Book Review: Badfish

Badfish. Sue Rovens. CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, October 28, 2015, Trade Paperback and Kindle, 225 pages.

Reviewed by Ed Sarna.

Badfish, the debut novel by Sue Rovens, is a darkly written, extraordinary book, with elements of horror and suspense covered in a fine skin of black comedy. To say this story is twisted is an understatement.

A plague of bad luck has befallen the town of Badfish, and the Finchon Motel is patient zero. The Finchon, owned and operated by Karl Demetris, is overflowing with transients, drug users, and all-around misfits. While the misleading advertising may draw in the occasional tourist, the fortunate ones see the writing on the wall. Karl, ever the entrepreneur, has developed a lucrative side business peddling a drug that gives its users a toxic high. The cascading events set off by this new drug quickly appear unstoppable.

The well-drawn characters jump off the page and quickly draw you in to their off-kilter world. Bad people sometimes show a softer, caring side, while good ones occasionally make bad choices, keeping the characters from lapsing into stereotypes. I was never quite sure what was going to happen next or how or if these people were going to get themselves out of the trouble in which they found themselves stuck.

This book, at just over 200 pages, was an extremely fast read. This was aided in part by the strong pacing and short chapters that kept the action racing forward. Every time I thought I’d put the book down at the end of a chapter, it ended leaving me wanting to discover what was going to happen next. Knowing the next chapter was probably another quick read, I’d allow myself one more. Thus, the pattern was established and repeated.

The ending was tied up a little too neatly for my taste, but that is my only complaint, and it is minor. I believe Ms. Rovens is an author to watch for in the future. She has a way of conveying a story that is unlike anything I’ve previously read. I cringed, I laughed, I cringed again, and then I moved on to the next sentence. While comparisons to Dean Koontz and Stephen King come immediately to mind, she is an original, and far enough out there to occupy her own space on the “wall of weird.” I highly recommend Badfish to anyone looking for something a little out of the ordinary, or just something really good.

Book Review: Cotton

Cotton. K. Yvonne Drew. Self published, January 30, 2014, Trade Paperback, 296 pages.

Reviewed by Stephanie Wilson Medlock.

In the opening pages of Cotton, an unnamed protagonist known only as the “traveler” is drawn to a dreary decaying house, and once inside is confronted by a hideously decomposing man and his horrible cat. The old man leads the traveler to the Dying Room where a magical candle burns at both ends. When that candle has melted away, he tells his visitor, the potential for African Americans to overcome the obstacles of 250 years of slavery and racism will die forever. As the aging demon puts it:

“Our journey will be complete soon enough. Nigras cannot continue to stand with such great pressures that cause them to collapse from within their own families and communities. A dying breed, a hopeless community; you see that?”

The candle drips wax onto the glass plate.

“The more she melts away, the less nigras are left to play. Hehe . . . it’s genius that she was crafted with two wicks instead of one. Nigras are always killing one another off or dying of some disease. It’s tragic, actually… to stand by and watch two generations of one race be erased at almost the same rate. That’s what she represents… the young and the old. The burning of Black America.”

With that, the reader is plunged into a series of scenarios, some set to look like television shows, others memories of the horrors of slavery, still others poems that describe some aspect of the Black experience.

Each chapter changes focus, moving dreamlike from one set of situations to another. Cotton delivers vignettes on many of the issues facing Black Americans, from ghetto crime and the way in which young people are killed in gang violence, to the lack of self-care that creates severe health problems for older African Americans, from internal disputes within the Black community on issues of how men and women should relate, to concepts of beauty, personal power, and self-respect.

While Cotton details these problems succinctly and often in an entertaining way (author Drew imagines a television series featuring six handsome African American young people whose interactions delve into social tensions and expectations within their group), the book also offers solutions to these problems. As an example, Drew imagines organizations designed to empower black men to be better husbands and fathers and to provide them with needed educational opportunities.

Periodically, the scenes shift back to the “traveler” whose life is threatened by the demon of ignorance. In this instance, ignorance is that lack of self-understanding and self-acceptance that leads people to make endless mistakes. At the center of the book is the question, “Do you know who you are?” The author suggests that African Americans will survive and prosper only when they attain the self-knowledge that helps them to develop a strong identity.

The book’s lack of a coherent plot structure will puzzle many readers, and the magical aspect of the demons facing the never named traveler can seem annoying and overblown. But there is a great deal of power and insight in this novel, which reads more like a meditation on the pressures challenging African Americans, than a novel with a standard plot and set characters.

Instead, Cotton flows like a sermon, exhorting the “you” in the reader to take control away from the forces that seek to perpetuate stereotypes of African Americans and destroy their will, offering instead an idyllic vision of togetherness, comfort, and solidarity.

Book Review: Campanelli: The Ping Tom Affair

Campanelli: The Ping Tom Affair. Frederick H. Crook. Amazon Digital Services LLC, June 30, 2013, Kindle, 83 pages.

Reviewed by Marssie Mencotti.

