Andrew Marc Rowe's Blog

Waazzzzzupppp!

Hi De Ho, Infecterino!: The Come Up (The Parasol Files #1) launched back in January of this year. It’s taken me a while to start to promote it, but promote it I shall! Without further ado, the trailer!

You can get your copy right here!

Preamble

I’ve always admired Jennifer Shelby’s work. She has an excellent sense of prose and the elements of a good story. When I interviewed Jennifer for my podcast a while back, she related to me a story about her upbringing in a cult, which I was not expecting and which left me considering the things I take for granted in my life. Upon opening this book, I wondered at whether this was something autobiographical, or perhaps a shot across the bow in the ongoing culture wars, particularly re: transgender rights. As I read, I was blown away by the twists the story took on its way to its final conclusion, which is as poignant as anything I’ve ever read.

A note about my reviews: I consider myself an appreciator, not a critic. I know first-hand what goes into the creation of art – the blood, the sweat, the tears, the risk. I also know that art appreciation is subjective and lernt good what mama tell’t me – if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. I’m not a school marm grading a spelling test – I’m a reader who enjoys reading. If a book is entertaining, well-written, and I get absorbed into it, five out of five. It’s either five stars or nothing these days – if I don’t like it, no review. Regardless, I wouldn’t even put a star rating system on my reviews but for the reality of storefronts like Amazon.

Take from that what you will.

Review - 5/5

This is a book about a banned bookshop, a place where the stories that were deemed too consequential to be left to their own devices find a permanent and unfettered home. It’s also a story about alienation, emotional abuse, and recovery from trauma. Throw in some themes of the true cost of free speech, hypocrisy, and the fascistic machinations of fear, and you’ve got yourself a stew… I mean, one hell of a courageous story.

Enter Gabby, survivor of a religious cult, the kind which would probably hold Gilead of The Handmaid’s Tale to be a pretty good deal for humanity. She’s mother to Sapphic daughter Ashlyn, best buds with gay Manny, and neighbour to Rachel Forrest, religious zealot, who’s mother to trans kid Ronnie. Gabby has a little community library on her lawn, a place where people can take and leave books kind of thing. The book starts with Rachel confronting Gabby about finding a book about alternatives to suicide in her ‘son’s’ room. Ronnie is a they, however, and you might imagine how it goes from there.

Rachel bands together with other hateful people to destroy Gabby. She gets fired from her job, gets evicted, and is denounced as a ‘groomer’ by the religious nut jobs. All the while, she is dealing with the emotional scars from her time in her cult. Part of her seems to be wondering if she might even deserve the abuse.

Along comes a how-to manual that is the eponymous ‘Care & Feeding Of Your Little Banned Bookshop.’ It tells her that a Little Banned Bookshop must have a Shopkeeper. Then comes the shop itself, materializing into reality out of nowhere. And magical powers for Gabby - she can literally see a person’s soul, marked out by a book that changes them forever, floating above their heads like she’s a New Age hippie claiming she can see auras. Gabby has to come to terms with the fact that fate has spoken and she is now the new Shopkeeper. She does not accept at first, ironically leaning on The Hero’s Journey conception of herself as a mentor when in fact she is refusing the call to adventure. She just can’t see that she has that MC energy, thinking that her job as a ‘frumpy mother of a teenager’ means that life has passed her by. She simply can’t understand that she too is a hero, one the world desperately needs.

I’m reminded of the story of the Chinese Farmer, a Taoist parable about the incomprehensibility of reality. When good fortune strikes the farmer, and his neighbours tell him it’s awesome, he says ‘maybe.’ When bad fortune does the same, and his neighbours say that sucks, he says ‘maybe.’ Each time, the good fortune turns into bad fortune which turns into good fortune again. For Gabby, her misfortune of falling into Rachel’s sights mutates into her accepting her role as a worthwhile person, like every creature with two feet and a heartbeat. All of the trauma of her youth must be transcended first, culminating in a triumph that’s got some notes of that sweet Baba Yaga action.

She’s one B you wouldn’t want to mess with, and so, it turns out, is Gabby.

You can check it out on the ‘zon here.

