming, he comes to the sickening realization that this was not an isolated incident. All over the country, roughly half the population has been transformed into aggressive, salacious, zombie-like beings, forming huge mobs to engage in reckless self-harm while inflicting violence on others without restraint. Some of Noah’s other family members are among those who have succumbed to the far-right programming, including his brother Ash and his social media addicted sister-in-law Devon. Determined to reunite with his wife and child, Noah embarks on a treacherous journey back to Brooklyn while desperately trying to make sense of it all.
So, if you’ve already seen my rating, then you might have guessed: I have regrets. Let’s just start with how nothing good ever comes from talking about politics. For that reason alone (though there were plenty of others…oh so many), I probably should have DNF’ed Wake Up and Open Your Eyes because there’s enough political bullshit in real life—I certainly don’t need more of it in my leisure reading. Still, I decided to give the book a fair shake and pressed forward until 20%, at which point the narrative shifted toward the apocalyptic elements. For a moment, I thought the story might redeem itself, but this hope fizzled again by the time I was about three quarters of the way through, when things took another nosedive. Of course, by then I was too far in to abandon ship and resolved to finish the book, if for no other reason than it means I get to write this review out of sheer spite.
First, let’s talk about the themes. The most obvious one here is the political messaging, which by itself is not a dealbreaker for me usually. Whether it’s heavy-handed satire or thinly veiled preachiness, if it’s done well and serves its purpose, I can enjoy it. That said, this wasn’t the case here. This book makes you wonder whether the author has ever actually stepped outside his bubble to interact with real Americans from both sides of the aisle. I’ve always considered myself an independent, and even then, I thought that the stereotypes in this story—regardless of their political slant, even as satire—came across as downright ignorant and cartoonish. LAZY! I’m also wondering now if he wishes the book had come out before the last election, as the final polls reveal just how off base and out of touch some of the stereotypes are in this story, especially the assumptions regarding demographics. From the heavy-handedness to the complete lack of self-awareness, all of it was just so cringey.
But the main issue I had with this book was the over-the-top horror, particularly its reliance on unsettling imagery that seemed to exist solely for the sake of being offensive and shocking rather than having any real meaning or reason to be there. It’s like the author went down a checklist of the most inappropriate topics imaginable and decided to throw it all against a wall and see what sticks. Allusions to incest? Check. Brutalizing cute little animals like the family dog and a fluffy bunny? Check. Violence against children and disturbing school shooting references? Also check. Rather than horrifying, it just felt exploitative and tasteless. Again, LAZY!
And as if that wasn’t enough, the book’s structure was an absolute mess. A part of me can look beyond this disaster and appreciate the creative desire to make bold, stylistic choices, but another part of me can’t help but assume that, at this point, you’re just trolling your readers and trying to annoy them on purpose. The story starts off being told in third person, then switches to second person (you can’t make this up!), then randomly inserts transcripts from cam footage and social media videos because, why not? For shits and giggles, we can also just repeat the same words over and over for pages at a time! Let’s throw in some footnotes too while we’re at it, that’s totally edgy and different, right? Heck, if you told me this novel was meant to be experimental art, I’d believe it—but I’d also tell you straight up that it feels less like art and more like pretentious chaos.
In conclusion, Wake Up and Open Your Eyes was a disappointment on multiple levels and should have been a DNF had I followed my initial gut instinct. If there’s any silver lining at all, it’s the catharsis and satisfaction of venting all my frustrations into this review. Safe to say, this one wasn’t for me. Since it’s my first book by Clay McLeod Chapman, I have no idea if maybe this was just a fluke when it comes to its particular themes and writing style. While I wouldn’t rule it out completely, I’d still need to think long and hard and probably do some research before considering another book by the author.
And so this happened last week…
John O (the big cheese): People probably imagined you lot (Photog Chris Z and I presumably) are just hunkered down there in the subterranean offices of Black Gate sequestered with a blender, several bottles of adult beverages and the Roku horror channels.
Me: So…?
John O: So – that’s not the image we want to portray here at Black Gate.
Me: We have an image?
