As much as I read (and I read a lot—and no, that isn’t why I’m becoming a librarian), I don’t often talk about it on CavLec. About the only books I mention for the sake of mentioning books are books that utterly disappointed me.
I am going to break my streak and recommend a book now, so y’all listen up. Because you must, you simply must, read this book. And get your local library to buy it so that other people read it. And buy it yourself (I’m going to) because the author simply must be persuaded to write more books, and publishers simply must be persuaded to publish them.
The book is by Minister Faust, and it’s called The Coyote Kings of the Space-Age Bachelor Pad. And you have to read it. It’s great.
It’s getting very mixed reviews, from what I’m seeing, and frankly I find most of the criticisms mean-spirited and unjustified. One or two demonstrate quite clearly that the reviewer wasn’t reading; it’s perfectly clear to me where the “Coyote Kings” monicker came from. Yeah, Faust drops tidbits for geeks like Hansel and Gretel dropped crumbs—but so does Neal Stephenson, and so do half a dozen others, and they get lickspittle praise for it. The book doesn’t depend on readers getting every single allusion (and while my percentage is high, it’s not 100%), so what’s the beef? This is how geeks act, sheesh, haven’t any of these reviewers ever sat in on a roleplaying game?
And who on $DEITY’s green earth demanded that the reader has to like every single point-of-view character? Please. (Though I agree with one reviewer that the treatment of Mugatu was cruel. It didn’t bother me as badly as what Gaiman did with women in American Gods, though.)
Look. This book is what American Gods wanted to be but wasn’t. It puts the “urban” back in “urban fantasy,” much (no doubt) to the chagrin of sad poseurs like DeLint. It’s got tremendous energy, terrific language, and just the right banality-of-evil touch in the villains to make them truly, truly creepy.
So go read it. Now. If you have any true geekitude, or true poetry, in your soul, it’ll rock your socks. (Which is exactly the turn of phrase that would cause Minister Faust to poke sly fun at me, but so be it.)