In Frederick H. Crook’s novella, Campanelli: The Ping Tom Affair, the year is 2109 when our main character, Chicago Chief of Detectives Frank Campanelli, is called to a double murder investigation in Ping Tom Park. Campanelli, who was blinded years before in a fire in New York, that also took the lives of his wife and child, manages his disability with the use of bionic eyes. These visual aids not only handle all of the functions of sight, but they also manage tracking and communications. While Campanelli’s use of visual technology assists his police work a great deal, it is his own intuition—sans technology—that proves to be his greatest asset to his police work.

Frank Campanelli is an interesting and richly complicated character. He is an honest, hard-boiled, and hard working detective who chooses to reconcile his past in his own way.  From his life in New York, he brings with him the way he likes to work—emotionlessly and efficiently. In his new city, he has already sussed out both the best forensics people in Chicago and a partner who is the envy of any detective, or just anyone needing a second in command who is smart and strong. This partner, whose name is Marcus Williams, is a genetically engineered ex-Navy Seal who is quiet, obedient, and military-like in his precision. Campanelli and Williams work hand in glove to solve crimes in this future dystopian Chicago where the unspoken desire of some residents is to relocate off-world to a utopian planet colony named Alethea. Campanelli is different than many, because he wants to stay in Chicago, on Earth. For him to do so, he must hold the line on crime in Chicago, thereby making safety on earth possible. Frank Campanelli is a rugged individual who is comfortable with his choices and his life and doesn’t suffer fools gladly. He thinks that the decision to leave the planet is every person’s individual choice. This belief keeps him at personal odds with the establishment, but it doesn’t hamper him from doing his duty.

The story begins when the young son of a very powerful old Tong ruler is found dead with an unidentified second man. When Campanelli and Williams take on the case, the investigation seems to unfold in a routine manner, but then it winds its way through a side story of colorful characters in Chicago’s Chinatown: a Chicago Alderman and his family—who are making their escape off-world—and a run-down cafe that serves great food and friendship. These components resonate with a common theme throughout the novel, that those who remain behind on Earth are somehow different. The earthbound individuals wrestle with the lure of migration every day, and yet settle for the life they can glean from what was left behind on earth. Nearly everyone we meet is dealing with the issue of a dying society coping with its crumbling infrastructure. There’s hopelessness in every character that Crook reveals to us in the book. These individuals try to identify what makes a place “home” by how much chaos they can endure on their own planet, Earth. 

Crook introduces Campanelli’s sometime bed partner, Tam, who is his on-again-off-again girlfriend. Tam, having to adapt to Campanelli’s crazy work schedule, emblemizes his ability to only commit to laws, principles, and pragmatism. Campanelli is not a man who is able to commit to the ideals associated with romance and love.

I love a good detective story told in a mysterious, sparsely populated, Edward Hopperesque night world, and Crook does a good job at this. For Campanelli, without his “eyes” the world is indeed very dark and dangerous. Crook tells a compelling tale of generations divided over the issue of emigration from Earth, and how those remaining cope with the tension of two competing worlds. We learn about a possible future of Chinese-American trade, advanced product development, and replications of vehicles and aircraft, all within the framework of criminal activity. Despite the events occurring almost a century in the future, the hierarchies of the Police Department, as well as its procedural processes, remain as they are today. Crook renders depressing glimpses of what the abandoned Chicago of 2109 would look like: fewer elevated trains, abandoned housing, and crumbling infrastructure. 

There are a few things that I still want to know more about. How does Campanelli intuit information about his suspects rather than letting his special “eyes” do the work?  For what purpose was Marcus Williams genetically engineered beyond his huge physique and physical prowess? Is he a man, machine, or both? What drives Campanelli except work and what is the spark that keeps him going? The reason I want to know more is that I want to become more invested in this detective and his partner on a reader-to-detective level.  I believe that once a reader and a detective are bonded, the reader will seek out everything that the writer can write about that detective.

These detectives are beyond competent. In some ways they are extraordinary in their ability to assess every situation. They seem to teeter on the border of superheroes molding a new and safer future for the people who remain on Earth. I don’t want Crook to give them more foibles, but rather I would like them to commit more strongly to Earth’s future.

I enjoyed this selection for its metaphor about today’s divisiveness between the rich and the poor, how our civil service employees forge ahead with their jobs despite dwindling resources, while the rich buy the safety of far away, walled-off communities away from the poor and homeless. Detectives Campanelli and Williams believe strongly that bad people can be contained in prisons and they hold that line throughout this exciting film noir adventure. 

Book Review: The Female Assumption

The Female Assumption. Melanie Holmes. CreateSpace, October 2, 2014. Trade Paperback and Kindle, 204 pages.

Reviewed by Serena Wadhwa.

When I was approached to review this book, I was in the midst of several projects with fast-approaching deadlines, some hard decisions I was making, and the holidays. As I read the synopsis for the book, I was intrigued. Being a woman, and one who comes from a culture with traditional beliefs about women’s roles, I inquired if an extension was possible so I could complete the review. It was granted and not only was I glad I made that request, I am grateful to Melanie Holmes for bringing a much-needed topic to the surface.   