John O: OF COURSE WE HAVE AN IMAGE! Why can’t you be more like Bob Byrne?
Me: Bob? Oh… you mean Sherlock. Right. Wait, what was that first thing again?
John O: [insert unpublishable adult language] Would you please just go be visible somewhere? Be a reporter – get out in the field and report. That’s what Bob does. He reports… on detectives… for Black Gate.
Me: The ice machine is broken again.
John O: ARG! [insert more adult language and stomping up the stairs]
What John O doesn’t know but what — and I’m just guessing here — he wants to know, is the following.
About the time “the season” has officially concluded for Goth Chick News (and the season runs from March through November), we have a short holiday break before plunging headfirst into a new annual show circuit: hell bent on bringing you the warmest, moistest, gooiest news from the underside of pop culture.
This year the 2025 circuit kicks off with the Halloween & Attractions Show, followed by Days of the Dead’s first trip through Chicago. From that point forward it’s all go here at Goth Chick News, with a couple of new events thrown in this year.
The Halloween & Attractions Show: Feb 27-Mar 2 (Industry only)
Days of the Dead Convention Chicago: Mar 28-30
Chicago Comic and Entertainment Expo (C2E2): April 11-13
Nightmare Weekend: May 2-4
The Midwest Haunter’s Convention: June 6- 8
American Hauntings Conference: June 26-29
Fan Expo: Aug 15-17
Days of the Dead Convention Chicago: November TBD
So photog Chris Z and I do get out of the office. Okay, it is mostly at night and mostly with people carrying around body parts and stuff, but that shouldn’t matter.
We can’t all be Bob.
An author friend of 70+ books told me that a novel is just “one damned thing after another.” This is a layman’s way of saying that a book needs “narrative drive.” Narrative drive keeps readers turning the pages. It exerts a pull that drags the reader along. Edgar Rice Burroughs was the master of narrative drive. Things are happening on every page of his books that keep you wanting to know more.
There are two primary kinds of “wanting to know more.” One is, more information about the story’s plot. This is based on intellectual curiosity, and mystery stories illustrate this most clearly. Who committed the murder? Why? How? Etc. This is the primary type of drive that good nonfiction has.
The second kind of “wanting to know more” is based on emotion and character. What is going to happen to a particular character or characters the reader is attached to? The strongest narrative drive combines these.
A modern author who captures both qualities — in my opinion — is Harlan Coben. Coben sets up a mystery early. Say, a character’s young brother or sister disappeared many years ago and is believed dead. But now something happens that suggests they may still be alive. This engages intellectual curiosity? How could that be? What happened to them? Where have they been?
As the story goes on, however, Coben works to get you to care about the main characters, to feel their pain. And now you want the mystery to be solved for their sake too.
Such authors as Edgar Rice Burroughs and Robert E. Howard were generally able to create both types of narrative drive in their stories as well. As a young man reading about John Carter or Conan, I identified with these characters. I pictured myself in their shoes so whatever happened to them evoked emotions — fear, anger, desire, joy, melancholy. I wanted them to be successful in the story because I wanted to be successful myself.
At the same time, when these characters discovered a lost city, I wanted to know who’d built it? And why? Were any of them still around? What kind of dangers lurked in the ruins?
At age sixty-five, I find it less easy to identify with characters like Carter and Conan. They’re so different from me. I’m no sword slinging hero. Often, these days, I find myself very interested in the supporting characters, like “Sola,” the female green Martian from A Princess of Mars, or “Woola,” who becomes John Carter’s loyal animal companion.
But I’ve never lost my intellectual curiosity about lost cities and lost worlds. Maybe I’m grown up, but there’s still a lot of “boy” in me, and good Sword & Planet fiction sure entertains that boy.
Above are some books filled with narrative drive, a few of the many Harlan Coben books I’ve read, Outlaw of Torn and The Mad King by ERB, with covers by Frazetta and Boris respectively, and my favorite REH collection, The Sowers of the Thunder, a collection of his crusader stories. Both are full of Roy Krenkel illustrations but the green cover is by Jeff Jones and the orange cover by Esteban Moroto.