Preamble

I’ve always admired Jennifer Shelby’s work. She has an excellent sense of prose and the elements of a good story. When I interviewed Jennifer for my podcast a while back, she related to me a story about her upbringing in a cult, which I was not expecting and which left me considering the things I take for granted in my life. Upon opening this book, I wondered at whether this was something autobiographical, or perhaps a shot across the bow in the ongoing culture wars, particularly re: transgender rights. As I read, I was blown away by the twists the story took on its way to its final conclusion, which is as poignant as anything I’ve ever read.

A note about my reviews: I consider myself an appreciator, not a critic. I know first-hand what goes into the creation of art – the blood, the sweat, the tears, the risk. I also know that art appreciation is subjective and lernt good what mama tell’t me – if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. I’m not a school marm grading a spelling test – I’m a reader who enjoys reading. If a book is entertaining, well-written, and I get absorbed into it, five out of five. It’s either five stars or nothing these days – if I don’t like it, no review. Regardless, I wouldn’t even put a star rating system on my reviews but for the reality of storefronts like Amazon.

Take from that what you will.

Review - 5/5

This is a book about a banned bookshop, a place where the stories that were deemed too consequential to be left to their own devices find a permanent and unfettered home. It’s also a story about alienation, emotional abuse, and recovery from trauma. Throw in some themes of the true cost of free speech, hypocrisy, and the fascistic machinations of fear, and you’ve got yourself a stew… I mean, one hell of a courageous story.

Enter Gabby, survivor of a religious cult, the kind which would probably hold Gilead of The Handmaid’s Tale to be a pretty good deal for humanity. She’s mother to Sapphic daughter Ashlyn, best buds with gay Manny, and neighbour to Rachel Forrest, religious zealot, who’s mother to trans kid Ronnie. Gabby has a little community library on her lawn, a place where people can take and leave books kind of thing. The book starts with Rachel confronting Gabby about finding a book about alternatives to suicide in her ‘son’s’ room. Ronnie is a they, however, and you might imagine how it goes from there.

Rachel bands together with other hateful people to destroy Gabby. She gets fired from her job, gets evicted, and is denounced as a ‘groomer’ by the religious nut jobs. All the while, she is dealing with the emotional scars from her time in her cult. Part of her seems to be wondering if she might even deserve the abuse.

Along comes a how-to manual that is the eponymous ‘The Care & Feeding Of Your Little Banned Bookshop.’ It tells her that a Little Banned Bookshop must have a Shopkeeper. Then comes the shop itself, materializing into reality out of nowhere. And magical powers for Gabby - she can literally see a person’s soul, marked out by a book that changes them forever, floating above their heads like she’s a New Age hippie claiming she can see auras. Gabby has to come to terms with the fact that fate has spoken and she is now the new Shopkeeper. She does not accept at first, ironically leaning on The Hero’s Journey conception of herself as a mentor when in fact she is refusing the call to adventure. She just can’t see that she has that MC energy, thinking that her job as a ‘frumpy mother of a teenager’ means that life has passed her by. She simply can’t understand that she too is a hero, one the world desperately needs.

I’m reminded of the story of the Chinese Farmer, a Taoist parable about the incomprehensibility of reality. When good fortune strikes the farmer, and his neighbours tell him it’s awesome, he says ‘maybe.’ When bad fortune does the same, and his neighbours say that sucks, he says ‘maybe.’ Each time, the good fortune turns into bad fortune which turns into good fortune again. For Gabby, her misfortune of falling into Rachel’s sights mutates into her accepting her role as a worthwhile person, like every creature with two feet and a heartbeat. All of the trauma of her youth must be transcended first, culminating in a triumph that’s got some notes of that sweet Baba Yaga action.

She’s one B you wouldn’t want to mess with, and so, it turns out, is Gabby.

You can check it out on the ‘zon here.

Preamble

Invasion of the Body Snatchers is that B horror movie that seems to always come up in discussions of classic horror. I never watched it until recently – right before I read this book, actually – and man is it hilarious in that unintentional B movie way. If you miss having sleepovers as a child and watching terrible movies while you and your friends quip about the ridiculousness of a plot, look no further.