“Despite all the advances for women in the last few decades, we still, as a society assume motherhood is the ultimate goal for females. Without realizing that perhaps not all females will want to, should, or be able to become moms, the message that the majority of females still hear is that motherhood is integral to a well-rounded life.”

This book seeks to provide balance when it comes to understanding the joys and burdens of this message—literally, metaphorically, psychologically, physically, financially, spiritually/religiously, and in so many other ways. Women, from a very early age, are ingrained with this notion that motherhood is the only goal worth pursuing and possibly worth their existence. Holmes gently and firmly presents the reader with information, from both a factual and an anecdotal perspective, that motherhood is not the only goal worth pursuing and the only source of identity.

Holmes makes clear that what she presents is her opinion and desire, coming from wanting women to make informed decisions. She states, “Virginia Woolf wrote, ‘When a subject is highly controversial, one cannot hope to tell the truth. One can only show how one came to hold whatever opinion one does hold.’ This is what I plan to do.” I do believe in order for anyone to minimize negative emotions, informed decisions may go a long way in this. When we see all the facts, fears, emotions and options, we know with a full heart and mind what we are mapping.

Holmes explores the concept of Motherhood Catechism, a term she learned in a sociology class and how this relates to the all-inclusive and exclusive assumption about females and motherhood. She explores the societal, cultural, religious, and family expectations, both spoken and unspoken, cementing many women’s beliefs in the inevitability of becoming a mother, despite the lack of passion or desire to be one (in the “traditional” sense of the word). And how this lack of passion or desire for wanting to become a mother is “wrong,” when in reality, it is normal.

As a woman, I related to much of what Holmes wrote about. And having female friends, with and without children, we often discuss these “assumptions.” As a clinician, I witness the struggles my female clients go through in facing similar issues. The proverbial “how many kids do you have,” implying every woman has kids; “when are you going to have kids?” implying every woman wants to; and the treatment when women declare being “child-free” (as opposed to being “child-less”, which implies a less-than status, according to Holmes), are a few of the oppressive and invalidating comments many individuals make. Here again is a diversity factor we as a culture and society fail to accept.

I like the fact that Holmes challenges the reader to ask the questions about what makes parenthood so special. Why does someone want to become a parent or have kids?  Holmes offers several challenges to the traditional avenue of motherhood, for example, to judge motherhood as the most rewarding, most heartbreaking, etc. Because exactly how do we judge what’s intrinsically rewarding? How do you measure that?

Holmes also explores some of the realities of motherhood often not discussed or written about, like the reality of how your agenda doesn’t matter. And finances. And maybe that shirt you really like. And sleep. And how there IS no book on motherhood. She also explores the double standards existing for males and females in the workspace. And while some cultural factors are brought into the narrative, these are minimal. I recognize this reflects what Holmes wanted to focus on; however, as a minority, I did want to read more about those experiences.

Overall, I enjoyed the book. It provided a review of how society tends to brainwash inhabitants to believe one thing and protect it at all costs, when in reality, there are many individuals that live otherwise. Like The Matrix, some individuals are living and loving their own reality—without children. 

Book Review: Help Me

Help Me. Donna M. Zadunajsky. Pronoun: December 29, 2015, Paperback, e-Book, Audiobook, 119 pages.

Reviewed by Suzanne M. Brazil.

Author Donna Zadunajsky’s novella, Help Me, is the harrowing story of bullying, depression, and their consequences as told by Mick, the victim, and his close friend, Layla. In her forward, the author discloses that the events in the book are based on real life with details changed to protect the identities of those involved.

Over the course of a few months during junior high, Mick and Layla grow close as part of a small group of friends that hangs out in person and via social media. Layla soon realizes Mick has been self-harming—cutting—and she soon fears things may be even more serious than that. One night, a particularly frightening incident spurs Layla to get adults involved, but did she wait too long?

Zadunajsky is a novelist and children’s book author who reveals in her dedication that she didn’t seek to provide answers to the tough questions raised by her story. She felt a need to reach out and encourage a conversation. She wisely provides a foreword to the book including links to resources and information on bullying, depression, and suicide.

Zadunajsky's strength is in conveying the emotions of the adolescents in her story. Mick and Layla are believable, relatable characters. It’s not that Mick has no friends; it’s just that for some reason he is a target for bullies. Layla isn’t a savior character, either. She is flawed and as one might expect for a young girl, unsure how dealing with Mick’s situation will affect her own life.

The reader feels Layla’s concern for her friend, her indecisiveness about getting her mother involved, and ultimately her fear that this is too much for her to handle. Likewise, Mick’s despair at being bullied and feelings of guilt about an incident in his past elicit empathy. Though not especially graphic, bullying, cutting, and suicide are difficult topics to read about, and adults should definitely preview the book to decide if they’re comfortable with their children/students reading it.

The alternating points of view provide heightened tension and suspense as we turn pages to find out what becomes of Mick. The narrative does suffer at times from repetition of extraneous details, and occasionally, character’s thoughts seem a bit older than their actual ages. Overall, YA readers, parents, and teachers may all gain insight from Mick’s situation and realize the importance of a friend like Layla.  

For an age-appropriate audience, the author has provided an opportunity for discussion about a frightening epidemic among adolescents.