Charles Gramlich administers The Swords & Planet League group on Facebook, where this post first appeared. His last article for Black Gate was a look at William R. Forstchen’s The Lost Regiment.
I do most of my business writing on Patreon these days, but roughly once per month, I’ll put a post for free on this website. If you go to Patreon, you’ll find other posts like this one.
Generational ChangeThose of you who read my monthly Recommended Reading List know I love The Year’s Best Sports Writing volumes. I always feel sad when I finish reading it, but this year, I felt especially bereft. Normally, I would have started The Best American Essays or some other nonfiction book to fill that slot, but I didn’t have anything on my TBR shelf that would have fit into that mix of uplifting and difficult and well written.
So, thanks to some automated bot suggestion on Amazon, I ordered The Best American Sports Writing of The Century, edited by David Halberstam and Glenn Stout. The book is almost 25 years old (and does not have an ebook edition for obvious reasons), but I didn’t care. I figured there would be a lot of good reading in it.
What I hadn’t expected was the healthy dose of perspective that came from David Halberstam’s brilliant introduction.
Halberstam was one of the most influential writers of his generation. He died in a car accident, not ten years after writing that introduction. I suspect he had a lot more books in him that we’ve sadly been robbed of.
He wrote one of the most devastating nonfiction books on the Vietnam War, which came out while the war was still going on. In the late 1970s, he wrote a book called The Powers That Be, which examined the impact the media had on history (put a pin in that right now), and he also wrote some of the classics of sports journalism, including a book I have on my shelf called The Summer of ’49.
All of that experience came together in this long introduction, which you can probably read as part of the “look inside this book” feature on any online bookstore.
What this introduction did was look at the history of sports journalism and sports writing as it developed in the 20th century. In the 19th, sport itself was local and often based in neighborhoods. It took nearly 100 years to become the big entertainment business it was in the 1960s, and another sixty years to become the juggernaut it is today—not that Halberstam lived to see that.
Right now, sport is getting me through some of the world’s dark times, and I noticed as it’s been happening that I had the same experience in 2020.
In the introduction, Halberstam explores several things and does so in the context of 800 pages of historical sports writing. Some of what he does here is what I call “editorial justification.” It’s something that all of us who edit do: Here are the reasons I chose the works in this book—not just because I like them (which I do) but because they make this point or illustrate that concept or explore these tiny corners of this particular topic.
Inside Halberstam’s justification, though, is a brilliant century-eye view of the way writing and journalism and entertainment changed as the world changed.
Reading about those changes got me thinking about our changing world. I’m going to get to modern times later in this post—and yes, I’ll be dealing mostly with fiction—but I’m going to set it up first.
Halberstam started the essay (and the book) with Gay Talese’s 1966 piece on baseball legend Joe DiMaggio (whom most of you probably know of because he married Marilyn Monroe). The Talese article, titled “The Silent Season of a Hero,” is considered by some to be the beginning of a sea-change in reporting called New Journalism.
In his editorial justification, Halberstam wrote:
It strikes me that the Talese piece represents a number of things that were taking place in American journalism at the time—some twenty years after the end of World War II. The first thing is that the level of education was going up significantly, both among writers and among readers. That mandated better, more concise writing.
Right there, I perked up when I was reading. It was kind of a well-duh moment for me: Of course what was happening in the journalism profession and in the craft itself was a reflection of what was going on in society at the time. Of course.
He went on:
It also meant that because of a burgeoning and growing paperback market, the economics of the profession were getting better: self-employed writers were doing better financially and could take more time to stake out a piece. In the previous era, a freelance writer had to scrounge harder to make a living, fighting constantly against the limits of time, more often than not writing pieces he or she did not particularly want to write in order to subsidize the pieces the writer did want to do.
Those changes—writers doing better financially—pretty much describes what happened to the fiction-writing profession as well, from about 1960 with the rise of paperbacks to the massive distribution collapse in the mid-1990s.
After that collapse, everything got very hard for fiction writers for about 15 years. A lot of writers vanished during that time, heading off to professorships or corporate jobs, convinced that writers couldn’t make a living at their chosen profession.
They had a point.