A note about my reviews: I consider myself an appreciator, not a critic. I know first-hand what goes into the creation of art – the blood, the sweat, the tears, the risk. I also know that art appreciation is subjective and lernt good what mama tell’t me – if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. I’m not a school marm grading a spelling test – I’m a reader who enjoys reading. If a book is entertaining, well-written, and I get absorbed into it, five out of five. It’s either five stars or nothing these days – if I don’t like it, no review. Regardless, I wouldn’t even put a star rating system on my reviews but for the reality of storefronts like Amazon.

Take from that what you will.

Review – 5/5

I is for Invasion is one of Marc Richard’s alphabet books for adults. Basically, he picks something to satirize and goes full tilt into riffing on it in every way possible. He’s got a sharp wit and a clever tongue… erm, keyboard hand. I is for Invasion is his riff of the 1979 version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, an apocalyptic horror featuring a youngish Donald Sutherland and a very young fella what parodies he’s self… Jeff Goldblum.

Marc literally calls him Jeff Goldblum in the book, since all you can think about while watching him in the 2020s is the fact that he is Jeff Goldblum. There’s a particularly ridiculous scene in the movie/book that involves a clay bath house, a practice that I feel was left behind in the 80’s, before I ever was old enough to hop into one of them. I mean, I’m sure they’re still around, but it feels like one of those fads that was popularized as a cure-all before I was born and died out with the advent of hot tubs.

But we aren’t here to talk about ancient folk remedies for melancholy or some shit – we’re here to talk about I is for Invasion. It’s a great book, people. I think you would want to have watched the movie before reading it, since Marc riffs on pretty much every single scene. There are puns, plays on words, literal explanations of what is happening so that it seems as absurd as it is to watch it.

If you are a fan of B horror and comedy, you’ll find plenty to enjoy.

Check it out on the ‘zon here.

Hola flamingos!

Long time no speak. Am I the only one feeling the January in the air? After the Christmas / holiday rush, I'm sure I'm not the only one that has noticed the shift into what feels almost like a hangover. That feels a little bit of a euphemism, doesn't it? I mean, don't get me wrong, hangovers are nasty. But let's not mince words. January always feels to me like the season itself does for the world at large.

Death.

Things die in the wintertime. It's part of the cycle of the seasons. Mental well-being can feel off as well (it does for this SAD-afflicted MFer). No worries - you can always await springtime for rebirth. The pagans looked to Ostara, the spring equinox, as the celebration of resurrection that comes after the dead of winter, then that Jesus feller came about wit' he's story what fit the ancient mold. But our heathen forbears were tricked, for another holiday was made.

Imbolc.

It's coming on Thursday, February 1, and it's halfway between the winter solstice, the longest night of the year, and the spring equinox. One might call it a bit of a half-life holiday, since we're between death and rebirth. A melancholic writer type with his brow beaten by winter might say that it's something that stinks of the grave and yet is starting to kick.

I figure it's a great time to release a book about zombies.

That's right, Hi De Ho, Infecterino!: The Come Up (The Parasol Files #1) is available now to scratch your zombie-slaying itch - and itch is the right word, since the pathogen is based on some genetically modified ringworm (aka jock itch). Here's a little blurb from the foreword written by Nicole Little, author of Roxy Buckles and the Flight of the Sparrow and Uninvited (let's face it - I'm just copypasta-ing this absolutely jaw-dropping praise to puff up my own ego):

"...Andrew is truly a fantastic writer. We should all be so lucky as to have that kind of talent. I was absolutely blown away by this book. It is hilarious, of course. Racy, without a doubt. But there is so much depth, so much feeling, and such a distinct core of humanity. It can be difficult to translate that to paper sometimes but Andrew has undoubtedly achieved it.

Hi De Ho, Infecterino! is an absolute wild and crazy ride … you’re going to need to buckle up and hold on tight. There are dildos and glory holes and an enormous amount of bodily fluid. It wouldn’t be a book by Andrew Rowe if this wasn’t the case but that’s what makes it so perfect. He makes this whole writing thing just seem so effortless and you can tell that he’s poured his whole heart into the creation of it."

I also poured a whole bucket of zombie semen into it.

You can buy it right here.

