#REVIEW: INK AND BONE, by Rachel Caine

Y61tZg+d8VbL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_.jpgou may find it surprising– I certainly did, when I counted– to learn that I have seventeen books by Rachel Caine, which probably puts her under Stephen King and not a whole damn lot of other people in terms of the sheer number of her works that I own.  I don’t talk about Caine’s work much around here because her previous work have slotted in my brain precisely where Star Wars and Conan books go: they’re the literary equivalent of candy, consumed quickly, enjoyed, but not really lingered on that much afterwards.  I don’t think I’ve reread anything she’s written, for example.  That’s not a criticism of her or her work, mind you; I like for my own books to have a bit of the “candy” feel to them, so it’s certainly not a bad thing.

Then I read Ink and Bone.  This is a new series– the second is book is out in hardback, but I don’t have it just yet– and it’s wildly different from everything else she’s ever written, or at least everything she’s written that I’ve read, as I’ve not touched her Morganville Vampires series.

Because vampires.

At any rate: her previous three series that I’ve read have all been urban fantasy, for lack of a better phrase, mostly written in first person.  The Great Library series is alternate history, sort of, except it starts way back with the Library of Alexandria not being burned down two thousand years ago, and from there we end up in a now (or near future, maybe?) where the Library runs the world and there are no  original books left.  Instead, you can access any work ever written through a device called a Codex, which I thought was a little cooler until I realized it was basically just a Kindle.  Throw in some shadowy government conspiracy stuff, a bit of advanced tech in the form of teleportation, creepy forbidden magic, a brutal war between England and Wales, and a bit of Harry Potter-esque librarian school stuff and you have a hell of a story.

Check it out, guys.

god what day is it

And now it’s 53 hours and five days.  Breakfast this morning was a Snickers bar and half a pot of coffee.  I considered adding a couple of cigarettes on top for a truly balanced breakfast but then remembered I don’t smoke.

The whole morning was jitteriness and is this the coffee or do I need a Clonazepam type of nonsense, the afternoon was abject fucking death-boredom, and the evening was frantic Jesus we’re understaffed where were you assholes all day craziness.

What I’m getting at is the review of Rachel Caine’s Ink and Bone that I was gonna write is gonna have to wait until tomorrow.  Short version: go read it.

G’night.

Haters mad for whatever reason

I’ve been at work for 41 hours in the last four days.  I may not legally be conscious right now, and I’m not sure how I got home.

Watch this: I don’t know if you’ve heard of Rae Sremmurd (“Ear Drummers,” backwards), and whether you have or not probably shows whether you’re my age or older or younger than me, or whether the words “mannequin challenge” mean anything to you.  One way or another, I encountered these guys for the first time… yesterday?  Two days ago?  and I think I’ve listened to their album SremmLife 2 a thousand times since then.  There hasn’t been enough hours in that time to listen to the album a thousand times but I’ve done it anyway, because time actually stops while you’re listening to Rae Sremmurd.

This is hiphop inflected, but hell if I know what genre it is.  I’d call it trance music, but that’s already a thing and I’m pretty sure this isn’t it.  Like… I’ve been high twice in my life, right, or at least I’ve been high twice when the high-inducing agents weren’t prescribed by a doctor and administered in a hospital.  At any rate, the first time barely even counted, so maybe I’ve only been high once.  So maybe I have no idea what the hell I’m talking about, but:

I’m pretty sure this music is what it’s like to be high just transformed into music.

That’s a recommendation.

Like, there are lyrics, I suppose?  I barely know what any of them are.  I can’t pay attention to the words.  They’re probably gross in some way; my experience with Southern hiphop in general hasn’t been great, and these guys are from Tupelo, Mississippi, which is probably on the slightly dirtier side of the Dirty South.  But hell if I know or care what they’re talking about on any of their songs, because the music starts and the groove kicks in and all the sudden it’s fifteen minutes later and the car is on the other side of town and I don’t remember the drive in between at all but I went somewhere magical and wonderful while it was happening.

I love the fact that they’re playing guitar in the video the whole way through and there appear to be no guitars featured in Black Beatles at all.  That’s, like, a metaphor, man.

Go download this.  I’m going to bed.

It’s Cyber Monday!

Okay, technically it’s Sunday night, but this will be up all day Monday and it’s already 7:40, so y’all will live.

You were planning on spending money at Amazon today, right?  Sure you were.  How about buying some books?  Click here to go straight to my author page, or on either of the following links to go to the pages for my books:

All of my books are available in print or as ebooks.  Buy one for yourself and one for a friend!