Anyway, a few pages later, Halberstam writes that he did not intend this collection to become a work of history, although it had “a certain historical legitimacy.” He explains:
In the background as we track the century from beginning to end, the reader should be able to see the changes being wrought by society by a number of forces: racial change, the coming of stunning new material affluence, the growing importance of sports in what is increasingly an entertainment age, and finally the effect of other communications on print.
He elaborates on all of those things, but I’m going to focus on the final one. For that, he wrote:
The role of print was changing—it was no longer the fastest or the most important means of communication. Instead by the late fifties reporters had to assume that in most cases their readers knew the [sports] score and the essentials of what had taken place; increasingly their job was to explain what happened and why it had happened, and what these athletes whom they had seen play were really like.
My copy of the book is a sea of underlines here. I really paid attention on two levels—on what Halberstam was actually saying and how all of this analysis could apply to 2025. (Not literally—again, I’ll get to it. Bear with me.)
He discussed politics and regular news reporting as seen through the lens of television cameras, and then wrote that TV had become more powerful in the 1960s than it had ever been before. He wrote:
That meant talented print journalists, to remain viable and be of value, had to go where television cameras could not go (or where television executives were too lazy to send them) and answer questions that were posed by what readers had already seen on television.
Therefore, for print to survive, the reporting had to be better and more thoughtful, the writing had to be better, and above all—the storytelling itself had to be better. Print people were being forced to become not merely journalists, but in the best sense it seems to me, dramatists as well.
I pulled back here and thought long and hard about what he was saying, and the implications.
Of course, I went to modern media first because I have three levels of training. Level one: my B.A. is in history (and I constantly wonder if I should get some graduate degrees in it—until I remember that I would have to focus on a time period and immerse myself in it. My butterfly brain resists that on so many levels that I can’t begin to express how I would feel about it).
Level two: my secondary training is in journalism. I started in print (and initially got published, ironically enough, as a sports writer at 16, covering my high school), and then fell into broadcast journalism. And no, I don’t have a degree in it. I worked as a reporter all through college, and then became a news director. Let’s put a pin in that one too.
Level three: fiction and editing. Once again, I learned by doing, which was pretty much all we had. Sure, there were classes at the universities (one story per semester, taught by someone who had no idea how to make a living at it), but mostly there were workshops (like Clarion) taught by working writers, and talks at fiction conventions and little else.
So…all of those levels combined into the way my brain worked after going deep into the Halberstam piece.
First, modern media.
I’ve been saying for some years now that it needed to change. If it’s broadcast, it’s being run by people who have no journalism experience as well as no courage. Let me add this: It has always been so. TV and radio were generally owned by entertainment companies that were required, by law, to include news.
(Most of these laws, by the way, were gutted first by the Reagan administration and then by each Republican administration since.)
The influential print media left the hands of large family groups (the Grahams at The Washington Post and the Chandlers at the Los Angeles Times come to mind), and were purchased by billionaires. At first, those purchases were praised, but they’re not going well now.
Again, this is not a huge change. William Randolph Hearst owned the biggest media empire in the world in his lifetime, and controlled content with an iron fist.
So the idea that journalism always had free reign was and is wrong.
However, when I say that the media has to change, I’m referring to generational change, just like Halberstam discussed above.
Sadly, education isn’t as good now as it was in the 1960s. The U.S. government turned its back on good education for all in the 1980s—once again under Reagan—but most successive administrations did little to shore it up. A lot of people fell through the cracks.
And now, most folks do not have the time for long-form journalism or explanations of “what happened and why it had happened.” There are/were entire cable news channels dedicated to just that kind of musing, but those aren’t reaching the younger generations either. Cord-cutting and fragmentation is actually bringing journalism into a completely different place than it was when Gay Talese wrote his article in 1966.
In some ways, we’re returning to the 19th century when the news (and entertainment) was fragmented. In other ways, we’re in a whole new place where a journalist or a fiction writer can hang out her shingle and people can come support her and her long-form journalism or fiction or whatever.
That’s good, if you’re good at the social media side, and difficult if you’re not.
