Satan's Bookclub

Well, I do not rightly know how to explain “"trash sex magic",” other than to assure you, there are forces at work in this book, and they aren’t working for Jesus. It’s the story of Raedawn Sommershoe and her mother Gelia, who live in a trailer on the bank of the Fox river. Rae and her mother have a magical connection to nature in all it’s carnal, sexy glory. Their lives, and the lives of the other odd characters living along side them, are endangered when the meadow across US 31 is torn down to make way for condos. Alexander Caebeau, exiled from his home in the Bahamas by his magical granny, is getting tired of tearing down trees, putting up buildings, and getting fat on hamburgers. When he meets Rae, things start to change for, and about, Alexander, spring goes on hyper drive, the river starts to rise and nature gets seriously pissed off with commercial real estate planners.

This book is dank, dark and swampy, you feel moist just reading it. It smells of mold and musk, and it makes you sneeze with the pollen it puts off. There is a lot of heat in this story, and it's not a dry heat, kids. It's sticky, green, sweaty and... oh, ok, slutty, in it's lushness.

Oh, how many delicious, warm, slick, animalistic ways does this book endanger your soul? Almost too many to count. There’s alcoholism, drug use, incest, racism, spousal abuse, violence, greed, paganism, therianthropy, worshipping of false idols, tree homicide, magic, extreme nudity, underage sex, dirty sex, animal sex, fish sex, bug sex, mud sex, tree sex, homosexual sex, evil real estate tycoons threatening the lives of small children and immoral insurances salesmen. It gets a four out of five just for making you think that there might be magic in nature that exists outside of God's plan. As if!

Posted by jodi at 10:45 PM | Permalink

"The monkey gods are going to laugh when I bowl with the skulls of those guys that burnt J.C."

Down on Ponce by Fred Willard is one of your better buddy-crime novels. A tender story of five misfits who find a common bond in lifelong dedication to crime, it has everything I like in it. It’s noir, It’s strange. It’s insane, violent, funny, clever and brilliant. It’s a little bit twisted and sick. And if you read it, you may not go straight to hell, but a print out of your soul will be kept on file, and it will go down in your permanent record.

Ponce de Leon Avenue is called “Ponce” by locals and is a haven for “the homeless, the lawless and the restless” in Atlanta. Sam, is an ex-drug lord, pulled out of retirement and caught up in a conspiracy. When his friend Jimmy is killed while trailer-sitting for him, he figures someone should pay. He goes to Atlanta to hide out, and make plans. There he meets Charley, a rockabilly ex-con who drives a hearse as Death’s personal representative to the city of Atlanta. With Charley comes Stinky Lloyd, an amputee in a wheelchair, and Half Moon Bob, who used to be called Full Moon Bob before he lost half his round face to cancer. Together, this crew of crime geniuses is missing only one member: Bug Raiford, currently incarcerated in a Federal Mental Hospital. Sam's plan is simple.
Step One: Set up new identity, introduce yourself to the Bad Guys
Step Two: Break Bug out of the loony bin.
Step Three: Double cross baddies, steal millions of dollars while avoiding murderous white Rastafarians from Hoboken and exacting revenge upon the forces that double crossed you, killed your friend, and blew up your trailer.

There is a lot of sin in this book including your recreational drug use, profit from crime, theft, murder, adulterous sexual relations, child abuse, high cholesterol, homosexuality, institutionalized schooling, homoerotic arts and crafts depicting political leaders, fetus flingers, foul language, false idolatry, mental illness, psychotic lawyers, and a general mocking, disrespectful attitude towards Republicans, God, and the King James Bible. It is therefore, with infinite sadness, I must say that if you are at all concerned about your soul, you will need to avoid this book. If you decide to risk it, you'll be rewarded with some of the wittiest dialog in the tri-state area. You'll find yourself quoting some of the better bits, and pushing the book at your friends, so they can understand your genius.

I give it four pentacles. Why not five? If you are going to get Five Star Evil, you have to make me shudder at the depravity, I have to abandon all hope, because I know my soul is doomed. There is a respectable level of wickedness in Down on Ponce, but trust me, it's worth it.

"I don't have any faith either, but I guess if I was going to build an altar and bow down to somebody it would be Jerry Lee Lewis."

Posted by jodi at 06:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)