We’ve had all we could take. They have relied on us for more years than we have left on God’s green earth. And we’re sick to death of their demands, the limitations it puts on our own existence. Because that’s all we’re doing now: merely existing. I can’t remember the last time my husband and
By Bob Freville If you’re new to the Motorist then that title might well bug you the fuck out, but fear not! We can still save your brain before it melts into a gnarly flan and you begin speaking in tongues. That’s right, you don’t need to be some boring troglodyte with an empty head
By Zakary McGaha Disclaimer: This is a title I was given a copy of in exchange for a review by the same publisher who’s putting out a book of mine later; this relationship has no effect on my opinion of Sarah Read’s novel. 4/5 stars. The Bone Weaver’s Orchard felt like a warm, comforting blanket
Review by Ben Arzate [Disclaimer: Golden Rod was published by Cabal Books, which is also publishing a novel by me] Jack, a dishwasher obsessed with tea, has contracted a strange disease which turns his penis a deep yellow. After a stint in the hospital due to an attack by dogs, he decides to burn his
By Bob Freville 1. Kathe Koja Long before modern readers embraced the brutal, gut-churning minimalism of Chuck Palahniuk, Kathe Koja introduced a clipped literary style to speculative fiction that was brusque, brave and fringe before fringe was really a thing. A prominent figure during the 90s genre paperback boom, Koja made a name for herself