But…what I mean when I say that the media needs to change with the world is that with online access and cable and broadcast news and podcasts, there are literally thousands of ways to get information.
Now, journalists need to figure out how to do it on their own. And they need to throw out some of the rules developed at the journalism schools they all went to.
Here we’re going to have a sidebar for one of my pet rants:
When I moved to Oregon, I wanted to freelance for the local Eugene paper. The city desk editor, whom they shuttled me off to, wouldn’t give me the time of day. I had written for major publications around the world. I’d had pieces on NPR and was still working for several information-based foundations. I had been a news director for years.
What I didn’t have, and what he sniffed over, was a journalism degree. My experience counted for nothing; all that mattered to him—and his cronies as the years went on—was the vaunted degree.
Over the years, I’ve worked with people who have J-school degrees but little experience. They’re terrible reporters and even worse writers. Plus they have a two-sides attitude, particularly when it comes to politics.
They don’t want to talk to everyone. They figure there’s only two sides—for and against. Most things in life are more complex than that.
So as the media landscape is fragmenting and becoming more complex, the big media companies are becoming less so.
They’re paying a price for that. But not the price everyone discussed in November. For all the hand-wringing after the election, the loss of viewership among most of the cable news channels isn’t a big deal. It happens after every election.
What is a big deal is that both readership and viewership of all traditional mainstream news has been declining for decades now. And the change is profound. People 50 and older still tend to get their news from traditional sources like television or print, but people younger than 50 get their news from social media or a digital aggregator. Mostly, though, they get their news from a variety of sources, some of them untested and inaccurate.
Rather than lament that this change allows for the spread of disinformation as most are doing, the media companies (and those of us who work in media) should be embracing the change, and finding other ways to fight disinformation.
Let me add this: when big media companies are in the hands of a single entity, be the Murdochs at Fox or Gannett News Media, the news is biased anyway. The owners of large corporations have an agenda. Sometimes it is to make profits. Sometimes it is to spread a certain perspective in the world.
Once again, it has always been thus. I didn’t work for commercial stations back in the day, because commercial reporters were muzzled. They were not allowed to report on any company that advertised with the parent company. So imagine this: no investigative reporting on pollution from a local company. Coverage was only allowed when the story became too big to ignore.
Journalism is changing again, and we need to embrace that change. We need to see the plus sides of it.
Places like Patreon and Substack help, but they have issues as well. They’re private companies that can get sold like Twitter did and then there will be huge (and often unpleasant) changes.
So…my mind went through all of that as I read the Halberstam piece. New Journalism (which is now old journalism) still exists. There are places that publish great long-form articles. Now there’s some great long-form reporting on podcasts and in new forms of media that did not exist when Halberstam wrote his introduction.
The key will be how the creatives—from writers to photographers and others—respond to these new forms of media. Some of us will adopt what we can, and others will cling to the old ways.
Maybe the old ways will return. Who knows?
Once I got through the traditional thinking on all of that, though, my mind turned toward fiction.
No one, to my knowledge, has done the kind of analysis of fiction in the 20th century that Halberstam did (first in the late 1970s, and then again in this article). Sure, there’s been a lot of writing about the history of fiction, in America in particular.
But that writing is myopic. The literary historians in the university system (including my late brother) focused on literary works or “mainstream” bestsellers, books that took over the national consciousness and led to changes and/or discussions.
There have been too many papers written on the impact of Catcher in the Rye or To Kill A Mockingbird and not enough on the overall fiction landscape.
The genres aren’t immune from the myopia. I have read as many books on the history of science fiction and fantasy as I can get my hands on, and probably just as many on the history of mystery fiction (both here and in the U.K.).
There are fewer analyses of romance fiction for two reasons: The first is that the genre is the newest of all of the big genres and second is deadlier. Romance was (and is) perceived as fiction for and by women, so it isn’t considered important (especially by the white men who ran university literary programs for most of the past century).
What books there are on romance were written by romance writers and aficionados for romance writers and aficionados.
So, let me put this out there for graduate students in search of a topic: Examine all of fiction publishing since the 1890s or so—genres, pulps, digests, and paperbacks as well as hardcovers and “important” books. See where such an examination takes you. If nothing else, I can guarantee that your dissertation will be different than all the others.