Catch you on the flip side,

Andrew

Preamble

Nicole Little is a fellow author hailing from Newfoundland who has published most of her work with Engen Books, a local genre fiction publishing house. Prior to Roxy Buckles and the Flight of the Sparrow, she has mostly published shorter form fiction in various anthologies put out by Engen. I was excited to read an original and longer work by Little (I previously read her novella set in the Slipstreamers universe, The Lotus Fountain - review here). This one clocks in at around 192 pages according to the ‘zon.

A note about my reviews: I consider myself an appreciator, not a critic. I know first-hand what goes into the creation of art – the blood, the sweat, the tears, the risk. I also know that art appreciation is subjective and lernt good what mama tell’t me – if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. I’m not a school marm grading a spelling test – I’m a reader who enjoys reading. If a book is entertaining, well-written, and I get absorbed into it, five out of five. I have gone as low as three stars – anything less than that and I will not review a book (chances are I DNFed anyway). Regardless, I wouldn’t even put a star rating system on my reviews but for the reality of storefronts like Amazon.

Take from that what you will.

Review – 5/5

Sci-fi comes in many different flavours. You have your epic space operas like Corey’s The Expanse, philosophical mystical works like Herbert’s Dune, cerebral philosophical stuff like Aasimov’s Foundation, comedy like Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide, psychedelic fare like Dick’s Ubik, and on an on. It’s really quite an impressively diverse genre, and one particular flavour came through in the pulp fiction from the early 20th century.

These are the stories from an era when detective novels like Hammett’s The Glass Key were sitting side by side with pulp magazine horror stories like Lovecraft’s The Shadow Over Innsmouth and Conan the Barbarian. Roxy Buckles and The Flight Of The Sparrow captures this feel, yet also retaining a certain modernity and even a sense of femininity that was absent in a lot of the fiction of that era (pulp fiction was written by and large mostly by dudes – I know, huge surprise, given the era).

The story is by and large a human one, and not exactly what I expected when I started reading it. I would call it an ‘action love story,’ if such a thing exists. Roxy herself, the titular hero of the story, is one bad arse B, kicking butt and taking names. A ‘bounty hunter cum mercenary’ (as described in the blurb - heheheh, gotta love Latin!), she travels around the galaxy tracking down law breakers and bringing them to justice, along with her best bud Suki Kwan. What you don’t realize immediately is that she is chasing a past that comes into full focus as the novel continues.

The twists and turns are many, including one serious mistake about reality that Roxy has clung to like a lodestar throughout the past decade of her life. How do we cope with an injustice upon which we have based our identity? A large portion of the book is Roxy coping with a forced deprogramming from reality as she knew it, almost like a cultist waking up to the fact of her own indoctrination.

The story focuses on her ex-fiancé, Sam Sparrow, as is evident from the title. I do not want to spoil anything, but when the story starts, he is the villain and Roxy’s next bounty. Not just any villain, one who has apparently taken an enormous chunk out of Roxy’s identity, as well as quite a bit more from her friend Suki.

The story is fun, the characters are great, and Roxy herself is a very compelling heroine. Though there is only a little sex in the story - she ain’t no cum mercenary, you’re reading that wrong - there is enough there that casts her as a sex symbol, almost like an intergalactic Jane Bond. She moves through the narrative at a brisk pace, facing down darkness that nearly wins and emerging triumphant.

Roxy Buckles and the Flight of the Sparrow is an easy recommendation for anyone interested in a relatively light but very compelling story with plenty of heart.

You can check it out on the ‘zon here.

Hola flamingos!

The Smouldering Kobold: A Sour Mash (The Bawdy Bard #4) is now available for download / purchase!

The best tailored gaunchies o’ mice and men…

The bard has plans – plans and plans and plans. His two ‘wives’ are pregnant with his children, the trio is erecting a tavern, and his life as a bondless vagabond is coming to an end. No bardic tavern is complete without strange ensorcelments: his roots have wings, wings that will take him and his unconventional family to the skies.

That is the plan, anyway. Fate has a funny way of thumbing its nose at plans, and a cold spectre that most would like to forget is sharpening its scythe for a dark harvest. When the unthinkable happens, and then happens again, the bard learns once more that what goes up, must come down.

