Special 2 for 1 offer

I did this offer once before and met with some success, so I decided to do it again, with some more copies I acquired from the publishers:

Buy a copy of Dr. Black in the Guerrillia from me and I will throw in a free signed copy of The Translation of Father Torturo. The Dr. Black book is 20 bucks, plus 3 bucks for media mail shipping to the U.S. (anyone living in another country please enquire about shipping rates.

If interested you can paypal me at storyofthefifthpeach@hotmail.com or e-mail me  at huysmans67 at hot mail dot com.

As an addendum, here is a reviewish sort of post I lifted from Jeff Vandermeer’s old blog:

I’ve enjoyed Brendan Connell’s tales of Dr. Black, expert extraordinaire, for quite some time. Forrest Aguirre and I took one for Leviathan 3 and I took another for Album Zutique. Each new story seems to be better than the last, and the newest of all, Dr. Black and the Guerrillia (83 pages, hardcover, Grafitisk), is available in handsome 300-copy limited edition book form direct from the author.

In the novella, Dr. Black visits San Corrados, looking for the Yaroa tribe so he can finish off his latest book. As is the usual case in Dr. Black stories, Dr. Black strides through the landscape having odd adventures and barely escaping with his life. Not only does he encounter the Yaroa, but also the guerillas who are fighting to take back the country from the corrupt general who leads it. Of course, Dr. Black becomes embroiled in their efforts.

I’d be hard-pressed to pick my favorite parts of the narrative. I mean,
the encounter while “under the influence,” of some local druggery, with the God of Metanatural History ranks right up there. As does the slime molds playlet. As does the interior monologue leading up to Dr. Black’s possible shooting at the hands of a firing squad. It’s insanely wonderful stuff–daft, droll, and experimental in a fun way. (The book is also nicely illustrated by John Connell.) I’d also be hard-pressed to pluck an appropriate quote to entice you simply because Connell’s work contains so many pleasures, so instead here are a couple of snippets…

The deity had the head of a large, tropical American edentate (Myrmecophaga jubata) attached to the pale body of a man of affairs. He spoke, not in English, but rather in a variety of Pennsylvania-German-Pali-Middle-Mexican-Persian which the doctor, an able linguist, could perfectly understand.

Black inquired as to the significance of the objects in the glass case.

“Those are your sentiments Doctor,” the deity replied.

“My sentiments?”

“Your sentiments.”

“And what are my sentiments doing here, might I ask?”

“This is the Heaven of Metanatural History, and it is where all the non-material parts of Earth’s imminent scientists are kept for both study and display.” The deity scratched its snout and then rolled out a long protrusile tongue.

***

“Would you like a blindfold?”

“No. I would prefer, at the moment of dissolution, to have my visual awareness entirely unimpaired.” [Dr. Black replied]

The other bowed stiffly. “As you wish.” He turned to the gunmen. “Ready!” he cried, opening an enormous mouthful of yellow teeth.

The doctor considering how a bullet can contain a supper of roast game…freedom…a river of sadness…the end of a noble career…travelling at two-thousand feet per second..with rifles positioned about thirty feet away…upon being fired…the projectiles would arrive in about twelve thousandths of a second…but taking into account air-resistance…partial differential equation…”

“…Aim!…”

seeing: childhood = Alabama (to the sounds of Sweet Nadine: huge, crowned with red hair, her beautiful voice + his own father: a thick and elongated torso; great great great grandson of noted physician and chemist Joseph Black = discoverer of carbon dioxide…If he were killed he would sorely miss the chicken heart back at his laboratory on Long Island which he had kept alive for twenty-seven years pulsating in a solution of sea salt.

“This is unpleasant,” he thought.

Torturo Review

Here, at the blog spot if Universal Pathways,  is another review of my book The Translation of Father Torturo.

It contains the following: “If you start reading it, you are not going to put it down before you get to the final page…”

Father Torturo Preamble

The preamble to my novel The Translation of Father Torturo, which you can buy here.

Preamble

     “Hal-le-lu-jah, hal-le-lu-u-jah-jah!”

     Clouds of yellow smoke curled upward, like slowly revolving apparitions in the light of the immense and stately candles which were placed, dozen upon dozen, throughout the interior of the cathedral; – the ceiling, the cupola, seemingly as high over head as the night sky – thoroughly Romanesque, Byzantine, ornate décor protruding from all sides, dripping from above like stalactites, surging from the walls in carven stone and  bronze panels, rising in grand pillars, winking in frescoed patches and chapels: the depiction of men at arms and others martyred; a few modern contrivances, the worst of contemporary art, dropped in, for juxtaposition, ugly slashes to enhance the already turbulent presence of the bizarre.

     “Hal-le-lu-jah, hal-le-lu-u-u-jah-ah!”