What Halberstam did so deftly in his introduction, though, is something I need to spend quite a bit of time thinking about.
He combined the changes inside America with the changes in the journalism business. Then he looked at the impact of those changes on the way that sports journalism was produced—
And he examined the impact those changes had on craft.
For example, he included little craft gems like this:
The [New York Times] in those days was still a place where copy editors were all-powerful, on red alert for any departure from the strictest adherence to traditional journalistic form, and [Talese’s] tenure there had not been a particularly happy one. But if he had wrestled constantly with the paper’s copy editors, his work was greatly admired elsewhere, particularly by reporters of his own generation in city rooms around the country who were, like him, struggling to break out of the narrow confines of traditional journalism and bring to their work both a greater sense of realism as well as a greater literary touch.
Passages like this make me think of modern traditional publishing, which got more and more hidebound after the distribution collapse in the 1990s. Then the purchase of those publishing companies by non-book people, who were buying inventory and intellectual property, and who needed these companies to make a profit on the balance sheet.
To do that, they hired editors without experience, many of them Ivy League graduates whose biggest credential was taking classes from some famous fiction writer (who could no longer make a living at writing). (Sound familiar? See J-School above.)
It became more and more difficult for established writers to work with these inexperienced (and low-wage) editors, prompting some writers to change companies. Other writers simply left to do other things, and once self-publishing became a major big deal, started publishing their own works.
There have been a lot of changes in fiction publishing, both indie and traditional, in this century. From the gold rush of new material when the Kindle was introduced in 2007 to the plethora of distribution sites for fiction, the changes have been immense.
For a while, it was possible for all of us to have the same information and act on it in the same way. If you have a newsletter, you get x-many more sales. If you monkey with Amazon’s algorithms, you will get your book in front of these eyeballs. If you use this program, you will have adequate paper books.
And then…suddenly…everything changed. Just like in the California Gold Rush, there’s money to be made in side businesses. You can make money as a cover designer, as a virtual assistant managing social media, as an expert in In-Design.
Not every writer needs those services, but a lot of them do.
What I find most amusing now is that, properly designed, indie books look better than traditionally published books. Traditional publishing companies are still trying to cost-cut their way to profit.
Indies are still experimenting with the latest bestest coolest tech, to see if it will not only enhance book sales, but also the reading experience.
What I hadn’t really considered—and I should have—was the thing that Halberstam was mentioning the most in his rather long introduction. He talked about technological, economic, and cultural change leading to changes in craft.
I know that has happened for fiction writers. I know that a lot of writers feel free to write what they want. I know many writers who are writing long series that would have either never sold at all in traditional publishing or been abandoned midway through the series.
Halberstam talks mostly about changes in storytelling methods, and I think we’re seeing that. I’m not well read enough, though, in the indie world to know what the craft changes are.
And it’s also not just a matter of being well-read. It’s also a matter of influence. When the publishing world was small, as it was in 1966, everyone saw a piece like Gay Talese’s. Everyone had an opinion about it—some good and some bad.
Talese’s influence on his peers came in the form of freedom to write differently as well as the freedom to try something new with the writing career.
We, as indie writers and publishers, can see what the something new is on the business level. I’m watching all the beautiful books being produced by writers like Anthea Sharp and Lisa Silverthorne. I want my books to be lovely as well, and I have a vision for it. Back in the day, it cost thousands of dollars to print beautiful books, and now it can be done as print-on demand.
There are other innovations that don’t interest me at all. Some of them make me ask a business question, “Should I do this? Will I be able to monetize it?” And some of them make me shrug. Some of them make me realize that there’s only so much time in every day, and I need it to do many things, including writing and running my business.
But as I climb out of these hectic and difficult past two years, I can finally see ahead. I didn’t realize, until I read the old Halberstam essay, that part of looking ahead is looking backwards on a macro scale and figuring out what the heck happened in the industry.
The cool thing about the macro scale is this: It makes everything that happened to an individual writer during the change impersonal.