What happens to a funny man when the laughter stops (at least for a chapter or two)? Is he still a comedian? Can a facetious knave take anything seriously? And how does one heal his way out of hell?

Hold on to your gaunchies: poop’s about to get real.

Grab your copy here!

Preamble

J.D. Shelby’s The Incredibly Truthful Diary Of Nature Girl is a bit of a change of pace in terms of the things I normally read and review. Refreshing, I would say. This is a children’s book aged at six to twelve year olds, at least according to the Amazon page, so I may very well end up reading it to my daughter before too long.

A note about my reviews: I consider myself an appreciator, not a critic. I know first-hand what goes into the creation of art – the blood, the sweat, the tears, the risk. I also know that art appreciation is subjective and lernt good what mama tell’t me – if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. I’m not a school marm grading a spelling test – I’m a reader who enjoys reading. If a book is entertaining, well-written, and I get absorbed into it, five out of five. It’s either five stars or nothing these days – if I don’t like it, no review. Regardless, I wouldn’t even put a star rating system on my reviews but for the reality of storefronts like Amazon.

Take from that what you will.

Review – 5/5

My Side Of The Mountain by Jean Craighead George was one of my favourite books growing up. I must have read the dog-eared family copy at least a dozen times over the years I spent at my parents’ home. There was something about that concept – a kid running away from the city to live as a mountain man in the hollowed-out heart of a tree – that resonated with me.

J.D. Shelby’s The Incredibly Truthful Diary Of Nature Girl is very much in the same vein – full of stories of the plants and animals of the forest – except that Nature Girl is living in the woods with her parents from the get go. She’s no city-dweller making her escape – she lives and breathes the forest and goes back to a ‘normal home’ at night.

There’s an educational element to the story, as there was in My Side Of The Mountain, but I would say this one is primarily in homage of wonder, whimsy, and the Stately King Of Firs. How did J.D. Shelby give a tree enough of a personality that I actually cared what happened to him as if her were a person? She’s clearly been conspiring with ents and I for one welcome our bark-enveloped overlords.

An innocence suffuses the text, an innocence that children possess and that adults tend to lose as we get older. Baudelaire said that ‘genius is no more than childhood recaptured at will,’ and it is plainly obvious that Shelby has done the genius thing here. I felt like a kid whilst reading the book, which is not exactly the norm for the children’s books I have read with my daughter. With many, you can tell it’s an adult playing at being a kid.

Shelby must still be a kid herself, and it shows.

Check it out on the ‘zon here.

Preamble

Carlton Mellick III has done it again, folks. We've got another wild ride through the Bizarro world with Clusterfuck, a pseudo sequel to Mellick's book Apeshit. If you thought Apeshit was a rollercoaster, just wait until you dive into this one. Buckle up, because this book is absolutely bonkers, but hey, that's what we're here for, right? So, without further ado, let's get into this.

A note about my reviews: You know the drill by now - I'm an appreciator, not a critic. I'm here for the fun, the absurdity, and the sheer joy of reading. If I'm entertained, then it's a job well done. So, you can trust that I'll be honest in my opinions, but also keep things light and, well, appreciative.

Review - 5/5

Clusterfuck follows the misguided adventures of a group of fraternity brothers, who, along with a trio of women, embark on an illegal caving expedition. The characters are caricatures of frat boys, with names like 'Extreme' Dean, Gravy the stoner, and the selfish Trent. Lance, the more intelligent of the bunch, gets dragged along for the ride, which features copious amounts of Natty Ice beer. The alcohol abuse in this story reminded me of my salad days as an undergraduate at university, but obviously, I never hit the extreme insanity of these frat brothers.

The inciting event for the carnage in Clusterfuck is, unsurprisingly, brought about by the exceedingly despicable Trent. In an apotheosis of selfish murderous douchebaggery, he ends up killing a bunch of the cult's children, to the extent that the undead can be killed (think the Black Knight in Monty Python and the Holy Grail), which in turn causes the cult to seek bloody payback from the moronic frat boys. The tension and chaos that follows make for a thrilling, blood-soaked adventure.

The three women accompanying the frat boys on their ill-advised expedition are no mere damsels in distress. Selena, Marta, and Lauren all have their own intriguing backstories, including some bizarre adoption stories that add an extra layer of mystery to the narrative.

