In a somewhat random turn of events, fueled mostly by my inability to plan for some variety in my reading schedule, I ended up starting The Flight of the Silvers immediately after finishing The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell (See my recent review here.), which meant I’ve been immersed in the topic of time and the themes surrounding its relativity and manipulation for quite a few weeks. All I needed was a good Doctor Who binge-watch to really cap it off.
I have found myself very busy of late, much more so than is typical. Busy mentally, physically . . . with work, family, personal, and professional interests. I’m expecting this level of activity to only increase in coming months and will be perfectly honest that I find the prospect fairly daunting.
Tessnia Sanoby is an extraordinary girl. She is smart, athletic, and loves her parents and friends. She moves through high school and college with dedication and ease. She stays out of trouble, studies hard, and works hard to support herself. She is tall, dark, and beautiful. Tess is so extraordinary and her life so charmingly easy, we soon start to suspect that there’s more to her than meets the eye.
Something is out there . . . Something terrifying that must not be seen. One glimpse and a person is driven to deadly violence. No one knows what it is or where it came from.
I read about the end of the world a lot. I’ve been through every kind of fictional apocalypse you can probably think of, and, naturally, I’m always looking for something new and inventive to survive. So, the description for Josh Malerman’s Bird Box on Goodreads immediately caught my eye. A post-apocalyptic world where you have to somehow avoid SEEING THINGS seemed absolutely impossible. It invites more than a little serious contemplation about survival logistics . . . assuming, of course, you don’t just give up before you even start.
Love is in the air at Fanboy Comics! In this magical month of romance and enchantment, the FBC Staff and Contributors decided to take a moment to stop and smell the roses. In the week leading up to Valentine's Day, a few members of the Fanboy Comics crew will be sharing their very personal "Love Letters" with our readers, addressed to the ones that they adore the most.
Dearest Dr. Bishop,
How many ways do I love you, Walter Bishop? There are an infinite number of reasons multiplied by an infinite number alternate Walters in parallel universes. There are positive qualities and negative qualities, all blending together to make you one of the most complex, endlessly delightful, maddeningly frustrating, achingly vulnerable, frighteningly dangerous characters in all of TV.
“What would you give for your art . . . ?”
“I’d give my life.”
This pronouncement sets the stage for the story of David Smith, the titular character of The Sculptor by Scott McCloud. A struggling artist, passionate about not compromising his artistic ideals, and adamantly committed to keeping the promises he has made to himself and others, we join David’s story as he has a classic crossroads encounter with Death. David is given the ability to manipulate matter with his bare hands, letting him sculpt whatever he imagines. The price? He only has 200 more days to live.
When we last visited The Rage in Volume One: Zombie Generation (See my review here.), our main character Amina had a surprising run-in with her estranged husband Fred and was well on her way to locating her infected son, Theo. In Volume Two, we continue to explore Amina’s quest, as well as delve a bit more deeply into this couple’s recent history and the events that have caused their separation.
I am a die-hard, life-long, can’t-get-enough-of-it Stephen King fan. The Stand and the Dark Tower series sit proudly in my list of all-time favorite books ever. He can’t write a book that’s too long for me, or with too many characters, or with too outrageous a plot. Even in my least favorite examples, I still always find some element worthy of turning the pages to the gritty end.
I picked up Eye of Newt, because I was immediately in love with the artwork, and the subject matter and story seemed to hold a lot of promise to my Tolkien-fantasy-loving sensibilities. I liked the idea of such a young protagonist. The world-building promised a rich tableau of characters, creatures, and magical locations.
What if the end of the world weren’t cast in somber tones . . . gritty greys and blacks, filled with dust and mud? What if it weren’t defined by the chaotic dismantling of social order? What if there were still beautiful sunsets, pristine beaches, flowers, butterflies, and chirping birds? What if it came with an orderly community center and a plan for sustaining agricultural viability?