For example, I got caught in the distribution downturn and wasn’t allowed by my traditional publisher to finish a series. I spent the early part of this century scrambling for work.
Then indie came along, and opened a lot of doors. But nothing remains the same. What looked good in 2015 doesn’t look good now. What worked ten years ago doesn’t work at all now.
Change happens. Sometimes it’s good, but often it’s confusing and difficult and frightening.
I was one of the first generations to go to college after New Journalism took over the big publications in New York. I had professors who railed against that. I mostly ignored it because I wasn’t a journalism major. I worked in the industry and learned a lot. But today I find myself thinking of my colleagues, many of whom were journalism majors, and wonder what they’re doing now.
I know of two people who followed the same path I did. One, a beautiful and brilliant reporter, ended up as an investigative reporter on a major Wisconsin TV station. Now, she’s working as senior anchor (and still reporting), benefitting from all the lawsuits that women had filed over the years about ageism. (She fully admits this.)
The other kept getting jobs at places that died. From UPI to major newspapers that closed up shop, he moved from place to place until he finally gave up and went fully into broadcast. I hear his familiar voice on occasion on one of the streaming channels, where he has his own show.
Those two stuck with it, weren’t afraid to take risks, and ended up with forty-year long careers.
The others…? I have no idea where they are now. I do know that, even in those halcyon days, they had trouble finding work because their writing showed their lack of experience in actual reporting.
They’re victims of a change that is no longer really relevant to modern journalism. And another change is coming.
I can see the changes in the media—as I mentioned above.
I’m going to have to think about what’s going on in fiction.
And I’m really looking forward to that.
“Generational Change,” copyright © 2024/2025 by Kristine Kathryn Rusch.
These Violent Delights | A Literary Hub Best Book of Year • A Crime Reads…
The post Spotlight on “These Violent Delights” by Micah Nemerever appeared first on LitStack.
…to all of the backers on the Series Collide Kickstarter. You went beyond our expectations. We—I—appreciate the support.
Thank you!
I’m still catching up on the Recommended Reading Lists for 2024. After August, I have to finish September’s (and December, of course), and then I’ll be caught up! Yay!
I remember August better than I remember July. (Whew.) We held a successful anthology workshop. We learned a lot. We made a lot of progress on truly good things. And…we had to hire a lot more lawyers than the two we usually deal with. Such fun that was/is. [sarcasm alert]
I did get a lot more reading done in August than I did in July, but still not as much as I would have liked. Although some of that reading was for the anthology workshop, which I can’t count here, but you will see many of those stories in the coming year, as we revive and rebrand Fiction River. (Oh, I’m looking forward to that.)
So you’ll find some interesting books here, and just two articles to match my necessarily short attention span from that month.
August 2024
Baxter, John, Montemarte: Paris’s Village of Art and Sin, Harper Collins, 2017. I plucked this out of my TBR pile because I needed something that was not going to challenge me in the front part of the month. I just needed vignettes, which this has in abundance. What I did not expect was how many story ideas I got from this. Quite a few! I hope I’ll have a chance to get to them before getting distracted by something else. There are a lot of fun things here, as always with a John Baxter travel “guide.” (It’s an excuse for great literary and historical essays.
Cabot, Meg, No Judgements, William Morrow, 2019. A fun and dramatic book from Meg Cabot. This one is set on a Florida island as a hurricane bears down. Our heroine is a clueless New Yorker who had never lived through severe storms before and can’t quite believe the locals when they tell her that she has to do certain things. Of course, there’s this one particular local who helps her…
One of the most fun things about this book for me is that I lived on the Oregon Coast for 23 years. We had hurricanes, although they’re not called hurricanes in that part of the world. We had Big Storms. And no one from the outside could believe that things would be bad. In fact, when there were tsunami warnings, people drove to the Oregon Coast to watch the big wave hit. Friends of ours had to yank tourists off the beaches so they wouldn’t be killed. (I kid you not.)
So there’s an extra layer in this book for me, but I think you’ll enjoy it even without that. This is Meg Cabot at her most fun.