     The small figure stood before the seated gathering. She sang into the microphone in an untrained, slightly cacophonic voice that was yet buttered with faith. Sheathed in the coarse, clean costume of her calling, vestal white; eyes like raisins behind simple spectacles; her voice uttered that modulated praise to Him, Master of all human affairs, Creator and Ruler of the universe.

     The smoke plumed upward: aromatic, reminiscent of decomposed saints, hypnotic as it joined to the rhythmical chanting.

     A beggar woman, a mad woman, obese and malformed (the majority of the weight being confined between her lower torso and hams), struggled along one darkened side of the cathedral, the struggle all the more grim for the radical difference in length between her left leg and right. The disparity was made up by a proportionate wooden heel, which shuffled and clapped along the floor. Others, healthy in leg if not feeble in mind, lay their hands on the sarcophagus of Saint Anthony.

     But the vast majority of the visitors, pilgrims, rushed with remarkable haste onward, towards the brain of the cathedral. There a queue had formed and people pushed forward impatiently, rising on tip-toes and craning their necks. A child, a veritable cherub, innocent of social manners, wound its way ahead of the rest, its grandmother following in its wake, apologising as she went. It mounted the low steps on hands and knees and then, before the glass case, rose and stretched its arms out, the people parting on either side.

     “Excuse me! Excuse me!” the grandmother said, hastening forward. And, with the words, “Oh, bambino,” on her smiling lips, she hoisted the child up, so it could view what it had so impetuously sought after: A tongue mounted on a pin, like a dried cactus; a jaw, gums intact, teeth the colour of gorgonzola.

 

wee review

I see on that here, on Amazon, my book The Translation of Father Torturo has received a review which includes the comment: “If you’re looking for something dark and unflinchingly brutal, this is your book.”

So, anyone looking for that kind of thing?

Another Review of The Translation of Father Torturo

Matt Staggs has written a very nice little review of this book here, at SkullRing.org. 

Included is this line: “The story of Torturo’s rise, fall and ultimate triumph is a kind of anti-hagiography, a gothic tale of dark splendor that is sure to appeal to any reader with a taste for the forbidden.”

Torturo Blog Review

Here is another review of The Translation of Father Torturo.

It seems that a lot of people consider this a gothic novel. I had never much thought about that when writing it, but it’s cool . . .

I have also certainly never considered it slipstream. But I am not sure I know what slipstream really is. Maybe it is the same as interstitial. But I don’t know what that is either, so . . .

It is slotted under dark fantasy. But try telling a woman that you meet at a dinner party that you are a writer of dark fantasy. 

 

Torture Porn Retraction

Paul, the author of the review of The Translation of Father Torturo I talked about here has officially retracted the part about torture porn on his blog.

Cool.

Torturo, Violence and the Power of Honesty

A week or so ago I mentioned a bad review of a story of mine here, regarding a story that was published in McSweeney’s. The author of the blog it seems decided that he wouldn’t mind checking out more of my work and posted this review of The Translation of Father Torturo.

It is somewhat more positive but still complains about the violence. Yes, this book has violence. It does. The title hints at that. He uses the phrase “torture porn,” but that seems a little harsh. Still, violence is a bad thing. Too bad so much of my stuff has it and then some.

He makes some comparisons with a couple of films: Seven and The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover. I did write the book before seeing Seven and the other film I have never seen.

Also, he mentions having attended St. Anthony’s grammar school but being unfamiliar with the story of the tongue. For the record: There are two St. Anthonys. One is that described by St. Athanasius, and the other is St. Anthony of Padua (also called St. Anthony of Lisbon, since that is where he was born). I assume that the grammar school was named after the former. The character I mention in the book is the latter however.

Torturo Podcast etc.

I set up this blog principally as a source of information about my writing. I put up other stuff, but mainly it is meant to be a centralized location for reviews etc. about my books and stories.

I have received lots of good feedback. Occasionally however I have come across remarks that are not altogether good. The question then arises: Should I provide that info also? I think I should, since I am neither a tobacco company nor an auto manufacturer.

So, I ran across this podcast about my book The Translation of Father Torturo. It is, quite frankly, far from being altogether negative. On the contrary, it is mostly positive. The fellows doing it however do point out a number of flaws, primarily regarding the actual production values, and I mostly agree with their assessment.

One of them mentions some missing letters, and quite correctly stated that this was due to the printer, who seems incapable of producing words with Slovenian accents. In fact, the proofs of the book did not have these errors.

If any one is interested, I only have 3 of the signed copies left from this offer, so anyone who wants one should get one.

On another note, here is a comment I found about my story The Life of Captain Gareth Caernarvon which appeared in McSweeney’s 19 and was put on the Best American Fantasy recommended reading list.