Wednesday, July 1, 2015

"Supremely glad that this is only Volume 1."

This is Ed Morris’ review of my collected King in Yellow tales (just released by Lovecraft Ezine Press). As he collaborated on one of these tales, it might be bad etiquette to post it here, but writers like to post raves, so—

“Supremely glad that
this is only
Volume 1.”

It is bad form to review a work
wherein the last story is a
collaboration with your-
self, but this is a
rare case. I asked.
The favor was
granted, the
form under-

Ah, Beast, teacher, Boogeyman, the father I actually found,
Sensei, dark midnight thunderer over metaphysical canons,
This collection, this chance, this great thing that
Mike Davis did, and everyone who proofed and dare
I say peopled its pages with dank cyanide Easter-
eggs: Mike Cisco. Kat Pulver. Brandi Jording.
Karl Edward Wagner. Laird Barron. Scott
Nicolay. David Lynch. But none of them
are big enough for Beast to hide
behind, even with false modesty,
homage, canonical Jazz and Ska
when all the stops come loose,

This series of etudes in every key,
This—Ah, Beast, the drunken
night behind the ropes at a
Tuscan restaurant while
the cooks paid back the
favor they owed the
Tuscan beauty on
my arm and we
drank till
four and
Swing was

this good. It almost
held this much weight, but
I don't have to put it
down after every story
and process what I
just read. Me.


You never cease to meditate on
Chambers, but never stayed
there, only jumped off
from there. Every time
I think you've cheated,

you rope-a-dope both
eyelids and I go
back one page and


Beast don't cheat. The reader
is his mouse. We get moved
back and forth on the
page. SWAT. SWAT. A
little blood, but
more to the field
of play. [END]

You can, of course, find the book at Lovecraft eZine Press, or Amazon.

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