Nevala-Lee, Alec, Astounding: John W Campbell, Isaac Asimov, Robert A. Heinlein, L. Ron Hubbard, and the Golden Age of Science Fiction, Dey Street, 2018. Alec’s book is a Hugo and Locus Award Finalist. I bought the paperback when it came out. (Note: I’ve linked to a ridiculously priced ebook.) When the book came out, I picked it up a few times, cherry-picked a few references using the index, and got grumpy. I fell into the mistake so many writers make, which is that the book I held was not the book I would have written. Let me say to me (and to all of you who do that): Well, duh. If I was going to write the book, I would…ahem…write the book.
I don’t know what made me pick up the book in August, but I’m so glad I did. It kept me entertained while a lot of the above stuff happened in my life. I had met Isaac a few times, and the bastard groped me every single time. I nearly killed him once in an elevator, because my reaction to being grabbed like that is to hit someone as hard as I could with my elbow, and I refrained only because it was my first Nebula award ceremony as the editor of F&SF. I had a thought that maybe whoever groped me was someone famous—and it was a frail Asimov. His delicate ribcage was only a few inches from my deadly elbow. That would have been bad.
Needless to say that while the rest of the world admires the heck out of that man, I do not. I didn’t know much about Campbell other than the stories the old timers told about him, and I had avoided reading/listening to stories about Hubbard. OMG, that man should have been in jail. Heinlein, whom I had met and who was bombastic as hell, came out the best.
Kudos for Alec for writing about all of these men, warts and all. I love the analysis of what sf became because of them and what still needs to be changed. As worthy a book as I have read in years.
Rose, Lucy, “The Worst Thing that Can Happen is You Suck,” The Hollywood Reporter, June 5, 2024. This is a roundtable interview with actors John Hamm, Matt Bomer, Nicholas Galitzine, Clive Owen, David Oyelowo, and Collum Turner. I love the roundtables that The Hollywood Reporter does because they get a group of professionals together to discuss their art. There’s always something in the roundtables that mean something to me. Here, there are quotes I circled from Clive Owen…
I have never listened to anybody else. Ultimately, you are the one who has to go to work every day. I do what I want to do because that’s what’s going to sustain me through it.
…and John Hamm…
But yeah, to Clive’s point, agents and managers can all bat a thousand in the rearview mirror, they can always tell you what they thought after the thing came out and it was good or bad. It’s in the moment that you have to make the decision. And the worst thing that can happen is you suck.
I love that last part, which is also the title of this piece in the printed form. “The worst thing that can happen is you suck.” Exactly. And that’s not so very bad, now is it?
Silva, Daniel, A Death in Cornwall, HarperCollins, 2024. I’m fascinated by the way that Daniel Silva’s Gabriel Allon series has changed since the Trump era began. Silva’s books were always on the edge of modern politics, as close to real politics as possible. But it became clear that Silva was struggling with the constant changes instigated by Trump in his first term, and then the worldwide unrest in Biden’s term—from Russia’s invasion of Ukraine to the utter mess in the Middle East.
Silva solved it by returning Allon to his roots; he was a painter and an art restorer who also became a spy. (And then a super spy.) Now, he has retired and gone back to restoring amazing paintings…and solving worldwide art-related crimes. This crime starts in Allon’s former residence on the Cornish coast of England, with the death of a reknown art history professor and scurries along from there. Highly recommended.
Stoynoff, Natasha,“Brooke Shields Wants You To Know She Is Just Fine,” AARP Magazine, April/May 2024. Because of the year I had in 2024, I sometimes find it hard to remember articles I had marked as long ago (and far away) as August. I have dumped a few magazines without recommending anything from them because, for the life of me, I have no idea why I marked a certain page.
Not so with the April/May AARP Magazine. I picked it up to see what I had recommended, didn’t see my usual mark, and frowned at it. I distinctly remember reading the Brooke Shields interview and finding it both wise and inspiring.
Brooke Shields and I are of an age. She’s younger, but not by much. And by the time she was being exploited all over the world, I was old enough to feel icky about it, but young enough not to know why. This article addresses her past, yes, but it also looks at her now. At least from this interview, it seems that she has accepted both her age and the changes that aging brings. I recommend this article to everyone.
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