Marta, in particular, is a standout character. Teased mercilessly by the frat boys for her size and nicknamed Giant Gonzales after a professional wrestler, she proves to be an asset in the fight against the undead freaks. Even one of the frat brothers who initially taunts her ends up developing a sexual desire for her after she simulates raping him in a fit of rage triggered by his relentless teasing.

Mellick manages to pack this story with twists and turns that keep readers on the edge of their seats. From the revelation of Selena's true nature as a were-jaguar to the poetic justice served to the despicable Trent, Clusterfuck delivers on all fronts, providing a wildly entertaining, bizarre, and downright twisted read.

So, if you're a fan of Apeshit or just looking for a riveting, absurd, and delightfully macabre story, Clusterfuck is definitely worth checking out. Just make sure you've got a strong stomach and a penchant for the absurd - this one's not for the faint of heart.

Check it out on the 'zon here.

Preamble

I’ve been watching Peter J. Foote bring the Consensus trilogy together owing to my membership with the Genre Writers of Atlantic Canada Facebook group. He was previously a guest on Holy Flamingo Poop (super fun episode). Peter is one of those rare birds – a genuine people person who is invested in making the lives of others better. In our shared neck of the woods, it’s about fellow writers (Peter was the one who started GWOAC). After reading his first self-pubbed novella, Molting of a Queen (review here) I was hungry for more.

A note about my reviews: I consider myself an appreciator, not a critic. I know first-hand what goes into the creation of art – the blood, the sweat, the tears, the risk. I also know that art appreciation is subjective and lernt good what mama tell’t me – if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. I’m not a school marm grading a spelling test – I’m a reader who enjoys reading. If a book is entertaining, well-written, and I get absorbed into it, five out of five. It’s either five stars or nothing these days – if I don’t like it, no review. Regardless, I wouldn’t even put a star rating system on my reviews but for the reality of storefronts like Amazon.

Take from that what you will.

Review – 5/5

It’s pretty cliché to use the whole ‘it’s x meets y’ when describing a work of art, particularly fiction and movies. With Eclipsing The Aurora, it’s hard not to do so. Sci-fi as a genre can be pretty diverse. What really sold me on this book was that the science fiction stuff was almost window dressing to the meat of the story, which was not at all what I was expecting.

Eclipsing The Aurora is Forrest Gump meets The Fifth Element meets Marvel’s Venom. That’s how I described it originally as I was reading, and I suppose it remains legit now that I’m done. I might even add in Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell while I’m at it. Maybe that’s just because the superpowered alien symbiote wearing protagonist goes for a black ops moment on a big ship near the end of the novel.

You might think that what I just described is a teenage boy’s power fantasy, but in reality the story is about some pretty messed up family dynamics, featuring bikers, booze, and drugs. The whole thing feels like a flashback, though in reality it’s largely present day and there is some neural hijinkery going on with an alien jellyfish who has taken up residence in Nigel. A partial amnesiac, Nigel gets birthed out of some kind of alien egg / drop ship by his former friend and one night stand cum (see what I did there) drunken smash piece, Sandra.

Weird, right? The Nigel / Sandra relationship feels like Forrest Gump’s relationship with Jenny, in that she hardly takes the guy seriously yet gets all intimate with him (this time with less late-stage AIDS and fewer unresolved ethical questions about Jenny’s behaviour). Nigel at times feels like a Gumpy simpleton and later in the story seems to grow a brain, though the unevenness can be somewhat explained by what Vivian, Nigel’s passenger, is doing to him. Overall, though, I found Sandra to be a little bit one note in terms of her treatment of Nigel, which was not exactly warranted from what I understood of their relationship. She definitely had a touch of the ‘pants wearing battle axe’ and Nigel seemed all to happy to take his lumps, deserved or not (seemingly mostly the latter).

Aside from (potentially projected) issues regarding the relationship dynamics, I absolutely loved this book. It was human interest through and through, which was not what I was expecting from a sci fi opener, but I was here for it. A fantastic story and well worth your time. I’m looking forward to book two and I don’t think I’ll have to wait long.

Check it out on the ‘zon right heah.